ST: Gibraltar - Backup
- Thread starter Gibraltar
- Start date
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 3
I whole-heartily agree with all the comments above.
Aurelia would be pissed if she knew what Ro was up to.
And I want to thank you (again) for expanding my vocabulary...
Q-ship (or Q-boat): an attack vessel disguised as a civilian ship.
I whole-heartily agree with all the comments above.
Aurelia would be pissed if she knew what Ro was up to.
And I want to thank you (again) for expanding my vocabulary...
Q-ship (or Q-boat): an attack vessel disguised as a civilian ship.
ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 4
PART 4
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
“How’d it go?” Lar’ragos asked from where he lay recuperating on the floor of the cargo bay.
“About what you’d expect,” Ramirez said as she entered and knelt next to one of the away team’s equipment kits. “Stun grenade didn’t work worth a damn, and we ended up having to go hand-to-hand. Dunleavy’s got burns and shrapnel in her face, and Ashok hit a guy with a turbolift.”
Lar’ragos winced, “Why can’t anything ever go easily for us?” Pushing himself up on his elbows, he regarded the XO as she squatted over the kit, tapping at a tricorder. “How’s Dunleavy?”
“Taiee says she’ll be fine, no signs of ocular damage, just superficial facial injuries.”
“Good,” he nodded, glad to hear one of his most capable security specialists would suffer no permanent injury. “By the way, it’s official. Next time Big Blue gets to take the ’lift ride with the goons.”
“So noted,” Ramirez remarked distractedly. Looking up, she focused on the El Aurian. “You up for assisting in an interrogation?”
“Sure, who’s the subject.”
“I’m pretty certain the captain of this freighter is Ensign Lightner’s older brother, Kyle.”
He chuckled darkly, “Small galaxy.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, “What are the odds?”
*****
USS Gibraltar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Sandhurst had lost track of time within the nacelle housing, his hands moving as if of their own accord, his mind already five steps ahead in the process of restoring functionality to the warp field coils.
Not until his suit called out, ‘WARNING: Radiation levels reaching design tolerances. Five minutes until suit occupant experiences injurious radiation exposure.’
Cursing his lack of attention, Sandhurst stood from where he’d been crouched at the base of a coil toroid, re-initializing one of the plasma injectors. He began taking long, lumbering steps towards the forward maintenance compartment, where he would change into a fresh radiation-hazard garment and take a few minutes rest before returning to his arduous task.
Once having passed through the permeable shielded doorway and into the decontamination chamber, Sandhurst reflected on how Ensign Lascomb had repeated this procedure more times than safety protocols would allow. He could do no less. Without warp speed, when they finally managed to locate and rescue the away team, they would have no way to escape their pursuers. The pressure door hissed open, allowing entry to the medical team that swarmed Sandhurst, injecting hyronalin into his neck as they assisted him out of the cumbersome suit and began preparing its replacement.
*****
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Bluefin slipped cautiously through the substantial mass of asteroids, searching outwards with all the vessel’s senses to detect any signs of spacecraft, whether threat or friendly.
Lieutenant Bane looked up from his sensor scope, stretching to relieve the muscle fatigue resulting from sitting in the same position for five hours straight.
Strauss had the conn, and was perched in the captain’s chair reviewing status reports on a padd. She had briefly toyed with the idea of standing down from red alert, as one could only have the crew on the razor’s edge of alertness for so long before adrenaline and attention began to ebb. Keeping the crew keyed up for prolonged periods of time reduced their effectiveness and reaction time. However, Strauss had decided to let the captain make that call whenever he came out of his ready room.
Suddenly, Bane’s scope began to chime insistently. “Transient contact detected, Commander” he announced.
He had her attention immediately, “Bearing and distance?”
“Distance unknown, sir. It’s a sporadic sensor return, probably interrupted by the debris between it and ourselves. Bearing is roughly 303-mark-006.”
Strauss sat a little straighter in the chair, “Helm, move us onto a gradual heading for intercept. Nothing too jarring, if they haven’t detected us yet, I’d rather they think we’re just another piece of rock out here.” Glancing upward out of habit, Strauss called, “Captain to the bridge.”
Akinola had been catnapping in his office mere meters away, trying to keep his mind sharp despite the lack of a concrete enemy to engage. He was up and out of his chair in an instant, roused from his semi-sleeping state and returning to full wakefulness in just seconds as he stepped across the threshold and onto the bridge. “Report.”
Strauss filled him in as she surrendered the command chair to the captain and assumed her customary post at the Tactical station.
Moments of tense silence followed as Bluefin threaded her way past billions of metric tons of planetary rubble, trying to slide in unobserved behind whatever was producing the sensor contact.
Then, on the main viewer, an object could be seen darting between the mammoth outcroppings of free floating rock.
“Magnify and identify,” ordered Akinola.
“Kestrel-class raider, sir.” Bane elaborated, “She appears to be outfitted with photon torpedoes and Class-6 phasers.”
“I haven’t seen one of those since before the war,” observed Akinola. “Not since the last time I tangled with the Maquis.”
From the Tactical station, Strauss quietly relayed, “Starfleet Intelligence has been reporting a potential Maquis resurgence in and around the former DMZ, Captain.”
“Damn,” the captain breathed, “This complicates things.”
“Par for the course?” Strauss offered wryly.
Bluefin slipped unseen behind the smaller craft, whose sensors were directed forward as the ship executed a search pattern.
“Ready the tractor beam,” Akinola leaned forward slightly in his chair, like a bird of prey observing his quarry from on high.
“Tractor beam, aye” confirmed Lt. Commander Gralt, the Tellarite chief engineer.
Just as Bluefin moved into tractor range, the raider arced around the curve of an asteroid measuring five kilometers in diameter. Following in the raider’s wake, the older Albacore-class cutter came around the far side and unexpectedly came face-to-face with a large Kriosian cargo hauler.
Collision klaxons blared and Akinola gritted his teeth as the freighter loomed large in the main viewer. “Helm, hard over!”
The freighter opened fire at nearly point blank range, her disruptor ports and missile batteries already exposed in anticipation of the raider drawing the cutter in. Merculite missiles and disruptor pulses raked Bluefin’s shields as the ship heeled over and raced for cover. The raider doubled back, adding its phasers and photon torpedoes to the fusillade of fire pounding the cutter.
“Helm, evasive pattern theta! Tactical, return fire, engage targets at will!” Akinola clung to his chair as the ship shuddered from repeated blows and the spaceframe groaned from the strain of violent evasive maneuvers.
“Aft shields at thirty-three percent, starboard grid at twenty-nine percent and falling.” Strauss assessed calmly, her earlier jitters having evaporated now that battle had been joined.
“We’ve got stress microfractures in the starboard nacelle pylon,” Gralt appraised as he clutched at his console. “By the pulsing sphincter of the Andorian goddess, those bastards set us up!” he cried in an infuriated tone. “Bastards!” he reiterated for effect.
Akinola glared as his chief engineer from the command seat, “Belay that crap, Commander! This isn’t the first time we’ve been sucker punched, so keep your head in the game.”
Looking to Strauss, Akinola braced himself as the Bluefin bucked from yet another wave of weapons impacts. “Okay, XO, let’s turn the tide in our favor, shall we?”
“I’m all ears, Captain,” Strauss replied earnestly as she sent a stream of phaser energy back at their attackers, accompanied by a flight of crimson torpedoes.
*****
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
“Kyle?”
His eyes fluttered at the sound of his name. Where was he? Was this the penal colony on Leavenworth?
“Inmate Lightner, front and center! Sound off like you’ve got a pair!”
‘That cinches it,’ he thought, ‘I’m still in lockup. That whole neo-Maquis business was just another damned dream.’ Kyle Lightner forced his eyes open only to find himself staring into the face of the young Starfleet commander who’d left him unconscious on the command deck of his own ship.
“There you are,” she said with a disarming smile.
Lightner tried to sit forward, only to find that he was secured to a chair in the freighter’s small dining compartment. “What is this? Let me go!”
“Kyle Lightner, you are in a lot of trouble.” The commander moved away, leaning against the side of a nearby table. “My name is Ramirez. Obviously, I’m with Starfleet.”
“Obviously,” he spat venomously.
“Kyle, we need to know the size and disposition of Maquis forces in the E’Mdiffar system.”
He laughed in response, “Piss off.” Only then did he notice the presence of the other officer, a youthful looking man wearing lieutenant’s insignia. He was watching Kyle very closely, almost as if… “Is he a Betazoid?” The color drained from Lightner’s face. “You can’t scan minds without consent!”
Lar’ragos smirked, pointing to his eyes. “I’m no Betazoid, Kyle. Just relax.” There was something about the man’s smile that set Lightner on edge.
The Maquis scowled, “How do you know my name?”
“That’s not important,” Ramirez said. “What’s important is for you to cooperate with us to shut down this operation before anyone else gets hurt.”
Lightner shook his head, “Not a chance.”
Ramirez’s features darkened, “Three of your crew are already dead, Kyle, and you’re looking at a lot of prison time for this stunt.”
Lightner was defiant, “I’ve done three years in a Federation penal colony, Ms. Ramirez, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Her eyes taking on a hard cast, Ramirez nodded fractionally, “Fine, how about this? You’ve committed acts of terrorism and attempted piracy in Cardassian space, making you and your friends subject to Cardassian law.”
“Nice try,” came his acerbic retort, “We both know you can’t render prisoners into the custody of powers that aren’t signatories to the Seldonis IV Convention. The pre-war Cardassian government might have paid lip service to the treaty, but since you invaded and occupied them, that government and it’s treaties are no longer valid.”
Lar’ragos took no small amount of pleasure in voicing, “The newly constituted Cardassian government just signed the Seldonis Convention three weeks ago. I guess it pays to watch the news feeds.”
“A Cardassian prison,” Ramirez practically chortled, “My that does sound like fun.”
Lightner’s pale complexion became positively waxen, and he found himself unable to form a comeback as he tried to imagine what that particular version of hell might be like.
“What I can’t understand is just who you thought you were dealing with?” Ramirez mused. “I realize you were with the original Maquis movement before the war, but you apparently haven’t been paying attention. This isn’t the same Starfleet you faced four years ago, Kyle. Most of us still drawing breath are hardened veterans used to fighting the likes of Jem’Hadar and Cardassians. You and your little band of pirates are playing in the wrong damn league, my friend.”
“It would be in your best interests to talk, Mr. Lightner” Lar’ragos said evenly, seeing no need for theatrics. “Your cooperation would go a long way toward our requesting that your case and those of your crew be heard before a Federation court.”
Barely thirty seconds passed before Kyle Lightner started talking. The Starfleet officers were surprised, having decided beforehand that it would take the Maquis at least five minutes before betraying his comrades.
*****
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
“Good work, Mr. Fralk, keep the high-g maneuvers coming!” Akinola praised from the center seat. Glancing back at Strauss, he asked, “We all set, XO?”
“Aye, sir. Tractor beam standing by for your command.”
Turning to face the viewer, Akinola ordered, “Very well. Initiate tactic ‘Pinball One.’
In response to the captain’s order, the aft tractor emitter reached out and contacted the forward shields of the pursuing raider. With the raider’s shields up, it would be especially difficult to get a tractor lock under normal circumstances. However, the beam had been inverted in such away that it now repelled rather than attracted, and the resulting collision drove the smaller ship off course, causing the raider to glance off the side of a relatively small forty-thousand ton rock, which nonetheless managed to shear off the raider’s port wing strut and thruster assembly, sending it into an unrecoverable spin that ended abruptly on the surface of the first asteroid’s larger cousin nearby.
Grinning mightily, Strauss tamped down the urge to cheer, announcing instead, “Pinball One is a success, sir. However, it now appears we’re fresh out of balls.” She blanched as several heads swiveled in her direction, faces struggling to maintain composure. “Wait… that’s not what I—“
Akinola laughed out loud, despite the dire situation still facing them. “That’s okay, Commander, I know what you meant.” Swiveling around in his chair, he fixed his gaze on the crusty Tellarite manning the Engineering board. “Mr. Gralt, what’s our status?”
“Shield generators starboard and aft are overtaxed, and I’m having difficulty firming up the grid. Current operational strength of those deflectors is hovering around twenty-five percent, sir. The starboard nacelle pylon will need shoring up before we can push any faster than Warp 3, and our aft phaser array is inoperable. We’ve got structural buckling on Decks 4, 5, 7 and—“
Akinola held up a hand, “I’ve got the picture, Commander. Why don’t you go see to your damage control teams personally?”
“Thank you, sir.” Gralt allowed gruffly as he made a beeline for the turbolift.
“Mr. Bane, status of the other threat vessel?”
Still gazing into his sensor display, the Australian lieutenant answered without looking up, “They couldn’t match our maneuvers, sir. We’ve lost them for the moment, though I am reading a new sensor contact bearing 279-mark-357. That might be them initiating a grid search pattern.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Akinola pondered that for a moment. “Keep an eye on that contact, Mr. Bane.” To the Helm, he directed, “Ensign Fralk, snug us up close to the asteroid where the raider crashed while we make repairs. Hopefully, anyone wandering through here will mistake our energy signature for residual traces of the raider’s antimatter containment breach.”
Giving Strauss a serious look as he slid out of his chair, Akinola instructed, “XO, compile a complete casualty and damage report for me. I’m going on walk-about to tour the ship.”
“Right away, Captain.”
*****
PART 4
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
“How’d it go?” Lar’ragos asked from where he lay recuperating on the floor of the cargo bay.
“About what you’d expect,” Ramirez said as she entered and knelt next to one of the away team’s equipment kits. “Stun grenade didn’t work worth a damn, and we ended up having to go hand-to-hand. Dunleavy’s got burns and shrapnel in her face, and Ashok hit a guy with a turbolift.”
Lar’ragos winced, “Why can’t anything ever go easily for us?” Pushing himself up on his elbows, he regarded the XO as she squatted over the kit, tapping at a tricorder. “How’s Dunleavy?”
“Taiee says she’ll be fine, no signs of ocular damage, just superficial facial injuries.”
“Good,” he nodded, glad to hear one of his most capable security specialists would suffer no permanent injury. “By the way, it’s official. Next time Big Blue gets to take the ’lift ride with the goons.”
“So noted,” Ramirez remarked distractedly. Looking up, she focused on the El Aurian. “You up for assisting in an interrogation?”
“Sure, who’s the subject.”
“I’m pretty certain the captain of this freighter is Ensign Lightner’s older brother, Kyle.”
He chuckled darkly, “Small galaxy.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, “What are the odds?”
*****
USS Gibraltar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Sandhurst had lost track of time within the nacelle housing, his hands moving as if of their own accord, his mind already five steps ahead in the process of restoring functionality to the warp field coils.
Not until his suit called out, ‘WARNING: Radiation levels reaching design tolerances. Five minutes until suit occupant experiences injurious radiation exposure.’
Cursing his lack of attention, Sandhurst stood from where he’d been crouched at the base of a coil toroid, re-initializing one of the plasma injectors. He began taking long, lumbering steps towards the forward maintenance compartment, where he would change into a fresh radiation-hazard garment and take a few minutes rest before returning to his arduous task.
Once having passed through the permeable shielded doorway and into the decontamination chamber, Sandhurst reflected on how Ensign Lascomb had repeated this procedure more times than safety protocols would allow. He could do no less. Without warp speed, when they finally managed to locate and rescue the away team, they would have no way to escape their pursuers. The pressure door hissed open, allowing entry to the medical team that swarmed Sandhurst, injecting hyronalin into his neck as they assisted him out of the cumbersome suit and began preparing its replacement.
*****
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Bluefin slipped cautiously through the substantial mass of asteroids, searching outwards with all the vessel’s senses to detect any signs of spacecraft, whether threat or friendly.
Lieutenant Bane looked up from his sensor scope, stretching to relieve the muscle fatigue resulting from sitting in the same position for five hours straight.
Strauss had the conn, and was perched in the captain’s chair reviewing status reports on a padd. She had briefly toyed with the idea of standing down from red alert, as one could only have the crew on the razor’s edge of alertness for so long before adrenaline and attention began to ebb. Keeping the crew keyed up for prolonged periods of time reduced their effectiveness and reaction time. However, Strauss had decided to let the captain make that call whenever he came out of his ready room.
Suddenly, Bane’s scope began to chime insistently. “Transient contact detected, Commander” he announced.
He had her attention immediately, “Bearing and distance?”
“Distance unknown, sir. It’s a sporadic sensor return, probably interrupted by the debris between it and ourselves. Bearing is roughly 303-mark-006.”
Strauss sat a little straighter in the chair, “Helm, move us onto a gradual heading for intercept. Nothing too jarring, if they haven’t detected us yet, I’d rather they think we’re just another piece of rock out here.” Glancing upward out of habit, Strauss called, “Captain to the bridge.”
Akinola had been catnapping in his office mere meters away, trying to keep his mind sharp despite the lack of a concrete enemy to engage. He was up and out of his chair in an instant, roused from his semi-sleeping state and returning to full wakefulness in just seconds as he stepped across the threshold and onto the bridge. “Report.”
Strauss filled him in as she surrendered the command chair to the captain and assumed her customary post at the Tactical station.
Moments of tense silence followed as Bluefin threaded her way past billions of metric tons of planetary rubble, trying to slide in unobserved behind whatever was producing the sensor contact.
Then, on the main viewer, an object could be seen darting between the mammoth outcroppings of free floating rock.
“Magnify and identify,” ordered Akinola.
“Kestrel-class raider, sir.” Bane elaborated, “She appears to be outfitted with photon torpedoes and Class-6 phasers.”
“I haven’t seen one of those since before the war,” observed Akinola. “Not since the last time I tangled with the Maquis.”
From the Tactical station, Strauss quietly relayed, “Starfleet Intelligence has been reporting a potential Maquis resurgence in and around the former DMZ, Captain.”
“Damn,” the captain breathed, “This complicates things.”
“Par for the course?” Strauss offered wryly.
Bluefin slipped unseen behind the smaller craft, whose sensors were directed forward as the ship executed a search pattern.
“Ready the tractor beam,” Akinola leaned forward slightly in his chair, like a bird of prey observing his quarry from on high.
“Tractor beam, aye” confirmed Lt. Commander Gralt, the Tellarite chief engineer.
Just as Bluefin moved into tractor range, the raider arced around the curve of an asteroid measuring five kilometers in diameter. Following in the raider’s wake, the older Albacore-class cutter came around the far side and unexpectedly came face-to-face with a large Kriosian cargo hauler.
Collision klaxons blared and Akinola gritted his teeth as the freighter loomed large in the main viewer. “Helm, hard over!”
The freighter opened fire at nearly point blank range, her disruptor ports and missile batteries already exposed in anticipation of the raider drawing the cutter in. Merculite missiles and disruptor pulses raked Bluefin’s shields as the ship heeled over and raced for cover. The raider doubled back, adding its phasers and photon torpedoes to the fusillade of fire pounding the cutter.
“Helm, evasive pattern theta! Tactical, return fire, engage targets at will!” Akinola clung to his chair as the ship shuddered from repeated blows and the spaceframe groaned from the strain of violent evasive maneuvers.
“Aft shields at thirty-three percent, starboard grid at twenty-nine percent and falling.” Strauss assessed calmly, her earlier jitters having evaporated now that battle had been joined.
“We’ve got stress microfractures in the starboard nacelle pylon,” Gralt appraised as he clutched at his console. “By the pulsing sphincter of the Andorian goddess, those bastards set us up!” he cried in an infuriated tone. “Bastards!” he reiterated for effect.
Akinola glared as his chief engineer from the command seat, “Belay that crap, Commander! This isn’t the first time we’ve been sucker punched, so keep your head in the game.”
Looking to Strauss, Akinola braced himself as the Bluefin bucked from yet another wave of weapons impacts. “Okay, XO, let’s turn the tide in our favor, shall we?”
“I’m all ears, Captain,” Strauss replied earnestly as she sent a stream of phaser energy back at their attackers, accompanied by a flight of crimson torpedoes.
*****
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
“Kyle?”
His eyes fluttered at the sound of his name. Where was he? Was this the penal colony on Leavenworth?
“Inmate Lightner, front and center! Sound off like you’ve got a pair!”
‘That cinches it,’ he thought, ‘I’m still in lockup. That whole neo-Maquis business was just another damned dream.’ Kyle Lightner forced his eyes open only to find himself staring into the face of the young Starfleet commander who’d left him unconscious on the command deck of his own ship.
“There you are,” she said with a disarming smile.
Lightner tried to sit forward, only to find that he was secured to a chair in the freighter’s small dining compartment. “What is this? Let me go!”
“Kyle Lightner, you are in a lot of trouble.” The commander moved away, leaning against the side of a nearby table. “My name is Ramirez. Obviously, I’m with Starfleet.”
“Obviously,” he spat venomously.
“Kyle, we need to know the size and disposition of Maquis forces in the E’Mdiffar system.”
He laughed in response, “Piss off.” Only then did he notice the presence of the other officer, a youthful looking man wearing lieutenant’s insignia. He was watching Kyle very closely, almost as if… “Is he a Betazoid?” The color drained from Lightner’s face. “You can’t scan minds without consent!”
Lar’ragos smirked, pointing to his eyes. “I’m no Betazoid, Kyle. Just relax.” There was something about the man’s smile that set Lightner on edge.
The Maquis scowled, “How do you know my name?”
“That’s not important,” Ramirez said. “What’s important is for you to cooperate with us to shut down this operation before anyone else gets hurt.”
Lightner shook his head, “Not a chance.”
Ramirez’s features darkened, “Three of your crew are already dead, Kyle, and you’re looking at a lot of prison time for this stunt.”
Lightner was defiant, “I’ve done three years in a Federation penal colony, Ms. Ramirez, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Her eyes taking on a hard cast, Ramirez nodded fractionally, “Fine, how about this? You’ve committed acts of terrorism and attempted piracy in Cardassian space, making you and your friends subject to Cardassian law.”
“Nice try,” came his acerbic retort, “We both know you can’t render prisoners into the custody of powers that aren’t signatories to the Seldonis IV Convention. The pre-war Cardassian government might have paid lip service to the treaty, but since you invaded and occupied them, that government and it’s treaties are no longer valid.”
Lar’ragos took no small amount of pleasure in voicing, “The newly constituted Cardassian government just signed the Seldonis Convention three weeks ago. I guess it pays to watch the news feeds.”
“A Cardassian prison,” Ramirez practically chortled, “My that does sound like fun.”
Lightner’s pale complexion became positively waxen, and he found himself unable to form a comeback as he tried to imagine what that particular version of hell might be like.
“What I can’t understand is just who you thought you were dealing with?” Ramirez mused. “I realize you were with the original Maquis movement before the war, but you apparently haven’t been paying attention. This isn’t the same Starfleet you faced four years ago, Kyle. Most of us still drawing breath are hardened veterans used to fighting the likes of Jem’Hadar and Cardassians. You and your little band of pirates are playing in the wrong damn league, my friend.”
“It would be in your best interests to talk, Mr. Lightner” Lar’ragos said evenly, seeing no need for theatrics. “Your cooperation would go a long way toward our requesting that your case and those of your crew be heard before a Federation court.”
Barely thirty seconds passed before Kyle Lightner started talking. The Starfleet officers were surprised, having decided beforehand that it would take the Maquis at least five minutes before betraying his comrades.
*****
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
“Good work, Mr. Fralk, keep the high-g maneuvers coming!” Akinola praised from the center seat. Glancing back at Strauss, he asked, “We all set, XO?”
“Aye, sir. Tractor beam standing by for your command.”
Turning to face the viewer, Akinola ordered, “Very well. Initiate tactic ‘Pinball One.’
In response to the captain’s order, the aft tractor emitter reached out and contacted the forward shields of the pursuing raider. With the raider’s shields up, it would be especially difficult to get a tractor lock under normal circumstances. However, the beam had been inverted in such away that it now repelled rather than attracted, and the resulting collision drove the smaller ship off course, causing the raider to glance off the side of a relatively small forty-thousand ton rock, which nonetheless managed to shear off the raider’s port wing strut and thruster assembly, sending it into an unrecoverable spin that ended abruptly on the surface of the first asteroid’s larger cousin nearby.
Grinning mightily, Strauss tamped down the urge to cheer, announcing instead, “Pinball One is a success, sir. However, it now appears we’re fresh out of balls.” She blanched as several heads swiveled in her direction, faces struggling to maintain composure. “Wait… that’s not what I—“
Akinola laughed out loud, despite the dire situation still facing them. “That’s okay, Commander, I know what you meant.” Swiveling around in his chair, he fixed his gaze on the crusty Tellarite manning the Engineering board. “Mr. Gralt, what’s our status?”
“Shield generators starboard and aft are overtaxed, and I’m having difficulty firming up the grid. Current operational strength of those deflectors is hovering around twenty-five percent, sir. The starboard nacelle pylon will need shoring up before we can push any faster than Warp 3, and our aft phaser array is inoperable. We’ve got structural buckling on Decks 4, 5, 7 and—“
Akinola held up a hand, “I’ve got the picture, Commander. Why don’t you go see to your damage control teams personally?”
“Thank you, sir.” Gralt allowed gruffly as he made a beeline for the turbolift.
“Mr. Bane, status of the other threat vessel?”
Still gazing into his sensor display, the Australian lieutenant answered without looking up, “They couldn’t match our maneuvers, sir. We’ve lost them for the moment, though I am reading a new sensor contact bearing 279-mark-357. That might be them initiating a grid search pattern.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Akinola pondered that for a moment. “Keep an eye on that contact, Mr. Bane.” To the Helm, he directed, “Ensign Fralk, snug us up close to the asteroid where the raider crashed while we make repairs. Hopefully, anyone wandering through here will mistake our energy signature for residual traces of the raider’s antimatter containment breach.”
Giving Strauss a serious look as he slid out of his chair, Akinola instructed, “XO, compile a complete casualty and damage report for me. I’m going on walk-about to tour the ship.”
“Right away, Captain.”
*****
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 4
Awwww - Now you've gone and scratched the paint!
Seriously, a very nice action sequence all the way around. I don't know which bothered Kyle Lightner more, the thought of a Cardassian prison or having Lar'ragos looking at him with a small smile on his face.
Gotta remember the pin ball maneuver! (Sound of scribbling and muttering.) And let me compliment you on perhaps the best Gralt line yet: By the pulsing sphincter of the Andorian goddess, those bastards set us up!. But that pales in comparison to Strauss, I'm afraid we're fresh out of balls . Poor Inga!
Just one request, please leave enough of the Bluefin intact for my next tale. It would be embarrassing for Akinola & co. to hitchhike!
Impatiently waiting for the next installment!
Awwww - Now you've gone and scratched the paint!
Seriously, a very nice action sequence all the way around. I don't know which bothered Kyle Lightner more, the thought of a Cardassian prison or having Lar'ragos looking at him with a small smile on his face.
Gotta remember the pin ball maneuver! (Sound of scribbling and muttering.) And let me compliment you on perhaps the best Gralt line yet: By the pulsing sphincter of the Andorian goddess, those bastards set us up!. But that pales in comparison to Strauss, I'm afraid we're fresh out of balls . Poor Inga!
Just one request, please leave enough of the Bluefin intact for my next tale. It would be embarrassing for Akinola & co. to hitchhike!
Impatiently waiting for the next installment!
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 4
That Andorian goddess's sphincter wasn't the only one pulsing...being interrogated by both Lar'ragos and Ramirez is enough to make anyone's sphincter pucker.
And now Bluefin joins the party.
Very, very, nicely done!
That Andorian goddess's sphincter wasn't the only one pulsing...being interrogated by both Lar'ragos and Ramirez is enough to make anyone's sphincter pucker.
And now Bluefin joins the party.
Very, very, nicely done!
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 4
^It does really--it speaks of the whole post-Dominion War Starfleet. Maxwell and Ro are seriously underestimating their opposition. Starship captains like Sandhurst, Akinola, Aurelia, Shelby, Owens, and Glover are going to shoot first and take names later--provided there are any names left to be taken.
^It does really--it speaks of the whole post-Dominion War Starfleet. Maxwell and Ro are seriously underestimating their opposition. Starship captains like Sandhurst, Akinola, Aurelia, Shelby, Owens, and Glover are going to shoot first and take names later--provided there are any names left to be taken.
ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 5
PART 5
Maquis Bird-of-Prey Garth of Izar
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Ben Maxwell sat in the gloomy, somber silence of his cabin. He mused that on this particular day, the bleak Klingon bulkheads and deficient lighting suited his mood as he contemplated the four ships and over fifty Maquis members that he and Ro Laren had summarily written off an hour earlier.
Since rejoining her Maquis brethren, Ro had become the consummate pragmatist. Having spent years in a Cardassian prison camp had removed all pretenses from her nature. She had no time or patience for sentimentality, for the indulgence of exuberant idealism. All shades of grey had been erased from her universe; a thing was or it wasn’t, it did, or it didn’t. No middle ground, no hesitation, no flexibility.
Maxwell could not let those men and women go so easily. It was the Starfleet in him, the core of the man he once was, before the humiliation of court-martial and the soul sapping tedium of the stockade. For five years he’d languished in captivity, carrying out mundane make-work chores for the penal authority under the guise of rehabilitation. As if hand checking isolinear chips for production defects, a task carried out thousands of times more efficiently and accurately by computer, could quench the torch of vengeance he carried within him.
He had been released mere months before the start of the Dominion War. When the conflict had erupted in earnest, Maxwell had begged Starfleet to reactivate his commission, to allow him to serve in the capacity in which he’d demonstrated unparalleled genius, the art of warfare. He had been summarily refused. Maxwell had then offered his services as a civilian strategic advisor, and again had been rebuffed. So stained was his name among the leadership of Starfleet that certain members of the admiralty had even petitioned to have the two Christopher Pike medals of valor he’d been awarded during the Cardassian Wars rescinded. Ultimately that idea had been quashed, but only barely.
And so, Maxwell had eventually found his way to the Federation/Cardassian border, the area encompassed by the old DMZ. Here he had been approached by the newly reconstituted Maquis. Those from among the freedom fighters who’d been imprisoned before the Dominion purges had formed the core of a reinvigorated movement. They sought the colonization of those worlds ceded to the Cardassians by the Federation in the disastrous treaty six years earlier. When Cardassia had joined the Dominion, the Jem’Hadar had scoured those worlds clean of any Federation presence, obliterating Maquis and civilian settlements with equal enthusiasm.
Now that those worlds were again under Federation jurisdiction, the friends and relatives of those killed in the Dominion purges of the DMZ had petitioned the Federation Council to reinstate their settlement rights. The Council had refused, stubbornly replying that when the alliance relinquished control of Cardassian territory to the Union’s newly formed civilian government, the borders would be identical to their pre-war lines. Thus, the Maquis had come back into the picture, the group rededicated to ensuring that the planets that had been settled by Federation citizens and had been paid for in their blood would not fall into Cardassian hands once again.
Sitting forward and placing the now empty glass of scotch atop the Spartan desk, Maxwell came to a decision. If this endeavor had any chance of success, the Maquis, old and new, must learn to trust one another. Leaving people behind to be captured would send the message to the others that they were expendable. Reaching out to toggle the antiquated Klingon comms, the former Starfleet captain stated, “Maxwell to bridge, prepare to copy change of heading.”
The speaker hissed and crackled, finally allowing, “Beston here, Ben. Where are we headed?”
“Set course for the E’Mdifarr system and engage at best speed. Ready the gunnery crews, we’ll be going into combat.”
“You got it, Ben.”
Maxwell sat back, forcing his mind clear of all matters save the potential tactical scenarios they might encounter in the hazard-ridden star system. Flexing mental muscles that had lay dormant for years, he prepared to bring his substantial knowledge of Starfleet strategy and tactics to the fore, in order that he might now employ them against his former comrades.
*****
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
As they stepped out of the dining compartment, Ramirez moved a few paces down the passageway before turning and leaning against the bulkhead. Lar’ragos stepped to the other side of the corridor, moving stiffly and looking pained.
“What do your senses tell you, Pava?”
Choosing his words carefully, the El Aurian hesitated a moment before replying. “He’s telling us the truth, sir, or what he knows of it. He’s been deliberately kept in the dark, and doesn’t even know who’s running this operational cell. Just as he told us, his immediate superior is a man named Laramie. They’ve got four of these Q-ships, and the five smaller craft we saw faking the attack on this freighter when we arrived.”
“And he’s being truthful about their plan?”
Lar’ragos nodded, “Yes, sir. They were to disable or destroy Gibraltar and then set a pursuit course with the convoy. Presumably, the other Maquis attack group slated to intercept the formation and overcome the other three escorts was laying in wait somewhere along their route.”
Ramirez frowned, “And with local comms frequencies jammed, we have no way to warn the convoy or to discover if their attack was successful.”
“Not until we leave the system.”
She gave the lieutenant a curious look, “You said they planned to disable or destroy our ship. The Maquis used to go out of their way to avoid causing Federation and Starfleet casualties.”
Shrugging with his hands, Lar’ragos noted, “This is a whole new breed, Commander. Look at it from their perspective for a moment. They tempered their pre-war efforts with restraint, and what did it get them in the end?”
“Wiped out,” was her somber reply.
“Exactly, sir.”
Ramirez’s compin chirped, “Ashok to Ramirez. Impulse power has been restored, sir. We can be underway in fifteen minutes.”
After acknowledging the message, the XO reached up and gripped the security officer’s shoulder, “Good work, Pava. As always, your insights are invaluable.” Turning towards the antiquated and battle-scarred turbolift she gestured for the remaining security specialist to stand guard over Kyle Lightner in the dining compartment. Looking back to Lar’ragos she said, “C’mon, Lieutenant, let’s go even the odds a little.”
*****
Settling into the command chair of the combat-rigged freighter, Ramirez cast a glance towards Ashok who towered over the relatively diminutive engineering station. “Are we good to go, Lieutenant?”
Ashok, abhorring physical violence as he did, was now more aloof than normal following the earlier unpleasantness on the bridge. In response, he nodded curtly, the Bolian assessing, “You have full impulse and warp reactor power at your command, as well as shields and weapons load-outs. The warp drive itself is still offline, however, and I don’t have the proper equipment to polarize the nacelles.”
“Understood.” Turning to where Lar’ragos sat uncomfortably at the weapons console, she asked, “And you, Mr. Lar’ragos?”
“Weapons and defensive systems standing by, Commander. We’re armed with Ferengi disruptors, Talarian merculite missile batteries, and Bajoran phaser cannons.”
Ramirez shook her head, smirking. “We’re outfitted like an orbital display model at an Orion arms bazaar.”
Lar’ragos returned the grin. “Being heavily armed means never having to say you’re sorry, sir.”
“Let’s put your aphorism to the test, shall we, Mr. Lar’ragos? Helm, ahead slow, advancing to fifteen-hundred kph.”
Manning the helm console, Dunleavy would have smiled as well, if not for the dermal regeneration patches affixed to her face. “Aye, ahead slow, sir.”
“We’re off to find Gibraltar, and if we happen to stumble onto any more Maquis during our search, we can repay them in kind for our ambush.”
The away team’s only response was a series of grim smiles.
*****
USS Gibraltar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Sandhurst stumbled into the decon chamber, gasping for breath as the deionizer beam swept back and forth over him, its bluish rays laboring to neutralize the radiation swirling around the suited figure. As the beam terminated and Sandhurst tore off his helmet, the internal speakers could be heard scolding, ‘WARNING: Radiation levels have exceeded design tolerances. Lethal exposure in one minute, thirty seconds.’
The medical team rushed in, hefting Sandhurst up and spiriting him towards the small, two person lift car that shuttled maintenance personnel from the engineering hull up the nacelle strut and into the small habitable compartment. The captain’s body was already flooded with nearly twice the recommended dosage of hyronalin and all that could be done for him now was a deep tissue deionization treatment in Sickbay.
As the med-tech clutched Sandhurst to him and squeezed into the transport car, the captain croaked to one of the engineering personnel present, “Tell the bridge… warp drive re- restored.”
*****
The nacelle diagnostic readouts flashed green just as the text message arrived. The petty officer manning the Engineering board called to Pell, “Commander, warp engines back online.”
Sitting motionless in the command chair, Pell waited just long enough to make certain her voice was free of anxiety before positing the question, “Status of the captain?”
“Unknown, sir. He’s en route to Sickbay,” came the hushed response.
She nodded soberly. “Time to find our people.” Initiating the public address, Pell’s voice carried throughout the ship. “This is the Second Officer. We have restored warp capability and are now getting underway to locate our away team. I realize that in a perfect world the captain or Commander Ramirez would be sitting up here calling the shots, but I assure you I have every intention of finding and rescuing our missing crew. May the Prophets take pity upon anyone who stands in our path, for our cause is righteous and our resolution fixed as the Rock of Gibraltar. All auxiliary personnel report to damage control rally points and standby for further orders. Make ready for combat; all hands to battle stations.”
As the ship got underway, Pell reflected distantly that it appeared she had been contaminated by the same lack of subtly she’d recently referenced to the captain. ‘When in Rome…’ she thought, surrendering silently to the inevitable.
*****
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Akinola strode into Main Engineering, already smirking at the constant stream of colorful invective that had been audible for the length of the corridor.
Junior officers and enlisted specialists scurried to and fro in a flurry of activity as Gralt struggled into an EVA pressure suit. “Move your frinxing backsides or I will see the lot of you scrubbing plasma conduits with your own toothbrushes! No, belay that, I’ll track down a waste hauler and make you clean that out using nothing but the tongues your misbegotten, genetically deficient parents passed on to you!”
“Ah, so you’re the one,” Akinola called up to Gralt as the Tellarite fought to get his oversized foot into a troublesome boot on the mezzanine level.
“The one what, sir?” Gralt groused with evident irritation.
“The author of ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People,’ the captain replied dryly.
“No time for fun and games, sir.” Gralt finished pulling on the pressure garment and stepped onto the transparent lift platform that descended to the main level. “The rest of my EVA team is waiting in the shuttle bay. We’ve got to get those work pods out there and secure that strut ASAP.”
Stepping to the side, Akinola gestured to the exit. “Don’t let me stand in your way, Commander.”
“Thank you, Cap—“ The intercom sprang to life, cutting short Gralt’s reply.
“Strauss to the captain. One of the modified freighters is sniffing around our asteroid, sir. Estimate they’ll stumble upon our position in less than five minutes.”
Akinola and Gralt shared a grim look as the captain tapped his compin. “Acknowledged, XO. On my way.” Turning for the exit, Akinola called back over his shoulder, “Sorry, Gralt, you’ll have to make due for the time being. Get your people back from the shuttle bay, I’ve got a feeling we’re going to take a few more hits before this is over.”
As the doors hissed closed behind him, Akinola could make out a bellowing cadence through the door as Gralt and his team shifted priorities yet again and set to work.
*****
PART 5
Maquis Bird-of-Prey Garth of Izar
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Ben Maxwell sat in the gloomy, somber silence of his cabin. He mused that on this particular day, the bleak Klingon bulkheads and deficient lighting suited his mood as he contemplated the four ships and over fifty Maquis members that he and Ro Laren had summarily written off an hour earlier.
Since rejoining her Maquis brethren, Ro had become the consummate pragmatist. Having spent years in a Cardassian prison camp had removed all pretenses from her nature. She had no time or patience for sentimentality, for the indulgence of exuberant idealism. All shades of grey had been erased from her universe; a thing was or it wasn’t, it did, or it didn’t. No middle ground, no hesitation, no flexibility.
Maxwell could not let those men and women go so easily. It was the Starfleet in him, the core of the man he once was, before the humiliation of court-martial and the soul sapping tedium of the stockade. For five years he’d languished in captivity, carrying out mundane make-work chores for the penal authority under the guise of rehabilitation. As if hand checking isolinear chips for production defects, a task carried out thousands of times more efficiently and accurately by computer, could quench the torch of vengeance he carried within him.
He had been released mere months before the start of the Dominion War. When the conflict had erupted in earnest, Maxwell had begged Starfleet to reactivate his commission, to allow him to serve in the capacity in which he’d demonstrated unparalleled genius, the art of warfare. He had been summarily refused. Maxwell had then offered his services as a civilian strategic advisor, and again had been rebuffed. So stained was his name among the leadership of Starfleet that certain members of the admiralty had even petitioned to have the two Christopher Pike medals of valor he’d been awarded during the Cardassian Wars rescinded. Ultimately that idea had been quashed, but only barely.
And so, Maxwell had eventually found his way to the Federation/Cardassian border, the area encompassed by the old DMZ. Here he had been approached by the newly reconstituted Maquis. Those from among the freedom fighters who’d been imprisoned before the Dominion purges had formed the core of a reinvigorated movement. They sought the colonization of those worlds ceded to the Cardassians by the Federation in the disastrous treaty six years earlier. When Cardassia had joined the Dominion, the Jem’Hadar had scoured those worlds clean of any Federation presence, obliterating Maquis and civilian settlements with equal enthusiasm.
Now that those worlds were again under Federation jurisdiction, the friends and relatives of those killed in the Dominion purges of the DMZ had petitioned the Federation Council to reinstate their settlement rights. The Council had refused, stubbornly replying that when the alliance relinquished control of Cardassian territory to the Union’s newly formed civilian government, the borders would be identical to their pre-war lines. Thus, the Maquis had come back into the picture, the group rededicated to ensuring that the planets that had been settled by Federation citizens and had been paid for in their blood would not fall into Cardassian hands once again.
Sitting forward and placing the now empty glass of scotch atop the Spartan desk, Maxwell came to a decision. If this endeavor had any chance of success, the Maquis, old and new, must learn to trust one another. Leaving people behind to be captured would send the message to the others that they were expendable. Reaching out to toggle the antiquated Klingon comms, the former Starfleet captain stated, “Maxwell to bridge, prepare to copy change of heading.”
The speaker hissed and crackled, finally allowing, “Beston here, Ben. Where are we headed?”
“Set course for the E’Mdifarr system and engage at best speed. Ready the gunnery crews, we’ll be going into combat.”
“You got it, Ben.”
Maxwell sat back, forcing his mind clear of all matters save the potential tactical scenarios they might encounter in the hazard-ridden star system. Flexing mental muscles that had lay dormant for years, he prepared to bring his substantial knowledge of Starfleet strategy and tactics to the fore, in order that he might now employ them against his former comrades.
*****
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
As they stepped out of the dining compartment, Ramirez moved a few paces down the passageway before turning and leaning against the bulkhead. Lar’ragos stepped to the other side of the corridor, moving stiffly and looking pained.
“What do your senses tell you, Pava?”
Choosing his words carefully, the El Aurian hesitated a moment before replying. “He’s telling us the truth, sir, or what he knows of it. He’s been deliberately kept in the dark, and doesn’t even know who’s running this operational cell. Just as he told us, his immediate superior is a man named Laramie. They’ve got four of these Q-ships, and the five smaller craft we saw faking the attack on this freighter when we arrived.”
“And he’s being truthful about their plan?”
Lar’ragos nodded, “Yes, sir. They were to disable or destroy Gibraltar and then set a pursuit course with the convoy. Presumably, the other Maquis attack group slated to intercept the formation and overcome the other three escorts was laying in wait somewhere along their route.”
Ramirez frowned, “And with local comms frequencies jammed, we have no way to warn the convoy or to discover if their attack was successful.”
“Not until we leave the system.”
She gave the lieutenant a curious look, “You said they planned to disable or destroy our ship. The Maquis used to go out of their way to avoid causing Federation and Starfleet casualties.”
Shrugging with his hands, Lar’ragos noted, “This is a whole new breed, Commander. Look at it from their perspective for a moment. They tempered their pre-war efforts with restraint, and what did it get them in the end?”
“Wiped out,” was her somber reply.
“Exactly, sir.”
Ramirez’s compin chirped, “Ashok to Ramirez. Impulse power has been restored, sir. We can be underway in fifteen minutes.”
After acknowledging the message, the XO reached up and gripped the security officer’s shoulder, “Good work, Pava. As always, your insights are invaluable.” Turning towards the antiquated and battle-scarred turbolift she gestured for the remaining security specialist to stand guard over Kyle Lightner in the dining compartment. Looking back to Lar’ragos she said, “C’mon, Lieutenant, let’s go even the odds a little.”
*****
Settling into the command chair of the combat-rigged freighter, Ramirez cast a glance towards Ashok who towered over the relatively diminutive engineering station. “Are we good to go, Lieutenant?”
Ashok, abhorring physical violence as he did, was now more aloof than normal following the earlier unpleasantness on the bridge. In response, he nodded curtly, the Bolian assessing, “You have full impulse and warp reactor power at your command, as well as shields and weapons load-outs. The warp drive itself is still offline, however, and I don’t have the proper equipment to polarize the nacelles.”
“Understood.” Turning to where Lar’ragos sat uncomfortably at the weapons console, she asked, “And you, Mr. Lar’ragos?”
“Weapons and defensive systems standing by, Commander. We’re armed with Ferengi disruptors, Talarian merculite missile batteries, and Bajoran phaser cannons.”
Ramirez shook her head, smirking. “We’re outfitted like an orbital display model at an Orion arms bazaar.”
Lar’ragos returned the grin. “Being heavily armed means never having to say you’re sorry, sir.”
“Let’s put your aphorism to the test, shall we, Mr. Lar’ragos? Helm, ahead slow, advancing to fifteen-hundred kph.”
Manning the helm console, Dunleavy would have smiled as well, if not for the dermal regeneration patches affixed to her face. “Aye, ahead slow, sir.”
“We’re off to find Gibraltar, and if we happen to stumble onto any more Maquis during our search, we can repay them in kind for our ambush.”
The away team’s only response was a series of grim smiles.
*****
USS Gibraltar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Sandhurst stumbled into the decon chamber, gasping for breath as the deionizer beam swept back and forth over him, its bluish rays laboring to neutralize the radiation swirling around the suited figure. As the beam terminated and Sandhurst tore off his helmet, the internal speakers could be heard scolding, ‘WARNING: Radiation levels have exceeded design tolerances. Lethal exposure in one minute, thirty seconds.’
The medical team rushed in, hefting Sandhurst up and spiriting him towards the small, two person lift car that shuttled maintenance personnel from the engineering hull up the nacelle strut and into the small habitable compartment. The captain’s body was already flooded with nearly twice the recommended dosage of hyronalin and all that could be done for him now was a deep tissue deionization treatment in Sickbay.
As the med-tech clutched Sandhurst to him and squeezed into the transport car, the captain croaked to one of the engineering personnel present, “Tell the bridge… warp drive re- restored.”
*****
The nacelle diagnostic readouts flashed green just as the text message arrived. The petty officer manning the Engineering board called to Pell, “Commander, warp engines back online.”
Sitting motionless in the command chair, Pell waited just long enough to make certain her voice was free of anxiety before positing the question, “Status of the captain?”
“Unknown, sir. He’s en route to Sickbay,” came the hushed response.
She nodded soberly. “Time to find our people.” Initiating the public address, Pell’s voice carried throughout the ship. “This is the Second Officer. We have restored warp capability and are now getting underway to locate our away team. I realize that in a perfect world the captain or Commander Ramirez would be sitting up here calling the shots, but I assure you I have every intention of finding and rescuing our missing crew. May the Prophets take pity upon anyone who stands in our path, for our cause is righteous and our resolution fixed as the Rock of Gibraltar. All auxiliary personnel report to damage control rally points and standby for further orders. Make ready for combat; all hands to battle stations.”
As the ship got underway, Pell reflected distantly that it appeared she had been contaminated by the same lack of subtly she’d recently referenced to the captain. ‘When in Rome…’ she thought, surrendering silently to the inevitable.
*****
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
Akinola strode into Main Engineering, already smirking at the constant stream of colorful invective that had been audible for the length of the corridor.
Junior officers and enlisted specialists scurried to and fro in a flurry of activity as Gralt struggled into an EVA pressure suit. “Move your frinxing backsides or I will see the lot of you scrubbing plasma conduits with your own toothbrushes! No, belay that, I’ll track down a waste hauler and make you clean that out using nothing but the tongues your misbegotten, genetically deficient parents passed on to you!”
“Ah, so you’re the one,” Akinola called up to Gralt as the Tellarite fought to get his oversized foot into a troublesome boot on the mezzanine level.
“The one what, sir?” Gralt groused with evident irritation.
“The author of ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People,’ the captain replied dryly.
“No time for fun and games, sir.” Gralt finished pulling on the pressure garment and stepped onto the transparent lift platform that descended to the main level. “The rest of my EVA team is waiting in the shuttle bay. We’ve got to get those work pods out there and secure that strut ASAP.”
Stepping to the side, Akinola gestured to the exit. “Don’t let me stand in your way, Commander.”
“Thank you, Cap—“ The intercom sprang to life, cutting short Gralt’s reply.
“Strauss to the captain. One of the modified freighters is sniffing around our asteroid, sir. Estimate they’ll stumble upon our position in less than five minutes.”
Akinola and Gralt shared a grim look as the captain tapped his compin. “Acknowledged, XO. On my way.” Turning for the exit, Akinola called back over his shoulder, “Sorry, Gralt, you’ll have to make due for the time being. Get your people back from the shuttle bay, I’ve got a feeling we’re going to take a few more hits before this is over.”
As the doors hissed closed behind him, Akinola could make out a bellowing cadence through the door as Gralt and his team shifted priorities yet again and set to work.
*****
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 5
Wow! Sandhurst really laid it on the line to get the warp drive restored. Hope he lives to tell about it!
Nice scene with Maxwell - especially the background regarding his court martial, confinement, and being shunned by his former colleagues. That helps me understand his actions better. Interesting to see that he still tends to default to "Starfleet mode." Sad to see that Ro Laren has turned completely to the dark side. Obviously, her time in a Cardassian prison camp stripped the Starfleet out of her completely.
Very nice character work with Akinola and Gralt. You've definitely got Gralt down pat (actually, that's kind of a scary thought). And poor Inga with another faux paus - One of the modified freighters is sniffing around our asteroid, sir. As we say in the south, "Bless her heart!"
Great story! More, please!
Wow! Sandhurst really laid it on the line to get the warp drive restored. Hope he lives to tell about it!
Nice scene with Maxwell - especially the background regarding his court martial, confinement, and being shunned by his former colleagues. That helps me understand his actions better. Interesting to see that he still tends to default to "Starfleet mode." Sad to see that Ro Laren has turned completely to the dark side. Obviously, her time in a Cardassian prison camp stripped the Starfleet out of her completely.
Very nice character work with Akinola and Gralt. You've definitely got Gralt down pat (actually, that's kind of a scary thought). And poor Inga with another faux paus - One of the modified freighters is sniffing around our asteroid, sir. As we say in the south, "Bless her heart!"
Great story! More, please!
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 5
Ro Laren is most definitely a casualty of the war in a very real and profound way. Maxwell is an interesting figure here--I'm not completely sure what to make of him as yet. What I am sure of is that this version of the Maquis are most definitely nastier than Mk.1--but then so is the post-Dominion War Starfleet. This is going to be a brutal, nasty insurrection--just what Starfleet needs out here--another brushfire war!
PS: Loved the "Inga-ism"
Ro Laren is most definitely a casualty of the war in a very real and profound way. Maxwell is an interesting figure here--I'm not completely sure what to make of him as yet. What I am sure of is that this version of the Maquis are most definitely nastier than Mk.1--but then so is the post-Dominion War Starfleet. This is going to be a brutal, nasty insurrection--just what Starfleet needs out here--another brushfire war!
PS: Loved the "Inga-ism"
ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 6
PART 6
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
As Akinola took his place in the center seat, the main viewer displayed an image of one of the innocuous looking Kriosian freighters moving slowly around the perimeter of the asteroid towards Bluefin’s hiding place.
“Status,” the captain uttered tersely.
Strauss answered promptly from the Tactical station, “Their shields are up and weapons are on hot standby, Captain.”
“Sir,” T’Ser observed from Ops, “Their power curve reads like that of a dedicated warship. I’m picking up signs of secondary and tertiary power sources to supplement both shields as well as weapons.” Looking back over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Akinola. “I’d estimate they outgun us by at least 2-to-1.”
“Noted,” was Akinola’s only reply. Turning to face Tactical, the captain addressed Strauss, “XO, I want a full phaser and torpedo spread aimed at their primary sensor array. We’ll throw some sand in their eyes while we put some distance between us. Slugging it out with them here in this asteroid field will be like a knife fight in a turbolift, and odds favor the people with the bigger guns.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied steadily. “Standing by for your command.”
“Captain to Engineering,” Akinola called, “Be prepared to route auxiliary power to the impulse engines and aft shields.”
“Understood, sir,” came Gralt’s response. “I’ve got the starboard nacelle pylon reinforced through the SIF, but we’ll need to try and avoid any hits to that quarter.”
“We’ll try, Commander, but no promises. Bridge, out.”
Bane looked up from the Science console, “Cap’n, this is odd. I’m reading significant radiation leakage from their engine housings.”
“Battle damage?” Akinola asked.
“There’s no sign of physical damage to the nacelles, but if I’m interpreting this correctly through the radioactive soup, it appears their nacelles have been completely depolarized.”
Smiling slightly, Akinola surmised, “So, no warp drive then.”
“Correct, sir.”
“Advantage to us,” the captain breathed. “Alright, people, stand ready.”
*****
Bluefin darted out from cover, launching a salvo of photon torpedoes and a scintillating volley of phaser fire that slammed into the Q-ship’s shield grid. The surprised freighter crew rallied, trying to acquire a target lock on the fleeing cutter, but their sensors had been partially overloaded by the opening barrage and Bluefin had rounded the curve of the asteroid by the time their screens cleared.
The Q-ship fired up its impulse engines and set off in pursuit.
*****
USS Bluefin
“Another freighter directly ahead!” T’Ser called out in alarm.
Akinola’s stomach clenched at the thought of being trapped between two of the disguised warships. “Another full spread at the approaching target. Helm, Z plus one-thousand meters, then come to 090-mark-00 and engage at one-half impulse!”
Bane’s voice added to the cacophony filling the bridge, “Aft threat vessel has cleared the asteroid and is acquiring a weapons lock.”
The captain’s mind raced with tactical permutations, nearly all of them coming to the same dismal conclusion. They might be able to overwhelm one of the Q-ships with superior tactics and maneuverability, but two would prove impossible. “Helm, prepare to jump to warp.”
Fralk, to his credit, did not voice the obvious. They were still in an asteroid field, and a warp jump, even a short one, was tantamount to suicide. “Aye… sir” the young man stammered, plugging away gamely at his board and attempting to compensate for the seemingly endless tons of debris that still lay in their path.
*****
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
The sight of a Federation starship arcing around the large asteroid directly in their path had been surprise enough, but the storm of fire from the ship, however understandable under the circumstances, was still something of a shock.
“Federation starship, sir, an Albacore-class cutter” Lar’ragos identified the ship even as its weapons thundered against the Draskaar’s forward screens. “Shields holding… wait, another sensor return just cresting the asteroid, Commander. Another Q-ship in pursuit of the starship.”
“Try tight-beam laser communications, Ashok” ordered Ramirez. “We’ve got to let them know we’re on their side.”
“They’re taking fire from the Q-ship, sir. I don’t think they can even detect the comms laser due to all the EM interference.”
Ramirez nodded slowly, her hands gripping the armrests of the command chair. “Target the Maquis vessel and communicate our extreme displeasure to them, Mr. Lar’ragos.”
A wicked smile gracing his lips, the El Aurian did as instructed. “Ripple-firing merculite missiles, sir, followed by phaser and disruptor barrage.”
*****
USS Bluefin
Seconds seemed to crawl past as Fralk struggled to compute a safe faster-than-light jump vector through the dense field. Another volley from the ship that had chased them from the asteroid slammed home, causing the deck to buck wildly as control circuits sparked at one of the auxiliary bridge stations.
T’Ser spoke up, her voice sounding incredulous even as she announced, “Captain, the oncoming Q-ship has just fired on the one that is pursuing us.”
“Say again, Commander?”
“Confirmed, sir!” Bane acknowledged, “The second ship is pounding the first one with everything they have.”
“Helm, bring us about one-hundred eighty degrees,” Akinola barked suddenly. “XO, target the vessel on the receiving end of that salvo and add our fire to the effort.”
Bluefin turned around sharply, her forward tubes disgorging a flight of shimmering torpedoes that struck the Maquis vessel in concert with it’s sister ship’s incoming fire. The resulting paroxysm of destructive energy overtaxed the vessel’s formidable shields, and the last of Bluefin’s photons passed through the dissolving deflector grid and impacted the naked spaceframe of the ship.
Streamers of flame boiled from the blistered hull of the Q-ship and were extinguished by vacuum. It continued on its original course, rudderless and on fire, its momentum carrying it towards a contingent of asteroids many times its mass.
“Incoming laser-link communication detected from the other freighter, Captain. They’re requesting parlay.”
“This should prove interesting,” Akinola mused. “On screen, Commander.”
A grainy image took shape on the viewer, taking a moment to clear as the two vessels’ directed-energy comms systems synced up. Rather than the Maquis crew he’d been expecting, Akinola was face-to-face with a youthful looking woman in a Starfleet uniform. Behind her were other Starfleet personnel, manning the freighter’s bridge stations.
The woman stood, coming to attention. “Sir, I am Commander Liana Ramirez, First Officer, starship Gibraltar.”
Still wary of a ruse, Akinola buried his skepticism beneath a cool veneer of authority. “I assume you have an explanation for your presence aboard that ship, Commander?”
“Yes, sir. Our away team beamed over to this freighter after it had issued a distress call. We were immediately captured by the freighter’s crew and our ship was ambushed. These people are Maquis, Captain.”
Strauss called up a crew manifest from the Gibraltar, matching the woman on the viewer to the picture from her service file. Quickly scanning its contents, she murmured sotto voce to the captain, “It’s a match, sir. She’s listed as the ship’s XO.”
“Forgive me for saying so, Commander, but you don’t appear especially ‘captured’ to me at the moment.”
“No, sir. We were able to overpower our captors and assume control of the ship.”
Akinola pondered that. “I’ll tell you what, Commander. We’ll beam you over here and you can explain in greater detail. In the mean time, I’d appreciate it if you powered down your weapons and lowered your shields as a sign of good will.”
Ramirez nodded, “Immediately, sir.” She motioned to an officer at the back of the bridge, and the freighter’s shields and weapons powered down.
“I’m looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Ramirez.” Akinola said, gesturing for the comms signal to be terminated. He looked to Strauss, “XO, please meet our guest in the transporter room.”
*****
Strauss arrived in the transporter room flanked by two security personnel to find Chief Petty Officer Deryx at the console, holding three matter streams in transit, the columns of bluish light wavering on their individual beaming pads.
“Three signals in the buffer, Commander. Two human females, and an El Aurian male.”
Strauss frowned, “I thought we were only beaming over one person.”
“Commander Ramirez indicated the other two needed medical attention, sir.” Deryx replied.
Glancing at the transporter console, Strauss asked, “Any signs of weapons or biological agents, Chief?”
“None, sir.”
“Bring them in, then.” Strauss ordered.
A second later, the three matter streams coalesced into fully realized people. A diminutive female of Hispanic heritage stepped forward, “Commander Ramirez, reporting as ordered. Permission to come aboard?”
“Granted,” Strauss allowed. She moved forward and offered her hand as Ramirez stepped down off the platform. “Inga Strauss, XO of the border cutter Bluefin.”
Ramirez shook the proffered hand firmly, “I should have realized it would be the Border Service coming to our rescue,” she said with a smile.
Strauss worked to decipher any hidden subtext to the statement, suddenly self-conscious after having briefly reviewed the other woman’s service record. “Meaning?”
“Only that it’s usually you folks tasked to come to the rescue of us regular fleet pogues when we get in over our heads,” Ramirez said with a deferential grin. She turned to introduce her comrades. “This is Lieutenant Lar’ragos and Petty Officer Dunleavy. Both were injured in the effort to take the ship from the Maquis. I’d like to request they be attended to in Sickbay.”
“Of course,” Strauss gestured to one of the security specialists. “Escort them to see Dr. Castille.”
Strauss moved into the corridor with Ramirez in tow. “How’d you manage to take the ship, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Our security chief back there thinks he’s a Klingon targ in a Starfleet uniform,” Ramirez answered. “Taking the bridge was a bit of a fiasco, but we got it done. We’ve got six Maquis prisoners aboard as well.”
The two stepped into a turbolift. Strauss glanced over at her counterpart, her expression uncertain, “I’m afraid we haven’t detected any signs of the Gibraltar yet.”
Ramirez didn’t seem particularly disturbed by this bit of news. “She’ll turn up. She always does.”
Strauss nodded wordlessly at the other woman’s evident confidence in her crewmates as the lift completed its ascent.
*****
For a physician of Castille’s caliber, the injuries from the two visiting Starfleet personnel were an easy mend. As Dunleavy sat in a special chair under a dermal regeneration mask, Castille completed his repair of Lar’ragos’ fractured ribs. It wasn’t the man’s present injuries that fascinated the young doctor, however, but the history of traumatic episodes hinted at by the mass of scar tissue and bone calcification throughout the El Aurian’s body.
Castille waved the ostio-knitter over Lar’ragos’ chest and said by way of making conversation, “I’m guessing you’ve got some interesting stories to tell, Lieutenant.”
“If you only knew,” the man replied cryptically.
The doctor glanced at a computer readout, frowned, and then passed a medical sensor wand over Pava’s mouth, moving down towards his abdomen. “I’m picking up traces of Andorian blood in your oral tissues and digestive tract. You’re not mixed-race, by any chance?”
Lar’ragos shook his head slightly, “No, I’m not from around here.”
“Then how did it get there?”
“One of the Maquis was Andorian,” Lar’ragos said simply, “I bit off his antennae.”
Castille blinked at the casual mention of such extreme violence. “You… you what? Why would you do that?”
“He proved unreasonably stubborn and wouldn’t stay down.” Lar’ragos answered, sitting up and dangling his feet over the side of the exam table. Flexing his leg, the lieutenant nodded approvingly. “Nice work, Doc. Much obliged.” Sliding down off the table, Lar’ragos moved to the exit and addressed the security detail. “Can I get an escort back to the transporter room? I’d like to return to the freighter as soon as possible.”
“Where--“ Castille tried to wrap his mind around the man’s indifference. “Where are the antennae now? I might be able to reattach them.”
Looking thoughtful, Lar’ragos reflected, “One of them is someplace near the turbolift on Deck 5 of the freighter. The other…” he glanced down at his abdomen, “Well, I’ll be seeing that one in a few days, I’m sure.”
The security officer stepped out into the corridor, gesturing for Lar’ragos to follow.
Grinning at the horrified look on Castille’s face, Pava added, “Don’t worry, Doc. Of all people, you should know those things grow back.” Leaning back through the doorway, Lar’ragos called to Dunleavy. “Dun, report back to the freighter as soon as you’re discharged, okay?”
Unable to speak due to the dermal mask, Dunleavy responded with a thumbs up from the chair.
*****
PART 6
USS Bluefin
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
As Akinola took his place in the center seat, the main viewer displayed an image of one of the innocuous looking Kriosian freighters moving slowly around the perimeter of the asteroid towards Bluefin’s hiding place.
“Status,” the captain uttered tersely.
Strauss answered promptly from the Tactical station, “Their shields are up and weapons are on hot standby, Captain.”
“Sir,” T’Ser observed from Ops, “Their power curve reads like that of a dedicated warship. I’m picking up signs of secondary and tertiary power sources to supplement both shields as well as weapons.” Looking back over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Akinola. “I’d estimate they outgun us by at least 2-to-1.”
“Noted,” was Akinola’s only reply. Turning to face Tactical, the captain addressed Strauss, “XO, I want a full phaser and torpedo spread aimed at their primary sensor array. We’ll throw some sand in their eyes while we put some distance between us. Slugging it out with them here in this asteroid field will be like a knife fight in a turbolift, and odds favor the people with the bigger guns.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied steadily. “Standing by for your command.”
“Captain to Engineering,” Akinola called, “Be prepared to route auxiliary power to the impulse engines and aft shields.”
“Understood, sir,” came Gralt’s response. “I’ve got the starboard nacelle pylon reinforced through the SIF, but we’ll need to try and avoid any hits to that quarter.”
“We’ll try, Commander, but no promises. Bridge, out.”
Bane looked up from the Science console, “Cap’n, this is odd. I’m reading significant radiation leakage from their engine housings.”
“Battle damage?” Akinola asked.
“There’s no sign of physical damage to the nacelles, but if I’m interpreting this correctly through the radioactive soup, it appears their nacelles have been completely depolarized.”
Smiling slightly, Akinola surmised, “So, no warp drive then.”
“Correct, sir.”
“Advantage to us,” the captain breathed. “Alright, people, stand ready.”
*****
Bluefin darted out from cover, launching a salvo of photon torpedoes and a scintillating volley of phaser fire that slammed into the Q-ship’s shield grid. The surprised freighter crew rallied, trying to acquire a target lock on the fleeing cutter, but their sensors had been partially overloaded by the opening barrage and Bluefin had rounded the curve of the asteroid by the time their screens cleared.
The Q-ship fired up its impulse engines and set off in pursuit.
*****
USS Bluefin
“Another freighter directly ahead!” T’Ser called out in alarm.
Akinola’s stomach clenched at the thought of being trapped between two of the disguised warships. “Another full spread at the approaching target. Helm, Z plus one-thousand meters, then come to 090-mark-00 and engage at one-half impulse!”
Bane’s voice added to the cacophony filling the bridge, “Aft threat vessel has cleared the asteroid and is acquiring a weapons lock.”
The captain’s mind raced with tactical permutations, nearly all of them coming to the same dismal conclusion. They might be able to overwhelm one of the Q-ships with superior tactics and maneuverability, but two would prove impossible. “Helm, prepare to jump to warp.”
Fralk, to his credit, did not voice the obvious. They were still in an asteroid field, and a warp jump, even a short one, was tantamount to suicide. “Aye… sir” the young man stammered, plugging away gamely at his board and attempting to compensate for the seemingly endless tons of debris that still lay in their path.
*****
Kriosian-flagged freighter SS Draskaar
E’Mdifarr Asteroid Belt, E’Mdifarr system
Sector 21508
Alliance Occupied Cardassian Territory
The sight of a Federation starship arcing around the large asteroid directly in their path had been surprise enough, but the storm of fire from the ship, however understandable under the circumstances, was still something of a shock.
“Federation starship, sir, an Albacore-class cutter” Lar’ragos identified the ship even as its weapons thundered against the Draskaar’s forward screens. “Shields holding… wait, another sensor return just cresting the asteroid, Commander. Another Q-ship in pursuit of the starship.”
“Try tight-beam laser communications, Ashok” ordered Ramirez. “We’ve got to let them know we’re on their side.”
“They’re taking fire from the Q-ship, sir. I don’t think they can even detect the comms laser due to all the EM interference.”
Ramirez nodded slowly, her hands gripping the armrests of the command chair. “Target the Maquis vessel and communicate our extreme displeasure to them, Mr. Lar’ragos.”
A wicked smile gracing his lips, the El Aurian did as instructed. “Ripple-firing merculite missiles, sir, followed by phaser and disruptor barrage.”
*****
USS Bluefin
Seconds seemed to crawl past as Fralk struggled to compute a safe faster-than-light jump vector through the dense field. Another volley from the ship that had chased them from the asteroid slammed home, causing the deck to buck wildly as control circuits sparked at one of the auxiliary bridge stations.
T’Ser spoke up, her voice sounding incredulous even as she announced, “Captain, the oncoming Q-ship has just fired on the one that is pursuing us.”
“Say again, Commander?”
“Confirmed, sir!” Bane acknowledged, “The second ship is pounding the first one with everything they have.”
“Helm, bring us about one-hundred eighty degrees,” Akinola barked suddenly. “XO, target the vessel on the receiving end of that salvo and add our fire to the effort.”
Bluefin turned around sharply, her forward tubes disgorging a flight of shimmering torpedoes that struck the Maquis vessel in concert with it’s sister ship’s incoming fire. The resulting paroxysm of destructive energy overtaxed the vessel’s formidable shields, and the last of Bluefin’s photons passed through the dissolving deflector grid and impacted the naked spaceframe of the ship.
Streamers of flame boiled from the blistered hull of the Q-ship and were extinguished by vacuum. It continued on its original course, rudderless and on fire, its momentum carrying it towards a contingent of asteroids many times its mass.
“Incoming laser-link communication detected from the other freighter, Captain. They’re requesting parlay.”
“This should prove interesting,” Akinola mused. “On screen, Commander.”
A grainy image took shape on the viewer, taking a moment to clear as the two vessels’ directed-energy comms systems synced up. Rather than the Maquis crew he’d been expecting, Akinola was face-to-face with a youthful looking woman in a Starfleet uniform. Behind her were other Starfleet personnel, manning the freighter’s bridge stations.
The woman stood, coming to attention. “Sir, I am Commander Liana Ramirez, First Officer, starship Gibraltar.”
Still wary of a ruse, Akinola buried his skepticism beneath a cool veneer of authority. “I assume you have an explanation for your presence aboard that ship, Commander?”
“Yes, sir. Our away team beamed over to this freighter after it had issued a distress call. We were immediately captured by the freighter’s crew and our ship was ambushed. These people are Maquis, Captain.”
Strauss called up a crew manifest from the Gibraltar, matching the woman on the viewer to the picture from her service file. Quickly scanning its contents, she murmured sotto voce to the captain, “It’s a match, sir. She’s listed as the ship’s XO.”
“Forgive me for saying so, Commander, but you don’t appear especially ‘captured’ to me at the moment.”
“No, sir. We were able to overpower our captors and assume control of the ship.”
Akinola pondered that. “I’ll tell you what, Commander. We’ll beam you over here and you can explain in greater detail. In the mean time, I’d appreciate it if you powered down your weapons and lowered your shields as a sign of good will.”
Ramirez nodded, “Immediately, sir.” She motioned to an officer at the back of the bridge, and the freighter’s shields and weapons powered down.
“I’m looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Ramirez.” Akinola said, gesturing for the comms signal to be terminated. He looked to Strauss, “XO, please meet our guest in the transporter room.”
*****
Strauss arrived in the transporter room flanked by two security personnel to find Chief Petty Officer Deryx at the console, holding three matter streams in transit, the columns of bluish light wavering on their individual beaming pads.
“Three signals in the buffer, Commander. Two human females, and an El Aurian male.”
Strauss frowned, “I thought we were only beaming over one person.”
“Commander Ramirez indicated the other two needed medical attention, sir.” Deryx replied.
Glancing at the transporter console, Strauss asked, “Any signs of weapons or biological agents, Chief?”
“None, sir.”
“Bring them in, then.” Strauss ordered.
A second later, the three matter streams coalesced into fully realized people. A diminutive female of Hispanic heritage stepped forward, “Commander Ramirez, reporting as ordered. Permission to come aboard?”
“Granted,” Strauss allowed. She moved forward and offered her hand as Ramirez stepped down off the platform. “Inga Strauss, XO of the border cutter Bluefin.”
Ramirez shook the proffered hand firmly, “I should have realized it would be the Border Service coming to our rescue,” she said with a smile.
Strauss worked to decipher any hidden subtext to the statement, suddenly self-conscious after having briefly reviewed the other woman’s service record. “Meaning?”
“Only that it’s usually you folks tasked to come to the rescue of us regular fleet pogues when we get in over our heads,” Ramirez said with a deferential grin. She turned to introduce her comrades. “This is Lieutenant Lar’ragos and Petty Officer Dunleavy. Both were injured in the effort to take the ship from the Maquis. I’d like to request they be attended to in Sickbay.”
“Of course,” Strauss gestured to one of the security specialists. “Escort them to see Dr. Castille.”
Strauss moved into the corridor with Ramirez in tow. “How’d you manage to take the ship, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Our security chief back there thinks he’s a Klingon targ in a Starfleet uniform,” Ramirez answered. “Taking the bridge was a bit of a fiasco, but we got it done. We’ve got six Maquis prisoners aboard as well.”
The two stepped into a turbolift. Strauss glanced over at her counterpart, her expression uncertain, “I’m afraid we haven’t detected any signs of the Gibraltar yet.”
Ramirez didn’t seem particularly disturbed by this bit of news. “She’ll turn up. She always does.”
Strauss nodded wordlessly at the other woman’s evident confidence in her crewmates as the lift completed its ascent.
*****
For a physician of Castille’s caliber, the injuries from the two visiting Starfleet personnel were an easy mend. As Dunleavy sat in a special chair under a dermal regeneration mask, Castille completed his repair of Lar’ragos’ fractured ribs. It wasn’t the man’s present injuries that fascinated the young doctor, however, but the history of traumatic episodes hinted at by the mass of scar tissue and bone calcification throughout the El Aurian’s body.
Castille waved the ostio-knitter over Lar’ragos’ chest and said by way of making conversation, “I’m guessing you’ve got some interesting stories to tell, Lieutenant.”
“If you only knew,” the man replied cryptically.
The doctor glanced at a computer readout, frowned, and then passed a medical sensor wand over Pava’s mouth, moving down towards his abdomen. “I’m picking up traces of Andorian blood in your oral tissues and digestive tract. You’re not mixed-race, by any chance?”
Lar’ragos shook his head slightly, “No, I’m not from around here.”
“Then how did it get there?”
“One of the Maquis was Andorian,” Lar’ragos said simply, “I bit off his antennae.”
Castille blinked at the casual mention of such extreme violence. “You… you what? Why would you do that?”
“He proved unreasonably stubborn and wouldn’t stay down.” Lar’ragos answered, sitting up and dangling his feet over the side of the exam table. Flexing his leg, the lieutenant nodded approvingly. “Nice work, Doc. Much obliged.” Sliding down off the table, Lar’ragos moved to the exit and addressed the security detail. “Can I get an escort back to the transporter room? I’d like to return to the freighter as soon as possible.”
“Where--“ Castille tried to wrap his mind around the man’s indifference. “Where are the antennae now? I might be able to reattach them.”
Looking thoughtful, Lar’ragos reflected, “One of them is someplace near the turbolift on Deck 5 of the freighter. The other…” he glanced down at his abdomen, “Well, I’ll be seeing that one in a few days, I’m sure.”
The security officer stepped out into the corridor, gesturing for Lar’ragos to follow.
Grinning at the horrified look on Castille’s face, Pava added, “Don’t worry, Doc. Of all people, you should know those things grow back.” Leaning back through the doorway, Lar’ragos called to Dunleavy. “Dun, report back to the freighter as soon as you’re discharged, okay?”
Unable to speak due to the dermal mask, Dunleavy responded with a thumbs up from the chair.
*****
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 6
Great battle sequence and character interaction! Hope that Dr. Castille thought to give Pava some Rolaids for that little Andorian snack.
Great battle sequence and character interaction! Hope that Dr. Castille thought to give Pava some Rolaids for that little Andorian snack.
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 6
Andorian antennae--the other blue meat.
That was some very nicely done character interaction as Castille found out just how badass Lar'ragos is. I liked the confusion in the battle sequence--this could easily have ended in disaster for one ship or the other.
Very well done!
Andorian antennae--the other blue meat.
That was some very nicely done character interaction as Castille found out just how badass Lar'ragos is. I liked the confusion in the battle sequence--this could easily have ended in disaster for one ship or the other.
Very well done!
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 6
Well, I'm a little late to the party, as usual, but I wanted to add my kudos, as well. By George, you've done it again, Gibraltar! As always, your characterization and character interaction are flawless. I'm especially impressed at the way you've taken the Bluefin crew and written them in a way that is so completely consistent with LonleyRedShirt's approach.
Always enjoy getting more insight into -- and "excitement" from -- Lar'ragos, of course. All his scenes thus far have been amazingly well written and enjoyable, culminating with that last little bit. Classic.
And, of course, you are the best when it comes to writing battle scenes. Another wonderful one, here!
I also have to say that I really enjoyed that last little bit with Pell in Part 5. I liked the added dimension to her character, and how you handled it.
I'm totall hooked on this and LonleyRedShirt's Bluefin adventures.
Can't wait for more! :thumbsup:
DavidFalkayn said:
Andorian antennae--the other blue meat.
Well, I'm a little late to the party, as usual, but I wanted to add my kudos, as well. By George, you've done it again, Gibraltar! As always, your characterization and character interaction are flawless. I'm especially impressed at the way you've taken the Bluefin crew and written them in a way that is so completely consistent with LonleyRedShirt's approach.
Always enjoy getting more insight into -- and "excitement" from -- Lar'ragos, of course. All his scenes thus far have been amazingly well written and enjoyable, culminating with that last little bit. Classic.
And, of course, you are the best when it comes to writing battle scenes. Another wonderful one, here!
I also have to say that I really enjoyed that last little bit with Pell in Part 5. I liked the added dimension to her character, and how you handled it.
I'm totall hooked on this and LonleyRedShirt's Bluefin adventures.
Can't wait for more! :thumbsup:
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 6
Great chapters! Once again, I'm impressed with you 'tech-talk.'
Making the Fed/Cardie border revert to 2370 era sounds like something the Federation Council would do. ...so much for learning from ones mistakes.
Looking forward to the next installment!
Great chapters! Once again, I'm impressed with you 'tech-talk.'
Making the Fed/Cardie border revert to 2370 era sounds like something the Federation Council would do. ...so much for learning from ones mistakes.
Looking forward to the next installment!
Re: ST: Gibraltar - Backup - Part 6
I keep trying to tell him the same thing.
Oh, and btw Gibraltar, my bro-in-law agrees. I recently loaned him a recent published Trek novel and sent him your fist 3 Gibraltar stories, and he asked when they were being published.
Ya got talent, my friend. And fans. :thumbsup:
I keep trying to tell him the same thing.
Oh, and btw Gibraltar, my bro-in-law agrees. I recently loaned him a recent published Trek novel and sent him your fist 3 Gibraltar stories, and he asked when they were being published.
Ya got talent, my friend. And fans. :thumbsup:
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