Trelane
Lieutenant Commander
Entry - September 2011
TrekBBS Writing Challenge
Catagory: “Stars’ Fall”
"Star Trek: Everest"
'Stairway To Heaven'
PROLOGUE
The Everest’s C.O. ordered her vessel from impulse, badly damaged and scarcely holding itself together. The task force going up against some angry Tzinkethi held their own, despite losing two Galaxy-Class ships and two Norway’s. The Tzinkethi were livid that the Federation Council had authorized Starfleet’s protection of the Cardassians from a well-earned comeuppance once the Dominion left. The Klingons were still home licking their wounds and concentrating on dealing with political unknowns sharpening their claws.
The Everest’s pod was gone, one nacelle was three quarters torn off and the Breen assisting the Tzinkethi had shoved a javelin through their saucer section, taking out the Captain’s Ready Room. They’d gotten off a few shots but with limited success, considering they had to wriggle around between drifting ghost-ships in the meantime to hit anything. The U.S.S. Trieste, the U.S.S. Moscow, the U.S.S. Manchester and the U.S.S. Geneva were far closer to the eight ships coming in fast and hot.
Task Group 524 (code-named “Project: Athena”), had been in the area to cover the asses of the Corps of Engineers from aggressive graverobbers that had become a major problem. The U.S.S. Everest was near Cardassia Prime’s northern pole which made for incredibly short-sighted sensors. Their section of the search grid was assigned to searching Jem Hadar ships and Federation wrecks for bodies, equipment, and anything capable of wreaking havoc.
The Tzinkethi took out some Romulan D’Deridex warships that (for reasons all their own,) had decided to decloak and enter the battle on Starfleet’s side. The last of the Romulan vessels sent a troop transport pinwheeling into one of its own derelict battleships. The Cardassians lost a few of their remaining orbital defense platforms and one of the last functioning drydocks built by The Dominion, destroying a dozen of their salvaged cruisers.
The Everest slowed to sublight with a rough ride into orbit of an unknown world. Captain Harris’ bridge sparking and smoldering, its computer offline, and its’ primary warp-core ejected. There was no way to know which sector they were in, or what shape the nearest available planet was in.
“Sorry, Betty. That’s it. We’re done. I’ve got my runners packing survivors into whatever we’ve got left. The last of our reserves are gone. Phasers are fried, torpedoes are exausted, industrial replicators in engineering have crapped out, and the Valkyries are all but gone. I’ve ordered the Marines to reserve the last unprepared fighters, inspection pod and workbees in maintenance to tow survivors and draw fire in the event someone comes for the escape pods and shuttles.”
“Thanks, Serge. I’ll see you downstairs. Before you leave, let’s send these assholes a loud and clear message.”
“Make it fast. There’s Tzinkethi boarders on Deck 3 and with everyone getting off the ship there’s no telling how long we’ve got.”
Elizabeth Harris pulled back a panel on her chair and tried to enter the self-destruct sequence which entered the first two codes successfully before it bleated an objection and power died to the touchpad display.
“FUCK! Serge, can you get anything?”
“Yeah, Betty! Get over here!”
She catapulted herself over to security. Her bridge was virtually identical to the layout of the U.S.S. Enterprise-D with minor aesthetic changes she’d requested upon being assigned to the Everest at Hell’s-Gate Station.
They successfully entered the self-destruct sequence and beamed-off the ship to their waiting Gryphon-Class Captain’s Yacht. As the frission of re-materialization faded, Liz noticed the Everest blowing-up through a porthole. Betty turned to high-five Serge, only to realize he hadn’t made it. She sagged onto a bench in a tight spot along the nearest wall with casualties piled on the floor and next to her like cords of wood.
Letting her palms support her, Thirty-eight year old Liz Harris began sobbing inconsolably.
"....How am I going to tell Mom?"
Photomanipulation / Image by Mad Martigan of "Star Trek: Shared Universe Project".
TrekBBS Writing Challenge
Catagory: “Stars’ Fall”
"Star Trek: Everest"
'Stairway To Heaven'
Calendar Date:
7:28 pm
27 September 2380
Stardate:
57144.81
PROLOGUE
The Everest’s C.O. ordered her vessel from impulse, badly damaged and scarcely holding itself together. The task force going up against some angry Tzinkethi held their own, despite losing two Galaxy-Class ships and two Norway’s. The Tzinkethi were livid that the Federation Council had authorized Starfleet’s protection of the Cardassians from a well-earned comeuppance once the Dominion left. The Klingons were still home licking their wounds and concentrating on dealing with political unknowns sharpening their claws.
The Everest’s pod was gone, one nacelle was three quarters torn off and the Breen assisting the Tzinkethi had shoved a javelin through their saucer section, taking out the Captain’s Ready Room. They’d gotten off a few shots but with limited success, considering they had to wriggle around between drifting ghost-ships in the meantime to hit anything. The U.S.S. Trieste, the U.S.S. Moscow, the U.S.S. Manchester and the U.S.S. Geneva were far closer to the eight ships coming in fast and hot.
Task Group 524 (code-named “Project: Athena”), had been in the area to cover the asses of the Corps of Engineers from aggressive graverobbers that had become a major problem. The U.S.S. Everest was near Cardassia Prime’s northern pole which made for incredibly short-sighted sensors. Their section of the search grid was assigned to searching Jem Hadar ships and Federation wrecks for bodies, equipment, and anything capable of wreaking havoc.
The Tzinkethi took out some Romulan D’Deridex warships that (for reasons all their own,) had decided to decloak and enter the battle on Starfleet’s side. The last of the Romulan vessels sent a troop transport pinwheeling into one of its own derelict battleships. The Cardassians lost a few of their remaining orbital defense platforms and one of the last functioning drydocks built by The Dominion, destroying a dozen of their salvaged cruisers.
The Everest slowed to sublight with a rough ride into orbit of an unknown world. Captain Harris’ bridge sparking and smoldering, its computer offline, and its’ primary warp-core ejected. There was no way to know which sector they were in, or what shape the nearest available planet was in.
“Sorry, Betty. That’s it. We’re done. I’ve got my runners packing survivors into whatever we’ve got left. The last of our reserves are gone. Phasers are fried, torpedoes are exausted, industrial replicators in engineering have crapped out, and the Valkyries are all but gone. I’ve ordered the Marines to reserve the last unprepared fighters, inspection pod and workbees in maintenance to tow survivors and draw fire in the event someone comes for the escape pods and shuttles.”
“Thanks, Serge. I’ll see you downstairs. Before you leave, let’s send these assholes a loud and clear message.”
“Make it fast. There’s Tzinkethi boarders on Deck 3 and with everyone getting off the ship there’s no telling how long we’ve got.”
Elizabeth Harris pulled back a panel on her chair and tried to enter the self-destruct sequence which entered the first two codes successfully before it bleated an objection and power died to the touchpad display.
“FUCK! Serge, can you get anything?”
“Yeah, Betty! Get over here!”
She catapulted herself over to security. Her bridge was virtually identical to the layout of the U.S.S. Enterprise-D with minor aesthetic changes she’d requested upon being assigned to the Everest at Hell’s-Gate Station.
They successfully entered the self-destruct sequence and beamed-off the ship to their waiting Gryphon-Class Captain’s Yacht. As the frission of re-materialization faded, Liz noticed the Everest blowing-up through a porthole. Betty turned to high-five Serge, only to realize he hadn’t made it. She sagged onto a bench in a tight spot along the nearest wall with casualties piled on the floor and next to her like cords of wood.
Letting her palms support her, Thirty-eight year old Liz Harris began sobbing inconsolably.
"....How am I going to tell Mom?"
Photomanipulation / Image by Mad Martigan of "Star Trek: Shared Universe Project".
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