Covert Mission 3 - Log 6

[John Randall 0]

OFFICIAL LOG

LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL

USS CHALLENGER

 

(Personal Log Stardate May 26-30, 2161 (approx.) )

 

As near as John could figure out, he was in his fourth day of captivity aboard the Romulan vessel. The previous three had been sheer hell for the engineer of the Challenger. The Romulans had been brutal in their interrogations, and had not held anything back. But, John hadn't broken, which only seemed to infuriate his captors more, and Randall was taking great pleasure in that.

 

His sole purpose now was trying to find a way out; he constantly looked for anything that he could use, any passage that might lead to freedom. He hadn't found anything yet, but he vowed he would keep trying until he was free, or he was dead.

 

John was not in good shape, but the Romulans, for all their brutality, had stayed away (mostly) from his facial area. The rest of his body was covered in bruises, and now almost every movement was sheer pain for the Starfleet officer.

 

They came for him again, and led him down the corridor to the now-familiar room; they sat him down in the chair, but this time, they did not bind his hands. The Romulans stepped back, and stood at attention. John squinted at the door, which suddenly slid open, and a Romulan with a belt of metal running from his waist over his right shoulder and down his back to his waist walked in and regarded him.

 

He snapped a command in Romulan to the other two, and they saluted and left the room. The Romulan officer drew up another chair, and sat in front of John. "So, my Starfleet friend," he said as the translated words came from the tube hanging around his neck. "How long must we continue this? We bring you here, we question you, and you say nothing. Do you really believe that anyone is looking for you?

 

"Starfleet has abandoned you, my friend," he continued. "If they were going to mount a rescue for you, they surely would have done it by now, hm? Face the facts; they have given you up for dead. Admit it, they are not coming for you." John sat silently staring at the Romulan, who shrugged and arose from his chair.

 

"I have reported to my superiors that there is no use trying to interrogate you any farther. I am awaiting their reply, but I think we both know what it will be, no?" he said, and John's eyes went ice-blue with anger. "Still you say nothing," rasped the Romulan. shaking his head. "Very well, we will take you back to your quarters, and you may contemplate your upcoming fate," he continued, striding to the door. He then turned and looked back at Randall. "I salute your loyalty, my friend, but I fear it is misplaced," he said. "Jalon true, Mr. Randall. I do not think we will meet again."

 

He exited the room, and a few seconds later, the guards came and took John back to his room. Randall walked stiffily to the bed and sat down, leaning his back against the wall. Then, all of a sudden, the room lurched violently to the right, and John was thrown to the floor, crying out in pain. The room lurched again, and John went rolling across the floor, which was now slanted sharply downhill to the left. He crashed into the wall, and let out another scream of pain as he collided.

 

He lay there for a few moments, then the door to his room slid open. Three forms rushed inside, and John saw through a haze they were wearing Starfleet Marine uniforms. Two of them came over to him, and another scanned him with a tricorder. "It's him, sir," the scanning Marine said, and the other nodded. "Let's go!" came the order, and the two Marines helped Randall out of the room and down the corridor.

 

The group made their way to another room, which housed a transporter. The leader walked over to the console, and motioned the rest of the group onto the pad. Then, suddenly, three Romulans burst through the door, disruptors blazing. A vicious firefight ensued, and when it was over, all three Romulans were dead. One of the Marines had taken a hit, and was moaning with pain. The one at the console sent fingers flying across it, then pulled two switches down, and leaped onto the dais. A glow surrounded the group as they de-materialized from the room.

 

 

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The group materialized aboard another ship, and they stepped down from the dais. John was taken to the sickbay of the ship, and, through a haze of pain, recognized it as the Altair. He was laid onto a bed, and medical personnel immediately surrounded him. A hypospray hissed against his shoulder as his uniform was removed, and he immediately lost consciousness.

 

He woke up later, and looked at the ceiling of the room. A nurse came over a few moments later. "Well, you're finally awake," she said breezily, and John turned his head to look at her. "How-How long---?," he began in a whisper, and the nurse shushed him instantly. "No talking, Lieutenant Randall," she said sternly. "You just lie there; the doctor will be here shortly. Would you like some water?" John nodded, and the nurse brought him a flask which he was able to sip from. A man wearing a white coat and a Starfleet blue medical uniform joined them.

 

"Hello there, Mr. Randall," he said. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Evan Hughes, and you are aboard the USS Altair. I am the CMO of this ship, and I might say you are a VIP at the moment. Captain Creighton-Ward is on her way to see you. The Romulans worked you over pretty well, didn't they?" As John nodded, the doctor continued, "Well, you're going to be with us for a little while, Lieutenant. Please do not attempt to speak. You are in a severely weakened state, and your body needs time and complete rest right now."

 

He took a hypospray and held it to Randall's shoulder. "This is a little something to help you stay awake for a bit," he continued. "The captain says it is critical to talk to you, but, after you two are finished, we are going to knock you out again, so to speak. The only reason you are not in pain right now is because we have administered a neural blocker. You need to be coherent when the captain arrives."

 

As he finished speaking, the door of sickbay slid open, and Captain Wendy Creighton-Ward strode to the bed. "How is he, Doctor?" she asked, and Hughes frowned at her. "Under normal circumstances, Captain, he would be in a medically induced coma, and in a stasis chamber," he said. "I'm letting you talk to him against my wishes." "So noted, Doctor," replied the captain coldly. "You will give us privacy now." The doctor nodded resignedly, and left, drawing a curtain around John's bed.

 

Captain Ward smiled down at him. "Welcome back, Lieutenant," she said. "Nice to be back, captain," replied John in a whisper. The captain said, "I know how badly you're hurt, Mr. Randall, so I'll be doing most of the talking. I have a tricorder with me; this will be an official debriefing, all right?" John nodded. "Lieutenant, the first thing you need to know is: the mission was a success. We apprehended the terrorist group, and made sure their ship that had the quantum torpedoes on it was completely destroyed," the captain began.

 

"Now for some not-so-good news: Your team save two Marines were all killed," she continued, and John shut his eyes, instantly thinking of Sara Edwards. "The Columbia was destroyed by the Romulans, and any evidence of the shield technology aboard has apparently been eradicated. However, just as our history states, Earth did win the war. We found out later that the shield specs had been passed on to Starfleet HQ by the chief engineer of the Columbia before it was attacked by the Romulans. All the remaining NX-class ships were outfitted with shields, and that enabled Earth to win the war.

 

"Two months later, Earth, Andoria, Tellar, Rigel, and Vulcan held a conference on Earth, and the Federation was officially founded," she continued. "At present, the Altair is about to make the time-jump back to our own time, and we are cloaked on the other side of the Phobos moon. Lieutenant, to your knowledge, the Romulans got no information from you during your torture?" John shook his head. "I wasn't about to tell those green-skinned bastards anything," he rasped, and Ward smiled.

 

"Well, the admirals will be pleased to hear that," she replied. "Admiral Baldwin in particular has been most anxious about you. He plans on visiting you as soon as the doctor clears you for visitors. I think that's about all, don't you?" John nodded. "Well, I'll leave you to the doctor's care, then," she said. "It has been an honor to serve with you again, Lieutenant John Randall. May you recover rapidly." "Thank you, Captain," he replied. "Safe travels to you."

 

Captain Ward nodded, opened the curtain, and nodded to the doctor, who immediately came over. "All right, Lieutenant, time for you to take an extended nap," he said, and John nodded, closing his eyes in anticipation. A second later, a hypo hissed against his shoulder, and he lost consciousness.

 

Six days later, John awoke from the chemically induced sleep. He was given permission from the doctor to embark on an exercise regimen that lasted three weeks. He was debriefed again by admirals Hastings and Baldwin during the three week span. He also mourned the death of Sara Edwards, and his hatred of the Romulans doubled in intensity.

 

The Altair made the jump back to the late 23rd century, and docked at earth spacedock 1. John was transported to Starfleet General Hospital where he was given a clean bill of health by the doctors there. He was pronounced fit for duty, and Captain Ward said she had orders from Baldwin, who would get in touch with Captain Ja'lale of the Challenger, to take John to his home ship. John was transported back to the Altair, and sat in his cabin awaiting the word to transport to the Challenger.

 

END LOG