Enter Tork

Posted on Thu Jun 26th, 2025 @ 9:40pm by Ensign Noah Balsam & Lieutenant Cassian Maritz & Lieutenant Tork & Lieutenant Irynya & The Narrator
Edited on on Thu Jun 26th, 2025 @ 9:41pm

Mission: Seven Souls
Location: Maintenance Duct – Upper Tier Access, Kordra-Lisrit
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1919

[Maintenance Duct – Upper Tier Access]
[Approaching Sickbay]
[Kordra-Lisrit]
[MD 1: 1919 Hours]

The ductwork narrowed ahead into a sheer vertical drop. Jagged where old bolts had torn loose, the shaft descended nearly fifteen meters, the rungs of a half-rusted maintenance ladder glinting dully in the ambient green glow bleeding up from below. The metal reeked of sweat, oxidized coolant, and antiseptic—sharp and bitter, like old wound wash.

Far beneath, a flicker of motion passed across a grated threshold—brief and indistinct. A door hissed open and closed, and then came the slow, mechanical clatter of booted feet fading away into one of the Sickbay’s side corridors. At least two Kazon by the sound, possibly three. Their movements weren’t hurried, but purposeful. A muffled grumble of voices followed, too indistinct to translate, then silence.

The ladder rungs were slick with condensation. Scratches clawed into one wall looked recent. A smear of something dark marred the lowest lip of the duct where the shaft opened into open air—an oxidized handprint, or maybe just spilled solution. Either way, it marked a point of no return.

Below, Sickbay sprawled in Kazon fashion—functional, brutalist. Surgical slabs stood under harsh white lights. A set of containment cots lined the back wall, many of them empty. Others… less so. Shapes stirred within them. A row of medical consoles blinked with activity, but no one stood at their controls.

To the left of the shaft’s drop point: a recessed surgical chamber with what appeared to be a diagnostic interface. To the right, the main Sickbay space extended into a series of medical alcoves and examination bays. A small secondary vent shaft hung open above one wall-mounted cabinet, its grating bent outward—unused recently, but possibly viable for future escape or dispersal plans.

A soft ping echoed up from one of the consoles, triggered remotely—perhaps by a recent system update or security checkpoint. On a far wall, one of the embedded surveillance nodes blinked red once… then stopped.

The Sickbay, for the moment, remained empty of active Kazon presence. But not for long, perhaps. Footsteps echoed again in the far corridor, heavier this time—closer.

The moment to act--if the Starfleeters were going to--was now.

Noah was hiding his panic breathing. His hands were all he could do- to use- to keep him steady. "Almost got it... just a few more seconds." He said down toward the shaft, speaking through gritted teeth. He'd already stripped a piece of metal and now the web between his thumb and finger was slick in blood. Cables flashed from an open panel, pulsing. The wound had come from taking off the panel as quietly as he could. "Does anybody else feel like they-they need a full panel of inoculations and antibiotics after being in this place?" Noah's voice was pregnant with a feeling that this normally patient and kind young person was brushing up against the edge of what he considered tolerable.

Iry, perched above Noah on the rusted ladder rungs, peered down at her friend as he worked. She had to stifle a short, humorless, bark of laughter at his comment that threatened to break free as anxious thoughts tried to worm their way to the forefront of her mind. She felt like she needed a spa day spent in Sickbay's decontamination chamber. What if they didn't get back in time to do anything about... any of this? What if...

But what if's were no help in the moment and with a softly muttered, "my hands, Noah's bandages, the rungs..." she pushed them back. Her heart ached a bit too, despite the circumstance. As the one of the three of them most capable with the systems they were facing, Noah was being called on to do... a lot. And she felt, in her core, the deep rooted need to soothe and reassure. What she wouldn't give for a chance to hug him. Just for a moment. But that was not what officers did in moments like these and so she stuffed that impulse down as well. Instead she looked upward to Cassian who was situated above her. When they'd reached the drop they'd rearranged themselves, setting Cassian at the rear to protect them from any surprises while Noah worked.

Cassian looked down toward Iry and gave her a kind of a grimace before he kept his head on the swivel and monitoring what was going on around them. He hadn't heard any further voices since they had moved to their current position. "How's it going?" he said to Noah with a slight wince at the cramp that just started to form in his calf.

"Got it. Now." Noah hissed as the power in the entire Sickbay just dropped, only the emergency monitors of the bio-bed slabs seemed active. That was the cue. Kick down the grate. Ambush.

"Go," Iry rasped, trying to keep her voice low, but agreeing to the next step with the force of someone who could sense relief ahead. The clatter of the grate was, unfortunately, unmissable, but in the dim light of the emergency monitors there was little they could do but tumble out and hope for the best. Iry was on her feet as quickly as she could manage, eyes tracking automatically to Noah in an instinctive review to confirm he was alright before turning to Cassian to do the same.

Alright was a far cry from reality, but they weren't hurt any more than they'd already been and, somehow, had managed to avoid any crew present at the time of their tumble. "They're not going to be long," she said quietly, "Priorities... Noah, track down a solvent we can use to dissolve the acid for wider dispersal. Cassian, watch his back. I'm going for dermal regenerators and pain killers," she confirmed, not even realizing she'd shifted to their first names.

A raised brow at being called by his first name was all Cassian gave Iry as he managed to stand upright without any issues and spotted a cabinet that could potentially hold something that could be used as an improvised weapon. As he moved toward the cabinet, he still kept an eye on what Noah was doing but paid some attention to what he found: a hypospray that held a green liquid in it, possibly to knock someone out to perform the implant procedure, and something that resembled an old-fashioned scalpel. Grabbing both, he looked to Iry, "Looks like knock out hypospray, would that be useful for you?"

Irynya had made a beeline for what she had to assume was a tray of medical supplies, arrayed as if ready to use next to a biobed. A quick glance over them dissuaded her from their use, though and she moved on toward an inset series of drawers in the wall that she felt confident must have held supplies. She'd finished rummaging through the first, pocketing two hyposprays that she thought held pain killers or numbing agents, and was tugging on the second when Cassian spoke. She paused, mid-tug, and twisted to look at the hypo he was holding up, frowning at the green liquid. "Bring it with," she said, making a snap decision, though something about the intensity of the green in the vial made her hesitate. She was quickly back into her searching, though, and two drawers later hissed out a "Yes!" of victory as quietly as she could manage. Turning, she hurried in the direction of Noah and Cassian, holding out a boxy device that resembled a medical tricorder for them both to see.

The lanky Ensign had dropped last, and even less gracefully than the other two. With a muted "Ow!", Noah had managed to not so much jump down on his feet, but landed on his bum. Wincing, he was up quickly. A squealing beep came from his flashlight as he set its lumens to well beyond human toleration. Then he jacked it up to maximum, just in case. The light he flicked around the room, careful to keep away from the eyes of his allies, was blinding white.

Noah immediately went for the walls and began to quickly examine them and their interface. "Shit shit shit..." he was trying not to panic. Its my ocean... my boat... my paddles... its my ocean. His eyes squeezed shut. He tapped his mastoid bone. His place was in a Jefferies' tube causing trouble, not out in the open, like some kind of commando.

Noah could feel his breath shallow in his upper lungs and he consciously tried to take better breaths. My ocean. Its my ocean. He visualized a turbulent sea stilling. OK. Refocus. He needed either an acid compound or an aerosol. But what he found were the emergency external leads of oxygen to masks. "Ok... now..." He murmured. His fingers followed the lines up and traced them to their points of origin. "Ok, I-I have the life support console... now I just need... need to make an aerosol."

Noah, breathy, clipped his flashlight to his shoulder cloth and awkwardly aimed it. His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Noah." The voice was Aya. "You need to calm down. You are above 135 beats per minute and your cortisol is too high." Noah wanted to hiss, 'not now!' to his cerebellar passenger. He just breathily shook his head. "Come on... come on... it's gotta be here... it's--"

He pawed and searched. "No..." he'd mutter and step away, and then again. His frustration and knowing he had a time crunch bit in to him. This place looked less like a Sickbay and more like a torture chamber. But when he found the pharmacy area- or more aptly the chemistry, because some of it looked like anything but medicine, Noah began to search intensely. "Whoa!" He pointed and his fingers quickly began to collect. "Anesthezine compounds. They are aer-aerosolized. I can piggy back the penthetic acid tablets on them. Two for one."

Noah's hands pushed the tabs he'd procured into a tube and then he pressed them under the nozzle that seemed to fill tubes of anesthezine for surgery. They instantly seemed to evaporate and powder- a bluish white fluid began to fill the tube. "Got it. Now where do we-we hit them?" Noah hopped on the balls of his feet and turned away to rejoin his group- but his flashlight clattered off his clothes and on to the floor. Stumbling, he accidentally kicked it across the room, the boxy lantern coming to rest near a diagonal-vertical slab of some kind. It had an open and ready restraining clamshell and reminded Noah of... pincers. From it, sharp implements glinted in the penumbra of Noah's light. He froze, eyeing an implement of pain. And he swallowed.

Outside, Tork prowled the corridors, his attention less on where he was going and more on what was in his hands. He’d spent weeks splicing the device that was tumbling around in his grasp as his eyes ran over every connection, every jagged line of separation between one sort of design aesthetic and another. His thoughts were a tempest of theoretical models and calculations as his booted feet clacked against the deck beneath him. Tork was nearly finished with his masterpiece in subversive technical genius, and the one last scrap of technology he required was waiting for him not far away.

The Ferengi approached the door to what passed for a sickbay, his short digits stabbing at the console to enter the access code he’d been provided to allow him entry to places on the ship when repairs were required. This was not the first time he’d entered a space with the sole purpose of relieving it of something he wanted while still keeping up the appearance that he was being ‘useful’ to his captors. But that, as with a great many other things he’d been apart of throughout his life, was about to come to an end.

The door slid open and Tork stepped through the threshold, the darkness of the compartment presenting little in the way of an obstacle for him. He knew exactly where he needed to go without the help of sight, having been in the compartment enough times to have already memorized the layout. Several steps took him inside, the doors slowly hissing closed behind him. His kinetic vision caught the light of what looked like a flashlight across the room, but the Ferengi wasn’t all that interested in dropped equipment to actually turn his head fully. Instead, he walked over to where the specialty equipment, such that it was for a ship grossly understocked and heavily dependent on spoils could be, was contained.

Opening the storage locker, Tork fished around in the darkness until his fingers found exactly the device he’d been after. A pleased grunt left his chest as he withdrew his prize and moved quickly to the small preparation space next to it. Now that he had what he needed, the lack of light was suddenly an obstacle, thought not one that would give him much trouble. He yanked a small panel open that was barely illuminated by the emergency displays in front of him and crossed about half a dozen wires in rapid succession before the lights above his station, and only those lights, flickered on.

The figure they illuminated was clad in a Starfleet uniform, minus the commbadge. If one were to describe the condition of said uniform politely, they might have called it ‘well worn’, though Tork himself would have described it as ‘filthy but better than being naked’. His surprisingly dexterous fingers pried apart what looked to be a surgical tool of some sort with a large emitter adorning the top. It was that emitter that Tork seemed to be solely focused upon as he worked. It was free of its original casing for a scant two heartbeats before the Ferengi was twisting and pushing it onto the device of his own creation. Once he had it in place and seemed satisfied with his handiwork, he flicked an actuator on it with his thumb and grinned widely when the device surged to life with flashing diodes and disjointed chirps and tinkles that seemed so odd coming from a single device.

“Very good,” Tork said to himself proudly, turning the device off with the same flicking motion while turning around. His eyes fell upon the crouched figures scattered around the room and he frowned a bit.

“Didn’t expect anyone else in here. Escape attempt?” the Ferengi inquired, his lips curving into a mischievous grin made only more unsettling by the ambient lighting, “Want some help?”

Noah's eyes jerked to Irynya and then Cassian. Was he hallucinating? Was that... a Ferengi? In a grimy Starfleet uniform of all things? "Uhhh. S-sa, um, s-sabotage...?"

At the opening of the Sickbay doors, Irynya had swept the supplies she'd been perusing into her arms and crouched. It was poor cover, but better than nothing. In the low light it was hard to make out too many details, but it quickly became clear that the man who had entered wasn't Kazon and so she slowly stood, peering at him until he did something that lit his features. She had to stifle a gasp of recognition--the prominent ears and bald head. The height. The... uniform? She was certain she'd have known if there was a Ferengi aboard the Sojourner so she had to assume this was someone else. Some other Starfleet officer who Subrek had taken captive.

If the Ferengi was phased by the appearance of three other unknown-to-him Starfleet officers, he didn't show it and as Noah's eyes found hers she straightened and moved slowly to stand next to him.

"Sabotage," she confirmed with more certainty in her tone. "Then rescue. Then escape."

As she spoke her free hand found Noah's for the briefest of seconds and she squeezed trying to convey all of the silent solidarity she could in that single gesture before releasing him. Her hand stung from the movement, wrapped cloth pulling at the burns, but she managed to keep from flinching. "And we'd be glad for any help you can give," she added, looking from Noah to Cassian and then back to Tork. "Lieutenant Irynya," she said then, stepping toward the newcomer. "USS Sojourner."

Noah smiled at her and squeezed back- but his worry was thick. So much was riding on his shoulders right now. "Balsam... Engineer." He said to the stranger.

"Lieutenant Maritz, security." Cassian piped up with caution in his voice, knowing full well his reaction to the newcomer had been delayed enough and in other circumstances that were a lot less friendly, it could've gotten him killed for sure. He automatically didn't trust them, or anyone else but Iry and Noah, until they were free.

The Ferengi looked over at the new speaker, though his smile hadn't dimmed in the least, "You happen to be in luck. I'm an excellent saboteur, since I've been doing nothing but for the last two weeks or so. And while rescuing wasn't at the top of my list of things to do today... I suppose I can squeeze it in now that I've got my little lock pick here working."

There was a brief pause as realization rippled through his features, "I'm Tork, formerly of the USS Andarok. Also a Lieutenant, not that you could tell since I had to use the rank pins to help fashion the pick. Was on my way to... some starbase or another. Reassignment and all that. Was told I'd get to run my own Engine room, didn't care about the details beyond that. I'll be able to get so much more done without someone telling me they don't think my modifications are safe. For the record, no one has ever been killed because of something I've tweaked... probably."

The Ferengi fell into thought for another moment before shrugging, "But that's not important. What were you looking to sabotage anyway. I might have already done it. No point duplicating efforts, right? Rule 299, 'Never do what someone else is already being paid to do for you'."

Whether Tork's somewhat rambling introduction surprised her or not, Irynya didn't let on. Instead she drew in a deep breath and glanced between Noah and Cassian to make sure they, too, were taking all of this in.

The young Ensign hesitated, his long and skinny legs shifting along with his featherweight. "We-we uh had a Helmsman that used to quote the Rules to us too... he'd remind us that the, um, bigger the smile, the sharper the kni-knife." Noah couldn't remember which number it was, but Timmoz had made a study of them. Noah never quite understood why, chalking it up to Orion and Ferengi cultural similarities.

Irynya stilled, the little bit of nervous movement that seemed determine to control her hands and legs coming to a halt at the mention of Timmoz. For a moment a ridiculous longing for her friend welled up in her and she wished it was him standing there cooly making quips about the Rules of Acquisition and offering to get them out of this. But it wasn't, and so, as she had with so many other emotions already that day, she shoved it back, her mouth thinning into a tight line.

Noah cautiously looked again to Cassian and Irynya, hoping in their greater positions or responsibilities, they might have heard about a missing Federation ship. "But... did you escape? Wait, are you General Technician One?" He didn't understand, referencing what he'd seen on the work orders from before. For the last hour, they'd been sabotaging anything they could get their fingers around. "Is it busy out there?" To Noah, his fear heightened, he wondered if this was some kind of a trick.

"We've been... holed up in the ventilation..." Irynya added, "and honestly just trying to break anything we could."

"With... permission... I can show you..." Noah said, asking Irynya and Cassian with another glance.

Irynya nodded her agreement. "Go ahead N... Ensign," she said nearly falling into familiarities again without thinking. To Tork she said, "Mr. Balsam came up with this idea and Sickbay seemed like the right next step, for," she hesitated wondering how much about their injuries to say, "a lot of reasons," she finally added lamely.

Tork cocked his head to the side slightly, "General Technician One? Is that what they've been calling me? I think I'd have been less offended if they'd committed to 'Big Ears' like they do when I'm within earshot of them. And no, it's rather empty at this time of day. Only reason I came in here, didn't want prying eyes watching me finish my grand project."

The Ferengi again settled into thought momentarily, "You know, for as poorly constructed as this rust bucket is, the ventilation shafts weren't stuffed full of much in the way of critical system junctions. At best, you probably managed to inconvenience someone by turning off their sonic shower. Any real damage has to be done at the source... or sources, since this thing is so compartmentalized. If it were me... and no offense to the fidgety young engineer there, I'm sure his plan was inspirational and all... but if it were me trying to dole out maximum confusion with minimal effort, I'd cut off the central processing nodes at two key junctions and watch this whole place descend into delicious chaos. But that's just one Ferengi's opinion. As Rule 223 says, 'Differing opinions are just underdeveloped opportunities—yours for the taking'."

His efforts panned as ineffective and his mannerisms reduced to fidgety, Noah fell into awkward silence. He turned and quietly continued his work, an eyebrow rise the sole signal of mild hurt. His mouth formed a straight, concentrating line, a tired hiss coming from him at the clunky flashlight that didn't want to stay in place. He could feel the same heavy weariness he sometimes felt with Margarar, as she would criticize him without cause or evidence. But he had to push that away right now. He had to. His colleagues were in danger. Irynya was in danger. Noah blinked at the heightened awareness of that.

"I'm ready to disperse the penthetic acid anesthezine compound. I-I would say we should target their Engineering section. Or maybe the Security section. Those feel like, to me, the places that they'd have these augments. But I-I only have enough solution for one of them." His dark eyes blinked and he stared at the interface he was about to use for destruction. He awaited their decision.

Irynya had watched the exchange with an unpleasant sense of de ja vu. The internal conflict over whether to say something or not was brief, but in the end she convinced herself that speaking up wasn't just the right thing to validate that what Noah had been directing up until now had been significant, but to make sure they also made the next right choice. She could figure out the complicated protective feeling that drove her some other time. Sometime when their lives weren't in danger.

After.

"Hold on a moment, Mr. Balsam," she said, the need to use Noah's formal name feeling awkward in her mouth as she watched to make sure he paused in his work. "Lieutenant Tork, I don't know what readouts you've been looking at, but the ones we were looking at before we made our way to Sickbay showed at least half a dozen repair teams dispatched and easily twice that many incident alerts indicating failures and breaks in the systems." Her voice was firm, but not unkind. This wasn't Margarar. This was a fellow officer caught up in the same terrible situation they were. She was doing her best to remember that. "We may not have mucked up the engines, but we've been more than an inconvenience. Multiple repair crews don't get marshalled immediately for an inconvenience."

She met the Ferengi's gaze for a moment and then, sighing, she shrugged. "I think we got some of the life support systems and caused issues with some of the security elements. I don't read Kazon." She glanced quickly at Cassian and then let herself look at Noah, meeting his eyes and feeling the tiniest softening of her expression. She was worried about him.

Then she turned back to Tork. "We think dispersing the penthetic acid as an aerosol will take out the thorium in their implants." She glanced at Noah for confirmation that she'd explained this accurately before continuing. "But we have a limited supply. And we need to figure out where the rest of our people are, get them, and then get off this ship somehow. Or move it. Or something so that the Sojourner can find us. Have you noticed anything about the ones with the implants? Are they mostly security? Anything that could help us figure out where to target would help."

Noah nodded affirmation with what looked like rallied but uncertain effort. He turned around, eyes down. "We're using a c-combination of penthetic acid- standard Starfleet issue in the field to neutralize radiation poisoning. And pairing it up with a non-lethal anesthetic. Once they breathe it in, it-it should get into their blood streams quickly. Thorium is the only... only fuel they could be using to power their implants since it doesn't damage biological tissue. Unless they've invented something worse. Or more like, the-the Trabe have." Noah looked up, "Even if the penthetic acid doesn't work, it should knock them out for awhile." Noah protectively crossed his arms across his chest without thinking. "So... l-like I said, do we target security, or do we target their version of Engineering?"

The Ferengi sank into a fit of muttering and hand gestures as he absorbed the information being relayed. He hadn't even thought to interfere with the surgical implants that were being sported by the Kazon, his focus always being on making good his escape with the least amount of contact possible. He seemed to argue with himself for several beats before suddenly letting out a sigh, though it was up for interpretation as to what the exhalation actually meant. When the sound abated, Tork walked over and threw an arm around the engineer.

Noah's sloping shoulders rocked at the Ferengi's move reminding Noah again that Ferengi, while diminutive, were surprisingly strong. He blinked. That had been unexpected.

"You know something, kid, I like you, you seem to be good with details. And now that you've reminded me of those wired up goons, your plan suddenly feels like the way to go. If I was a betting Ferengi... which we all kind of are, come to think of it... I'd put my money on Engineering. The goons never seemed to just lounge around in their version of an armory, but I've seen plenty of people milling around the engine compartment. I wasn't the only 'helping hand' they had down there, and these guys really do love to make a show of having the muscle to keep folks in line. You're bound to get at least a half dozen or more of those chipped up Kazon if you release the gas there," the Ferengi said with a smirk.

"And," Tork added, flicking his little tool back on, "I just so happen to have the skeleton key to get you anywhere you want to go. Or lock anyone you don't want coming out of somewhere in. Could be useful, yes? I can also jury-rig anything else we might need along the way. Speaking of, how were you going to spread this... penthetic acid mixture? You already got something cooked up, or where you stopping here to do that? Did we already cover that? How are we looking for time? And who was it that said they were looking for other people?"

"We stopped in here. We-we needed to make a solution." Noah added. His brows popped, one of them badly bruised, "Tight, really tight. I-I am surprised they haven't caught us yet."

The Ferengi glanced over at Irynya, "How many people are you missing exactly? I didn't see too many folks in the holding area I was stuffed in, so I probably never saw them, but I know there's about three other places that they cram prisoners. Where did you guys escape from? I'm assuming they weren't in that part of the ship or you wouldn't be looking for them."

"Three," she said and then corrected herself. "No, four. Three Starfleet officers and a Kazon woman under our protection. We haven't been here a whole day yet... I don't think... and there were no other prisoners that I saw where we were being held. They were trying to take Kaldri..." She frowned, trying to rebuild the chaotic flurry of interactions that had taken place leading to their escape.

"I haven't seen any Kazon females, so I can only assume they've got them somewhere toward the fore of the ship," The Ferengi remarked.

Tork paused and glanced at man he had his arm around, "You good? You seem a bit tense. You should loosen up a bit, I know we're stuck on a Kazon ship and all, but we're already half way out of here now that we've got a solid plan in the works. Good job with that, by the way. I was just going to blind them and run for the shuttle bay to hijack my shuttle back from these goons. Hey, maybe we can still do that, the hijacking bit. What do you think... uh... was it Balsamic? No... that doesn't sound right... Bimler... no... I know it started with a buh... Balsam! It was Balsam, right?"

"Balsam," Noah clarified. "Like the... uh... wood. Or tree." Both seemed a dead comparison- unless Tork had made a study of Earth-based flora. Balsam grimaced, "Sorry, just have a lot on my mind right now." He'd seen colleagues die and mentors... die or wounded, he didn't know. He was hurt... his friends here were hurt. And he had no way of knowing if the Sojourner wasn't a fiery hulk of debris in space. "So... if we knock out Engineering... we might be able to do more with your," And Noah gestured at Tork's improvised tool. "Since you know the ship." He looked at the three who outranked him. "Right?"

"So you're stiff like wood because your name comes from a tree? Must be a hew-mon thing," the Ferengi said with a shrug.

Noah frowned a line, slightly rumpled, his brow flexing lines in frustration. "Can we focus on-on getting out of here?"

"Tork, was it?" Cassian queried as he stepped in closer while still trying to keep an eye out for anyone else who might just suddenly appear in the room with them, "Can you tell us where those three other places are? Or possibly what may have happened to the others you were with? Or even what assistance I can be of to help get us out of here?"

"Yep, that would be me," Tork nodded at the mention of his name, "I can indeed tell you where they are. The first one isn't too far from their galley, they keep the pretty females there to serve as waitresses. Against their will, of course. Something about wanting to look at pretty things while they eat. I'll never understand the fascination with staring at females in clothing. Is that another hew-mon thing, Balsam?"

Noah blinked his eyes in surprise. "I-I..." he glanced at Irynya. "Don't know?" He flushed.

The Risian, who had been watching Tork's sudden change of attitude toward Noah with a bemused if frustrated expression on her features raised her eyebrows at Noah and shrugged, shoulders lifting the barest fraction, as if to say He's definitely a Ferengi.

"Conversation for another time." Cassian said with a slight impatience to his voice towards Tork. He hoped the Ferengi wasn't just talking away and being friendly to buy himself some time. "You were saying about the holding areas?"

"Huh..." the Ferengi said in contemplation before returning to the question he had only started to answer, "There was another holding area near the cargo bay. No shortage of loot to be stowed away, and no better place for bulky male captives than to haul around their ill-gotten gains for them. I came out of the holding area right by the engine room, such that it is... But the few people I saw weren't Starfleet, so I don't imagine your friends are there... unless you're missing some locals, then you might have to try that one as well. As for the pilot that was with me, he got funny ideas in his head and got himself vaporized on day... three? four? sometime around there, trying to just muscle his way out. Kazon had bigger muscles... and a phaser."

Tork again shrugged, "Didn't really know the guy, so I can't get too emotional about it. The man lived up to the forty-fifth rule, tried to expand his horizons... ended up dying. Any Ferengi worth his latinum would be proud. As for how you can help... are you an engineer?" The Ferengi's eyes poured over the man for a moment before he answered his own question, "Nah... you don't look like one. Must be in Security. So how could you..."

"I am Security, yes," Cassian nodded, "and I haven't the slightest about anything Engineering related but could be useful in other ways."

The Ferengi turned to Balsam, "You mix your compound yet? Because I think I just had an idea." The smile that erupted on his face made it obvious that he was very much an example of rule forty-eight in the flesh.

"I mixed it already." Noah lifted the solution. "If no one objects, I'm putting it into the vents for Engineering." He started to back away toward the lines, his intent and attentive to the others. "What's your idea...?" He asked. "We need to get moving." Noah stressed, his shoulders rolling back as he deep a breath shallow in his chest. For a brief moment, Noah's fear was that they were being purposefully delayed. He tried to put it away. It was already a small miracle that no Kazon had come in, and every second was a double down.

Could that uniform be Commander Cross'? Was their any chance? Noah looked for the neck pips, and if the garment was cut to support a bosom. "Lets get back in the shafts." Noah suggested cautiously. "I can do this... be right in..."

Once again, Irynya stopped him, this time with a hand placed gently on his arm to keep him from moving away. "One moment Mr. Balsam," she said and her gaze held his begging him to trust her with this last delay.

She glanced to Cassian, wishing for telepathic senses that Risians simply didn't have so she could talk to him without Tork's presence. "Look," she said to Tork, pulling her eyes from Cassian to look at the diminutive man in front of her. "I don't mean to be rude. But you just walked in here and we were only just captured. There aren't that many ships out here in the Delta Quadrant and no reports of a missing shuttle have reached us... at least none I'm privy to. Please don't take this the wrong way, but how do we know for sure you're form the Andarok?"

Her hand was still on Noah's arm and she squeezed slightly as if somehow doing so might give her just a touch more courage. "We've only got one chance to get this right and we can't take any chances. Not to mention we're running out of time. So...." She searched her brain suddenly landing on a thought, "who's the Chief Flight Controller on the Andarok?"

It was a weird detail for her to request. One that, she suspected, only she could confirm. Timmoz had mentioned, sometime since they'd reached the DQ, that he'd heard Herman Dryfuis had been promoted to the Andarok. It was the kind of flyboy and flygirl gossip that traveled in very specific circles and she'd only really cared because Herman had been one of her classmates.

"Why would you ask about Herman?" Tork said with a scrunched up expression, "Does he owe you latinum too? Well you aren't getting it out of me. He still owes me ten bars and two slips... How much did he sweet-talk you out of? Any other Ferengi would have sent liquidators after him by now..."

The normalcy of Tork's response was good, but hearing Herman's name was even better. Irynya let out a long exhale, squeezed Noah's arm gently, and let him go. "Ok. Get it done. We'll meet you in the vents."

To Cassian and Tork she tipped her head sideways indicating the direction from which 3 of the 4 officers had come. "Maritz, you take lead, then Tork." They were already moving no one bothering to argue even though all three of them were technically peers and Iry has no more right to dictate than the other two. She turned as they reached the vent, looking back to Noah--unwilling to take her eyes off of him as if he might evaporate if she climbed up before she saw him move in their direction.

Seeing the small look on Irynya's face gave Cassian the bit of relief he needed to not keep thinking they were being purposefully delayed, so he nodded his understanding and climbed up into the vents. Waiting for Tork to climb up behind him, he turned his head, "Which direction are we headed?"

Tork pointed toward the aft of the ship, "That way."

Noah turned to complete his task. He eyed the receptacle for dispersing widespread medicine- and likely far worse. Then he felt the weight of the vial in his hands. He a sigh pushed between his barely parted lips. "Here g-goes nothing..." he murmured to himself. He was about to hurt a whole lot of people. And that's what they were- people. Didn't matter. Kazon, Trabe, Ferengi, Human. Sure they were enemies. Their associates had hurt some of his people. But as Noah closed the delivery system and then closed his eyes, he still felt the weight.

One... two... three... He failed to push it. He had to reassure himself he wasn't killing anyone. He was putting them to sleep temporarily. And some of them were about to get a cybernetic paperweight hanging off them. One... two... three...

Click.

His fingers went into further action- he targeted Engineering schematic and then opened its vents. He eyed the disperse command. "Sorry...." he muttered with a twist of his lips. He pushed it. Then quickly, with trembling clatters of his tools being shoved into their kit housings, Noah moved. He closed it, slung it around his skinnyness, and moved to join his colleagues. He eyed Irynya first- one eye wounded, one just very tired looking. "It's done..." He said. "Let's get out of here."

Irynya waited the entire span of time it took for Noah to do what he needed to do, her eyes never leaving him, resisting the urge to go over and stand there with him--a silent sentinel of support. Instead she waited and when he returned she held his gaze, nodded her understanding, and gestured for him to precede her into the vent. "Good job Ensign," she said as he stepped past her to join the others. The words felt insufficient, compared to the appreciation and protectiveness she felt of him in that moment, but they were the only appropriate ones. With one last look around the room she turned and followed him back into the tight spaces of the vents.

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Flight Controller

Lieutenant Cassian Maritz
Chief of Security

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist

And introducing...

Lieutenant Tork
Adrift Engineer