Posted on Mon Aug 3rd, 2020 @ 10:26am by Lieutenant JG Kevin Lance
Edited on on Mon Aug 3rd, 2020 @ 10:32am
The alert signal toned from the computer in the Chief Tactical Officer’s desks. “Alert,” the computer’s voice followed, “Lieutenant Balrog has departed the ship.”
“Cochran,” Kevin swore, “Computer, how and from where did he depart?”
“Lieutenant Balrog departed by using the port side transporter on deck 12”
“Have the QRT meet me there immediately,” Kevin ordered as he retrieved a hand phaser from the lock box beside his desk. After the second time that the Operations Officer was abducted, Kevin had put a shipboard trace on the Lieutenant in case it happened again.
As Kevin jogged to the turbolift, he instructed the computer to notify the Risan authorities that he was beaming a team down to the planet to retrieve an absent without leave crewmember. The authorities were understandably upset at the prospect of an armed security team beaming down but the Federation had jurisdiction to retrieve crewmembers who overstayed their leave or got “lost” as Lieutenant Balrog frequently did.
When Kevin entered the transported room, he saw the quick reaction team was the two hulking Nausicaans that Kevin has started to call Hans and Franz, but only to himself. “Where did Lieutenant Balrog beam down to?” he snapped at the young transporter tech.
The tech nervously brought up a map with a blinking indicator marking the coordinates that Balrog had beamed to. It was up in the mountains on Risa’s northern continent and was currently in the middle of a blizzard. “I tried to warn the Lieutenant,” moaned the tech, “but he insisted in beaming down in nothing but a bathing suit!”
“Computer, beam four sets of cold weather rescue for the occupants of Transporter Room 12P to this location.” In a moment, four brightly colored parkas and other accessories appeared on the transport pad. Kevin tossed the smallest set to towards the transporter tech, ordering her to stow it once the team had beamed down.
Kevin and the QRT quickly donned the cold weather gear. Time was running out for Balrog and every moment counted. Before beaming down, Kevin ordered the computer to alert the ship’s executive officer of the deployment of the QRT.
The team materialized with the snow blowing around them. Kevin immediately scanned for Balrog’s comm badge and found it. Laying in the snow not five feet from where they had beamed in. Kevin’s curse was carried away by the wind. “Sweep 360 for any humanoid life signs,” he ordered over the throat mic. Kevin scanned the area around the badge for anything. He found a slight thermal discrepancy leading away from the badge.
“Lieutenant,” one of the Nausicaans called over the comms, “A half a dozen life signs in this direction, about 150 meters.” The Nusicaan pointed roughly in the direction that the thermal signature lead.
“Move out,” Kevin ordered as he picked up the abandon comm badge.
In a little less than 150 meters, the team came upon a structure. In the snowstorm, it was hard to make out the shape but there was a door, beyond which were a half-dozen humanoid forms. Kevin tested the ornate door handle and the thumb lever moved the latch without resistance. Holding the door closed with one hand, Kevin gestured tactical commands to the security team then drew his hand phaser.
Kevin pushed the door open and advanced into the building, phaser ready to take down any threat. Later, it would occur to him that Balrog would never get caught up in any situation that could be consider normal.
The scene was about as tranquil as he could have imagined. The interior was similar in design and decoration to a Swiss chalet he had stayed at during a summer leave while at the Academy. Several surprised humanoids from different Federation races in various states of undress sat around an open pit fire with large mugs in their hands. Along one wall were skis, poles and other skiing paraphernalia. The only thing out of the ordinary was Lieutenant Balrog, still in his bathing attire, strapped to a board of some sort that propped up such that the Operations Officer’s feet were toward the fire.
“Dude,” one of the humanoid females called out, “Close the door! Your letting the cold air in!”
Kevin nodded to one of the Nausicaans who did as the woman asked and he removed his headgear. “What’s going on? What did you do to Lieutenant Balrog?”
“We were here enjoying a primitive Earth past time of schussing and drinking when Jaa’kee comes in dragging that guy,” the woman nodded towards Balrog.
“He materialized right in front of me in the middle of a snowstorm,” a Vulcan man said defensively, “I wasn’t able to stop and plowed right into him.” His heated defense suggested that he wasn’t a Vulcan. Romulan perhaps?
“Why is he tied up?”
“He is delirious from being hit on the head,” the woman continued as Jaa’kee shrugged, “We had to keep him upright. We put him close to the fire to warm him up.”
“Poor thing was half froze to death,” said a Tellarite, caressing the side of Balrog’s face.
“Did you call for medical assistance?” asked Kevin, holstering his phaser. The Nausicaans did likewise.
“What part of ‘primitive’ escapes you?” asked the woman, “We don’t have communicators or transport badges. We were waiting out the storm and then planned to haul him down the mountain.”
“He is a crewmember aboard the U.S.S. Independence,” Kevin explained, “We are here to transport him back to our ship.” A human male, clearly more inebriated than the rest of his fellows, raised a mug and shouted, “Skol!”. His companions replied with the same cheery toast.
Kevin pinned Balrog’s comm badge to his swimsuit and called the Independence, “Medical, be advised, I am sending you a patient with head trauma and hypothermia. Transporter room, four to beam up but transport Lieutenant Balrog to the Medical Bay.” The security team assembled around the Operations Officers inert form and Kevin order, “Energize”.
Lieutenant j.g. Kevin Lance
Chief Tactical Officer
OOC: Enough of this tom-foolery. Let's get going on a real mission.