<USS Avalon> "In His Own Hands"

“In His Own Hands”
by Commander Javan Sierra



“I don’t think so,” Javan Sierra said as he stared into the internal sensors readout coming in at the security station outside his office. There had to be at least twenty new invaders on the ship and more on their way. It looked like his security teams were functioning without his direct orders and a pang of pride went through him.

“Orders, sir?”

Javan turned, a young Ensign not more than twenty stared at him with questioning eyes. His hands had wrapped themselves around the handle and barrel of a phaser rifle, but still shook with indecision. There was a bead of sweat trickling down the young man’s face and the uncertainty was apparent. Javan smiled, “The bridge, Ensign. Make sure it’s good and safe.”

A sigh of relief almost escaped the man’s lips before he nodded curtly and headed off to the bridge. Being a Betazoid, Javan felt the huge pressure lift up off the junior officer’s shoulder and disappear. He was happy that his words and his wisdom could do that. The problem was he had to smile and he hated that.

“I need a full report!” Javan said as he moved into the fray and was instantly tossed a rifle of his own. A quick inspection led him to see a fully charged energy cell, a perfectly cleaned power converter, and a polished scope - his crew had done good in the armory department. “Report!”

A young woman with blonde hair turned quickly, her eyes filled with determination and dripping with loyalty to her crew. If she died it would be a loss to not just the Avalon, but to the Federation. Sometimes Javan didn’t like being a Betazoid because he knew truly how dedicated people were to those around them. Crew evaluations just didn’t show the sincerity. “They’ve taken deck six and deck five. We have security crews on deck seven and four.”

“Secure the bridge.”

“We’ve got three teams already stationed there, sir.”

“The Captain?”

She looked unsure as she spun around to tap away on the console. She blinked a couple of times, pounded the buttons in the same order as before, and then turned grimly. “I don’t have him on internal scans, Commander. I’ve tried the locator on his communications badge but it’s not there either.”

Javan’s eyes narrowed, this wasn’t how he wanted to start the day. The fact that they were being boarded was fine because he’d dealt with that before and figured they’d fold under pressure like napkins at a banquet, but missing the Captain and leader of the vessel itself was something of a bigger problem. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, she resumed her duties.

“Damn it. Erect level eight forcefields around the exits on deck seven. I do not want them getting through to deck eight. We stop them here and we stop them now, understood? I want teams in Engineering and Sickbay. Beam into Sickbay if you have to. I’ll be on deck four.” He was vaguely aware of an acknowledgment as he motioned to his teams and departed into the corridor. “Maquis march onto my ship...”

The two lackeys looming behind him snickered a bit as they headed to the turbolift. They were both late twenties or early thirties. No doubt they had seen some of the action in the Dominion War. Javan was happy to have seasoned veterans at his side instead of green crewmen fresh out of the Academy.

The turbolift doors opened and welcomed them inside. “Deck Four.”

The ride was silent as the hum of the gravitational relays inverting and polarizing as it moved. Then it was like all hell had broken loose. The doors opened onto a battlefield. Not just any battlefield, but a battlefield waged on one’s own soil amongst friends. Javan found two dead crewmembers already laying behind two cargo crates.

“Get down!” Javan yelled as he put up a prayer shot and dove behind another cargo container. The phaser fire was furious and the turbolift door was instantly pelted with barrage after barrage. “God damn it. Advance! Move to the next crate and take cover.”

That order was wrong. The seasoned veteran went into a roll and missed the crate, exposing himself on the opposite side and found that his prize for making a mistake was a phaser blast to the chest. He staggered backwards clutching his chest and then went down with another shot to the soldier.

“Joss!” The other cried, reaching out to his friend.

“Lieutenant!” Javan waved a fierce hand, drawing the man’s attention. He felt for the man watching his companion take a spill for the greater good, but that was the life of a security officer. No one was happy with it, no one wanted to see it, but in the end it was fulfilling the oath of protection that every security officer takes. “Cover fire!”

The experienced tactician stood up and laid down a rapid amount of cover fire. It was enough for Javan to snake around the cargo container, put in a successful roll, and find himself behind a container closer to his objective. His eyes scoured the scene before him through cracks and over disintegrated equipment. Four Maquis in this section. Large ammunition.

He looked over at his partner, “Did you bring any plasma grenades?!”

“No!” The man shouted over the cacophony of blaster fire. “You?!”

Javan didn’t even bother to answer that. Why would he ask if had one attached to his utility belt? He wouldn’t. He pulled out his hand phaser and opened the power cell’s diagnostic port on the bottom. Fiddling with the components, he set it to overload. Yes, it was a Starfleet trick that had been around since the dawn of the Federation itself, but it worked nonetheless. “Take cover!”

The hum grew into a loud hiss and Javan hurled it at his attackers. The explosion shook the deck plating and he was sure the people - Starfleet or otherwise - in the adjacent sections could feel the blast. That would mean one of two things: Starfleet back-up or Maquis reinforcement. He was silently praying to the Gods that it was the former.

Standing, Javan opened fire with his trusted counterpart on his side. The blast had destroyed the cargo containers that the Maquis were using as cover and had taken one of their operatives with it. Two on three odds were better than two on four. Another instantly fell and stumbled backwards into the wall, sinking to his knees before tumbling forward and going still.

Javan charged the other man, slamming his rifle into the man’s chin. The bone splintered and cracked beneath the skin and the man cried out in agonizing pain. He held onto his chin before Javan put the butt end of the rifle into the man’s throat. A sickening crunch was accompanied by silence.

His head turned at the sound of a scuffle. His lone officer was brawling with the other Maquis soldier. A Naussican, the alien was definitely gaining the upper advantage on the lowly human. To give credit, the veteran of the Dominion War was holding his own in a struggle over the rightful holder of the plasma pistol the taller being had.

Javan merely walked up to the man who thought his partner had disposed of him and twisted his neck quick and hard. The snap and the man stopped moving. “You’re welcome,” Javan said light-heartedly as he hoisted the man to his feet.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m afraid we have lost Rivers.” Javan pointed to the man who had fallen shortly after arriving on deck four. He looked around briefly, surveying the damage to the deck, and tapped the wall diagnostic panel to do an internal scan, “There are e more on this deck and deck five looks pretty much clear.”

“Where do we go?”

“We need to secure this deck. And then I’m taking a trek to deck eight and visiting the Aeroshuttle.” He cracked his knuckles and explored the deck virtually with the console. He had every intention of getting the Captain back. He wasn’t onboard the Avalon and the only other place he could’ve gone was to the Maquis vessel. “I think they have him captive over there.”

The security officer waved his rifle down each end of the corridor, his eyes always on alert, but he was still very much so engrossed in the conversation. “What do you want to do about it?”

“Well, the Aeroshuttle can dock with the other craft or at least get us closer so we can transport over there. I need you to get to the rest of the people on this deck and secure it.” He nodded and moved into the turbolift, the doors sealing around him. “Sierra to Dareth, Rimmer, Lombardo, and Hollander. Meet me at the Aeroshuttle.”



Other related posts: