****************************************************
Dominion Battle Cruiser
“Founder, the Cuffe’s shields are down,” First Omara’Klen reported. “Shall I prepare a boarding party?” She knew he was smarting from the drubbing the Starfleet crew put on them.
“The starship has changed direction. It is now headed toward a large singularity,” another Jem’Hadar reported. On the virtual head display the Founder saw a large, starless rip in space before them, surrounded by a jagged corona of multicolored gases.
“Are they attempting to destroy themselves?” Omara’Klen asked, confused. “Are so frightened of us?” He asked, hopefulness and regret mixed in his tone.
“No, there is some other type of gambit afoot,” the shape-shifter said. “Disable their engines. Do not fail me this time.” Lances of directed energy struck the starship’s nacelles, mangling one and cleaving half of the other. The ship spun wildly, but it was still spinning toward the vortex. “Tractor beam!”
“We are not within range,” the First said.
“Get us within range,” she ordered.
****************************************************
USS Cuffe
Main Bridge
“That didn’t go well,” Pedro said, picking himself up off the deck. He made a quick check of the bridge. Lt. N’Saba had clawed himself to the First Officer’s chair, and Desvignes remained at his post. Tshengo was down and Risla was slowly getting back up. “Damage report!” Pedro called out, wincing at his sore jaw.
“In short, we can’t take another hit like that again,” N’Saba replied dryly.
“We still got propulsion? Are we still headed toward the singularity?” The engineer asked.
“No, and yes,” Desvignes replied grimly.
“We’ll be caught in the black hole’s event horizon in a couple of minutes.”
“Risla, can power be restored to the engines before then?”
“Sir, it would take me almost a day to restore power, there’s nothing we can do.” Pedro always had liked how the Axanarii gave it to him straight.
“All right, I’ll inform the crew,” Rojas gulped, before opening a channel. He relayed the information and then sat back in the command seat, his body suddenly boneless. His life flashed through his mind as he watched the ship tumble helplessly towards the gaping black maw, thoughts of his parents and his sister Juanita, all of the fun he had had, the cosmic phenomena he had seen, and he realized that it had largely been a good life.
“Commander Rojas,” a voice squawked through the comm system. He recognized it instantly as a member of his department.
“Bannister,” he said, with a sliver of hope. “Report.”
“Sir, I am going to initiate a cold start of the ship’s engines.” Pedro leaned forward.
“It’s too risky,” he admonished. “I would rather take my chances in the wormhole than be certainly ripped apart if something goes wrong.”
“Sir, I understand that,” Bannister said, his voice almost a mewl. “But I need to do this. I have…to do something.”
“I don’t follow you Lieutenant,” Rojas said.
“I’m sorry is all,” Bannister was crying. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Don’t do this,” Pedro said. “That’s an order.” But the distraught young man didn’t respond. “Get him back on the horn, or somebody down in Engineering damn it!”
“Sir, Bannister has already begun the cold start. Full power will be restored in thirty seconds.”
“Leaving us a tidy half-minute window,” N’Saba remarked. Rojas felt angry, elated, terrified, and frustrated. He was pissed that the young lieutenant had countermanded his orders, and he was certain that he had had help from the other members of the Engineering team, but he was proud too that his subordinates refused to give in, or accept the inevitable, something even he had been willing to do.
“We’ll let’s do what we can to help the young man,” Pedro said. “Lt. Desvignes, plot a course out of here that takes us the furthest range from the Dominion warship.”
“On it.”
“Good,” Rojas nodded, gripping his armrests. “Now, let’s prepare for the wave.”
**************************************************
Dominion Battle Cruiser
“Founder, the Cuffe’s shields are down,” First Omara’Klen reported. “Shall I prepare a boarding party?” She knew he was smarting from the drubbing the Starfleet crew put on them.
“The starship has changed direction. It is now headed toward a large singularity,” another Jem’Hadar reported. On the virtual head display the Founder saw a large, starless rip in space before them, surrounded by a jagged corona of multicolored gases.
“Are they attempting to destroy themselves?” Omara’Klen asked, confused. “Are so frightened of us?” He asked, hopefulness and regret mixed in his tone.
“No, there is some other type of gambit afoot,” the shape-shifter said. “Disable their engines. Do not fail me this time.” Lances of directed energy struck the starship’s nacelles, mangling one and cleaving half of the other. The ship spun wildly, but it was still spinning toward the vortex. “Tractor beam!”
“We are not within range,” the First said.
“Get us within range,” she ordered.
****************************************************
USS Cuffe
Main Bridge
“That didn’t go well,” Pedro said, picking himself up off the deck. He made a quick check of the bridge. Lt. N’Saba had clawed himself to the First Officer’s chair, and Desvignes remained at his post. Tshengo was down and Risla was slowly getting back up. “Damage report!” Pedro called out, wincing at his sore jaw.
“In short, we can’t take another hit like that again,” N’Saba replied dryly.
“We still got propulsion? Are we still headed toward the singularity?” The engineer asked.
“No, and yes,” Desvignes replied grimly.
“We’ll be caught in the black hole’s event horizon in a couple of minutes.”
“Risla, can power be restored to the engines before then?”
“Sir, it would take me almost a day to restore power, there’s nothing we can do.” Pedro always had liked how the Axanarii gave it to him straight.
“All right, I’ll inform the crew,” Rojas gulped, before opening a channel. He relayed the information and then sat back in the command seat, his body suddenly boneless. His life flashed through his mind as he watched the ship tumble helplessly towards the gaping black maw, thoughts of his parents and his sister Juanita, all of the fun he had had, the cosmic phenomena he had seen, and he realized that it had largely been a good life.
“Commander Rojas,” a voice squawked through the comm system. He recognized it instantly as a member of his department.
“Bannister,” he said, with a sliver of hope. “Report.”
“Sir, I am going to initiate a cold start of the ship’s engines.” Pedro leaned forward.
“It’s too risky,” he admonished. “I would rather take my chances in the wormhole than be certainly ripped apart if something goes wrong.”
“Sir, I understand that,” Bannister said, his voice almost a mewl. “But I need to do this. I have…to do something.”
“I don’t follow you Lieutenant,” Rojas said.
“I’m sorry is all,” Bannister was crying. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Don’t do this,” Pedro said. “That’s an order.” But the distraught young man didn’t respond. “Get him back on the horn, or somebody down in Engineering damn it!”
“Sir, Bannister has already begun the cold start. Full power will be restored in thirty seconds.”
“Leaving us a tidy half-minute window,” N’Saba remarked. Rojas felt angry, elated, terrified, and frustrated. He was pissed that the young lieutenant had countermanded his orders, and he was certain that he had had help from the other members of the Engineering team, but he was proud too that his subordinates refused to give in, or accept the inevitable, something even he had been willing to do.
“We’ll let’s do what we can to help the young man,” Pedro said. “Lt. Desvignes, plot a course out of here that takes us the furthest range from the Dominion warship.”
“On it.”
“Good,” Rojas nodded, gripping his armrests. “Now, let’s prepare for the wave.”
**************************************************
