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Old December 2 2012, 10:16 AM   #96
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UT:TFV - Part II - Scorched Earths (Chapter 4 continued)

Chapter 4 <cont'd>

Main Bridge, USS Galaxy

The chronometric blast from Masada’s main deflector was unlike anything Galaxy’s already taxed shields had been designed to withstand. Sub-atomic dissonance ensued, with individual protons shifting into the future as others vanished into the distant past. Unable to maintain cohesion in the face of this temporal flux, the shields collapsed, leaving the starship vulnerable to Masada’s formidable weaponry.

The escort’s pulse phasers flared, the bolts tearing through the abused superstructure of the saucer and opening gaping wounds atop the recently patched hull-breaches caused by the Voranti. Atmosphere and bodies erupted into the void, which was then lit by the crimson flash of a photon torpedo that shot forth to consume Galaxy’s starboard nacelle.

As the shattered nacelle and it’s pylon spun away trailing drive plasma, a quantum warhead punched through the vulnerable neck of the stardrive section, wrecking the forward torpedo launcher before burrowing down into the engineering decks and detonating in a potent electromagnetic blast that blew out every power waveguide and corrupted most of the ODN network throughout the vessel.

It was into this maelstrom of sizzling circuitry, buckling superstructure and flickering emergency lights that Liana Ramirez and her assault team materialized.

Worf was bent at the waist, checking the unmoving Captain Scott’s carotid artery for a pulse when Ramirez regained solidity. The Klingon glanced up, his hand already moving with admirable quickness to the miniature phaser concealed inside his baldric. Ramirez’s disruptors were already extended in both hands, and she blew Worf off his feet with blast to his abdomen. Ramirez’s next shot decapitated a crew member as the woman rose from behind her console to engage the intruders.

The boarding party used the Starfleet crew’s confusion and surprise to maximum advantage, and in less than thirty seconds the intruders’ weapons had silenced all opposition. Ramirez turned to the strange man in the anachronistic clothes and directed him towards the power distribution node in the port side computer trunks. “Hook the morphic generator up there, and set the timer for five minutes.”

She called two of the mercenaries over to her, then touched a control affixed to her wrist causing the three of them to vanish.

The man approached the trunk access panel, tearing the cover off as he set the exotic looking cylindrical device on the floor. He began attaching interface nodes into what little operable circuitry remained, joining them to the generator with optic cable.

Behind him, Worf sprang to his feet without warning, driving his hatchet-like mek’leth into the back of the nearest brigand, severing the man’s spinal column and lacerating numerous vital organs. As the pirate collapsed, Worf lashed out with a leg to sweep another of the intruders off his feet before wheeling around to face the puzzled looking man in the charcoal gray town coat.

Though Worf didn’t recognize the device in question, he made a split-second judgment that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He jerked his mek’leth free from the dying man on the floor and swung an overhead strike down towards the individual attaching it to Galaxy’s systems.

The man threw up his arm in a reflexive but clearly futile defensive gesture. There was a bone-jarring *crack* as the razor-keen blade sliced cleanly through the man’s sleeve to make contact with the crystalline composite that made up his outer dermal layer.

Worf struggled to maintain a grip on the blade’s handle as the shock of the impact translated through his arms. His first thought was that the man was wearing some manner of concealed armor. The Klingon moved to reinforce his grip on his weapon and switch targets to the man’s unprotected head, but before he could strike the unassuming looking human drove an open hand into Worf’s chest that launched the warrior into the air and sent him soaring across the bridge to slam heavily into a console on the far starboard bulkhead.

The nuisance having been neutralized, the android Parlan turned back to the computer trunk and resumed his work.

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