Episode 2.01: Brushfire!

[Davy, aka GM]

OOC: The older Apellan takes 6 Stress, and receives a non-lethal Injury.

The security specialist paints her target with the beam of her phaser, just as he reaches for the door handle. He stiffens up for a moment before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

[Davy, aka GM]

OOC: Okay, all of your opponents are down. What is each team doing next?

[Patrick Goodman]

The young Deltan nodded. "I think you're right," she said, suddenly all business. Pointing to the Apellan in the doorway, she said, "Vasquez, search him for keys, then drag him up with his friends; we don't want to beam him out when we leave." Looking to Dhall, she continued, "Chief, the door, preferably with the keys; we've made more than enough noise as it is."

She quickly walked over and knelt down next to Wierzbowski, the injured specialist. As she inspected his wound and looked for something to use as a bandage, she said, "You're going to be all right, Wierzbowski; we'll be back on the ship soon, then Dr. Dourap can wave a flashlight over that. You'll be back on the range in no time."

[Doug Burke]

Ally holsters her phaser and picks up the elderly Apellan, double-checking his pulse. She then lifts him into a fireman's carry and hauls him back to the previous room. Setting down the older gentleman, she turns to Cole. "Right. I say we collect the tech they nicked and clear off, sir." She pauses, "On second thought, we should grab one of the current rifles, too, to see what Tyreeans are up against."

[Renny]

"Agreed," Cole rubs his fist absent-mindedly, looking around the room warily as if expecting further Apellans to step from the shadows.
"Things are getting hot around here. Let's get our gear bagged up and make a dignified retreat."

[Davy, aka GM]

Cole & Ally
A quick confirmation scan places the Federation equipment in what appears to be a number of baskets in a corner closet in the workbench room. All appear to be accounted for, and they can be beamed up en masse without an issue.

The rifled-musket is a thing of beauty - no, a work of art; a craftsman made this, and no journeyman at that. The wooden stock is finely polished, and the fine details are precise. Every piece looks like it flows naturally into the next.

Tann-Tyra & Dhall
As Chief Dhall searches the unconscious guard for his keys, the ensign's communicator beeps. "Reed to Tann-Tyra," the voice of the Rostov's security officer says as she flips it open. "We're about to breach the lower doors. Where are you?"

Dhall finds a key in a small pouch that looks like it might be the correct one.

Both Teams
Gerald breaks into the line. "All teams, be advised. I have three armed Apellans approaching the Ox Bridge."

Specialist Hudson's voice responds, "I have visual, Overwatch."

"Under no circumstances are you to attack them without provocation. Captain's orders."

"Aye."

[Nolmir]

Dhall holds up the key to Tann-Tyra. "Found a key, Ensign. Hope it's the right one." He trots over to the door and tries it.

[Patrick Goodman]

Tann-Tyra nodded as she stood and spoks into her communicator. "Acknowledged, Overwatch. Be advised I have one wounded crewman; Wierzbowski took a knife slash across the abdomen. Request immediate beam-out for him, and transporters standing by for the rest of us. Mr. Reed, we have secured external doors and breached the first door in the basement. All guards inside are going to have nasty headaches when they wake up. We are proceeding to the inner door now. Over."

[Renny]

Cole closes the lid on one of the baskets, smiling at Banks in confirmation of the find. He flips his communicator open and calls for immediate transport of the equipment out of harms way, along with the finely crafted musket, for further analysis.

[Davy, aka GM]

Cole & Ally
After a short delay, the equipment disappears in a swirl of energy, leaving the security team alone with their unconscious foes.

Over the comms, Gerald announces, "Lieutenant, another three Apellans are turning toward your location. Are you ready for extraction?"

Tann-Tyra & Dhall
"Stand by for emergency beam out."

A few moments later, Wierzbowski dematerializes and the transporter room confirms receipt.

Meanwhile, Reed replies, "Aye. Breaching in 15 seconds."

Dhall's key is indeed the right one and he unlocks and lifts the hasp. On time, Dhall lifts the bar and pulls open the door, revealing a long, dark hallway. At the far end, a tricorder's torch function lights up, revealing a number of barred doors, about a dozen on each side. Each door is barred and secured with a locked hasp, and features an open door view with the same barred basket over it; at the base, a metal plate appears to cover a hole for passing food through without having to open the door.

Captain Styles' voice calls out, "Commander Even-Vered; Ayala!"

A moment later, a weary, muffled voice about halfway down the hall responds, "Captain!"

"Ensign, quick; get these doors open!" Tann-Tyra can't tell if that order was meant for Ensign Reed or herself, or even both.

[Patrick Goodman]

The young Deltan motioned to Dhall. "Try that key," she said. "If that doesn't work, we'll just phaser the damn things!"

[Renny]

"Gerald", Cole asks, "what's the status of the other teams?"

[Davy, aka GM]

Cole & Ally
"They had to deal with some local color, sir. Specialist Wierzbowski was injured," Fryling responds. "On last call, they were about to breach the basement area."

[Nolmir]

Dhall nods in response to Tann-Tyra's order and hurries over to the nearest door with the key in hand.

[Davy, aka GM]

The key unlocks the door, and Vasquez removes the bar quickly. The first thing to hit them when Dhall opens the door is the smell. The entire village has had a slight "lived in" odor to it, and the ancient arts of butchering & tanning produced stenches with which a 23rd Century Terran would be entirely unfamiliar. But, this is something entirely different, and it hit the trio like a force field; human stench of a week's confinement, with no plumbing or ability to keep clean.

Beyond the stink that nearly drives them blind are three Starfleet officers and crew; one is a Tellarite engineering officer, the second is a human science department specialist, and the third (and only woman) is a science department officer. The officer's uniform jackets are wadded up to form makeshift pillows. They look exhausted and dehydrated, prompting Dhall to wonder how much, if any, food and water they've received in the past week.

The woman looks up curiously, scrunching up her nose as if she's trying to focus on the form in front of her. "You don't look like a Tyreen," she says, her accent sounding Slavic.

"We're Starfleet, ma'am," Vasquez offers. "USS Drake."

The science officer's eyes light up, and gathers up her energy to stand. She's unsteady on her feet, but tries her best to hide it. "Lieutenant Dragomirov, USS Rostov. You have no idea how glad we are to see you."