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Old July 30 2013, 03:56 AM   #18
Rear Admiral
Re: Dark Territory: Staring Into The Abyss


Thanks again for reading. I'm glad you are enjoying how Glover is handling this, and that you like Konall as well. I'm also pleased that you like my take on Sisko. I've been concerned about getting him right, especially during this time period. I think you'll get a little bit of an answer to your question with this next passage.

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Starship Cuffe
Main Bridge

“Sensors detecting intense subspace fluctuations,” Lt. Tunepp said; his tone deeply curious.

“What’s the cause?” The captain asked quickly, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen expecting a transwarp conduit to swallow the cube at any moment.

“Still investigating,” the Rasiianian replied, displeasure now layering his curiosity. Glover glanced at Konall.

The Klingon was sitting on the edge of his seat. His eyes were narrowed, his nostrils twitching as if he smelled something foul. “My hackles have risen,” he answered Glover’s unspoken question.

Terrence’s skin tingled right before it hit. And then his thoughts were momentarily subsumed by confusion and fear as he flew through the air. Fingers hard as steel blades dug into him dragging him hard to the deck.

“Captain,” Konall’s voice was ragged with concern. “Are you well?” The first officer crouched over him.

Glover winced as he did a quick body check. He pulled him arm from the Klingon’s grip. His body ached all over and the patch of his arm throbbed from the warrior’s grasp. Terrence wondered if the man’s thick digits would be permanently indented onto his flesh.

“What happened?” Terrence said, craning his neck around. The ship pitched violently again. Glover’s head smacked painfully against Konall’s knees. Both men grunted.

Without asking Konall grabbed Glover’s arm, the other one this time, and yanked him to his feet. Though his feet were unsteady, the captain surveyed the situation. A cacophony of klaxons, sparking terminals, shouts and screams sawed through his brain.

Glover’s legs wobbled, and Konall propped him up. Terrence shook the fog forming between his ears. He narrowed his eyes, willing his brain to focus.

Pushing off from his first officer, Glover saw that Tunepp was still at his station. He glanced briefly at the empty console beside him. Terrence couldn’t worry about Ximenes’s whereabouts at the moment.

“Tunepp, what happened?” Glover said, wincing at the newly discovered soreness in his jaw.

“The subspace fluctuations…” the Rasiianian stopped as a violent cough rattled him. He leaned over, spit out a glob of dark blue blood, wiped his mouth, and continued. “They were subspace mines.”

“The infernal machines!” Konall spat.

“They led us into a minefield,” Glover stated. His ops officer mistook it for a question. He turned slowly, and Terrence saw a growing dark stain covering his chest.

“Yes sir,” Tunepp wheezed, “the Borg moved out of position only to make sure we followed them into their trap.” Glover quickly strangled the murmurings in his head that Captain Diaz would've seen the Borg's snare and avoided it. He didn't have time for second guessing. Such self-flagellation would be a luxury, if he was allowed to engage in it if his ship and crew somehow survived what was about to befall them.

“And now they are attacking!” Konall pointed. Glover followed the man’s thick finger to the cracked view screen. Through the spider web, he saw the Borg cube beginning to spin, that morbid green light within it pulsing maniacally.

“Borg vessel is powering weapons,” Tunepp said.

“Raise shields,” Glover ordered, looking behind him. His heart thudded painfully, hoping that Nyota was still at her post. He was both concerned and relieved to see his paramour leaning over her terminal. A nasty, bleeding cut ran across her forehead.

“Forward shields are at twenty percent,” she said, “and forward phaser banks are inoperative.”

“Damn,” Glover muttered. Louder, he asked, “What about torpedoes?”

“One forward launcher is still functioning,” Dryer replied.

“Get it ready to fire,” Terrence said, “and transfer any power you can to bolster the forward shielding.”

“Aye sir,” the tactical officer said, her voice trailing off as she committed herself to his orders. Glover turned back toward the main screen. The cube was whirling so fast now, the green energy winked like stars.

Konall leaned down and whispered, “Captain, Chief Hwang informed me that we’ve lost warp power and impulse engines are off line.”

So there was no running, Terrence realized. The Cuffe was going to have to slug it out with the Borg vessel. The lighting dimmed and Glover could only imagine he felt the power coursing through the circuitry of the ship to its primary hull.

“Borg vessel is firing,” Tunepp said with surprising calm. Perhaps the man had accepted his death. Terrence would go down fighting. Long green fingers stretched out from the gyrating cube.

Terrence set his jaw, ignoring the new flicker of pain. He mustered as much bravado as he could, “Commander Konall, I would find something to hold onto if I were you.”
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