They'd at least sent one of their number on ahead though, they didn't need a diplomatic incident from some jumpy militiaman or stimmed up marine shooting one of the 'pajama folk' as the quartet had taken to calling the Starfleet officers. At least fully armored marines would have been able to keep up somewhat, even accounting for how fast the more lightly armored reapers moved. The reapers were simply grumpy from having to escort people who didn't even have the good decency to wear powered armor. Worf and his people were irate because constantly having to stop and seek shelter from an incoming barrage slowed things down greatly. By the time that Worf and his three chosen ensigns arrived at the warehouse, neither they or these so-called reapers, although the name was certainly fitting, were particularly happy.
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