Star Trek: Sigils and Unions--The Thirteenth Order
- Thread starter Nerys Ghemor
- Start date
Glad you felt like that worked! That was something I wasn't sure of, but I know I personally have had the reaction of almost uncontrollable laughter after a near miss while driving, so I figured that was something that could well happen to someone in a situation like this, having just been spared death.
Hmm...I've been thinking of it as "Cardassian sign language," myself Like Earth's sign languages, I think it comes in many dialects. This one is obviously very strongly affected by the patterns and expressions of the spoken language, since it has widespread use in a hearing community (the military, and perhaps those in other professions who feel like this might be a wise skill for them to have). But you are VERY right to make the comparison to ASL that you do: this is indeed a full-fledged language, or at least dialect, not just a system of combat signals. That means they can express basically anything with it that they can express through speech. I believe this is something they're all taught in basic training.One point-the Cardies use Amslan? Or is that Carslan?
(Compare the real-life example of "Pidgin Signed English," though I think the spoken grammar has even stronger effects in this case.)
I'm VERY glad you picked up on that detail, though--they don't normally allow foreigners to see that, because I think they're aware that some of other species would see their lesser acuity of hearing as a weakness. That fact was established in canon in "Distant Voices," that Cardassians don't hear as well as humans do. (Since it was Bashir's hallucination, and not Garak's, I accepted the statement since Bashir as a doctor would be in a position to know.) But, what I did NOT want to do was make my Cardassians feel like they had to "augment" their hearing in order to be "equal" to everyone else, even if it may well have felt odd to them to discover that most species did hear better than they do. Instead, I want them to be as they are, and simply use different strategies than species with sharper hearing would.
I hope this is something that came off as credible to you! Was that something you pictured easily (especially since Macet is a character who's actually appeared onscreen, I was wondering), or something that seemed odd or out of place to you?
Cool!
I did! =)
I love the Cardassian bursting out laughing!
And I also think that in Macet's position, threats are going to be necessary, it's not something he needs to justify... especially when it comes to traitorous Cardassians.
Good action sequences too, and thanks for giving my Jem'Hadar their due!
There's a method to this madness...
===========
2375—In orbit of Lessek
CUW Sherouk
I can almost feel it, Gul Berat thought. He understood, of course, that his skin tingled from damaged nerves, but somewhere in the freer parts of his mind he imagined he could sense the Jem’Hadar scanners running their invisible fingers over and through the Sherouk’s hull. How much longer do we have to just sit here?
This latest round of scans had extended to all four Gă’ălour, and was by far the most intrusive of them yet. Despite the ionic interference, how soon would the Jem’Hadar discern that none of the four Cardassian ships carried Dominion personnel? And would that happen before the surface forces were ready to launch? Of all the ships, the Trager had received the most intense scrutiny by far. They know, Berat thought darkly to himself. They must be waiting for something as well, though, if they haven’t attacked yet. Let’s hope we get our signal before they get—
“Incoming hail, audio only!” shouted Dalin Rota. Without even pausing for permission, he slapped a button on his console and routed the signal into the main speakers.
The message consisted of a single pair of words. The voice was Macet’s. “Execute—now!”
“Open a channel to the others,” Berat called. “Rota, prepare to fire on my mark!”
“Acknowledged. Channel open, Gul.”
“This is Gul Tayben Berat to all ships. Hear my orders and obey: raise shields, fire at will!”
Before Berat could even close his mouth, Rota unleashed a stream of golden fire from the Sherouk’s great forward spiral-wave disruptor array at the nearest Jem’Hadar vessel, followed by a brace of plasma torpedoes. While they may not have had anything like the yield of a Federation photon or quantum torpedo, the Cardassians had made a fine art of firing as many rounds as close together as possible, making them a perfect opening gambit for surprise attacks against a stationary target.
First the disruptors raked across the Dominion vessel, gouging out a massive track in the ship’s hull and punching through to the nose section’s main shield generator. The battle cruiser vented atmosphere for a fraction of a second before structural integrity fields redoubled from the inside.
But it was too late for these Jem’Hadar—the very instant they achieved containment, the rose-hued plasma torpedoes slammed into the previous impact site, each round detonating progressively further inside the ship until one of them punched through to something vital.
The enemy battle cruiser rocked with explosion after explosion. Berat counted more detonations than the Sherouk had fired torpedoes: judging from the yield and frequency of the new explosions, Rota had hit a weapons cache. The Jem’Hadar cruiser was blowing itself apart from within.
“Cronath, break off—they’re done for!” Berat ordered his helmsman, who just barely backed away before the concussion wave from the exploding Jem’Hadar vessel slapped into the Sherouk. The lights flickered as the Gălor rocked on impact. “Berat to Motreln—status report!”
“Motreln here,” replied the chief engineer. “Minimal damage, Gul—for now!”
“Berat out. Computer! Give me a tri-axis tactical display on the main viewer—full structure and power readouts on all vessels!”
Berat took stock of the situation. The Sherouk had done quite well at taking advantage of the enemy’s hesitation, but the other two behemoths remained very much in one piece, not even a scratch on their hull paint, from the looks of it. The four smaller, outgunned, outshielded Gă’ălour would be hard-pressed to hold their own in the few minutes it took for the attack shuttles to hit orbit. The fate of the Thirteenth Order turned on their somehow surviving the next minute.
The Ghiletz had already taken point against one of the two remaining battlecruisers—designated on the display as Target One-Çolurt, with the Romac at leftwing position just slightly to the Ghiletz’ summersun—the Trager was angling into the second ship—Two-Çolurt, this one nearer to the Lessekda atmosphere.
“How about the surface ships?” Berat called.
“Engines hot,” Rota reported. “Estimate thirty seconds to launch.”
“Very well. Make Two-Çolurt our primary target. Draw their fire; I want this to look as convincing as possible.”
Riyăk Cronath twisted the Sherouk out of the way of a careening wing from the destroyed battlecruiser and pushed the faster, more maneuverable Gălor to maximum impulse. The Jem’Hadar immediately let rip their polaron cannons as the ship that had destroyed their brethren charged brazenly at them.
Then the Sherouk banked sharply down towards the planet’s mesosphere, taking up a new position just above the Shra’iyl Mark—what the terhăn-çăs called the Kármán Line, the altitude above which a vessel had to exceed orbital velocity in order to derive enough lift to avoid free-fall. This tactic favored the Cardassians, who relied almost completely on beam weapons. The greater atmospheric density barely affected their outbound shots, but slowed any incoming projectile weapons much as it did the meteors that regularly burned up in this part of the atmosphere…a slight effect, but one that decreased the amount of shield power needed to repel the blow by that small amount. Undoubtedly the Jem’Hadar had studied this maneuver when Dukat first brought Cardassia into the Dominion, and had little reason to suspect Berat’s ulterior motive.
“Divert all non-essential power to noseward shields—maintain backfin shielding at 75% optimal. Lock on with main disruptor.”
The Jem’Hadar fired a single polaron bolt at the Sherouk. The Gălor’s noseward shields flared with the blow, dropping to 80% power according to the onscreen tactical display.
Would’ve been more convincing if we’d taken a harder hit, but that’s better than letting their next shot knock us below the critical threshold. It’ll have to do, Berat decided in an instant. The Hide’eki leapt from the shipyard below; he had no choice. “Program execute!”
Berat never could tell whether he or Yejain reached the button first. All he knew was the intent and the result: the Sherouk lurched violently end-over-end into the Lessekda mesosphere, shields flaring red with heat as artificial gravity went offline and ship’s power fluxed ominously.
For all intents and purposes, the Sherouk had entered free-fall like the Prenkar before it.
Yet Gul Tayben Berat and his crew absorbed it all with near-Vulcan calm.
===========
2375—In orbit of Lessek
CUW Sherouk
I can almost feel it, Gul Berat thought. He understood, of course, that his skin tingled from damaged nerves, but somewhere in the freer parts of his mind he imagined he could sense the Jem’Hadar scanners running their invisible fingers over and through the Sherouk’s hull. How much longer do we have to just sit here?
This latest round of scans had extended to all four Gă’ălour, and was by far the most intrusive of them yet. Despite the ionic interference, how soon would the Jem’Hadar discern that none of the four Cardassian ships carried Dominion personnel? And would that happen before the surface forces were ready to launch? Of all the ships, the Trager had received the most intense scrutiny by far. They know, Berat thought darkly to himself. They must be waiting for something as well, though, if they haven’t attacked yet. Let’s hope we get our signal before they get—
“Incoming hail, audio only!” shouted Dalin Rota. Without even pausing for permission, he slapped a button on his console and routed the signal into the main speakers.
The message consisted of a single pair of words. The voice was Macet’s. “Execute—now!”
“Open a channel to the others,” Berat called. “Rota, prepare to fire on my mark!”
“Acknowledged. Channel open, Gul.”
“This is Gul Tayben Berat to all ships. Hear my orders and obey: raise shields, fire at will!”
Before Berat could even close his mouth, Rota unleashed a stream of golden fire from the Sherouk’s great forward spiral-wave disruptor array at the nearest Jem’Hadar vessel, followed by a brace of plasma torpedoes. While they may not have had anything like the yield of a Federation photon or quantum torpedo, the Cardassians had made a fine art of firing as many rounds as close together as possible, making them a perfect opening gambit for surprise attacks against a stationary target.
First the disruptors raked across the Dominion vessel, gouging out a massive track in the ship’s hull and punching through to the nose section’s main shield generator. The battle cruiser vented atmosphere for a fraction of a second before structural integrity fields redoubled from the inside.
But it was too late for these Jem’Hadar—the very instant they achieved containment, the rose-hued plasma torpedoes slammed into the previous impact site, each round detonating progressively further inside the ship until one of them punched through to something vital.
The enemy battle cruiser rocked with explosion after explosion. Berat counted more detonations than the Sherouk had fired torpedoes: judging from the yield and frequency of the new explosions, Rota had hit a weapons cache. The Jem’Hadar cruiser was blowing itself apart from within.
“Cronath, break off—they’re done for!” Berat ordered his helmsman, who just barely backed away before the concussion wave from the exploding Jem’Hadar vessel slapped into the Sherouk. The lights flickered as the Gălor rocked on impact. “Berat to Motreln—status report!”
“Motreln here,” replied the chief engineer. “Minimal damage, Gul—for now!”
“Berat out. Computer! Give me a tri-axis tactical display on the main viewer—full structure and power readouts on all vessels!”
Berat took stock of the situation. The Sherouk had done quite well at taking advantage of the enemy’s hesitation, but the other two behemoths remained very much in one piece, not even a scratch on their hull paint, from the looks of it. The four smaller, outgunned, outshielded Gă’ălour would be hard-pressed to hold their own in the few minutes it took for the attack shuttles to hit orbit. The fate of the Thirteenth Order turned on their somehow surviving the next minute.
The Ghiletz had already taken point against one of the two remaining battlecruisers—designated on the display as Target One-Çolurt, with the Romac at leftwing position just slightly to the Ghiletz’ summersun—the Trager was angling into the second ship—Two-Çolurt, this one nearer to the Lessekda atmosphere.
“How about the surface ships?” Berat called.
“Engines hot,” Rota reported. “Estimate thirty seconds to launch.”
“Very well. Make Two-Çolurt our primary target. Draw their fire; I want this to look as convincing as possible.”
Riyăk Cronath twisted the Sherouk out of the way of a careening wing from the destroyed battlecruiser and pushed the faster, more maneuverable Gălor to maximum impulse. The Jem’Hadar immediately let rip their polaron cannons as the ship that had destroyed their brethren charged brazenly at them.
Then the Sherouk banked sharply down towards the planet’s mesosphere, taking up a new position just above the Shra’iyl Mark—what the terhăn-çăs called the Kármán Line, the altitude above which a vessel had to exceed orbital velocity in order to derive enough lift to avoid free-fall. This tactic favored the Cardassians, who relied almost completely on beam weapons. The greater atmospheric density barely affected their outbound shots, but slowed any incoming projectile weapons much as it did the meteors that regularly burned up in this part of the atmosphere…a slight effect, but one that decreased the amount of shield power needed to repel the blow by that small amount. Undoubtedly the Jem’Hadar had studied this maneuver when Dukat first brought Cardassia into the Dominion, and had little reason to suspect Berat’s ulterior motive.
“Divert all non-essential power to noseward shields—maintain backfin shielding at 75% optimal. Lock on with main disruptor.”
The Jem’Hadar fired a single polaron bolt at the Sherouk. The Gălor’s noseward shields flared with the blow, dropping to 80% power according to the onscreen tactical display.
Would’ve been more convincing if we’d taken a harder hit, but that’s better than letting their next shot knock us below the critical threshold. It’ll have to do, Berat decided in an instant. The Hide’eki leapt from the shipyard below; he had no choice. “Program execute!”
Berat never could tell whether he or Yejain reached the button first. All he knew was the intent and the result: the Sherouk lurched violently end-over-end into the Lessekda mesosphere, shields flaring red with heat as artificial gravity went offline and ship’s power fluxed ominously.
For all intents and purposes, the Sherouk had entered free-fall like the Prenkar before it.
Yet Gul Tayben Berat and his crew absorbed it all with near-Vulcan calm.
Ah...a bluff worthy of Kirk and Riker!
Berat is one clever Gul...and his tactic seems quite similar to something I have Kirk and Co. do in an unfinished novel of mine....
I...think I know what he's up to...but I'm not certain. Good work!
Berat is one clever Gul...and his tactic seems quite similar to something I have Kirk and Co. do in an unfinished novel of mine....
I...think I know what he's up to...but I'm not certain. Good work!
Berat may not have all of the same elements of personality than Kirk or Riker (I'd say, personally, that he's less abrasive by a lot), nor the same physical capabilities...but he would tell you, if he knew the human saying, that when it comes to ship-to-ship tactics, sometimes you've got to roll the hard six.
The engineer-commander combination doesn't always work...but I think that when it does, this sort of command style is a plausible result and may well allow for greater risk-taking with the ship than would be true of someone with less intimate knowledge of how things really work.
The engineer-commander combination doesn't always work...but I think that when it does, this sort of command style is a plausible result and may well allow for greater risk-taking with the ship than would be true of someone with less intimate knowledge of how things really work.
Wow. berat sure does throw a hard six! That was quite elaborate in a way, certainly carrying off the writing process of it is somehting else. But I liked the tension Berat feels welling up inside himself awaiting the execution order and his skin physically tingling wit the nerves. Nice atmosphere heading into what is quite a gambit.
I agree that his engineering knowledge allows him to risk lots of different things and approach things in a different manner than other Guls. Terrific stuff. Edgy and dramatic. Well done Nerys. Fingers crossed for Berat.
I agree that his engineering knowledge allows him to risk lots of different things and approach things in a different manner than other Guls. Terrific stuff. Edgy and dramatic. Well done Nerys. Fingers crossed for Berat.
My feeling is that Berat and Motreln (his chief engineer) have probably had this idea for a long time: indeed, it's a HUGE risk, but I don't think they walked into this one unprepared. I would imagine they've run a lot of scenarios, practice drills, and perhaps even done work on the Sherouk itself (at least, if the war allowed it) to help it withstand the rigors of this maneuver. This particular move wasn't developed in a flash, like some of his other ideas (like the rescue of the Romac) have been.
Well a Cardassian would be thorough.
Thanks.
Ship-to-ship I'm not quite as worried about...it was the ground stuff that was giving me the worst fits. But I'm glad to know it's coming off well!
Now, I'm curious...I won't confirm anything, but I would be very interested to know what you think it is Berat's planning on doing. Feel free to shoot me a PM!
Ship-to-ship I'm not quite as worried about...it was the ground stuff that was giving me the worst fits. But I'm glad to know it's coming off well!
Now, I'm curious...I won't confirm anything, but I would be very interested to know what you think it is Berat's planning on doing. Feel free to shoot me a PM!
Okay...I know the physics purists and engineers will hate me for this. But I REALLY enjoyed putting this whole sequence together. So there.
--------------
2375—The Dominion War—The Battle for the Shipyard
Cardassian Rasgălor of Lessek
“Everybody strap in!” called Dalin Zopreg as Spirodopoulos sat in what he would have called the jump seat on the bridge of one of the base’s newly-built Hidekiy-class attack shuttles. “Especially him,” Zopreg added, pointing to the injured Iymender, supported by the Kobheerian Chedrigan and Ragoç Nedav. “Our shields will let us withstand one or two direct hits from the Jem’Hadar—but that’s not my only concern. This maneuver we’re attempting…even with the structural upgrades and inertial dampers, the wake turbulence and atmospheric disturbances will be intense!”
In the aft compartment, Iymender released a small, strangled noise as Chedrigan and Nedav set him down across two seats. He clutched his padd with what surely would have been white knuckles had that been visible through the microscales that covered the top layer of Cardassian skin. The young man shivered from the total lack of painkillers and dread of the ascent, then lifted his padd and whispered to himself about the status of the small ship’s computers.
There’s more than enough to worry about, Spirodopoulos thought as the hatch closed behind a few more passengers and Zopreg ran through an abbreviated checklist. Each ship was supposedly equipped with Dominion-grade sensors, transporters, shields, and hull structure. The offensive weapons on these ships—and the Gălor- and Laghur-class ships waiting in orbit—had been left in their original state by a distrustful Dominion. These ships would last longer against the Jem’Hadar in orbit, true…but would endurance be enough?
Now Iymender raised his voice: “Base shields are down, ship controls are functional…but someone’s trying to place a stop command! With respect, Dalin, we have got to hurry up! If I can’t hold him off…or if they get shields back up…”
Iymender didn’t have to finish: capture or death would be certain.
2375—Upper atmosphere of Lessek
CUW Sherouk
The Sherouk continued to tumble through the upper layers of the Lessekda atmosphere. Its shields began to flare with the fury of overheated gas molecules like an ancient Hebitian orbital pod in re-entry—a sight Gul Berat regarded with a disquieting sense of awe. But that wasn’t the most unnerving thing for Berat. If the timing of the free fall was even slightly off, a critical element of surprise for the upcoming maneuver would be irrevocably lost. Or worse—it could end in the destruction of not only the Sherouk, but a tremendous part of the Thirteenth Order.
“Rota! Do you see them yet?” Berat called to his tactical officer over the growing roar.
“Launches confirmed!” the tactician replied with a jubilant shout.
“Any reaction from the Jem’Hadar?”
“Not a bit!” Rota defiantly called. “They continue to engage the other three Gă’ălour, no attempts to get a weapons lock on us or the Hide’eki. No sign they’re even reading them!” And that was the key to Berat’s maneuver: the combination of surface and orbital interference, and the seeming demise of the Sherouk, would keep the Jem’Hadar blind to what was really going on.
“Berat to Glinn Motreln! Keep this channel open and prepare for second phase on my mark!”
“I obey, Gul!” the engineer replied.
“Cronath,” Berat ordered the helmsman, “get ready!”
Dalin Mirok shouted a warning: “Failsafe point in twenty seconds!”
“The Hide’eki are entering formation!”
“Berat to all hands—brace for atmospheric maneuvers! Motreln—full power to all systems! Immediate reverse!” The ship roared to life and trained instinct kicked in for Berat the instant artificial gravity returned: he averted his eyes from the viewscreen lest the sudden disjoint between visual and kinetic inputs as trigger an ill-timed bout of motion sickness. The strain of the Sherouk’s suddenly-renewed battle with gravity rattled through every deckplate and bulkhead as the maneuvering thrusters kicked in at full power and then some.
But Gul Berat wasn’t finished. What he was about to do was something almost never done in atmosphere even by smaller craft—and certainly not a Gălor-class warship, thanks to the extreme effects it could have on the unfortunate planet and its inhabitants. Many governments had expressly forbidden the maneuver even under the most extreme circumstances. As for Cardassia, however…he had every reason to expect that once the dust settled and the Dominion was expunged, forgiveness would come quite easily.
“They’re in formation!” Dalin Rota called.
“Cronath—this is it!” Berat’s skin tingled with pinpricks of pain now, but now, in the rush of battle, the effect only spurred him on. “Lead them—full impulse! Ousighukum!”
Execute!
2375—The Dominion War—En route to the orbital platform
Cardassian Rasgălor of Lessek
Spirodopoulos stared at the forward viewscreen, morbidly fascinated by the display. Thirty Hidekiy-class attack shuttles leaped into the air in a formation that seemed far, far too tight for the inferno they were about to endure. Dalin Zopreg deliberately held their ship back, falling into the trailing end of the formation; as uncomfortable as the notion was to Spirodopoulos, he, along with Riyăk Iymender, had been designated a high-value asset to the team to be preserved at all costs. Both of them had to reach orbit, had to take their place in the next formation. This meant their ship would suffer less direct exposure during the worst of the ascent…but conversely, it meant that some of his men were that much more at risk.
He didn’t even recognize his first glimpse of the Sherouk for what it was. Something plummeted from the sky wreathed in flame like that rogue asteroid must have come to visit the apocalypse upon the dinosaurs. It was a sight almost never witnessed in the era of modern space travel except in a historic holosimulation—or in the event of a ghastly malfunction. Ships the size of the Cardassian Gălor class were meant to begin and end their lives in space—not withstand the rigors of atmospheric flight, let alone this sort of chaotic free-fall.
And Hide’eki were squaring up directly under that inferno. Spirodopoulos could almost swear that he felt the enormous weight of the Sherouk looming closer and closer to them with each passing second. Everyone aboard the small craft held their silence. Their lives, and those of countless others, rested now in the hands of the pilots and the helmsman of the Sherouk.
And just when it seemed the flaming Gălor could fall no closer without crushing the attack shuttles under its bulk like sparrows under an old-style airliner, the descent abruptly stopped and from its manta-ray wings burst a new eruption of fire—this time crackling with what looked disturbingly like plasma. The Sherouk had engaged full impulse. Using even minimal impulse power in atmosphere could earn a reckless shuttlecraft pilot a jail sentence thanks to the extreme ionization of the surrounding atmosphere, and the ensuing, uncontrollable lightning.
For just a second, Spirodopoulos had time to observe the effect: St. Elmo’s fire danced across the Sherouk’s skinfield, then leaped to its outer shields where it was then discharged into the air until it built into a bolt of lightning that arced out towards whatever convenient target it happened to find. The first bolt shot down to the shipyard below, scoring a direct hit on the facility’s shields.
And at the exact same instant, the shockwave hit.
It felt like a torpedo slamming full-force into the attack shuttle’s forward screens. Zopreg swore under his breath. His fingers flew with almost android-like speed to compensate.
As the Hide’eki pushed to full impulse as well, the electromagnetic disturbances intensified yet again. Not only did they have the bolts from the Sherouk to fear until they cleared the stratosphere, but the energy discharging from the other ships in the formation around them.
Then something else slammed into their ship’s shields—first a concussive shockwave almost as intense as the initial shock from the Sherouk, and then a barrage of smaller impacts. One of the attack shuttles above them in the formation had exploded. Oh, dear God! Spirodopoulos screamed inside as he instinctively crossed himself. Not even the Cardassians noticed his gesture, so rapt was their attention on the horror. Who was on board?!
And there was nothing—nothing he could do.
--------------
2375—The Dominion War—The Battle for the Shipyard
Cardassian Rasgălor of Lessek
“Everybody strap in!” called Dalin Zopreg as Spirodopoulos sat in what he would have called the jump seat on the bridge of one of the base’s newly-built Hidekiy-class attack shuttles. “Especially him,” Zopreg added, pointing to the injured Iymender, supported by the Kobheerian Chedrigan and Ragoç Nedav. “Our shields will let us withstand one or two direct hits from the Jem’Hadar—but that’s not my only concern. This maneuver we’re attempting…even with the structural upgrades and inertial dampers, the wake turbulence and atmospheric disturbances will be intense!”
In the aft compartment, Iymender released a small, strangled noise as Chedrigan and Nedav set him down across two seats. He clutched his padd with what surely would have been white knuckles had that been visible through the microscales that covered the top layer of Cardassian skin. The young man shivered from the total lack of painkillers and dread of the ascent, then lifted his padd and whispered to himself about the status of the small ship’s computers.
There’s more than enough to worry about, Spirodopoulos thought as the hatch closed behind a few more passengers and Zopreg ran through an abbreviated checklist. Each ship was supposedly equipped with Dominion-grade sensors, transporters, shields, and hull structure. The offensive weapons on these ships—and the Gălor- and Laghur-class ships waiting in orbit—had been left in their original state by a distrustful Dominion. These ships would last longer against the Jem’Hadar in orbit, true…but would endurance be enough?
Now Iymender raised his voice: “Base shields are down, ship controls are functional…but someone’s trying to place a stop command! With respect, Dalin, we have got to hurry up! If I can’t hold him off…or if they get shields back up…”
Iymender didn’t have to finish: capture or death would be certain.
2375—Upper atmosphere of Lessek
CUW Sherouk
The Sherouk continued to tumble through the upper layers of the Lessekda atmosphere. Its shields began to flare with the fury of overheated gas molecules like an ancient Hebitian orbital pod in re-entry—a sight Gul Berat regarded with a disquieting sense of awe. But that wasn’t the most unnerving thing for Berat. If the timing of the free fall was even slightly off, a critical element of surprise for the upcoming maneuver would be irrevocably lost. Or worse—it could end in the destruction of not only the Sherouk, but a tremendous part of the Thirteenth Order.
“Rota! Do you see them yet?” Berat called to his tactical officer over the growing roar.
“Launches confirmed!” the tactician replied with a jubilant shout.
“Any reaction from the Jem’Hadar?”
“Not a bit!” Rota defiantly called. “They continue to engage the other three Gă’ălour, no attempts to get a weapons lock on us or the Hide’eki. No sign they’re even reading them!” And that was the key to Berat’s maneuver: the combination of surface and orbital interference, and the seeming demise of the Sherouk, would keep the Jem’Hadar blind to what was really going on.
“Berat to Glinn Motreln! Keep this channel open and prepare for second phase on my mark!”
“I obey, Gul!” the engineer replied.
“Cronath,” Berat ordered the helmsman, “get ready!”
Dalin Mirok shouted a warning: “Failsafe point in twenty seconds!”
“The Hide’eki are entering formation!”
“Berat to all hands—brace for atmospheric maneuvers! Motreln—full power to all systems! Immediate reverse!” The ship roared to life and trained instinct kicked in for Berat the instant artificial gravity returned: he averted his eyes from the viewscreen lest the sudden disjoint between visual and kinetic inputs as trigger an ill-timed bout of motion sickness. The strain of the Sherouk’s suddenly-renewed battle with gravity rattled through every deckplate and bulkhead as the maneuvering thrusters kicked in at full power and then some.
But Gul Berat wasn’t finished. What he was about to do was something almost never done in atmosphere even by smaller craft—and certainly not a Gălor-class warship, thanks to the extreme effects it could have on the unfortunate planet and its inhabitants. Many governments had expressly forbidden the maneuver even under the most extreme circumstances. As for Cardassia, however…he had every reason to expect that once the dust settled and the Dominion was expunged, forgiveness would come quite easily.
“They’re in formation!” Dalin Rota called.
“Cronath—this is it!” Berat’s skin tingled with pinpricks of pain now, but now, in the rush of battle, the effect only spurred him on. “Lead them—full impulse! Ousighukum!”
Execute!
2375—The Dominion War—En route to the orbital platform
Cardassian Rasgălor of Lessek
Spirodopoulos stared at the forward viewscreen, morbidly fascinated by the display. Thirty Hidekiy-class attack shuttles leaped into the air in a formation that seemed far, far too tight for the inferno they were about to endure. Dalin Zopreg deliberately held their ship back, falling into the trailing end of the formation; as uncomfortable as the notion was to Spirodopoulos, he, along with Riyăk Iymender, had been designated a high-value asset to the team to be preserved at all costs. Both of them had to reach orbit, had to take their place in the next formation. This meant their ship would suffer less direct exposure during the worst of the ascent…but conversely, it meant that some of his men were that much more at risk.
He didn’t even recognize his first glimpse of the Sherouk for what it was. Something plummeted from the sky wreathed in flame like that rogue asteroid must have come to visit the apocalypse upon the dinosaurs. It was a sight almost never witnessed in the era of modern space travel except in a historic holosimulation—or in the event of a ghastly malfunction. Ships the size of the Cardassian Gălor class were meant to begin and end their lives in space—not withstand the rigors of atmospheric flight, let alone this sort of chaotic free-fall.
And Hide’eki were squaring up directly under that inferno. Spirodopoulos could almost swear that he felt the enormous weight of the Sherouk looming closer and closer to them with each passing second. Everyone aboard the small craft held their silence. Their lives, and those of countless others, rested now in the hands of the pilots and the helmsman of the Sherouk.
And just when it seemed the flaming Gălor could fall no closer without crushing the attack shuttles under its bulk like sparrows under an old-style airliner, the descent abruptly stopped and from its manta-ray wings burst a new eruption of fire—this time crackling with what looked disturbingly like plasma. The Sherouk had engaged full impulse. Using even minimal impulse power in atmosphere could earn a reckless shuttlecraft pilot a jail sentence thanks to the extreme ionization of the surrounding atmosphere, and the ensuing, uncontrollable lightning.
For just a second, Spirodopoulos had time to observe the effect: St. Elmo’s fire danced across the Sherouk’s skinfield, then leaped to its outer shields where it was then discharged into the air until it built into a bolt of lightning that arced out towards whatever convenient target it happened to find. The first bolt shot down to the shipyard below, scoring a direct hit on the facility’s shields.
And at the exact same instant, the shockwave hit.
It felt like a torpedo slamming full-force into the attack shuttle’s forward screens. Zopreg swore under his breath. His fingers flew with almost android-like speed to compensate.
As the Hide’eki pushed to full impulse as well, the electromagnetic disturbances intensified yet again. Not only did they have the bolts from the Sherouk to fear until they cleared the stratosphere, but the energy discharging from the other ships in the formation around them.
Then something else slammed into their ship’s shields—first a concussive shockwave almost as intense as the initial shock from the Sherouk, and then a barrage of smaller impacts. One of the attack shuttles above them in the formation had exploded. Oh, dear God! Spirodopoulos screamed inside as he instinctively crossed himself. Not even the Cardassians noticed his gesture, so rapt was their attention on the horror. Who was on board?!
And there was nothing—nothing he could do.
Thank you SO much for reading! 
Full impulse WITHIN an atmosphere??? Are you mad!!!???
Damn that was a nice piece of writing.
Damn that was a nice piece of writing.
Similar threads
