NCC - 86105
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Hub Heist

Posted on Mon May 20th, 2013 @ 10:49am by Lieutenant Ciaran McIntyre
Edited on on Thu May 23rd, 2013 @ 4:59pm

Mission: Character Background
Location: Transit Hub Changeover Point - Federation Outpost


The shuttle's engines powered down just as McIntyre reached the door. His glance was enough to tell the flight controller that he was in a hurry. The cramped confines of the transport vessel had been his cell for too long.

"It's fine for you lot," the Lieutenant said apropos of nothing, "you're used to it; you don't get claustrophobic."

"Actually, confined spaces terrify me, Sir." The pilot replied as he initialised the required safety checks to open the compartment doors. "I just didn't think you'd take too kindly to me screaming and smashing my hands on the console."

The soft clunk of the locking mechanism sounded like a triumphant church bell. He was only seconds from getting to stretch his legs.

The heavy door began to part revealing the sealant of the airlock and the connective tube of the passageway. McIntyre was out of the shuttle like a shot with only a curt 'cheerio' to his pilot. The next part of his transfer would see him moved aboard a Wallace-class light escort ship, the USS Sigyn which would commute him to a Dragoon-class transport which would carry him to another hub point where he would pick up a smaller transport shuttle which would take him to the USS Endeavour.

Quite why he wasn't permitted to take one of the support shuttles from Starbase 332 and get there under his own steam he would never know but this was the convoluted commute which Starfleet had laid out for him and who was he to argue?

The connective corridor gave way into what some might refer to as a small departure lounge but McIntyre saw as the site of his liberation. He slumped into a chair and allowed his eyes to wander around the room, falling on the people with whom he shared it.

One, a red-haired, red-shirted Ensign, stumbled around the room like a child that had lost his parents. As McIntyre observed him, it became obvious that he was under the influence of something and as he collapsed to the ground, his suspicions were confirmed.

The shopkeeper bolted forward to the aid of the Ensign as a crowd began to form around his contorted body. McIntyre rose slowly to his feet and ambled slowly around the perimeter of the onlookers towards the interior of the shop.

He rested his shoulder against the frame of the door and watched the two figures in cowled jackets break the encryption on the cash register and begin to load gold-pressed latinum into a small suitcase which wouldn't look out of place with any of the travellers.

"What did you give him?" The Lieutenant's voice took the two thieves by surprise and they stopped dead in their tracks, unable to fathom their next move.

"Come on," the Lieutenant motioned again moving further into the shop, "the gig's up now. Tell me what you gave him, put the money back in the till and maybe, just maybe, there will be some kind of deal on the table with the port authorities."

The thieves weren't in a talking mood. The sudden arc of phaser fire sent merchandise spiralling off the shelves and smashing to the ground around where McIntyre had quickly taken cover.

"Think about this!" He shouted over the commotion of exterior screams and internal breakages. "Security will be on their way and you don't want to be murderers."

The Lieutenant crept to the edge of a display table, keeping himself between the thieves and the door. This had all escalated quickly and he had given little credence to the idea of the thieves being armed with anything more than a rudimentary blade. A failure of tactical planning: there was an irony.

"THIS IS STARFLEET SECURITY!" Came the booming, amplified voice from beyond the door. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER!"

"You hear that?! Godzilla is telling you to drop it!" McIntyre called out, trying to throw his voice as much as he could. He regretted not taking those ventriloquism lessons now.

He could hear the slow, ponderous footsteps of the Starfleet Security officers outside. Their standard procedure in this instance had changed little for hundreds of years; shine a bright light into the building and use it to disguise their numbers. He estimated that there couldn't be more than two of them outside the store. Even odds.

"What did you give him?!" The Lieutenant shouted again, a little louder this time.

More silence from the perpetrators. He flicked his commbadge in irritation, assuming that its universal translator must have malfunctioned. "Was it Anesthizine?"

"No!" Came the reply from the other side of the counter. The phaser fire lulled for a moment, replaced by the sound of the thief's partner giving him a smack in the jaw.

The eerie silence which fell across the store was punctuated only by the hissed whisper of the unassailed thief. "What are you talking to him for, you moron?"


The reply was terse and followed by more hissing. "That's for plasma burns!"

McIntyre used the cover of the argument to inch closer to the counter.

"Come on, guys." McIntyre said, much quieter than before. "This has all got out of hand. I applaud your ingenuity but your distraction didn't work. Show some honour and give yourselves up."

The phaser fire began again in earnest but only from one pistol this time.

"We gave him Renistarine." Came one of the voices from behind the counter. "Not much though!"

A Breen drug? McIntyre thought as he shimmied his way to the side of the counter. Didn't see that coming.

The muzzle of a phaser appeared inches from him as the other perpetrator did his best to get a better line of sight on the Starfleet Security officers. McIntyre reacted first, grabbing the hand holding the phaser and smashing it against the alloy of the counter causing the phaser to sprawl off and nestle on top of a discarded pile of plush Romulan toys.

McIntyre was first to it, enjoying the soft landing as he twisted his body to allow him to aim. The furious perpetrator was down on him quickly, attempting to wrestle the phaser from the Lieutenant's hands. He could hear the whimpering of the more malleable thief moving further away from the counter, towards the door.

McIntyre managed to spear his assailant with a upper cut which sent the man reeling and staggering backward before McIntyre managed to engage the phaser and point it at him.

"That's enough. Come with me."

The Lieutenant led the thief out into the bright light where the other thief was already pinned by a Security officer and receiving his rights. The second was taken from McIntyre's watchful presence by the second man and shackled.

McIntyre approached the doctor who had arrived to treat the unconscious Ensign. In between catching his breath, the Lieutenant informed him of the drug used before accepting a report PADD from the first security officer.

As he passed the shopkeeper, he offered in half-hearted pity, "Sorry about your stock."


Lieutenant Ciaran McIntyre
Chief Security / Tactical Officer
USS Endeavour


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