Star Trek: Pathfinder #2 - The Prodigal Captain

[jerriecan]

Well… that was a sobering tactical assessment. Pathfinder’s boxed in and with Beaumont trapped with Proudfoot and his separatists, there’s no easy way out that won’t result in casualties of some kind.

I guess that’s why they pay Starfleet captains the big bucks!

They can afford the best... now to see if Teague and the Pathfinder crew are worth it. Glad you're liking the story!

Great to see another episode. As usual, written well with convincing dialogue. The explanation as to why they took the cargo ships makes sense, too.

Thanks, Badger. Dialogue is tough, especially when balancing exposition with realistic speech. Glad you're still reading and enjoying!

Not exactly a positive outlook for Pathfinder here. Options are in scarce supply and with the XO still in the lion's den, running isn't exactly the honorable thing to do. I'm thinking Beaumont still has a role to play to get her former CO to give up or sabotage him somehow from the inside.

Very good thoughts, CeJay - we'll see how right you are very soon. Thanks for reading and commenting!

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Four​

UESN Vanguard
Tau Delta system, Sector Nineteen
May 13, 2163

Beaumont stood at the railing, looking down at the weapon that Proudfoot called Achilles. It was a truly massive construct, stretching hundreds of meters down the bay, mounted along the spine of the Vanguard. Dozens of people surrounded the weapon, replacing components, calling out readings and making adjustments to the system. Even if it was a weapon, Beaumont still thought it was a spectacular piece of engineering. "What is this?" she said.

Proudfoot exchanged a few murmured words with the nearest technician before answering her. "Achilles is the most powerful subspace transmitter ever carried aboard a starship," he said. "It's not the most efficient device - anything but, in fact. Its power requirements are massive. It can affect targets over short to medium combat ranges, out to about a million kilometers."

"Is it some kind of jamming system?" Beaumont said. She knew full well that it was not, but she needed to keep Proudfoot talking, to get him to share concrete details, something they might be able to use against him. "A million kilometers isn't even a dent when it comes to subspace comms."

Proudfoot smiled. "You're right, of course, Isobel. Achilles doesn't jam subspace frequencies - it generates a modulated pulse on very specific wavelengths. It uses a target's internal systems to amplify those frequencies, spreading the field throughout the target."

He turned to face Beaumont. "It's quite elegant, in a terrible way. The Achilles pulse effects the brain directly, rendering its victims... compliant. It leaves them suggestible, easily controlled, able to follow simple instructions but utterly incapable of resistance. Much like the siren's call of ancient Earth myth." At Beaumont's horrified expression, he said, "Of course, the effect is only temporary - it fades within a few minutes of stopping the pulse. But by that time a small force can have an ship's entire crew restrained and take control of the ship, all without a shot fired in anger."

Beaumont's stomach lurched as she went pale listening to her former commanding officer describe the effect of Achilles. It was no wonder Starfleet had never used it - Achilles wasn't just a weapon, it was mind control on a massive scale. "It's barbaric," she said.

"No, barbaric is sacrificing the innocent in a war when the key to victory was in our grasp all along," Proudfoot replied. "Starfleet proved that in the Romulan War."

"You used this on the Roosevelt. On a Starfleet crew."

"I had to prove my point to Starfleet. They weren't harmed, just like the crews of the cargo ships."

"So where are they?"

"Tau Delta III, along with enough supplies to be quite comfortable. The region we dropped them in will be temperate for several months. Did you really think I would use them as slave labor... or something worse?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Beaumont admitted.

Proudfoot frowned. "The Vanguard was the first field test of Achilles, and they managed to take out two assault groups of Preybirds. The Romulans still managed to self-destruct - paranoia in all its glory." He clenched his right hand into a fist. "Soon after, the Romulans chased this ship into that radiation belt because they couldn't get close enough to destroy it outright."

Proudfoot's eyes narrowed. "How did you figure it out?"

"Sir?" she said, his sudden question taking her by surprise.

"Don't play dumb with me, Commander," Proudfoot spat, his tone changing from sadness to anger at the same moment he chose to address her by rank and not by name. "It was your implant, wasn't it? Is that what gave you enough warning to jam the Achilles pulse?"

"I didn't know about any signal until you showed me this - " Beaumont said.

Proudfoot shook his head. "You never could bluff worth a damn. You're too earnest, too honest. No guile." He nodded once and Beaumont felt hands clasp around her biceps, On either side of her were technicians, each with a holstered sidearm. She struggled for only a moment before realizing the futility of it - even if she escaped, where could she go?

Proudfoot clasped his hands behind his back and approached her. "Commander, so far I've been truthful with you. I have not once tried to conceal my motives, despite the fact that the advantage is mine. The first thing I ask for from you... and you try and lie to me. Not a good way to begin."

"You don't really think you can win, do you?" she said. "Even if you do manage to reignite the war, you'll have both the Federation and the Romulans against you. It's suicide."

"Once people see what the Romulans have done - what they're still doing - they will understand my actions. People will see I did what had to be done to protect humanity. Over time, more and more will support me... until the tide is unstoppable. Until the day the Romulan Star Empire is broken at last." He looked at her captors. "Take her to Sickbay. Isolate the frequencies her implant shares with the Achilles pulse and work around them."

"What then?" one of them asked.

"Then... confine her to quarters and make damned sure she's secure, with a guard outside at all times. Achilles will be charged to fire again in - " Proudfoot checked a nearby readout - "thirty-six minutes. This time we take the Pathfinder."

Beaumont's eyes widened in shock. "The jamming - "

"Stopped a medium-power pulse," Proudfoot replied. "The next time we fire, the Achilles pulse will be at maximum strength... and at this range, nothing your ship can do will stop it."

As the men dragged her off, Beaumont heard him say, "Soon we'll be on our way to the Neutral Zone... and the Pathfinder will be my flagship."

To Be Continued...

 

[Gibraltar]

Oof! Proudfoot’s threats are becoming more real and alarming with each passing moment. He’s obviously thought this out, and his strategy seems damnably sound. Here’s hoping Captain Teague & Company can (proverbially) pee in Captain Ahab’s Cheerio’s before it’s too late!

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Five​

UESN Vanguard
Tau Delta system, Sector Nineteen
May 13, 2163

"What did you do?" said the tall technician.

His name was Jakobs, and his shorter, stocky cohort was Allenby. Neither man was comfortable with what they were doing, it seemed - they wore their weapons because they were ordered to, not because they felt being armed was necessary. They had taken her from the Achilles bay to Sickbay, where they had secured her to an exam table with fabric straps. Now Allenby ran a bulky scanner over Beaumont's head while Jakobs scritinized the readout, trying to sift out which parts of the Achilles pulse had tripped the implant.

But now the signal from the implant had cut out. "What do you mean?" said Allenby.

"The implant - it's just stopped," Jakobs said. "Total shutdown."

On the table Beaumont uttered a low giggle - the whole situation was suddenly very funny to her. "Of course it shut down," she spat, a hard edge in her voice. "Your pulse almost fried it the first time. It was barely working by the time I set foot aboard this ship. Just a matter of time." Her arms strained against the straps holding her to the exam table. She needed to move, to get up, but the chances of that were slim. It was hard to think - Beaumont's thoughts were no longer the ones she was used to but a tangled mess of impulses.

Jakobs and Allenby shared a worried glance. "I'm calling the captain," Jakobs said.

Beaumont's laugh filled the exam room, utterly unexpected even by her. "Really? You want to bother him now, when he's just about to assault Starfleet's most advanced ship? I'm sure he'd be delighted for you to take precious time out of his busy day to bring him up to speed on my lack of well-being," she snarled. She could hardly believe the cutting tone in her voice - even on her worst days before the implant, she had never sounded like this.

Got to calm down or they might sedate you, she thought, and choked back the next words she wanted to say - something unflattering about their parentage. Then she breathed deeply, remembering the mental exercises she had learned in her long rehabilitation, trying to control her raging thoughts. She hated this feeling, hated it even in a safe, controlled environment, and this was anything but safe or controlled. Every light seemed too bright, every sound too sharp, every sensation too intense, all trying to crowd out rational thought. "I can survive perfectly well without the implant," she explained through gritted teeth. "It just make things - easier to deal with."

Yhe two men shared another quick look. "Come on, let's get her secured," Allenby said, unbuckling the straps. Neither made a motion toward the comm terminal on the desk to alert Proudfoot.

Beaumont could barely hold back her grin as they led her away from Sickbay.

* * * * *​

"Commander Beaumont's signal has ceased, Captain," said T'Vril.

Teague was ready. "Tactical alert. Execute evasive plan Gamma. Commander T'Vril, disable those fighters as fast as you can."

Web pressed her hands to the helm controls and the Pathfinder instantly responded to her touch. The massive fusion-powered impulse engines flared bright blue, propelling the starship forward through a tiny gap between the warp fighters. At the same time, a metered electrical current was being passed through the hull plating, aligning the molecular structure of the ship's skin into, effectively, a single colossal construct instead of separate plates, one that was capable of dispersing more energy damage than separate plates could hope to manage.

That did not make the hull indestructible, however. The warp fighters set off in pursuit almost as soon as the Pathfinder moved, firing their high-yield phase cannons at the fleeing ship and scorching the hull with each successful strike. The Pathfinder fired back as it ran, scoring hits on a pair of fighters before the smaller craft reached full speed and their maneuverability could keep them just out of Pathfinder's weapons fire. The pair slowed and circled back toward the Vanguard, their impulse engines stuttering.

On the bridge T'Vril calmly watched her tactical display, a schematic of the Pathfinder centered on the screen. Various portions of the ship lit up red as weapon fire struck, then faded to yellow as the energy dissipated through the hull. "Two enemy craft disabled. Multiple phase cannon impacts, minor damage. Polarization capacity down ten percent."

"How long until we're clear for warp?" Teague said.

Marakis didn't have to check his console - he had run the calculations in his head. "Three minutes, twenty seconds."

Teague was doing the same, though his figures were coming out considerably more grim. At this rate, the warp fighters would disable Pathfinder in less than two minutes, long before they could get clear of the gas giant's gravity well - just as he had feared. "What about the larger ships?" he said.

T'Vril answered him instead of the science officer - Kassin was still halfway through rebuilding the sensor head, somewhere down in the bowels of the ship. "The Roosevelt is drifting, sir. Vanguard is on a pursuit course but her acceleration is less than ours."

The Pathfinder shook under another volley of phase cannon impacts. "Close the distance," Teague muttered. "Helm, reverse course - take us back toward the planet."

"Sir?" said Webb, even as her hands obeyed the command.

"Proudfoot expects us to run - he doesn't expect us to go for his throat," Teague explained. "Take us right across their bow and beneath their keel. T'Vril, arm a full spread of plasma torpedoes. Target the ventral weapons systems."

Deep inside the Pathfinder torpedoes locked into their and nozzles found fill ports, charging them with high-energy plasma from the warp reactor. Six torpedoes sat, death in gray casings, waiting for the ocmmand to be unleashed and fulfill their function.

Teague smiled grimly as the Vanguard filled the main viewscreen. "Fire!"

To Be Continued...

 

[The Badger]

Now it's all kicking off! A tense, well thought out scene.

 

[CeJay]

The game's a foot. I really hope Beaumont has some sort of plan here or this will be the shortest battle in history.

 

[Gibraltar]

Proudfoot's no tactical amature, so Teague's going right into the beast's jaws here. Here's where we find out what Starfleet's newest flagship is made of, and hopefully that knowledge won't come from sifting through her wreckage.

 

[Count Zero]

I've caught up with the story and like it a lot so far. An era I find very interesting, being an ENT fan myself, an interesting crew and a well written story. I'M looking forward to the next installment.

Do you make your covers yourself? They look very professional.

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Six​

UESN Vanguard
Tau Delta system, Sector Nineteen
May 13, 2163

Beaumont was ready as soon as the first torpedo hit.

Between the end of Proudfoot's communication with the Pathfinder and when Beaumont had departed aboard the shuttlepod, there had been precious little time to come up with a plan of action, or even a means of communication between her and her ship. In the end, they were left with only one option - the implant's telemetry. If that signal stopped, for any reason, that would mean that Proudfoot intended to use his weapon on the Pathfinder again.

As part of its normal function, Beaumont's cortical processor broadcast a constant telemetry signal that was received and processed by the medical systems in Sickbay. Intended as an early warning system for potential problems with the implant, the signal was so low-powered it was almost as hard to detect as the Achilles pulse it was now being used to warn the Pathfinder against. Of course, Beaumont had lied about the extent of the damage - the implant had been designed to be deactivated with a thought should it malfunction. For the first time, she found herself thankful that Dr. Makav had insisted upon including that particular feature. Unfortunately, reactivating the implant was not so simple - it required a full diagnostic check by a qualified neurosurgeon, or at least a ship's chief medical officer.

On her left, Allenby looked around nervously as the Vanguard shuddered. "What the hell - ?"

Beaumont jammed her elbow into Allenby's gut and grabbed his right arm, wrenching him around, placing him in between herself and Jakobs. She shoved Allenby forward, her heart racing as adrenaline flooded her system, then reached up and slammed his head into Jakobs', dazing both men. She reached down, yanked Allenby's sidearm - an old-style plasma pistol - from its belt holster, and fired a blast into his right foot.

Allenby screamed and fell to the deck, clutching at the charred, ruined stump where his foot had been moments before. Jakobs was recovering quickly, pulling his own pistol, but he wasn't fast enough. Beaumont fired as Jakobs dodged, vaporizing a foot-wide hole in the aluminum corridor paneling and the equipment beneath, sending a spray of white-hot molten aluminum and razor-sharp fibercoil into his face and chest. Screaming, the man fell to the deck, his face a ruined mass of scorched tissue and blood.

Beaumont didn't bother looking down at him before she ran down the corridor, stopping only long enough to relieve both men of whatever power cells they had for their weapons - one spare each. Not much if she got in a firefight.

She had to put as much distance between herself and them as possible - soon, every crewman Proudfoot could spare would be searching for her. The Vanguard was massive but not infinitely so, and much of that was empty space - the fighter bays. She set off toward the bow at a run, pausing at the intersections just long enough to check that none of Proudfoot's crew were nearby before darting past.

At least her situation had one positive aspect - concentrating on evasion and escape made her less aware of lacking the implant's control over her chaotic thoughts. Those long days during her rehabilitation at Acacia Creek had been almost unbearable, with noting for her mind to do but think of ways to get her into trouble. Now at least she had purpose - somehow get out of this alive, and maybe throw a wrench in Proudfoot's plans along the way.

Twice she almost tripped over the bundles of wrist-thick cables that weaved across her path like technological vines. The third time her foot caught she stumbled, grabbing at the bulkhead to steady herself, her teeth bared in sudden fury. She raised the pistol, her finger tightening on the trigger... then she slowly lowered it as she regained control of her thoughts. She carefully looked at the tangle of cables - sever had been spliced together, forming a single long piece running hundreds - maybe thousands - of feet through the ship.

Cables, but no crew, Beaumont thought, and an instant later: Control runs for automated systems.

She found herself smiling as she raised the pistol again, this time not from anger but certainty. Aiming down the corridor, Beaumont found a knot of overlapping cables a hundred feet away. She centered the sights on the knot, squeezed the trigger, and a blue-white flash filled the corridor as a bolt of plasma erupted from the muzzle and tore through the cables, severing most of them and fusing the rest into an smoking black lump. The corridor lit us as energy arced from the ends of the cables to the bare metal surface of the walls and deck, hopefully shorting out whatever systems they controlled. At the very least it would take time and manpower to repair the damage - and she hoped Proudfoot would be short on both.

But even if she blasted every cable she came across, she might not even make a dent - none of them were tied to Achilles, she was sure. No, she had to find a way to inflict serious damage all at once. She looked around, saw a tiny plaque mounted to the wall, and studied it carefully. A moment later, a savage grin spreading across her face, she loped off toward the starboard fighter bay.

"All right, then, Isaac," she snarled to nobody in particular, not caring if she were overheard. "No more bluffing."

To Be Continued...

 

[Gibraltar]

Oh, dear... Beaumont's emotional control has been stripped away with the deacctivation of her implant... and now she has free reign to run amok aboard Vanguard.

Heaven help anyone who gets in her way!

Terrific action sequence, by the way, nicely crafted with fluid prose.

 

[The Badger]

I've been waiting eagerly for an update and this does not disappoint! A convincing, well paced action sequence, very well written.

Teague and his crew may be in a poor tactical position, but with Beaumont as a wild card things might not go entirely Proudfoot's way.

 

[CeJay]

I believe I had my money riding on Beaumont kicking some butt. Nice to see I wasn't disappointed.

Looks as if Pathfinder and crew are going to have a real chance to get out of this yet.

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Seven​

UESN Vanguard
Tau Delta system, Sector Nineteen
May 13, 2163

"Damage report!" Proudfoot shouted over the din of alert klaxons and fire extinguishers being sprayed on smoldering consoles.

"Severe damage to all ventral turrets!" a crewman shouted back. "And the primary control run to the starboard weapons is out, too. That makes no sense, we took no damage anywhere near that section - "

A cold lump formed in the pit of Proudfoot's stomach. "That wasn't the Pathfinder. That was her." He looked at nearby tactical display, where one large blip was motionless. "What about the Roosevelt?"

"Control runs shorted out when they tried to go to tactical alert," the crewman replied. "No casualties, but she's dead in the water."

"Damn," Proudfoot muttered. He had been afraid the ship wasn't ready, that the control runs would short out under the strain of trying to automate an entire Daedalus-class starship so only a dozen men could operate her. "Tell them we'll be back for them."

"Already did, sir." the crewman said. "Sir, we should reconsider trying to take the Pathfinder intact. With half our weapons disabled, chances are she'll try to make a run for it - and we won't be able to stop her."

"I know," Proudfoot said quietly. "I've seen Teague's record, I know the type of man he is - he won't abandon one of his crew." He stared at the main viewscreen where the Pathfinder was rushing toward the gas giant, the quartet of warp fighters surrounding her like an angry swarm of wasps. "Pathfinder won't run."

* * * * *​

"Good shooting, Commander." Teague watched as the Vanguard's hill crackled with energy where her ventral phase cannons used to be. "Estimated damage?"

"All ventral phase cannons have been disabled," T'Vril said. "It is unlikely they will be able to effect field repairs."

"Now for the hard part," Teague said. "Lieutenant Webb, set a direct course for Tau Delta VI, maximum impulse. Get us into the atmosphere."

Everyone on the bridge knew their options - running was suicidal, as was a head-on battle, but maybe they had a chance if they could hide. Teague was familiar with Proudfoot's combat record, of his experience with the very situation that Teague was about to put the Pathfinder into. Only this time the roles were reversed - Proudfoot would be the hunter, and the Pathfinder his concealed prey. "Give me shipwide," he said to Sarria.

"All hands, this is the Captain. We are shortly going to be entering the atmosphere of Tau Delta VI. Be prepared to evacuate your sections. Damage control teams, stand by to isolate hull breaches and vent invasive atmosphere. Teague, out." He looked ahead at the giant blue-striped world that filled the viewscreen, hoping that he could buy them enough time. "Webb, take us in."

The Pathfinder dove toward the planet, the quartet of warp fighters rapidly closing on her as the Vanguard lumbered in a wide arc as she tried to pursue. A stray phase blast struck just aft of the bridge, disrupting the power and rocking the ship. "Damage report!" Teague said as the bridge plunged into darkness.

"Hull plating is holding but damaged, aft centerline of the bridge," T'Vril said. "Polarization integrity is compromised."

That meant a weak spot - much more damage there and the polarization would start to fail, leaving areas of the hull vulnerable. Teague slammed his hand on the comm switch in his armrest. "Teague to Engineering. Rik, I need more power to the engines."

"Reactors are at one-hundred-seven percent," Amara replied, his voice crackling as the power flickered. "They're already too close to an overload."

"We're out of time. Give me whatever else you can."

There was the slightest pause before Amara replied. "Aye, sir. Bringing reactors to one-hundred ten percent. Whatever you're planning, do it fast - we might get eight minutes before we lose containment."

"Understood," Teague said grimly. "Tactical, find the biggest storm on the planet, then feed those coordinates directly to Navigation," he said. "We have less than eight minutes to get as deep as we can."

* * * * *​

On the bridge of the Vanguard, Proudfoot watched the tactical display change as the Pathfinder dove toward the gas giant. Her captain was no fool - going to ground was his only realistic option - but Proudfoot was an old hand at this game. "Helm, decrease speed," he said.

"Sir, they could escape," the helmsman replied. "If they get deep enough we could lose them on scanners."

"I'm sure we will," Proudfoot said. "But down there, in the murk, we'd both be blind as bats - and our fighters would be worse than useless." He sat back, his fingers steepled. "No, we wait. Give them time to hole up, to get secure, to let their guard down just enough..." He clamped his hands together like the jaws of a bear trap. "Then we use Achilles... and they'll gladly bring their ship up to greet us." He turned to an engineer. "How long until we can fire a full-charge pulse?"

"Their attack overloaded some of the internal relays," the engineer said. "I've got repair teams working to replace them but we're stretched thin. Three hours, at least."

"Open a channel." Proudfoot waited a moment then said, "Proudfoot to all fighters. Break off pursuit - we need you back on the ship."

"Aye sir," the fighter leader acknowledged, and the four warp fighters veered away from the Pathfinder, headed back toward the fighter carrier.

For a long moment, Proudfoot sat motionless in the command chair, his face a mask of stone. Then he pressed another button. "Status of the search, Lieutenant?" he said.

"We found Jakobs and Allenby - she hurt both of them pretty bad. We'll have to put them in stasis tubes until we can get to a medical facility. Beaumont's got one plasma pistol and no more than three full powerpacks for it."

"I doubt she'll need much," Proudfoot said quietly. Taking on the Pathfinder directly, he was prepared for - having a saboteur aboard, especially one who knew him as well as Beaumont, was proving far more troublesome. "Call off the search. Withdraw to the Achilles bay and defend it at all costs. Send everyone else to secure Main Engineering."

"What about Commander Beaumont, sir?"

"I'll deal with her. You have - " he checked a nearby readout - "seven minutes before the hatches seal. If you see Beaumont, do not engage - follow your orders. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply, and the connection was closed.

Proudfoot looked over to the environmental subsystems console. "I'm sorry, Isobel," he said softly. "But you leave me no choice."

In just over seven minutes, Commander Isobel Beaumont would be dead.

To Be Continued...

 

[Gibraltar]

Teague’s got the Pathfinder out of the frying pan, but if Proudfoot can get Achilles online, the crew will have landed right in the fire. Beaumont’s become the bee in Proudfoot’s bonnet, and here’s hoping she can find an EVA suit in time… and with her cortical processor offline, she might not even have the wherewithal to realize she needs one.

Great segment!

 

[Count Zero]

Wow, I wonder what Proudfoot's up to. I have no idea what Teague is planning, either.

 

[CeJay]

Looks like this is going to turn into a good ol' fashioned submarine hunt. Oh and I really hope that last line was mere misdirection. Beaumont is my favorite character here, she ain't gonna die. Right?

 

[Count Zero]

I interpreted it as what Proudfoot thinks.

 

[jerriecan]

Thank you all for your kind words! As for whether Beaumont will die... I'll just keep that under wraps a bit longer.

Do you make your covers yourself? They look very professional.

I do. I'm glad you like them!

Cross your fingers I can get the next installment typed up soon...

 

[The Badger]

Uh-oh. Sealing hatches and checking the environmental systems, this does not bode well for Commander Beaumont...

I don't suppose she's wearing a high-tech catsuit under her uniform?

 

[jerriecan]

Star Trek: Pathfinder
The Prodigal Captain - Part Eight​

UESN Vanguard
Tau Delta system, Sector Nineteen
May 13, 2163

"Isobel, please listen to me."

Proudfoot's voice rang through the empty corridors of the Vanguard, echoing off every bare metal surface. Crouching behind a corner at a T-junction, Beaumont paused for a moment as her former commander continued. The air seemed thin, she had trouble catching her breath.

"I want you to give yourself up. I've ordered my crew not to engage you. We found Jakobs and Allenby - we know how serious you are." A pause. "Here's how serious I am. You might have noticed it's getting difficult to breathe. That's because I've started purging the atmosphere from the ship, save for a few select locations, none of which will greet you with open arms. The purge will be complete in less than six minutes."

Beaumont's heart immediately sped up, pounding in her chest as her lungs demanded more oxygen and failed to find any.

"Go to the nearest comm station and tell me where you are, and I'll halt the purge. There's no need for you to die today, Isobel... but if you force my hand, don't think that I'll hesitate. What I'm doing is larger than any one person. If a sacrifice must be made... so be it. You have five minutes."

Even before Proudfoot's voice clicked off Beaumont was in motion, racing towards one of the emergency lockers spread throughout the ship. She yanked open the door of the nearest one, found the locker bare, ran down the corridor to the next and found it just the same. She slammed the door closed , sending a reverberating bang echoing down the corridor. You already had your crew empty them out, she thought, just in case something like this might happen. You always did plan ahead.

Heartbeat thundering in her chest, Beaumont fell back against the bulkhead, looking at the starboard landing bay and wheezing as her lungs tried to extract oxygen from the ever-thinning air. Without a survival suit she would die horribly. Her body tissues would swell and burst as her fluids boiled away in zero pressure, leaving her a torn and bloated corpse -

Focus, she thought sharply, trying to force the unwanted images from her mind's eye. She had no doubt that Proudfoot would follow through on his word.

And she was running out of time.

* * * * *​

Sixty seconds.

Proudfoot watched the clock count down as the oxygen reading dropped. Already there was less oxygen than at the summit of Mount Everest; in moments, it would be like trying to breathe at twenty thousand feet. His hand hovered over the purge controls at the Environmental Engineering subsystems console. This was not ask for a subordinate - this was the deliberate, cold-blooded murder of a Starfleet officer. More than that, she had been his friend. It was his order and his own hand would carry it out.

The numbers clicked off the display - fifty, forty, thirty, down to twenty-six before Beaumont's breathless voice filled the bridge. "Stop the countdown... Section Six... corridor Alpha-Nineteen," she said.

Proudfoot's hand trembled but did not move. "Promise me, Isobel. No more resistance."

"I promise, Isaac," she replied. "There's... nothing more... I can do."

He dialed the control knob back to full and the hiss of air filled the ship. "My men will be there shortly to collect you," he said, a soft quiver in his voice. He nodded to the rest of the men on the bridge, and the three of them stepped into the turbolift and were whisked away. "They'll escort you to the bridge."

"What... don't you trust me?" Beaumont said, already sounding better.

"Something like that," he replied after a long pause. "I'm... glad you didn't make me follow through."

"And I'm sorry you thought this was your only choice," she said. "You knew I'd try to escape."

"Your duty as a Starfleet officer," he said. "You always had that potential to be the best of us."

Faint voices echoed over the comm, yelling for Beaumont to get on her knees as the trio of crewmen approached her. "My chaperones are here," she said. "Guess I'll see you soon."

The comm clicked off, leaving Proudfoot alone on the silent bridge of the Vanguard.

* * * * *​

Andrei Kassin was good with his hands, at least when it came to computers. He could not sculpt or build a birdhouse, but when it came to the minuscule adjustments of starship sensors and scanners, he was an artist.

That said, trying to make fine adjustments to the sensors during a running battle was significantly more challenging. As the Pathfinder rocked back and forth under enemy fire, he constantly had to go back and repeat work he had already done. If he had been in the dark about what they faced, the task would have been impossible.

But Kassin knew exactly what they were up against.

When the last sensor module was mounted back in place, Kassin ran to the nearest wall communicator and slammed his fist on the button. "Kassin to bridge, sensor recalibration is complete."

"Get back up here, Commander," came Teague's reply.

Kassin darted to the nearest turbolift, stumbling once as the ship rocked, but this did not feel like weapon fire. No, this was more like atmospheric entry. The ride up to the bridge seemed to take an eternity, until the door finally slid aside to reveal the bridge in chaos. Smoke hung in the air as overloaded relays sparked and smoldered, lights flickered as power was diverted around the damaged systems. Kassin spared no time in returning to his console and activating the recalibrated sensors. "No indication of Achilles activity," he said, and for one heartstopping moment he was sure that Teague was going to turn to him and ask him exactly what the hell he meant by that.

But nobody on the bridge seemed to notice his slip of the tongue. "They're not trying to use the weapon," Kassin continued. "At least, not yet."

"Keep on it, Commander. You see any indication of that weapon, any at all, don't keep it to yourself." Teague looked back at the main viewscreen, where the clouds of Tau Delta VI were almost close enough to touch. Just below them were titanic bands of murky clouds large enough to hide entire planets, and storms that had raged for centuries. No place for man or his flimsy starships.

"Take us down," he ordered.

To Be Continued...