S4: E9 - The Sheriff of Gothos

[Mondo'li Nari]

Mysterious Red Planet - Gothos City

Mondo's hand went instinctively to his newly acquired slugthrower as the bandits opened fire on his fellow away-team members.  He also found himself flinching at the thunderous report of the weapons.

The Hupyrian was not surprised when the criminals' wild shooting didn't connect with much.  He had already noted that the weapons were probably inaccurate.  Still, despite the weapons, and the apparent lack of skill processed by their antagonists, they inflicted a casualty.  Before Mondo could even touch his 'iron' he had already failed in his job.

The Security of the team had been breached.

Stepping sideways to place his significant frame between the shooters and the injured away-team member, he drew his weapon and pulled back its priming lever.  Then he leveled the 'Colt' as best he could against the man who seemed to be the lead outlaw.  Finally, he squeezed the trigger, hoping to unleash a slug of his own against the foe.  His movements were not the practiced ones of a quick-draw artist.  But they were deliberate, steady, and filled with willful intent.

[Paul Wessex]

As Wessex dived to one side as the land sharks opened up with their weapons, he cast the ten coins he was holding into the air, simultaneously annoyed that this situation was seemingly conspiring to prove him wrong about not taking a weapon, and that he had voluntarily parted with coins he had, until just now, been forced to reveal and almost hand over.

As the coins sailed into the air, the ex-NavPat officer hoped that at least one of their assailants would be drawn to the glittering objects; whether it was enough to cause their aim to waver, or dull their action enough for one of his colleagues to return fire...and, hope beyond hope, not prove to be mortal.

A cry to his left was recognisable as Sims, and Wessex felt a dark surge of anger that, as the senior Security Officer, he was responsible for their safety, and that of everyone around him. With one eye on Mondo as the large chap levelled their own weapon at the opponents, Paul reached Sims as flecks of dust and lead peppered around him, presumably the enemy's aim was as poor as Nari's assessment of the 'Colts' had indicated. With one hand gripped firmly at the scruff, the usually lightly humoured man dragged the Crewman to the corner of a nearby building, drawn to it by a sharp whistle, where Jyur had wisely secured themselves. Small, hot pieces of metal whizzed past his ear as the unceremoniously dumped Sims out of the line of sight. Puffing with exertion, turned to the Science Officer amidst the chaos. "Sir", he said hurriedly, acknowledging the slight difference in rank, "if you would be so kind?" He nodded to the weapon, hoping that the request was picked up. Paul had no intention to use it directly, but if he could cause a distraction and draw gaze elsewhere - perhaps behind them - the rest of the team could take the opportunity to subdue the group without loss of life.

Then an idea struck him. Wasn't there talk of a sheriff? Such law enforcement officials were still known across the aquatic worlds that the Naval Patrol operated. The exchanged weapons fire had not caused them to emerge; were they unable or unwilling to respond? Or was this all part of the theme park 'scenario'? He wondered about calling out, to see if things could manifest in their favour for once.

[Ian Galloway]

[Gothos City - Rogue Planet]

As Jettis slowly reached for his pocket, he was confused as he looked down and... none was there. He didn't have any pockets. Moving his hand around a bit, he realized he'd never had any pockets. There wasn't even so much as a stitch to indicate there had ever been anything there. Not a thread out of place. Head jerking up, he looked over as the Commander spoke, pointing out only Wessex had pockets. Many, in fact. The one man who hadn't just handed over all of his money, mysteriously still had pockets on his person. That sounded straight out of a holo-novel.

The XO seemed to be having the same thought process, as he asked Paul to hand over less than what he possessed. The bandits very much disliked that turn of events, however, and were not shy in showing it.

"Get down!" Jettis was the first to yell, as he crouched down, dodging away from where he was standing. It helped very little, however, as the men didn't seem concerned with accuracy. Or aiming, for that matter. Rudimentary bullets were flying everywhere, making dodging an almost fruitless effort. One might have better luck standing still and hoping for the best.
Shielding his head with his arm, his brain was working overtime to calculate what the best next move was. Eyes flitting towards the leftmost one, he tried to estimate the distance between them - 35 feet? Less? He couldn't sprint that amount of distance fast enough, without getting hit. So they needed cover.

Eyes flitting to his side, he looked at the nearest building. Probably around 20 feet, a bit more doable. Then what? He had his tricorder, and the revolver they had just purchased. Obviously, this sick game, or whatever it was wanted them to use the revolver. A non-lethal shot could be fired from around his cover, if it came down to it. Or, he could try to get one up on them, and get closer to subdue one. Much more dangerous, more likely to be a suicide mission.

Covering his head with one hand, he decided the best course of action was to get to cover. His other hand unholstered his gun, priming it for shooting. Staying low to the ground, he sprinted towards the nearest building with some form of cover, giving a sharp whistle to the rest of the away team. Trying to keep low, he waited for any instruction from security, not wanting to step outside his depth.

Mysterious Red Planet - Gothos City

Mondo's hand went instinctively to his newly acquired slugthrower as the bandits opened fire on his fellow away-team members.  He also found himself flinching at the thunderous report of the weapons.

The Hupyrian was not surprised when the criminals' wild shooting didn't connect with much.  He had already noted that the weapons were probably inaccurate.  Still, despite the weapons, and the apparent lack of skill processed by their antagonists, they inflicted a casualty.  Before Mondo could even touch his 'iron' he had already failed in his job.

The Security of the team had been breached.

Stepping sideways to place his significant frame between the shooters and the injured away-team member, he drew his weapon and pulled back its priming lever.  Then he leveled the 'Colt' as best he could against the man who seemed to be the lead outlaw.  Finally, he squeezed the trigger, hoping to unleash a slug of his own against the foe.  His movements were not the practiced ones of a quick-draw artist.  But they were deliberate, steady, and filled with willful intent.

As Wessex dived to one side as the land sharks opened up with their weapons, he cast the ten coins he was holding into the air, simultaneously annoyed that this situation was seemingly conspiring to prove him wrong about not taking a weapon, and that he had voluntarily parted with coins he had, until just now, been forced to reveal and almost hand over.

As the coins sailed into the air, the ex-NavPat officer hoped that at least one of their assailants would be drawn to the glittering objects; whether it was enough to cause their aim to waver, or dull their action enough for one of his colleagues to return fire...and, hope beyond hope, not prove to be mortal.

A cry to his left was recognisable as Sims, and Wessex felt a dark surge of anger that, as the senior Security Officer, he was responsible for their safety, and that of everyone around him. With one eye on Mondo as the large chap levelled their own weapon at the opponents, Paul reached Sims as flecks of dust and lead peppered around him, presumably the enemy's aim was as poor as Nari's assessment of the 'Colts' had indicated. With one hand gripped firmly at the scruff, the usually lightly humoured man dragged the Crewman to the corner of a nearby building, drawn to it by a sharp whistle, where Jyur had wisely secured themselves. Small, hot pieces of metal whizzed past his ear as the unceremoniously dumped Sims out of the line of sight. Puffing with exertion, turned to the Science Officer amidst the chaos. "Sir", he said hurriedly, acknowledging the slight difference in rank, "if you would be so kind?" He nodded to the weapon, hoping that the request was picked up. Paul had no intention to use it directly, but if he could cause a distraction and draw gaze elsewhere - perhaps behind them - the rest of the team could take the opportunity to subdue the group without loss of life.

Then an idea struck him. Wasn't there talk of a sheriff? Such law enforcement officials were still known across the aquatic worlds that the Naval Patrol operated. The exchanged weapons fire had not caused them to emerge; were they unable or unwilling to respond? Or was this all part of the theme park 'scenario'? He wondered about calling out, to see if things could manifest in their favour for once.

[Gothos City - Rogue Planet - Larn System]

As soon as Sims went down, Vizetti knelt down beside him to provide aid, but the unconscious act brought unexpected fortune. The primitive slug throwers used a very crude chemical mixture and as a result, after only a few shots, the area of the confrontation was clouded in a dense cloud. When Vizetti knelt, it brought him below the bulk of the gunsmoke and he could clearly see the legs of the bandits. He drew his pistol and fired. One of the robbers dropped on his side and Vizetti hoped that would be it for that one, but the man wasn't out of the fight and leveled his Colt to fire. Reacting to the threat, Vizetti fired again and this time the man slumped down and lay still.

Just as Vizetti finished off the one robber, Mondo's Starfleet training proved to be more than enough for him to handle the antique weapon with more skill than the attackers as his single shot struck true and dropped the leader instantly. The last bandit, alone and severely outnumbered, decided that whatever the away team had was no longer worth his life and took to his heels, quickly disappearing out of sight.

The fight over, the slight breeze blew the last of the gunsmoke out of the air and in the distance, a single figure approached. The man had dark hair and wore, in addition to his Colt revolver, a silver star pinned to his cotton plaid shirt that said 'Sheriff'.

He gazed at the members of the away team with hard look before he simply said.

"Come with me."

[Mondo'li Nari]

Mysterious Red Planet - Gothos City

Mondo felt a grim satisfaction at having somehow confronted the armed robbers successfully with the help of the rest of the team.  He despised taking lives, but he had begun to find peace in a savage equation:  If a contest came between Them and Us, it was his job to make sure the survivor was Us.

He walked over to the fallen foes, examining them to see if they were well and truly dead.

No breathing.  Plenty of blood.  He reached down to unbuckle their belts and retrieve their weapons.

At that moment, a new figure appeared.  The 'Sheriff.'  Some kind of law-enforcement?   Mondo eyed the man with suspicion, wondering if he was bringing more violence.  But it didn't seem so.

Standing with one of the belts and guns, he looked towards Wessex.

"Another firearm, Sir?"

He hoped the Sheriff would not interfere.  If their wounded away-team member survived, then they were still one weapon short.  This would fix the problem. 

[Paul Wessex]

Mondo felt a grim satisfaction at having somehow confronted the armed robbers successfully with the help of the rest of the team.  He despised taking lives, but he had begun to find peace in a savage equation:  If a contest came between Them and Us, it was his job to make sure the survivor was Us.

He walked over to the fallen foes, examining them to see if they were well and truly dead.

No breathing.  Plenty of blood.  He reached down to unbuckle their belts and retrieve their weapons.

At that moment, a new figure appeared.  The 'Sheriff.'  Some kind of law-enforcement?   Mondo eyed the man with suspicion, wondering if he was bringing more violence.  But it didn't seem so.

Standing with one of the belts and guns, he looked towards Wessex.

"Another firearm, Sir?"

He hoped the Sheriff would not interfere.  If their wounded away-team member survived, then they were still one weapon short.  This would fix the problem. 

Glancing away from this new mysterious - if tardy - appearance of the town 'sheriff', Paul looked at the proffered weapon with a look of resigned acceptance. He was keen to ensure - if only to percolate confidence in those around him - that his fellow colleagues and officer didn't look upon their Security Officer as some kind of ineffectual objector; yet on the other hand he still felt strongly at the unambiguous lethality of such a device. Still, it seemed clear now that this was no ordinary situation and that some kind of programme was running to push them along some path like a hurtling mining cart.

Thus, a smile accompanied his reaching for the weapon and belt. "Much obliged, Mister Nari" he said honestly. The large chap continued to as impressive as the rumours, and he looked forward - if this planet allowed it - to many more adventures alongside. Taking it, but not yet fixing it around his waist, he instead dropped to one knee, and looked in on Sims. "How are you, Crewman?"

[Ian Galloway]

Mysterious Red Planet - Gothos City

Mondo felt a grim satisfaction at having somehow confronted the armed robbers successfully with the help of the rest of the team.  He despised taking lives, but he had begun to find peace in a savage equation:  If a contest came between Them and Us, it was his job to make sure the survivor was Us.

He walked over to the fallen foes, examining them to see if they were well and truly dead.

No breathing.  Plenty of blood.  He reached down to unbuckle their belts and retrieve their weapons.

At that moment, a new figure appeared.  The 'Sheriff.'  Some kind of law-enforcement?   Mondo eyed the man with suspicion, wondering if he was bringing more violence.  But it didn't seem so.

Standing with one of the belts and guns, he looked towards Wessex.

"Another firearm, Sir?"

He hoped the Sheriff would not interfere.  If their wounded away-team member survived, then they were still one weapon short.  This would fix the problem. 

Glancing away from this new mysterious - if tardy - appearance of the town 'sheriff', Paul looked at the proffered weapon with a look of resigned acceptance. He was keen to ensure - if only to percolate confidence in those around him - that his fellow colleagues and officer didn't look upon their Security Officer as some kind of ineffectual objector; yet on the other hand he still felt strongly at the unambiguous lethality of such a device. Still, it seemed clear now that this was no ordinary situation and that some kind of programme was running to push them along some path like a hurtling mining cart.

Thus, a smile accompanied his reaching for the weapon and belt. "Much obliged, Mister Nari" he said honestly. The large chap continued to as impressive as the rumours, and he looked forward - if this planet allowed it - to many more adventures alongside. Taking it, but not yet fixing it around his waist, he instead dropped to one knee, and looked in on Sims. "How are you, Crewman?"

[Gothos City - Rogue Planet - Larn System]

Sims, who had been laying on his side suddenly gasped and sat up.

"Sir, the wound is gone!"

He stood up in amazement and found not only wasn't there any blood on his under tunic, but there wasn't even a hole, it was as if he'd never been shot at all.

Kyle nodded for the away team to follow and Trelane led them to the town jail, but not it seemed, to arrest them. He instead gave them a beaming smile and greeted each member of the team by name as if he had knew them by reputation. However, he added an embellishment to those names. To Kyle, he promptly nicknamed 'Buckskin' and asked "How's that lady doc you're seeing? Shame you didn't bring her along." Paul became 'Whiskey' "You're a long way from the sea Whiskey, do you miss the smell of seaweed?" Mondo was 'Brawny' "That was one fine dust up at Fort Leyton you had. Glad you got him." Jettus earned the title 'Flapjack' "Seems like you miss the lab Flapjack, is the prairie not to your liking?" Vizetti was 'Snake-eyes' and Sims earned the nickname of 'Soapy'.

After the friendly greetings, Trelane went on at length, taking events from the away team's Starfleet and turning them into the actions of legendary gun-slinging desperadoes. Once he was done singing their praises, he added.

"I've heard the Dalton gang are out of jail and headed this way. I'm on my own here and I like how you handled those polecats that jumped you. Since you're here now, I'm going to deputize you all to help me fend off the Dalton boys. Hell, won't we give those four varmints a surprise when they get into town?"

Before the away team could object, Trelane continued.

"Thing is friends, I'm expecting the Dalton gang at any minute and not only do I need you, but so do the good folk of Gothos City. Can I count on you?"

[Shuttlebay - USS Challenger]

Ensign Baktiari swore, blushed, then apologized.

"Sorry Commander, I've gone through the start up sequence three times and the engines will not engage. Do you want to try one of the other shuttles?"

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian snorted in mock amusement when Baktiari reported that none of the shuttles would start. It was just one more malfunction that no one could explain, as once again, there wasn't a mechanical or scientific reason the shuttles joined the list with the engines, the weapons, and the transporters that were not working.

"I have no bloody idea what is goin' on up here or down there and that is enough ta set my jaw on edge."

Ian growled in frustration. As he did, almost as if in response to his outburst, the viewscreen snapped on by itself. The scene was of the away team in some solidly built stone building with an unknown man speaking to Kyle and the others, giving them nicknames and asking them to help him fight off some bandits of some sort.

"Who in the bloody hell is that?"

[ShranLahr ch'Verret]

ShranLahr ch'Verret
[USS Challenger - Deck One - Bridge]

[Gothos City - Rogue Planet - Larn System]

Sims, who had been laying on his side suddenly gasped and sat up.

"Sir, the wound is gone!"

He stood up in amazement and found not only wasn't there any blood on his under tunic, but there wasn't even a hole, it was as if he'd never been shot at all.

Kyle nodded for the away team to follow and Trelane led them to the town jail, but not it seemed, to arrest them. He instead gave them a beaming smile and greeted each member of the team by name as if he had knew them by reputation. However, he added an embellishment to those names. To Kyle, he promptly nicknamed 'Buckskin' and asked "How's that lady doc you're seeing? Shame you didn't bring her along." Paul became 'Whiskey' "You're a long way from the sea Whiskey, do you miss the smell of seaweed?" Mondo was 'Brawny' "That was one fine dust up at Fort Leyton you had. Glad you got him." Jettus earned the title 'Flapjack' "Seems like you miss the lab Flapjack, is the prairie not to your liking?" Vizetti was 'Snake-eyes' and Sims earned the nickname of 'Soapy'.

After the friendly greetings, Trelane went on at length, taking events from the away team's Starfleet and turning them into the actions of legendary gun-slinging desperadoes. Once he was done singing their praises, he added.

"I've heard the Dalton gang are out of jail and headed this way. I'm on my own here and I like how you handled those polecats that jumped you. Since you're here now, I'm going to deputize you all to help me fend off the Dalton boys. Hell, won't we give those four varmints a surprise when they get into town?"

Before the away team could object, Trelane continued.

"Thing is friends, I'm expecting the Dalton gang at any minute and not only do I need you, but so do the good folk of Gothos City. Can I count on you?"

[Shuttlebay - USS Challenger]

Ensign Baktiari swore, blushed, then apologized.

"Sorry Commander, I've gone through the start up sequence three times and the engines will not engage. Do you want to try one of the other shuttles?"

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian snorted in mock amusement when Baktiari reported that none of the shuttles would start. It was just one more malfunction that no one could explain, as once again, there wasn't a mechanical or scientific reason the shuttles joined the list with the engines, the weapons, and the transporters that were not working.

"I have no bloody idea what is goin' on up here or down there and that is enough ta set my jaw on edge."

Ian growled in frustration. As he did, almost as if in response to his outburst, the viewscreen snapped on by itself. The scene was of the away team in some solidly built stone building with an unknown man speaking to Kyle and the others, giving them nicknames and asking them to help him fight off some bandits of some sort.

"Who in the bloody hell is that?"

Hearing Baktiari's report about the shuttles not working, Lahr was torn between frustration and relief.   Much like the Captain he was at a lost to explain the odd malfunctions happening throughout the ship.

When the scene on the viewscreen played, Lahr took an instant dislike to the unfamiliar man that was acting all buddy-buddy with the away team.  It was insulting to have the man assume a camaraderie when none existed all in a bid to garner their aid.

The Captain's question was left unanswered (at least from the Andorian), mainly because there was no way for Lahr to know who the man was.

However Lahr decided to check the database to see if the computer recognized the man on the screen or the name of Dalton.   He didn't bother checking the name of Fort Leyton.. as Lahr recognized it was a pseudonym for the one of Leyton's battle locations that Challenger had participated in .... maybe his asteroid stronghold where the prisoners were kept.  It was fairly evident that when their ship had been scanned, it was so that details like this could be created...  but why?

[Mondo'li Nari]

Mysterious Red Planet - Gothos City

Mondo was pleasantly surprised when Sims rose without any injury being evident, despite him definitely being shot.  Either the wound had rapidly and miraculously healed, or it had never been real at all.  But upon further reflection, his pleasure dissipated.

What did this mean?  Had Mondo killed people when his team was never in real danger?

Were those people even really dead?

What was going on, here?

But he did not have time to ruminate on it.  Soon, they were ushered away by the Sheriff, who began to exhibit uncanny knowledge of the team.  Mondo leaned close to Wessex, "Sir... the references this man is making... they resemble actual biographical details from our lives."

It was, perhaps, an obvious observation...  But either this man had access to Federation information resources, or he had access to their minds and memories.

[Ruth Sigurdsdottir]

[Shuttlebay - USS Challenger]

A head popped out of the pilot's ready room attached to the hanger and soon a Bolian female walked out to meet Ruth. The Ensign squared up and said.

"Here Sir, how can I be of service?"

[Shuttlebay - USS Challenger]

"Ah, brilliant there you are.  Fire up the McAuliffe for me will ya.  You'll be pilotting her down to the planet with me and the counsellor, and yoiking the away team out of Dodge City or whatever they've gotten themselves into down there!"

[USS Challenger - Bridge]

While she hasn't really been on the ship long enough herself to become 'stir crazy', Bianca chose not to point that out. But if the captain wanted the bridge free of her, she really didn't have much say in the matter. Though this was ample opportunity to observe Ruth, who seemed to be the biggest firecracker of them all, if not from a clinical standpoint.

"Alright then," she answered calmly, rising from her seat. "I've not met Ensign Baktari yet, so this will be a good time for it."

Still, she would've loved to stay on and find out what was going on between Galloway and ch'Verret. The tension went as fast as it came, but Bianca caught it quick enough to warrant a bit of coaching the second she had a chance to get a hold of either of them.

Or, perhaps she can get information right now as she followed Sigurdsdottir. The woman seemed to be extremely familiar with ch'Verret and she seemed open enough to questioning, so Bianca decided on some third-party investigating.

"Seems to be a bit of a tension between the captain and the petty officer," she said casually to Ruth. "Are they not getting along?"

Ruth shrugged and grinned, in the back of her mind thinking of a couple of other things that could be going on between Ian and Lahr but opting for the obvious and funny rather than have the Counsellor 'get her prescription pad out' for Lahr or the Captain.

"I think it's one of a couple of things.  Either Captain Galloway is having a rare moment of letting it get to him that everything that could go wrong ... well... is to put it mildly and Lahr just happened to be in the firing line.  But probably, the Captain hasn't forgiven him for playing a non-traditional version of Scotland the Brave.  It seems to be a thing with the Challenger Captains... when I was Captain it was Ride of the Valykries as my battlesong, with Ian it's Scotland the Brave played on bagpipes."

Ruth shrugged.  "I don't know but I can tell you that if Lahr and Ian really weren't getting along, you notice more than a little tension!  Ian's a Scot, and like Vikings they don't hide their feelings!"

[Shuttlebay - USS Challenger]

Ensign Baktiari swore, blushed, then apologized.

"Sorry Commander, I've gone through the start up sequence three times and the engines will not engage. Do you want to try one of the other shuttles?"

Ruth waved away the need to apologise.  "Relax Ensign, you should know by now I'm not your run of the mill Commander, I'm also a pilot and when the bloody things don't do what they're supposed to ... you ah... speak to them in the strongest terms possible!" she grinned.  "Yes try any Type 8.  We'll need something that will seat you and me, and the 5 down there on the away team as a minimum... preferably the Counsellor too, since I've invited her along.  As you know Mjolnir is my baby normally but she's not got the passenger capacity to take a co-pilot if I'm to bring back all the away team, and while I can pilot myself..."

The CSO omitted to add that she was avoiding being a) on her own b) in the Mjolnir after the last time and what had happened.

"... I can't pilot and monitor the sensors which is why the Captain isn't just sending down a pilot to get them."

When the Bolian tried and failed to start any of the shuttles, Ruth looked them over herself then patted the Bolian on the shoulder and shrugged. "Whatever is happening to the main ship is affecting them too, it's not a reflection on you.  Counsellor... looks like we're not going on a trip, back to the Bridge for me, I had better go report in, see you up there probably unless you've got other things to do!"

[USS Challenger - Bridge]

Entering the Bridge, she shot a look at Lahr, rolling her eyes and then giving him a quick grin.

"Sorry Captain, I even looked at them myself, nothing doing... we don't have jack..." Ruth said, knowing she didn't have to complete that sentence for Ian to not only know what she was saying but probably agree with her!

[Ian Galloway]

Entering the Bridge, she shot a look at Lahr, rolling her eyes and then giving him a quick grin.

"Sorry Captain, I even looked at them myself, nothing doing... we don't have jack..." Ruth said, knowing she didn't have to complete that sentence for Ian to not only know what she was saying but probably agree with her!

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian acknowledged Ruth's report with a nod as he waved his hand in the direction of the viewscreen.

"I can't say as I'm surprised, goin' by how everything else that should be workin' isn't. We do now however, know a bit more of what is goin' on down on the planet. Seems the away team has made contact with a rather suspiciously friendly chap that kens entirely too bloody much about everyone down there. Not that bein' able ta see what's happenin' allows us ta do summat about it."

[ShranLahr ch'Verret]

PO1 ShranLahr ch'Verret
[USS Challenger - Deck One - Bridge]

[USS Challenger - Bridge]

Entering the Bridge, she shot a look at Lahr, rolling her eyes and then giving him a quick grin.

"Sorry Captain, I even looked at them myself, nothing doing... we don't have jack..." Ruth said, knowing she didn't have to complete that sentence for Ian to not only know what she was saying but probably agree with her!

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian acknowledged Ruth's report with a nod as he waved his hand in the direction of the viewscreen.

"I can't say as I'm surprised, goin' by how everything else that should be workin' isn't. We do now however, know a bit more of what is goin' on down on the planet. Seems the away team has made contact with a rather suspiciously friendly chap that kens entirely too bloody much about everyone down there. Not that bein' able ta see what's happenin' allows us ta do summat about it."

Lahr glanced over his shoulder when he heard the turbolift doors.  His antenna perked and he up-nodded in response to her eyeroll, before turning back to his console and the sensor readings there.  He continued his database search for anything that could be of assistance based on the information provided.

At the Captain's summarizing the situation to Ruth, the Andorian glanced up to the viewscreen, wondering if the away team would have no choice but to battle this 'Dalton' gang.  The way the Commander and others were being led around made it seem like a poorly written holodeck program.

Lahr suddenly had a terrible thought.  "Sir, what if the Romulans sent down a team... and they are being manipulated like our people and being made to play the role of this Dalton gang that they are supposed to fight? This could get messy."

The only upside to it was that it 'seemed' like it was all just a show... Sims had been shot but not actually permanently hurt... so maybe...  "Maybe to free ourselves the away team has to play out the scene.. kinda like a holodeck program with only one exit... completion of the story."

[Ruth Sigurdsdottir]

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian acknowledged Ruth's report with a nod as he waved his hand in the direction of the viewscreen.

"I can't say as I'm surprised, goin' by how everything else that should be workin' isn't. We do now however, know a bit more of what is goin' on down on the planet. Seems the away team has made contact with a rather suspiciously friendly chap that kens entirely too bloody much about everyone down there. Not that bein' able ta see what's happenin' allows us ta do summat about it."

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

"Hmm... never trust overly-friendly types myself... unless they're people I already know of course.  Even then, if people are being overly friendly to me they generally want something, or want me to not use the axes on them!" Ruth said with a small grin.

PO1 ShranLahr ch'Verret
[USS Challenger - Deck One - Bridge]

Lahr glanced over his shoulder when he heard the turbolift doors.  His antenna perked and he up-nodded in response to her eyeroll, before turning back to his console and the sensor readings there.  He continued his database search for anything that could be of assistance based on the information provided.

At the Captain's summarizing the situation to Ruth, the Andorian glanced up to the viewscreen, wondering if the away team would have no choice but to battle this 'Dalton' gang.  The way the Commander and others were being led around made it seem like a poorly written holodeck program.

Lahr suddenly had a terrible thought.  "Sir, what if the Romulans sent down a team... and they are being manipulated like our people and being made to play the role of this Dalton gang that they are supposed to fight? This could get messy."

The only upside to it was that it 'seemed' like it was all just a show... Sims had been shot but not actually permanently hurt... so maybe...  "Maybe to free ourselves the away team has to play out the scene.. kinda like a holodeck program with only one exit... completion of the story."

She caught the bob of the antennae, and well versed in 'antennae semaphore a la Lahr' she smiled towards him while passing and going to sit at Sciences.

"I just hope it's not like those books I had as a kid. 'If you want to face the fire of the almighty red dragon, turn to page 487, if you want to run away, roll a D6 and if you roll above 4 you are successful, turn to page 24, if not you are forced to face the dragon.'  You roll a 2 and have to turn to page 487 which will read something like 'The dragon let's out a tremendous fart, if you want to roll to see if you can deploy your gas mask on time...'  You get the idea, every which way you turn they're going to make sure you suffer as much as they can make you suffer before saying 'Well if you'd put on these glittery red shoes and clicked your heels together back on page 2 you would have been home in time to watch the latest episode of The Waltons and have fresh scones straight out of the oven...'  otherwise you're gonna get shot, lasered, barfed on, chased by man-eating locusts or... well anything you can think of, and probably die, if you don't get a lucky dice roll. Oh man, do Romulans play Dungeons and Dragons? Set in Space-Dodge City, with modern technology?!"

[Ian Galloway]

PO1 ShranLahr ch'Verret
[USS Challenger - Deck One - Bridge]

Lahr glanced over his shoulder when he heard the turbolift doors.  His antenna perked and he up-nodded in response to her eyeroll, before turning back to his console and the sensor readings there.  He continued his database search for anything that could be of assistance based on the information provided.

At the Captain's summarizing the situation to Ruth, the Andorian glanced up to the viewscreen, wondering if the away team would have no choice but to battle this 'Dalton' gang.  The way the Commander and others were being led around made it seem like a poorly written holodeck program.

Lahr suddenly had a terrible thought.  "Sir, what if the Romulans sent down a team... and they are being manipulated like our people and being made to play the role of this Dalton gang that they are supposed to fight? This could get messy."

The only upside to it was that it 'seemed' like it was all just a show... Sims had been shot but not actually permanently hurt... so maybe...  "Maybe to free ourselves the away team has to play out the scene.. kinda like a holodeck program with only one exit... completion of the story."

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

"Hmm... never trust overly-friendly types myself... unless they're people I already know of course.  Even then, if people are being overly friendly to me they generally want something, or want me to not use the axes on them!" Ruth said with a small grin.

She caught the bob of the antennae, and well versed in 'antennae semaphore a la Lahr' she smiled towards him while passing and going to sit at Sciences.

"I just hope it's not like those books I had as a kid. 'If you want to face the fire of the almighty red dragon, turn to page 487, if you want to run away, roll a D6 and if you roll above 4 you are successful, turn to page 24, if not you are forced to face the dragon.'  You roll a 2 and have to turn to page 487 which will read something like 'The dragon let's out a tremendous fart, if you want to roll to see if you can deploy your gas mask on time...'  You get the idea, every which way you turn they're going to make sure you suffer as much as they can make you suffer before saying 'Well if you'd put on these glittery red shoes and clicked your heels together back on page 2 you would have been home in time to watch the latest episode of The Waltons and have fresh scones straight out of the oven...'  otherwise you're gonna get shot, lasered, barfed on, chased by man-eating locusts or... well anything you can think of, and probably die, if you don't get a lucky dice roll. Oh man, do Romulans play Dungeons and Dragons? Set in Space-Dodge City, with modern technology?!"

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian left eyebrow rose at Ruth's comment as he worked through the individual words to see if he could understand what she'd said by context and failed. He shook his head and replied with a small smile.

"I have no idea what you just said and I'm nae ta ask for you ta translate. I believe Mister ch'Verret has the right of it. This feels like a holonovel, a bad one at that. As it seems like this smarmy fellow is at the heart of this melodrama, check the ship's database ta see if there's ever been an encounter with this Sheriff."

[Jettis Jyur]

[Gothos City - Rogue Planet - Larn System]

The fight over, the slight breeze blew the last of the gunsmoke out of the air and in the distance, a single figure approached. The man had dark hair and wore, in addition to his Colt revolver, a silver star pinned to his cotton plaid shirt that said 'Sheriff'.

He gazed at the members of the away team with hard look before he simply said.

"Come with me."

Kyle nodded for the away team to follow and Trelane led them to the town jail, but not it seemed, to arrest them. He instead gave them a beaming smile and greeted each member of the team by name as if he had knew them by reputation. However, he added an embellishment to those names. To Kyle, he promptly nicknamed 'Buckskin' and asked "How's that lady doc you're seeing? Shame you didn't bring her along." Paul became 'Whiskey' "You're a long way from the sea Whiskey, do you miss the smell of seaweed?" Mondo was 'Brawny' "That was one fine dust up at Fort Leyton you had. Glad you got him." Jettus earned the title 'Flapjack' "Seems like you miss the lab Flapjack, is the prairie not to your liking?" Vizetti was 'Snake-eyes' and Sims earned the nickname of 'Soapy'.

After the friendly greetings, Trelane went on at length, taking events from the away team's Starfleet and turning them into the actions of legendary gun-slinging desperadoes. Once he was done singing their praises, he added.

"I've heard the Dalton gang are out of jail and headed this way. I'm on my own here and I like how you handled those polecats that jumped you. Since you're here now, I'm going to deputize you all to help me fend off the Dalton boys. Hell, won't we give those four varmints a surprise when they get into town?"

Before the away team could object, Trelane continued.

[Gothos City - Rogue Planet]

Just as quickly as the firefight had broken out, it was over. The security team made quick work of the bandits, and soon Jettis cautiously peered out from behind a post. Eyes scanning the terrain, he nodded to Wessex, before standing and brushing his uniform off. 'Trouble' was quick to return however, as another mysterious man lead them off. Seemingly to jail, however not under arrest.

Listening with interest, Jettis became increasingly confused as he listed off events from their life, but fitting to the era. That almost solidified his theory that they were, indeed in some elaborate, far too high tech holodeck. He knew that the Ship's holodecks weren't the best that existed - that would simply draw far too much power. However this was something unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Even the terrain scanned as real, the wood - how could this be a simulation? It couldn't fool his tricorder, surely.

Speaking of his tricorder, he slowly unholstered it as he and the away team walked, doing another scan of the area. Presumably it would come back exactly the same as the first. Then he scanned for an excess of photons, indicative that perhaps the materials were artificially created. He didn't get too long to study the results, before they arrived at their destination.

"Thing is friends, I'm expecting the Dalton gang at any minute and not only do I need you, but so do the good folk of Gothos City. Can I count on you?"

Sideways glancing at the rest of the away team, he slowly ran his tongue across his teeth, pondering the consequences. As evidenced by Sims, they weren't in any danger, however who knew about the actual citizens of the town. If they existed. Turning to the Commander, he reported his scan findings, before proceeding - "I cannot see a reason why we shouldn't help the good man out. We're all armed and capable of subduing the assailants." Glancing back at Trelane, he waited to ensure the Commander agreed with him, as well as the other members of the away team didn't put up a fight about the idea.

If everyone did come to the agreement of helping the sheriff, the first thing Jettis would do would be to find - or create - some form of cover. Even if somehow Sims healed from his injury, Jettis couldn't see a reason why they would need to take that risk again. He imagined it hurt as well anyway, they might as well try to avoid it.

[ShranLahr ch'Verret]

PO1 ShranLahr ch'Verret
[USS Challenger - Deck One - Bridge]

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

"Hmm... never trust overly-friendly types myself... unless they're people I already know of course.  Even then, if people are being overly friendly to me they generally want something, or want me to not use the axes on them!" Ruth said with a small grin.

She caught the bob of the antennae, and well versed in 'antennae semaphore a la Lahr' she smiled towards him while passing and going to sit at Sciences.

"I just hope it's not like those books I had as a kid. 'If you want to face the fire of the almighty red dragon, turn to page 487, if you want to run away, roll a D6 and if you roll above 4 you are successful, turn to page 24, if not you are forced to face the dragon.'  You roll a 2 and have to turn to page 487 which will read something like 'The dragon let's out a tremendous fart, if you want to roll to see if you can deploy your gas mask on time...'  You get the idea, every which way you turn they're going to make sure you suffer as much as they can make you suffer before saying 'Well if you'd put on these glittery red shoes and clicked your heels together back on page 2 you would have been home in time to watch the latest episode of The Waltons and have fresh scones straight out of the oven...'  otherwise you're gonna get shot, lasered, barfed on, chased by man-eating locusts or... well anything you can think of, and probably die, if you don't get a lucky dice roll. Oh man, do Romulans play Dungeons and Dragons? Set in Space-Dodge City, with modern technology?!"

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

Ian left eyebrow rose at Ruth's comment as he worked through the individual words to see if he could understand what she'd said by context and failed. He shook his head and replied with a small smile.

"I have no idea what you just said and I'm nae ta ask for you ta translate. I believe Mister ch'Verret has the right of it. This feels like a holonovel, a bad one at that. As it seems like this smarmy fellow is at the heart of this melodrama, check the ship's database ta see if there's ever been an encounter with this Sheriff."

Lahr chuckled fully understanding the Captain's confused look.  Even he only picked up a small portion of Ruth's comment, and that only because the Andorian hung out with friends who had some really archaic interests and hobbies much like his own love of 20th century video games and music.   Dungeons and Dragons was something he and his former security teammates had tried once... and once had been enough.   Lahr preferred the full immersion of a GOOD holodeck program to the lengthy battle orientated pen and paper game.   One six round battle lasted over an hour... and could have been played out on the holodeck in less than a minute.  The game was not to liking.

That the Captain agreed with his remark was surprising but made his antenna sway in satisfaction.

At the order to check the database for the fellow, Lahr nodded.  "Did anyone catch if he stated his name?  If not I'll try a facial recognition program.... but it could take some time."

Unfortunately a review of the viewscreen images and audio confirmed that no name had been mentioned for the man - so facial recognition it would have to be.  Lahr called up the program and then entered in a clean freeze frame image of the Sheriff for the computer to begin a search of the ship's database.

The Andorian expected the search to take a significant amount of time, but there was an almost immediate ping from his console.  A hit? Already? Sweet!

Lahr tapped on the suggested match... and his console gave out a unhappy sound of denied access.

"Um sir, there's a possible match but it's above my pay grade.  Sending it to you - so hopefully you can open it."

After sending it to the Captain's console, the Andorian split his attention between his console - (since he was still keeping an eye out for the Romulans) and the Captain hoping the man would share some of what he learned about the Sheriff from that Classified file.