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Old December 29 2012, 10:17 PM   #94
DarKush
Rear Admiral
 
Re: UT: Refugee Crisis/Dark Territory-"Stealing Fire"

Hey guys, I hope you and all the readers are in the midst of a joyous holiday season.

So glad you both liked the family reunion. I was trying to figure out the best way to do the big reveal so I'm glad it met your approval.


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USS Erickson
Main Bridge

Commander Donar stood on the precipice, one boot already over the edge. Gripping the lift’s entrances with both hands, his eyes tried to puncture the darkness below him, searching for any signs of his wife. His ears were perked, primed to hear her prayers, screams, curses, or the sickening thud of skin and bone impacting the shaft’s duranium bottom.

His fingers dug into the threshold’s metal as he imagined the terror and fear that must be coursing through Andraste’s mind as she fell down the turboshaft. It was interspersed with a rush of memories of their life together.

He heard faint noises on the periphery of his conscious mind, but his attention was still focused on his wife, his heart ached for her. Donar wanted to throw himself into the abyss, in an insane attempt to catch up with her, to save her…finally. Something he had failed to do all those years ago. He gathered himself, his fingers rending the metal within his grasp as he sought to gain purchase, to be better able to leap.

“Captain Donar!” The shout pierced the haze, stopping his preparation. He whipped around, annoyed that someone was interfering with his efforts to save his wife, but also stricken with the fear that such an appellation could only be uttered if Captain Redfeather had expired.

“What is it?” He barked. Behind him, a battered Lt. French knelt beside an insensate Commander Norrbom. The younger man blanched at Tai’s ferocity. The helmsman swallowed loudly, before replying.

“Sir,” French said, “Captain, we need you on the bridge.” Tai’s eyes flicked to the demolished command chair. “Her pulse is very weak, but Captain Redfeather is still with us,” the man answered his unspoken question with relief. Tai wished to breath in a relieved sigh as well, but his large chest was constricted. “Until Captain Redfeather has made a full recovery, you are the acting captain now sir.”

“Norrbom?” Donar asked, ignoring what the flight control officer had just said.

“She’ll survive, I guess,” French said, with noticeable doubt, “The commander certainly is in better shape than Captain Redfeather.”

“I see,” Tai said, glancing once more into the darkness behind him, before he forged ahead. “Let’s get main power back online so we can transport our wounded down to sickbay. But first, I want communications, weapons, and shields back.”

“Aye sir,” French said, snapping to his feet. “Right away sir,” he rushed to corral whomever among the bridge crew that could still stand or was conscious to help.

Tai marched to the communications console. He rerouted enough emergency power to send a staccato communications burst through the main deflector. He hoped that Mr. Ramlo was up on his Morse code.
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The Burning Claw
Laboratory

From his perch, the new command deck of the Burning Claw, Lt. Ramlo smiled as he watched the sequence of long and short paused bursts across the Erickson’s main deflector. “I understand,” he said into the communications receiver. Though both Erickson’s inter-and-intraship communications systems were inactive, the ship’s audio receivers could still pick up hails.

“And I will assist once I’ve taken care of the immediate threat,” the Arkenite said, using Burning Claw’s sensors to locate the living members of the raiding parties. He was surprised that he didn’t see a Capellan bio-sign among the living. He certainly wouldn’t miss the ruthless Nadeen, Ramlo surmised, though he wished that he had been able to witness her end.

He activated the freighter’s transporter, sweeping up the pirates, and leaving them trapped in the pattern buffer. The scientist’s finger hovered over the re-materialization button. He could transmit them to the holding cells or just as easily drop them into the depths of space, or one of those nice subspace fractures littering the void around them.

Would anyone really blame him if he did? After all that these marauders had done to him, after they had killed his colleagues? Besides, the ship’s transporter was antiquated and transporter accidents unfortunately continued to happen even with state-of-the-art equipment.

The idea was tempting, but Ramlo held back. Despite whatever brutality had been visited upon him, it didn’t give him a license to respond in like manner. He was a Starfleet officer above all and he believed in the rule of law. These brigands would face justice, he decided. Not sure if Shash would agree with him, but Ramlo was doubtlessly certain she would appreciate his sticking to his beliefs.

Ramlo sent the pirates to the holding cells. Once the cells had been used to hold frightened slaves, now the rooms would be used appropriately to jail the slavers. Besides he could’ve killed the crew aboard the ship by shutting off life support, but instead he had pumped neurozine through the ship to incapacitate the shipboard crew. Why start murdering now, he surmised, somewhat sardonically.

Once the beams and a new round of gassing had been completed, Ramlo set about trying to find a way to help Erickson restore power quickly. Muting all sounds, so he could concentrate, the Arkenite engrossed himself in the myriad problems Erickson had as a result of flying into the pirates’ ambush. Unfortunately, the silenced sound prevented him from hearing the proximity alarm that blared throughout the rest of the ship.
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