Betrayal

Posted on Mon Jul 15th, 2019 @ 6:11am by Commander Logan Vance
Edited on on Sat Aug 3rd, 2019 @ 3:56am

Mission: Preludes
Location: France, Earth
Timeline: 1940
Tags: Prelude

Even after the trio beamed down, Logan still had a bit of a queasy feeling from the slingshot that brought them here. He was not keen to repeat it. Meanwhile, Hatfield and Silva seemed more than a little amused by his suffering.

A quick look around told them they had barely missed a good deal of action. At least a half dozen dead French soldiers littered the field around them. It appeared they'd been in full retreat judging by the fact they'd all been shot in the back and their equipment left behind.

A few readings from his tricorder confirmed they'd not been dead long. "We should probably check the area. Make sure no one else is lurking about," Logan suggested. Other than a small wooded area to the west they appeared to be in a wide open field but he wanted to be sure.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much?" Silva replied. It wasn't just what Silva said but the way he said it that put Logan on edge. He turned to see Silva reaching for his phaser.

"What are you…?" Logan started.

"Sorry, Vance…" Silva continued but didn't get to finish as Logan lunged at him and the two started to wrestle over the phaser.

Hatfield drew his phaser but Logan angled his fight with Sliva so that Hatfield wouldn't get a clear shot. As he and Silva struggled, the phaser started going off wildly and Hatfield quickly went to seek cover to avoid being hit.

Eventually, Logan wrestled the phaser away from Silva. With both still on the ground, however, Silva attempted to turn it into a fist fight and landed a few clean blows on Logan's face. Logan grabbed at the man's jacket and tore if half off, in the process ripped one of the pockets with his free hand. Unable to use the phaser in close quarters, Logan reared back and smashed the weapon into Silva's head, knocking him backwards.

Logan used the opportunity to get to his feet but before he could do anything, Hatfield fired at him, narrowly missing. Logan returned fire but Hatfield ducked back behind the cart he'd been using for cover.

Knowing he was a sitting duck out in the open, Logan made a beeline for the wooded area that was less than fifty yards away. He fired off enough phaser shots to make Hatfield think twice about coming out of cover. Unfortunately, he lost sight of Silva. Hot lead from one of the French rifles ripped through Logan's leg sending him to the ground.

Logan screamed in pain but had the presence of mind to fire back with his phaser, sending Silva behind the same cart as Hatfield. Logan got up onto all fours and crawled as fast as he could to the tree line and barely made it before Hatfield fired back at him. The two traded shots but Logan was losing blood fast and was already feeling pretty woozy. His vision was blurred but he thought he could make out the pair advancing on him. He fired back wildly but couldn't make out if he was keeping them at bay or not. He tried to shake off his daze but failed.

He knew if he stayed here, he was dead. He needed to get back to the runabout and get back home to tell Starfleet something had gone wrong. He reached for his communicator but it was gone. He squinted to see it just past the tree line where he'd been shot. He cursed under his breath and once again fired back out into the field hoping to drive them back to buy a few seconds to retrieve it. When he did go for it, Silva fired again and missed. Unfortunately, the shot was a direct hit on the communicator. Logan scrambled back to safety and cursed again.

It was then he noticed he was still hanging on to Silva's torn pocket with something on the other side. He discarded the cloth to reveal some kind of black and white paper image. Even squinting it was hard to see all of it but he could make two things. A man that looked suspiciously like him standing next to an attractive woman dressed as French red cross. The two were facing each other and the man's hand seemed to be touching the woman's face.

Turning the picture over, he noticed handwriting that he recognized as his own. "USS Coleman - 2377; Logan Vance - 2385; Marsol - June 6th." Another close phaser blast brought him back to the reality of the situation. He fired back wildly once more as his head swirled trying to deny him consciousness. He rested his head against the tree behind him and rubbed his eyes but he could tell it was a losing battle.

Just at that moment a couple of french soldiers entered the field and started firing their weapons at the soldiers they couldn’t identify. It was twilight, light wasn’t that great. As Logan heard the intercession on his behalf, he turned looking out from behind the tree, seeing the soldiers push Hatfield and Silva out of the area. He crawled for his communicator, barely palming it prior to passing out.

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Agent (Lt.) Logan Vance
Starfleet Intelligence