Glad to see you're still writing, Smithy.
Now that you are, maybe we should sit down and hammer out the details of this collaboration thingy.
Good point, we should. I PM'd you the rough timeline I had a while back didn't it? I can't honestly remember
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Chapter 4 - Stage Left (part 4)***********
Antares Shipyard Command Post
28th March 2395
1056hrs EST
Conference Room 1A
Harrison watched a steady stream of officers enter the room. The conversations were typical Starfleet - bragging about the performance of their ships in the recent combat, some wrangling over who was next in line for repairs. The usual nonsense.
I'll be glad when Special Operations takes over the entire fleet.Smithy walked into the room, absently playing with the pair of isolinear chips he held in his hand. "Dave, your data."
"Thanks Smithy." Harriman took the data chips from him. "Everything completed on the 'Moth?"
"Checked on her yesterday morning, the diagnostic found about four hundred things wrong. Orlatrel has his teams back on the job today sorting it all out. Should be done sometime this afternoon."
Harriman glanced at the clock on the wall. "You sure you want to talk about that incident?"
"Everyone has to know. We haven't seen the Andromedans bring their full force out yet."
Harriman frowned. "Have you seen anything?"
"Nothing I can make sense of yet. But....I will do, it's important. If I think about it, I'll never work it out. If I ignore it, it'll click." He turned as Lisa arrived. "Hi hon."
"Hey. You ready?"
"Yeah."
Everyone took their seats. Harriman looked around the table. A lot of captains and officers present, and more on the end of the comm. link that was broadcasting the briefing. "I've asked you all here to listen to the details of the last encounter Starfleet had with an Andromedan vessel. Smithy?"
Smithy closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, steeling himself. Then he began speaking. "On stardate 33052.2, the USS Excaulibur was investigating some strange readings near the Barrier Zone. Starfleet had lost a scout vessel, the USS Feynman, in this sector a few weeks ago, and we were the closest vessel able to investigate...."
***********
USS Excalibur NCC 26517
June 12th 2355
1030hrs EST
Bridge
"Regulations specifically state that-"
"Bollocks to the regulation Bob."
"You will not talk to me in that manner Smith!"
Smithy sighed, wondering what he'd done in a previous life to deserve this. Captain Robert Metcalf stood before him, a symbol of everything Smithy found wrong with the way Starfleet was going - a captain who could quote the rulebook off by heart but who had no idea what to do when the situation was outside of that rulebook's experience. "Bob, that is a twelth power energy field out there! If we take this ship anywhere near it we stand a good chance of something bad happening."
Metcalf snorted derisively. "'Something bad'. And yet you refuse to give me anything specific, beyond your usual mumbo-jumbo about 'seeing something'." He sat back down. "What makes you right and the computer wrong?"
"The computer is only as good as the person who programmed it. Energy fields like this aren't exactly common."
Metcalf shook his head. "Get back down to Main Engineering. I want full power on all sensor and scanner systems, engines and shields."
"You're going to have to compromise on something. We're still running with a cracked dilithium crystal thanks to that business last week."
"That will do, commander!" Metcalf reddened, remembering the incident that lead to that damage. Still, it wasn't like it was his fault! If his crew would just do what he wanted, rather than what they claimed was possible!
And Starfleet saddle me with a chief engineer who refuses to grant me any respect. "You have your orders."
"Aye aye captain
sir!" Smithy mockingly saluted, and stomped off towards the turbolift. He paused next to the communications station, and leaned in to the ensign on duty. "Keep an open line. If anything happens, I want to know instantly."
"Yes sir. Channel 2 will be open."
***********
Engine Room
*CRUNCH*
Everyone kept their eyes rivetted on what they were doing. Even the recent additions to the crew knew when to stay out of the chief engineer's way, and when he was punching bulkheads that time was now. Very few people could approach him when he was in this kind of mood.
Orlatrel was one of them. Deliberately keeping his voice even and low, he stood facing his CO's back. "Went that well?"
"Yeah." Smithy swung around to face him. "Can you give me a couple of minutes to calm down?"
"Sure thing." Orlatrel turned, and cleared his throat. "Alright people, we'll be heading into the middle of hell quite soon. Baker team, concentrate on shield systems. We need them above everything else. King team, you're on engines."
"Evans, remember that the port impulse packs are a bit scorched." Smithy had just about recovered his composure. "Everyone else, you're on power management and damage control. Hopefully we won't need too much of the latter." He knew that it was a forlorn hope. Ever since Metcalf had taken command of the ship Smithy had seen his worload triple. Some of it was down to the fact that they were exploring way out in uncharted space, but most of it was down to the idiot in the centre chair. Smithy had seen four young engineers lose their lives on this deep space mission.
Sure, danger is part of the job. Sure, they signed up for that danger. But no-one signs up to be commanded by a complete moron. "Orlatrel."
Sensing this was going to be a private conversation, Orlatrel moved to stand up close with him. "Sir?"
Smithy looked up at him. "I'm...going to request a transfer off the Excalibur."
Orlatrel was momentarily thrown by that. "You're....you're certain that you want to do that?"
"I'm certain. There's a guy I taught a few classes at the Academy, he's about to get his first command. We talked last week, after....you know. Anyway, he's put in a request that if I become available, he'd like me to join him. And Bob isn't going to stand in the way of me getting off this ship....hell, he'd be overjoyed at me leaving. The point is, Starfleet would then ask you to be chief engineer."
"And if I don't want to be?"
Smithy raised an eyebrow at that. "You don't?"
Orlatrel looked around the room. "I'm learning a lot from you. I'd like to continue learning from you." He shook his head. "Reckon you know any ships that would have me?"
"I might." Smithy listened to the background chatter coming from the bridge. "Well, hang on. Sure hope I'm wrong about this."
***********
Antares Shipyard Command Post
28th March 2395
1118hrs EST
Conference Room 1A
"And I wasn't." Smithy paused, remembering the utter chaos as if it was yesterday. "The ship entered the region, and began a standard search pattern looking for the Feynman. We had completed most of that pattern, when sensors picked up a vast energy flux off our starboard bow...."
***********
USS Excalibur
June 12th 2355
1123hrs EST
Engine Room
Everyone fought to stay on their feet. The ship rumbled and shook underneath them, protesting at the treatment. And suddenly, all was calm again.
"Everyone okay?" Smithy let go of the rail, flexing his fingers to get the blood flowing again. "Damage report."
Orlatrel glanced at the System Monitor screens. "Nothing reported in. Nothing new, anyway."
"Bridge, you mind telling me what that little lot was in aid of?"
"
Stand-by, sir. Ops is currently trying to ascertain our position-"
"Position? Ensign, pipe the data feed from sensors down here." Smithy scanned the readouts. "Wormhole. Son of a....I told him, I f*cking
told him!"
Orlatrel leaned over him. "According to this, we've jumped past the Barrier. Quite a way past in fact."
Smithy shook his head. "I hate it when I'm right...." He listened intently to the voices from the bridge. "Right, looks like we'll be here for a few minutes while the wormhole re-aligns itself. Definitely not a natural one....these energy patterns are far too regular. Doesn't match anything on file though."
***********
Bridge
"How long, lieutenant?"
"Around five minutes captain. The wormhole is beginning to re-align, we'll be able to follow it back then. It definitely is a manufactured one, judging by our readings."
Metcalf frowned. "Who would have the ability to create something like that? And what happened to the Feynman, are we picking up any sign of her out here?"
"Nothing on SRS sir, widening to LRS...." The lietenant studied her board. "Contact with a ship sir, moving at warp speed. Signature doesn't match anything on file."
Metcalf frowned. "Probably just some problem with the sensors. It must be the Feynman, what else would be out here? Helm, set a course over to the ship, warp speed. Ensign, hail them."
"No response sir."
"Try again." Metcalf returned his attention to Ops. "Are they in visual range yet?"
"Aye sir, they changed course to intercept
us. Entering SRS range now and slowing to impulse."
"Helm slow to impulse. Onscreen." Metcalf stood, staring. "What....what
is that?"
The ship filled the screen, it's distinctly alien lines nothing like the crew had ever seen. The lieutenant at Ops began checking her board. "Definitely matches nothing on file." He stiffened as the console began a shrill beeping. "Sir, reading power fluctuations from the vessel. It reads like-"
She didn't get a chance to complete the sentence. A large bolt of light lanced out from the vessel, straight at the Excalibur.
***********
Engine room
Alarms rang out, flames and sparks shooting out of the equipment lining the walls. Engineers fought to stay on their feet, fought to stay at their posts. It was a battle few of them were winning. Even throughout all the simulations at the Academy, even throughout all the incidents they'd faced before, nothing had ever happened quite like this. Smoke filled the room, the lights dimming as the power grid struggled to cope under the sudden onslaught.
A voice boomed out over all the noise, all the chaos. "Team leaders, report!" Smithy emerged from the gloom, wiping blood from a cut on his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket before discarding it. "Seppowitz!"
"Warp drive is disabled sir! Port nacelle shows as offline!" Seppowitz glanced across at his team's monitors. "I think we took a shot to the port pylon!"
"T'Pon, impulse engine status."
The Vulcan woman's voice was impressively controlled for the situation, but had a definite hint of emotion to it. "Power relays are struggling to maintain their link. Impulse engine efficiency down 32.6%!"
"Alright, everyone report in to the repair teams. Lets get some control back on things. Orlatrel."
"Sir?"
"Take over, I've got to get to the bridge."
***********
Bridge
Smithy stepped out of the turbolift, hastily moving out of the way to allow the medical team to rush around. "Someone want to give me a quick summary of how f*cked we are?" He saw Metcalf on the floor. "Oh, well....things aren't so bad. Bob's getting a chance to catch up on all that lost sleep he's given us." He made his way down to Tactical. "You'll be getting power for shields in a few seconds if I taught Orlatrel well. As soon as you're nominal, get them up. Ops, what do we know about that ship out there?"
"Not much sir. I didn't get chance to scan them too deeply before the attack, and I've lost most of the sensor array now."
Smithy shook his head. "We really have got problems, haven't we? Alright, new plan. I need the warp entry program for single nacelle flight implemented. My people have enough to do right now, so you've got the job. There's a basic program in the library, it'll need editing to take into account our mass, our cracked dilithium crystal and the fact that we don't have full hull integrity by any stretch. Get on it."
"Aye sir."
"Tactical."
"Shields are up sir. The vessel backed off after firing at us, but it's moving in again. We don't have weapons power at all, not even torpedoes."
"Yeah, the power relays took a battering. Torpedoes are the priority, you'll get them soon hopefully." Smithy stepped down to the helm. "Go get that arm seen to lieutenant." He took a couple of seconds to familiarise himself with the control layout. "Damn sight different to the last ship I flew." He thumbed the intercom tie-in. "Engine room."
"
Orlatrel here."
"We're going to need torpedoes. Can you spare anyone to reset the power relays?"
"
Have someone on it already. Warp drive stands ready once you have the new program in the computer. I've got everyone trying to keep what we have left together."
"Good, you're doing a grand job of it. Stay on the line." Smithy glanced over at Tactical. "Soon as you get power, fire at will."
"Aye sir. Forward tubes are charging now."
"Ops."
The lieutenant turned. "Programming. It's taking a while sir, I'm not sure if-"
"It's alright, the computer is just a bit overloaded right now. Too much going on, not enough processor time to allocate. Let me know as soon as you have it." His attention was caught by the viewscreen. "Never thought I'd be so happy to see a photon torpedo."
The torpedoes struck the enemy ship, which banked off to avoid further fire. Smithy watch one of it's aft weapon nodes light up. "Everyone brace!"
The impact wasn't quite as bad as the previous one, but it still left everyone fighting to keep working. Smithy tied into the second comm channel. "Mack, Mack you there?"
"
Yeah, I'm here. But I'm not going to be for much longer if we keep this up."
"How many?"
Doctor Mackenzie's voice softened, knowing how much his friend hated moments like this. "
We've lost eight. Another seventy are seriously injured, many more with less threatening injuries."
Smithy closed his eyes. Eight.
Damn it. This isn't right, this shouldn't happen. "Alright Mack, look after them. Orlatrel, we're getting ready to go back to warp. Keep her together."
"
We'll do our best."
"Ops?"
"Program ready sir!"
Smithy stabbed at the control panel. "Warp speed
now."
Everyone felt the ship struggle into warp, the one working nacelle almost stalling under the load being asked of it. Smithy glanced over at Tactical. "Are they following?"
"Yes sir. We got the jump on them a bit, but they'll overtake us in one minute."
"That's alright, we're only 55 seconds away from the wormhole." Smithy glanced around as the medical team finally got Metcalf loaded onto a stretcher. "Make sure he doesn't get a bed."
***********
Antares Shipyard Command Post
28th March 2395
1142hrs EST
Conference Room 1A
"We made it to the wormhole just ahead of the ship, and got back through. The vessel didnt follow. Once back on our side, we spotted something....a data log buoy from the Feynman. She'd gone through the same wormhole, and had been attacked by the same vessel and boarded. The Feynman's commander confirmed that the vessel was Andromedan....no-one knows what happened to the ship or crew after the buoy was jettisoned back into the wormhole and into Federation space."
He paused for a moment, thinking back. "As I said before, eight people were killed pretty much instantly. Of the seventy seriously injured people, twelve didn't make it. We went back over our sensor logs at the time....our photon torpedoes barely did anything to their shields. One bolt from them, our shield power dropped by about half. Our technology has moved on, but as we saw in the last encounter even our newest ships are still having a hard time of it. Ghelev?"
Ghelev nodded. "The SOD force that joined up with you suffered massive losses. Our engineers are currently working with Starfleet to get more of our ships ready."
Harrison frowned at that. "Is the President aware that Starfleet engineers are working on Special Operations ships?"
"No, but I'm sure he will be soon." Smithy rubbed at the ache in his knee. "Harrison, those ships that SOD have promised to be the next greatest thing in defence are not remotely ready. Half of them shouldn't have ever left the drawing board in their current form. They're underpowered, overgunned and more dangerous to the crew operating them than to any opposing vessel. They're lemons. At least with Starfleet engineers and Starfleet facilities we stand a chance at getting some of them into useable condition. If our great and glorious President doesn't like that, then he's more than welcome to come and explain his position to me. But he shouldn't be surprised if he ends up knocked down on his arse nursing a bruised jaw."
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Not quite happy with it, but at least it gets something posted.