Cmdr. Evan Merlin | Lockdown

Posted on Fri Sep 6th, 2019 @ 6:16am by Commander Evan Merlin

Mission: Dust Stirring
Location: Cold Station Theta, Promenade
Timeline: SD 241909.06

It was only good reflexes which saved him from being cut. He dodged the bottle which was flung at him and it shattered against the back wall of the turbolift. All around him was chaos, people yelling and screaming, punches and occasional furniture being thrown. But this was more than a barroom brawl which had spilled out of a bar and onto the Promenade itself, this was almost a free for all.

He stepped aside, back pressed against the wall, to take it all in. One hand reached towards the inside flap of his robe where his communicator was hidden.

Once again, good timing saved him: once again the lift doors slid open and this time a group of security officers spilled out. This was the Gamma shift group, he noticed. They looked around, drew their stunners. One of the group spotted him and turned around. "Sir! What's going on?"

"Damned if I know. I just arrived here myself, hadn't even heard any chatter that there was something going on here. It must've started maybe minutes ago." He had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. "We're gonna need a bigger team to get this under control."

The screaming, fighting crowd – or was it a mob? – hadn't noticed the security officers yet, or were ignoring them, being too busy with fighting. He picked out the big, bulky form of the Klingon cook from the Heart of Targ. It was a small relief that the man wasn't swinging a bat'leth at this point. More and more people were streaming into the Promenade, either called up by friends or just attracted by the noise or the idea of a good fight, and all the oppurtunities they provided.

He tapped his comm badge, always keeping an eye on the area around them. "Merlin to Ops. The situation on the promenade is deteriorating fast. I want the whole area here closed off. Turbolifts only for Starfleet personnel. Get the rest of Security up and moving, contact Cmdr. Stacker if he isn't there yet. I'll keep you posted. Merlin out." Then he looked at the security detail in front of him. "Phasers on stun, take out those with weapons first. Coordinate with the chief when he gets here, and tell whoever's still down there below to ready the cells, we're gonna need them." The team in front of him began to spread out, taking positions.

Another tap. "Merlin to medbay. There's a fight on the promenade. Stand by, you'll have incoming wounded soon." He barely awaited the acknowledgement before he started to move himself. Here, near the turbolifts, would soon be a very bad place to be.

The next bit after this was chaos. Later he would only remember flashes: someone who suddenly grabbed him from behind and tried to choke him, combat reflexes taking over, grabbing wrist and hand, twist, kick, push and free, moving on to the next place, dodging as someone else smashed a table to splinters and swung a leg around like a club. More security people appeared, beaming in or using the lifts, blocking off exits and the stairs, slowly working their way in. Even the translator seemed to be breaking down as people yelled and cursed and screamed in over a dozen languages, Klingon, Bajoran, Tellariate, Bolian, Orion. Hearing that last bit set off a warning light in his mind. He reached up to hail Ops. "The situation might be more complicated than we thought if Orions are involved. This might be orchestrated. If it's the Syndicate… Whoa!"

Between all the fighting and the milling people he had ended up in the middle of the promenade. Something, either an almost invisible movement from the corner of an eye or sheer instinct made him look up.

Everything seemed to slow down, freezing like a holodeck. A still point in the middle of a maelstrom, the eye of the hurricane. And falling directly into the middle of that point was a man, tumbling like a rag doll. All sounds seemed to cease in that long moment before he hit the ground. He had time to notice everything, the slack face, tusked mouth still contorted in a silent scream, eyes wide with the sudden shock…

The knife in his chest was an atrocity.

It seemed an eternity, but in reality he had barely hit the ground when CST's commander touched his badge again. "Medbay, we have one man down. Nausicaan. Command override, transport him and do what you can." He feared it wouldn't be much. He was no doctor, but he wouldn't be surprised if the man had been dead before he fell. And the way he had landed, the body bent and twisted in places where there ought to be no joints, wasn't hopeful either. Still, he could be wrong… He hoped he was wrong. Because if he wasn't, this place had just become the scene of a murder. And no idea whodunnit.

Something cold gripped his hearts. "Merlin to Ops. Lock down the station. Nothing goes in or out. No ships are allowed to dock or leave until the murderer has been apprehended."