The beginning of the first episode of Star Trek: Phantoms, my virtual series set in the early decades of the twenty-fourth century.
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Warp engines that spread out like the wings. A long cylinder extending forward like a proud neck, at the end of which was the head of the predator that observed her prey quietly before the advent of battle. The sleek contour of the K't'inga-class battle cruiser appeared on the bridge viewscreen of the U.S.S. Spectre as the Klingon vessel decloacked on front of her. Formation lights lit up; bright glow poured from its windows, sparkling in the vast darkness of outer space.
“Condition red!” ordered Tobe as she rose from her chair and looked back at the raptor that hung menacingly in front of her ship. “Bridge to photon torpedo bay, prepare launchers. Energize phaser batteries and prepare for engagement.” The last line had been directed at her executive and tactical officer, Aleksander Rubin.
“Understood. Energizing phasers,” came his reply.
“Mr Xon?” said Tobe, turning to the Efrosian manning the operations console.
“Still no response to our hails, captain.”
“Ma'am, they're powering up disruptor emitters.”
“Helm, prepare to take evasive action. Mr Rubin, all available power to forward shields.” Tobe sat back in her chair to brace for impact. A green glow lit up from somewhere along both the K't'inga's wings and approached the Spectre. The bridge rocked under the impact of the disruptor hit.
“Mr Rubin, prepare to return fire.”
“Phaser batteries fully energized, ma'am. Photon torpedo bays standing by.”
“Fire phasers, Mr Rubin. Target the vessel's propulsion systems.”
“Ma'am, I recommend we target their weapon systems instead. We--”
Tobe cut him off before he could continue. “Their propulsion systems, Mr Rubin. I want to know why they attacked us, not allowing them to leap off without getting answers.”
Rubin grudgingly acknowledged and blue phaser bursts poured out of the Spectre's emitters and hit the nacelles of the K't'inga. “Direct hit to their starboard nacelle,” reported Rubin.
The bridge rocked again under the impact of another disruptor hit and this time the ship was thrown out of balance. “Stabilize your vector!” Tobe ordered the helmsman.
“They're preparing to fire a torpedo,” said Rubin, reading off his console.
Tobe stood up again and leaned on Xon's station. “Will a torpedo to one of their nacelles produce a chain reaction and destroy the entire ship?” she asked, examining the diagram of the Klingon vessel.
“Not if they compensate in time,” replied Xon.
“And the torpedo will have to properly targeted,” added Rubin. “It must destroy the connecting strut, not the nacelle itself or else they won't have the time to compensate.”
“Then you better make sure the torpedo is properly targeted, Mr Rubin,” said Tobe, her gaze onto the viewscreen which showed that the underside of the K't'inga had lit up red. “Fire.”
Rubin had already set target for the torpedo and made final adjustments as it had already entered the launch bay. Then one of the launch doors opened and the photon torpedo streaked out toward its target. It hit the nacelle strut precisely, and an explosion ripped off the starboard nacelle from the rest of the ship. The reddish hue of the ship's torpedo bay went dead, and for a few seconds it seemed dead in space. Then an detonation in the secondary hull, and another one; a chain reaction of small blasts toward the centre of the hull. The Klingon engineers hadn't cut off the energy flow to the starboard nacelle in time and now it ripping the ship apart. Soon the destruction would reach the warp core and--
A large explosion filled the viewscreen of the Spectre's bridge. When the sudden burst of light faded, all that was left were pieces of debris and the remains of the nacelle that the torpedo had so delicately separated from the hull.
“Damn,” sighed Tobe, staring at the black void that had claimed the lives of hundreds of Klingons and had absorbed any hope of telling what their purpose had been in attacking the Spectre.
Tobe abandoned the embrace of Xon's console and stood up erect, looking down at the Efrosian. “Mr Xon, notify Starfleet Command and report the we have destroyed a Klingon battle cruiser in an act of self-defense and that we were unable to determine the reason of its presence in Federation space.”
“Aye, ma'am,” said Xon and he quickly set to work so that he wouldn't have to share Tobe self-imposed state of regret.
“Mr Rubin, you have the conn. I'll be in my ready room.” With that, she made for the doors and once inside the familiar confinement of her office she took off the captain's face and fell down in the soft sofa. There was nothing else she could have done, she knew that. She had to protect the lives on board her ship. The Klingons weren't responding to their hails, she had to return fire. She chose the most reasonable course of action, and if only the Klingons had been a little smarter they would still have lived now. No, it was wrong to blame their lack of quick thinking for their demise. She had been responsible. She had ordered their destruction.
But they had violated treaty. They had entered Federation space and attacked her ship without provocation. They had not deserved to die, but neither had the two-hundred-and-eighty officers and crew under her command. It wasn't their fault. They hadn't done anything wrong. She had made the right choice.
Damage reports had been coming in from all over the ship for the past hour. Tobe sat behind her desk, reading the latest from Engineering. It appeared that the department would need to use the workbees to repair all damage sustained to the outer hull. She continued reading for a full minute when she realized that she couldn't remember anything she had just read. It wasn't the damage the ship had sustained that interested her; she cared to know what injury the engagement with the Klingon vessel had inflicted on her crew. She scrolled down to read the Medical Department's report, which listed a total of thirty-seven injured, six of which were labeled "critical".
Tobe sighed in relief that none had lost their lives, or at least none yet and she was relying on the skills of Dr. Hall and his staff to keep it that way. She wasn't the kind of captain who knew each of the people under her command personally, thus most of the names on the list meant little to her. She closed the file and sat contemplating on her reflection in the glass of the screen for some time. After a while, it struck her that she had failed to concentrate on anything for the past hour. She focussed her stare on her own features in the dark glass. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. She remembered the line, but not where it was from. Anyway, it made her realize that she couldn't just sit there. She had to get down to sickbay and see for herself how badly they'd been hurt.
The main ward of the medical complex had been less crowded than she had expected. Most certainly there weren't thirty-seven people being treated, which suggested that most injuries had been minor. Indeed, not even all the beds were occupied, but they continued to line the wall around the corner so she couldn't count precisely how many patients there were. She found Dr. Hall in the surgical suite, operating with a nurse on a crewman covered in burning wounds. Tobe couldn't even make out the crewman's features until Dr. Hall treated his face and the burns began to disappear. He looked up as he finished and noticed Tobe standing in the corner, her arms folded and her eyes fixed on the crewman's face. "He'll be all right," he assured her, and picked up a PADD to update the medical file of his patient.
"What happened?" she asked.
"He was doing maintenance work in the impulse drive section when the reactor was sealed off. They were able to transport him out, but only after he'd already been exposed to radiation for two full minutes." Hall lay down the PADD, gave some instructions to the nurse which Tobe had trouble comprehending, and then walked out of the room into the sickbay ward with Tobe following. Two crewman had brought in an injured ensign in the meantime and all of the staff seemed too occupied to help them, thus Hall excused himself and made to attend to his patient.
Tobe took the time to inspect the rest of the injured crew and walked with her arms folded behind her back down the line of biobeds which ran all around the office and surgery area in the center of sickbay to the other side of the complex where a ward similar the main one was located. Here there were even less wounded, and Tobe was relieved to find that her fears were proven wrong. She calmly walked back and found that Hall had delegated treatment of the Andorian ensign to a doctor who was also of Andorian descent (of course, he must know that Andorians are reluctant to let themselves be treated by those of different race, Tobe thought to herself). He was again typing on a PADD but put it away when Tobe walked up to him. "So how are you?" he asked.
"Oh I'm fine," she quickly responded. When Hall didn't say anything, she elaborated: "There weren't any injuries on the bridge."
"I think you know that's not what I meant," he said after examining her face for a brief moment. "You don't come down here out of curiosity."
"I wanted to see for myself how badly we'd been hurt," she replied in a voice that made no commitment.
"You mean you wanted to see for yourself how badly you got the ship hurt." Although she had instantly developed a liking for the doctor as soon as he'd come on board, she was caught off-guard by this kind of candidness from one of her officers. Even more so because she stood at least five inch taller than him. But he was right, and she knew it. "That's all right," he added. "And it's a good thing. You wouldn't be a fine captain if you weren't concerned for the well-being of your crew, now would you?" She supposed he was right but sufficed to respond with a modest smile. If felt as though a weight of worry and uncertainty had been taken off her shoulders, and as Hall excused himself once more to attend to another patient she realized that his words had been responsible for it. She continued to observe him appreciatively for a few more moments before walking out onto the corridor and heading for Main Engineering.
----
Any kind of comments are much appreciated!
----
Warp engines that spread out like the wings. A long cylinder extending forward like a proud neck, at the end of which was the head of the predator that observed her prey quietly before the advent of battle. The sleek contour of the K't'inga-class battle cruiser appeared on the bridge viewscreen of the U.S.S. Spectre as the Klingon vessel decloacked on front of her. Formation lights lit up; bright glow poured from its windows, sparkling in the vast darkness of outer space.
“Condition red!” ordered Tobe as she rose from her chair and looked back at the raptor that hung menacingly in front of her ship. “Bridge to photon torpedo bay, prepare launchers. Energize phaser batteries and prepare for engagement.” The last line had been directed at her executive and tactical officer, Aleksander Rubin.
“Understood. Energizing phasers,” came his reply.
“Mr Xon?” said Tobe, turning to the Efrosian manning the operations console.
“Still no response to our hails, captain.”
“Ma'am, they're powering up disruptor emitters.”
“Helm, prepare to take evasive action. Mr Rubin, all available power to forward shields.” Tobe sat back in her chair to brace for impact. A green glow lit up from somewhere along both the K't'inga's wings and approached the Spectre. The bridge rocked under the impact of the disruptor hit.
“Mr Rubin, prepare to return fire.”
“Phaser batteries fully energized, ma'am. Photon torpedo bays standing by.”
“Fire phasers, Mr Rubin. Target the vessel's propulsion systems.”
“Ma'am, I recommend we target their weapon systems instead. We--”
Tobe cut him off before he could continue. “Their propulsion systems, Mr Rubin. I want to know why they attacked us, not allowing them to leap off without getting answers.”
Rubin grudgingly acknowledged and blue phaser bursts poured out of the Spectre's emitters and hit the nacelles of the K't'inga. “Direct hit to their starboard nacelle,” reported Rubin.
The bridge rocked again under the impact of another disruptor hit and this time the ship was thrown out of balance. “Stabilize your vector!” Tobe ordered the helmsman.
“They're preparing to fire a torpedo,” said Rubin, reading off his console.
Tobe stood up again and leaned on Xon's station. “Will a torpedo to one of their nacelles produce a chain reaction and destroy the entire ship?” she asked, examining the diagram of the Klingon vessel.
“Not if they compensate in time,” replied Xon.
“And the torpedo will have to properly targeted,” added Rubin. “It must destroy the connecting strut, not the nacelle itself or else they won't have the time to compensate.”
“Then you better make sure the torpedo is properly targeted, Mr Rubin,” said Tobe, her gaze onto the viewscreen which showed that the underside of the K't'inga had lit up red. “Fire.”
Rubin had already set target for the torpedo and made final adjustments as it had already entered the launch bay. Then one of the launch doors opened and the photon torpedo streaked out toward its target. It hit the nacelle strut precisely, and an explosion ripped off the starboard nacelle from the rest of the ship. The reddish hue of the ship's torpedo bay went dead, and for a few seconds it seemed dead in space. Then an detonation in the secondary hull, and another one; a chain reaction of small blasts toward the centre of the hull. The Klingon engineers hadn't cut off the energy flow to the starboard nacelle in time and now it ripping the ship apart. Soon the destruction would reach the warp core and--
A large explosion filled the viewscreen of the Spectre's bridge. When the sudden burst of light faded, all that was left were pieces of debris and the remains of the nacelle that the torpedo had so delicately separated from the hull.
“Damn,” sighed Tobe, staring at the black void that had claimed the lives of hundreds of Klingons and had absorbed any hope of telling what their purpose had been in attacking the Spectre.
Tobe abandoned the embrace of Xon's console and stood up erect, looking down at the Efrosian. “Mr Xon, notify Starfleet Command and report the we have destroyed a Klingon battle cruiser in an act of self-defense and that we were unable to determine the reason of its presence in Federation space.”
“Aye, ma'am,” said Xon and he quickly set to work so that he wouldn't have to share Tobe self-imposed state of regret.
“Mr Rubin, you have the conn. I'll be in my ready room.” With that, she made for the doors and once inside the familiar confinement of her office she took off the captain's face and fell down in the soft sofa. There was nothing else she could have done, she knew that. She had to protect the lives on board her ship. The Klingons weren't responding to their hails, she had to return fire. She chose the most reasonable course of action, and if only the Klingons had been a little smarter they would still have lived now. No, it was wrong to blame their lack of quick thinking for their demise. She had been responsible. She had ordered their destruction.
But they had violated treaty. They had entered Federation space and attacked her ship without provocation. They had not deserved to die, but neither had the two-hundred-and-eighty officers and crew under her command. It wasn't their fault. They hadn't done anything wrong. She had made the right choice.
Damage reports had been coming in from all over the ship for the past hour. Tobe sat behind her desk, reading the latest from Engineering. It appeared that the department would need to use the workbees to repair all damage sustained to the outer hull. She continued reading for a full minute when she realized that she couldn't remember anything she had just read. It wasn't the damage the ship had sustained that interested her; she cared to know what injury the engagement with the Klingon vessel had inflicted on her crew. She scrolled down to read the Medical Department's report, which listed a total of thirty-seven injured, six of which were labeled "critical".
Tobe sighed in relief that none had lost their lives, or at least none yet and she was relying on the skills of Dr. Hall and his staff to keep it that way. She wasn't the kind of captain who knew each of the people under her command personally, thus most of the names on the list meant little to her. She closed the file and sat contemplating on her reflection in the glass of the screen for some time. After a while, it struck her that she had failed to concentrate on anything for the past hour. She focussed her stare on her own features in the dark glass. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. She remembered the line, but not where it was from. Anyway, it made her realize that she couldn't just sit there. She had to get down to sickbay and see for herself how badly they'd been hurt.
The main ward of the medical complex had been less crowded than she had expected. Most certainly there weren't thirty-seven people being treated, which suggested that most injuries had been minor. Indeed, not even all the beds were occupied, but they continued to line the wall around the corner so she couldn't count precisely how many patients there were. She found Dr. Hall in the surgical suite, operating with a nurse on a crewman covered in burning wounds. Tobe couldn't even make out the crewman's features until Dr. Hall treated his face and the burns began to disappear. He looked up as he finished and noticed Tobe standing in the corner, her arms folded and her eyes fixed on the crewman's face. "He'll be all right," he assured her, and picked up a PADD to update the medical file of his patient.
"What happened?" she asked.
"He was doing maintenance work in the impulse drive section when the reactor was sealed off. They were able to transport him out, but only after he'd already been exposed to radiation for two full minutes." Hall lay down the PADD, gave some instructions to the nurse which Tobe had trouble comprehending, and then walked out of the room into the sickbay ward with Tobe following. Two crewman had brought in an injured ensign in the meantime and all of the staff seemed too occupied to help them, thus Hall excused himself and made to attend to his patient.
Tobe took the time to inspect the rest of the injured crew and walked with her arms folded behind her back down the line of biobeds which ran all around the office and surgery area in the center of sickbay to the other side of the complex where a ward similar the main one was located. Here there were even less wounded, and Tobe was relieved to find that her fears were proven wrong. She calmly walked back and found that Hall had delegated treatment of the Andorian ensign to a doctor who was also of Andorian descent (of course, he must know that Andorians are reluctant to let themselves be treated by those of different race, Tobe thought to herself). He was again typing on a PADD but put it away when Tobe walked up to him. "So how are you?" he asked.
"Oh I'm fine," she quickly responded. When Hall didn't say anything, she elaborated: "There weren't any injuries on the bridge."
"I think you know that's not what I meant," he said after examining her face for a brief moment. "You don't come down here out of curiosity."
"I wanted to see for myself how badly we'd been hurt," she replied in a voice that made no commitment.
"You mean you wanted to see for yourself how badly you got the ship hurt." Although she had instantly developed a liking for the doctor as soon as he'd come on board, she was caught off-guard by this kind of candidness from one of her officers. Even more so because she stood at least five inch taller than him. But he was right, and she knew it. "That's all right," he added. "And it's a good thing. You wouldn't be a fine captain if you weren't concerned for the well-being of your crew, now would you?" She supposed he was right but sufficed to respond with a modest smile. If felt as though a weight of worry and uncertainty had been taken off her shoulders, and as Hall excused himself once more to attend to another patient she realized that his words had been responsible for it. She continued to observe him appreciatively for a few more moments before walking out onto the corridor and heading for Main Engineering.
----
Any kind of comments are much appreciated!
)
