SD 241807.03 | JL | Com Ivanova, Cmdr Dahe'el | "You can't take the sky from me..." pt 3/5

Posted on Sat Feb 18th, 2023 @ 7:03pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Almar Dahe'el

1,971 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Lacuna
Timeline: BACKLOG

"I'm not exactly sure, I think it’s closer to an electromagnetic propulsion weapon," Almar replied as he spun the weapon on one finger by the trigger guard and handed it across to her hilt first, he'd ensured the safety was on before he'd considered it, "It seems to be quite handy though," he added with a chuckle as another rumble shook the ship.

This time, Rochelle swung a leg out to stand braced, silently blessing the fact she kept a relatively solid core as she studied the weapon in hand. Whatever the power system was, it was in the hilt. It was heavy, but promised a greater stability as far as kick back depending on the caliber of the rounds fired. The mechanism was the same as any other hand gun. Cock the hammer, pull the trigger. Simple and far more accurate and loud than any phaser - a stark reminder as to why she kept a Colt .45 shined and displayed above her desk. God help the son a bitch that chose to board her ship because a .45 hollow point center mass would be the last thing they anticipated and the last thing they encountered. "They get brownie points for style, don't they?" She grinned, handing him the gun back. Taking it now would be too easy - it would also be suicide given the fact they stood in a damned armory. "Hopefully Bathtub, or whatever his name is, gets us down so we can get off this ship and get the party started."

"Wash," Almar replied with a bright smile as he swung the weapon around again and holstered it, "And I'm hoping that there won't be a party, I just want some work, to get in and out," he added before gesturing towards the armoury, "Get yourself kitted out, must be something in here that takes your eye."

"Wash. Right. Got it." She nodded with a wry smile, watching him re-holster the weapon, "Of course there is, Mal, of course there is." It came out as a lazy sigh, allowing her to correct her stance and slip past him, once again going through the inventory before picking out something that would have to make due. An old belt for extra ammo and a holster would come next, slung about her hip in a fashion that made her feel downright hokey, but it too would have to make due. For now. "Do I get to ask what kind of work or am I spoiling the fun?" Rochelle quickly readjusted the belt, pulling it snug. The rocking of the ship had given that damned incorrigible lock of hair of hers the chance to escape and drape down the side of her cheek as always. Where that cow-lick had come from was one of life's great mysteries, one she partially had mind to blame her father for - her mother had always been a picture perfect officer from what she could remember and he had the conventional wisdom, and luck, of being able to keep his hair cropped to a point where a wayward cow-lick so close to the hairline would mean exactly nothing. She reached to tuck it back behind an ear, tilting her head as she considered the Cardassian once more. Maybe rustic life did suit him after all.

"We can't rightly be sure 'til we speak to Badger," Almar responded as he slipped back into the accent he'd been practicing for this simulation, "Knowin' him it'll likely be on the wrong side of illegal and dangerous, thats if he don't turn us in to the Alliance the moment we set down." he added as he made his way back towards the stairs to the cargobay, "Wash'll have this boat straightened out and set down in a moment, we don't want to be here any longer than we need."

"No, we certainly don't." Rochelle replied, tucking a smaller piece into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. It didn't hurt to have back up just in case her little plan decided to go sour. Then it was back to the same routine - follow the Cardassian, pretty smiles... And wait. Just... Wait. The storm continued to build.

The trip back to the cargobay was uneventful and when the ship settled down in the dock the doors opened to reveal a bustling city, the ground was a rough orange dirt and was kicked up from the impact as the external door landed. The air was dry and thick with the smell of smoke, hydraulic fluid and oil and the buildings that could be seen were rough metal, tin sheets held over crude frames interspersed with brick and concrete buildings. Some had a prefabricated look to them. Alongside the ramshackle nature of the architecture, shipping containers filled every available space and street vendors crowded the walkways with all sorts of food and fare, "Right, lets get goin', want to be back in the air soon as possible." Almar stated as he stepped down onto the ground as the quadbike sped past him and off into the streets with Zoe and Kaylee mounted on it.

That was two. Wash had yet to make an appearance and Jayne didn't seem the type that would wander too far. Shielding her eyes, Rochelle took her first step down into what easily could have been a set out of Indiana Jones if it wasn't for the retrofit technology evident nearly everywhere. From her spot on Almar's flank, it became entirely way too easy - and when Jayne passed her to lumber on off the vessel and into the street, the redhead knew she had her moment.

"You'll be back in the air before you know it, Captain." She soothed, closing the distance. Removing the gun from his holster was easy. Clearing the safety and cocking the hammer back was entirely way too fluid - the sound of it all making her breath catch momentarily. The wind was kicking up bits of dust, stealing that lock of hair from its hiding spot behind her ear and with a quick glance to make sure her own six was safe, Rochelle couldn't help but smirk, "You're gonna want to take about seven steps backwards, Mal, real nice and slow." And now... Now her heart struck out in a full gallop within her chest, pumping sheer adrenaline into her veins with the reminder that she had never once been on the wrong side of the Cardassian. They'd never once had need to spar, to fight - and this was plainly virgin territory she was hell bent on conquering for the sake of a good time. With any luck he'd have left the program safeties on, and if he hadn't then they were in for one hell of a rodeo either way.

Almar was surprised and complied with her instructions as he took a couple of steps backwards and shot a look to Jayne who had turned to watch the show with fascination, "A bit of help Jayne?" he asked without moving his eyes from Rochelle and the pistol she had trained on him.

"Nah, I'm reckoning this could be mighty fun, she might even pay better." the mercenary replied with a chuckle as he kept Vera hanging loose on the strap over his shoulder and made no movement to draw any of his weapons.

"What do you think you're fixin' to do, Rochelle?" the Cardassian asked as he regarded her stance with a careful and scientific approach, he'd taken the seven steps back as requested, his arms hung loose at his sides and the wind whipped dust over the toes of his boots, "Any commotion and these fine folks are quick to call on the Alliance, we'd both end up in lock-up before you can break atmo."

"Want to bet?" The redhead asked, matching each one of his backward steps up the ramp and back into the ship's hold. Jayne was a problem, but he was amused - watching and waiting with that same cool calculating gaze she recognized so well. Her attention, however, was deeply focused on Almar. Come unglued even for a second, and the big bull could easily overtake her. Part of her brain screamed that she was an idiot for taking on such an adversary, the size difference between them was readily apparent. He was tall, built like a brick wall. She - on the other hand - was knee high to grasshopper and rather refined by comparison. Pound for pound she'd give him hell if he did decide to be reckless.

The gun in her hand was relatively worthless, at least until she knew if the program's safeties were on or not. It was a gamble and a risk, one that made her pulse pound against the soft skin of her throat as her blood pressure rose. Battle, even hand to hand in a no-win situation, was near intoxicating. "I think you're underestimating my abilities, Mal." She grinned, "Just keep coming forward. Jayne stays where he is because I'd really hate to mess up that nifty shirt of yours." Another couple feet and she could get the drop gate to lift without potentially injuring him.

Almar allowed a grin to spread across his face as he recognised the position Rochelle was putting herself in, she had no intention of fighting him out in the open, he allowed himself to be drawn into the ship and isolated from the majority of the crew, the only one remaining on the ship would be Wash and he'd be up on the bridge.

An eyebrow raised as she slapped the control pad to lift the gate, nearly backing into a cargo container in the process. "What's so amusing?" She asked over the whine of hydraulics, cross stepping to get around the container and back into the open hold. Her backwards motion continued only when she heard the difference between her footsteps. Wash was still a problem. He wouldn't stay up there for long, not with the commotion that was sure to present itself outside now that their skipper was held presumably hostage. "We're going to trade places. Nice and slow." The redhead jerked her head roughly to one side, trying to free her face of that stupid lock of hair as she once more stepped sideways, leg over leg. Putting his back to the bridge was the smarter idea, give herself extra time to react - at least that was the plan... A rather sound one at that. "C'mon Captain."

Complying with her commands was second nature to the Cardassian and he started moving around and came to be standing with his back to the entrance to the bridge above them on the gantry, his hands were still loose at his side as he waited for her to make her move, "Nothing amusing," he added with a quick wink at her.

"Then what's up with the goofy grin?" The eyebrow lifted, telling of her general intrigue. "I mean seriously, you have a gun trained on your chest sporting what appears to be at least a forty-five caliber round and someone on the other end who has zero problem sending it home." There was no shrug, no hesitation. No mention that she wouldn't dare unless she knew the safeties were completely and utterly on - and even then the idea of actually shooting him threatened to make her sick... At least the more sensible and less predatory part of her was reeling at the idea. Something stirred above them, catching her attention. The sound of hurried boots and foot falls, leather soles squeaking against metal deck plates as they turned a sharp corner.

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To Be Continued...
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Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

Commander Almar Dahe'el
Executive Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F

 

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