Well, I wasn't planning on posting it tonight, but I'm here and I'm bored, so what the hay...
And as Paul Harvey says: 'And now...the Rest of The Story!'
CH. 8 (Pt. 2)
“Direct hit, aft shields!” Called off Lieutenant Kurita. “Deflectors down to twenty percent.”
“We’ve got damage to the port impulse drive!” Came from engineering.
Lieutenant Surall steeled herself to the conn and held on for the rough ride. “Ahead maximum impulse power. Bearing 127 mark 070.” She ordered them. This course would follow the Klingon ship as she herself broke away from the combat. The D-7 had been identified as Captain Dath’mar’s Pang, much as she’d suspected. The much larger cruiser was carving a swath of death through the Ya’wenn ranks and had even fired two volleys down onto the planet surface.
Tenseiga swung round almost like a top and pushed ahead. Her maximum speed was hobbled a bit from the hard hit from those torpedoes, but she was already climbing past point six of light. Three enemy escort sized ships lingered in the Pang’s wake, damaged but operable. Dath’mar opened up with his aft photon launcher, and further reduced that number to two. Without larger ships, the Ya’wenn had been just completely outclassed today. Tenseiga had been lucky.
Would that luck hold out?
Those two escorts lined up on the Tenseiga, traveling at low impulse. Their magnetron cannon blazed with white light as they drew the power to fire.
“Starboard evasive!” The Vulcan XO ordered, her voice high pitched and sounding just a bit savage. Torres threw the ship into a sharp dive and turned her right, bearing away from the two hostiles.
The enemy opened up with a full onslaught. Their heavy cannon raked the length of the Tenseiga. The shields held off several thousand watts of particle energy, but the blasts just kept coming. The seventh hit crashed through the aft shields. Tenseiga shuddered like a car hit by a charging bull and was accelerated ahead. Sparks blew from overheated breakers mounted in the bridge ceiling and the after lighting failed. Another shot sailed through. By the sudden crushing sensation felt through the deck plating, the acting XO could discern that the hull had been compromised.
The next three hits scored damage through the port deflector screen. Decompression alarms wailed as crewmen began to cry out in fear and pain at the punishment the ship was suffering. Surall forced her eyes fully open to look upon the tactical displays. Ya’wenn ships were closing in, and the two attackers were even now following… But the way was almost clear!
“Helm! Come left thirty degrees. Nav! Plot a straight course out of here!”
“Aye!” Came the frightened and unsure replies. Surall had to fight to stay erect in the conn with the continued hits. The starboard shields were about to fail next. Then the dorsal screen. Damage lights were flashing all over the monitors at the engineering station. Alarms assailed the ears.
Tenseiga struggled and fought her way about, making that final turn. Another weapon strike clove the armor cowling from her starboard warp nacelle. Were it not for that extra piece of armor, the day would have ended right then.
“Warp speed!”
Tenseiga leapt ahead as though all the punishment she’d just taken meant nothing. Her warp engines sang in altered key, resonating loudly through the damaged structure. But the ship was making good her escape.
“Report on the Pang?” The XO asked.
The acting science officer slowly turned the seat to face the bridge center. The man there was disheveled and sweating, but relief roiled on his face like the tides of an ocean. “The Pang engaged cloak just a moment before we engaged warp flight. No further trace exists.”
“Maintain acceleration. Navigator, set a return course for the Endeavour circumnavigating the plasma field.” We’re in no shape to dodge around in that storm, Surall added in her mind.
“Status report!”
Surall turned at the sound of the bellow, seeing Captain Thomas emerge from the starboard lift. The slim Vulcan officer vacated the conn and stood aloft, hands clasped tightly at her back. “We are withdrawing from the Kovarn System, Captain. We had the assistance of the IKS Pang.”
Thomas paused at the sound of that fact. He glance up to the black viewer and the traveling star steaks it depicted. The captain’s face was a bloody pulp and half of his right ear hung in gory shreds. He was entirely covered in dirt and chips of stone. His eyes were swelling shut. But he was smiling. Sort of…
“Damage report?”
Surall looked to the engineering officer. The young man at that station turned to them and began to read off the butcher’s bill. “We’ve suffered several direct hits to the after hull. Engineering took a near hit and suffered a fire casualty near the main coolant pumps. Fire is out and the watch detail reports no chance of it flaring back up. The starboard power coupling was entirely severed and is non-operational. Aft phasers are off line. The port impulse drive is badly damaged. Heavy structural damage is being reported along the entire aft casing and we have four separate hull breaches on decks three through five. Main power is stable with full auxiliary power available. More reports are coming in, but that’s the worst so far, sirs.”
Thomas looked from the ensign to his XO. Surall stood perfectly still under the scrutiny. After a long moment of silence, Thomas nodded and smiled again. “Got help from Dath’mar, huh? Don’t figure he’d like a big ‘thank you’, do ya’?”
“Not likely. Given the Captain’s disposition toward his former captors, he was likely more than happy to cause whatever harm he could when given the opportunity.” Surall began to turn toward the science station, ready to return to her post. Ben grasped her shoulder in a rough, but encouraging manner.
“Good work, Lieutenant. Damn good work.”
“Thank you, sir.” She replied, bowing her head in respect as she ascended the two steps to the operations level of the bridge. Ben stepped up to the command dais and assumed his command chair. His body ached and screamed for relief. He chafed at the seams of his tactical uniform. His knuckles and head pounded, competing with each other for dominance. But Thomas felt more at peace now than ever before.
A moment of pause touched him, however. He pondered what the ultimate cost of this rescue had been in terms of mortal lives. His hand descended to the intercom panel on the left armrest and hovered there. Was he afraid to find out? What was too high of a cost to retrieve a Starfleet commodore who also happened to be your friend?
He tapped the key.
“Sickbay, Captain. Casualty report.”
The reply was slow in coming. Likely the low ranking medical officer had his hands full down there. Finally there came a voice at the other end of the circuit. “Seventeen injured, Captain. Three of those severe. That doesn’t include the commodore. Most of the injuries stem from the hull breaches in the after hull spaces. Exposure and decompression damage. Lacerations from flying debris. Luckily we didn’t lose anyone to space.”
“And Ford’s condition?”
“Stable, Captain. Any longer down there and he’d have bled out. We’re giving him AB Positive right now and he’s resting.” The doctor told him.
Thomas drew a slow, relieved breath. While he would still have ordered the mission to get Chevy back at the risk of his crew, he knew neither he nor Ford would sleep well with the death of even one man on his conscious. This had been a hell of a risk. The information Ford possessed would have mandated the attempt anyway. But Thomas hadn’t waited to confer with higher-ups that might have ordered him not to go. He’d made the decision on his own. Had he failed it would all have been on his shoulders. As it was, he’d likely receive a severe reprimand or even lose his short-lived commission.
“Steady as she goes, helm.” Thomas sighed as his ship cruised on. He began to relax burning muscles in his back and leaned back in his command chair. The white upholstery would need a major cleaning tomorrow. But for now, he didn’t care.
Bronstien triggered his communicator.
“Destruct package?”
Spec 1 McCoy’s voice came back more clearly than any time previously. But this only allowed the Lieutenant to hear the uncertainty there even more. “Ready, sir. I’ve got the overload programmed and ready. At ten seconds before the fusion cores go, the upper deuterium tanks will open their purge valves and flood the lower impulse decks and the dorsal.”
Yeah, Johnathan thought to himself, that should just about blow the bitch clean in two...
“Good. Get down to the hanger and get ready to leave.”
“Aye, sir. What about you? It’s a good five minutes down to the shuttle bay from Aux. Con. without the turbolifts.”
Johnathan gave a shrug the Spec couldn’t see.
“You let me worry about that, Specialist. Most of the grav plating is offline in the dorsal section anyway. I’ll be fine. You just get down there and make sure I have a shuttle pod to get to.”
“Aye, sir.”
Bronstien replaced the comm unit to his belt and looked again to the tactical repeater on his operations board. The Ya’wenn were slowing to impulse power and nearing weapons range. His options were badly limited. Without shields, he could not hope to keep the enemy from beaming aboard and taking the ship. Additionally, he didn’t have the weapons capacity to keep them out of transporter range. All he had was three operational shuttle pods assembled from the lower hanger bay and a threat.
The lieutenant decided it was time to use one of those items now. He keyed open the shuttle Jet’s hailing frequencies. “Ya’wenn vessel, this is Lieutenant Bronstien aboard the USS Endeavour. Approach no further!”
He waited a second, knowing the enemy would not heed him. Well, he’d have to give them a reason to… “If you make any attempt to board this ship, I will destroy it! And I swear to God I’ll take a piece of you with me!”
Johnathan blinked. The pulsing icon on his screen altered its approach. Was it slowing? No, the aspect difference meant a course change. The Ya’wenn escort was turning to port… Turning AWAY from the Endeavour! The lieutenant gaped in open amazement at the abrupt turn of events. Were the Ya’wenn cutting their losses? That didn’t make sense. In their place, he would have simply called the Starfleet officer’s bluff and tried to take the ship anyway. The possibility of gaining superior technology through the capture of a wreck was worth the risk of the handful of men it would take to capture it.
Why, then, were they turning away now?
The Ya’wenn escort increased velocity and warped away. Checking the ship’s course, he plotted the craft as headed back to the Tempest. A trick? Plying his hands to the control board that operated the shuttle pod’s sensors. He has to know what was going on. The cone of long range sensor coverage swept to port with agonizing slowness. The answer came through his communicator.
“USS Endeavour, this is the Constellation. Please respond.”
Johnathan paused in surprise. He stared at the glowing images on the sensor screen before him. Yes, there was the transponder of a Constellation-Class starship, approaching from the opposite direction from the Ya’wenn. The identification codes were right… Why, then, could he not believe this?
He snatched the communicator from his belt and jerked it open.
“Constellation, this is Lieutenant Johnathan Bronstien. Please identify who’s speaking.”
There was a muffled laugh from the other end of the link.
“This is Captain Dan Jeremy. We’re three days out from Starbase 12. Admiral Sharp ordered us to lend you a tow home.” The other said. Johnathan still had trouble believing. There was an old saying: ‘Seeing is believing.’ Bronstien’s hand fell back to the sensor controls. He keyed up the telescopic array and focussed it on the location of the approaching ship.
There he saw a thick, wide saucer marked with wide shuttle bay doors and heavily armored casings. Two short warp nacelles stood above the main hull, and two more below. There was no mistaking a Constellation-Class heavy cruiser. Its formation lights flashed back at him like a beacon of safety amid a stormy sea. At last, John found himself smiling.
“I’m damn glad to see your ship, Captain. We’ve got a mess over here.”
Epilogue
There was a grand throng of Endeavour survivors gathered in and about the docking hatch that interlinked Starbase 23 with the newly arrived USS Tenseiga. The noise of the anxious, happy crewmen and officers filled the room as surely as any mass of people would. Jonathan Sharp could hear nothing else as he entered the gangway. Some commanders might have ordered security to clear a path into the area, to free it of the mob. Sharp knew that he could compel them to move back on his own.
He didn’t see the necessity of dampening the elated mood of these trodden Starfleet personnel. They needed this victory after the beating they’d taken. This would do them all good, and would also be good medicine for the man about to disembark that escort.
Sharp had put aside thoughts of taking Commander Thomas to task over his impromptu rescue mission. The outcome had been a tremendous success. Knocking Thomas down for such an action would only compel other commanders to take less initiative when it was needed.
The admiral pushed his way through about ten feet worth of pressed crew. After this distance, the enlisted men notice just who it was pushing through. A call went up, and a path cleared all the way to the cycling airlock doors. Sharp walked steadily up to the hatch and turned to face his assembled men and women. Endeavour’s CO had quite a zealous and loyal following. Sharp held a wizened, white palmed hand up to quite the men. This single action brought the noise level down to less than a decibel.
“Settle down, people!” He boomed at them with a good-natured smile. He turned to the lock and waited with his men for the door to open. After another few seconds, the alarm buzzed and the heavy doors slid open.
Commodore Ford was dressed in service trousers and a clean white shirt. He was clean-shaven, head and face, leaving only his eyebrows intact. His ages old goatee was gone. He was pale and he stooped forward as he led the Tenseiga group out of the airlock collar. Ben Thomas stood close by, a hand out and near to his friend’s shoulder; ready but not quite touching. Chevis looked up with a surprised smile at the huge group of people.
The Endeavour survivors burst out into wild cheers at the sight of his grin. Ford faltered, moved by the applause, and nearly fell. Thomas’s waiting hand found the commodore’s armpit and held him up with little effort. Ford glanced back with gratitude. When he looked back to forward, it was with tears in his eyes. Sharp moved in and held out his hand.
Chevis took the hand and grasped it loosely. He had no grip left. But he gave Sharp a solid shake. Jon leaned in and found himself wrapping his arms completely around his former protégé. Sharp laughed out loud at his uncommon display of friendship and hugged the commodore tightly. Chevy hugged just as tight, his voice slurred with emotion at the greeting.
“I’m damn glad to be back home!”
“Welcome home, Chevy!” Jonathan told him, releasing him after a few moments. He helped Thomas support the returning starship commander as he started toward the waiting throng of greeters and well-wishers. Ford smiled wide and shook hands that stuck out from every angle and direction. Sharp saw Davenport, Tolin, Nechayev and Goodwin among the first that Chevis met and spoke to. Ford thanked each and every crewman and junior officer as he took their hand. The admiral watched the shorter man go, steadily, if slowly, making his way out of the docking port. Another familiar face caught his eye.
She caught Ford’s eye too.
The crowd parted just enough to allow Ford to see Doctor Andrea Keller as she emerged from the after portion of the airlock support space. Ford halted at the sight of her. He couldn’t move. Sharp saw him smiling grandly.
Andrea’s hands were raised to her mouth. Her eyes were red and glistened with tears. She just stood, unmoving, and stared at the man she’d shared herself with. Ford cocked his head aside, knowing she must be stricken. Sharp felt a hollow space form in his stomach. Why was she just standing there?
Ford waved her closer, uncertain.
Andrea shook her head, turned and, wringing her hands, ran from the docking bay.
Sharp’s almond eyes stared in wide-open shock at the display he’d just seen. He looked to his friend. Ford just stared ahead, unresponsive and dumb. Thomas pushed close, the expression staining his stone face one of anger and protective empathy. The behemoth would probably put his fist through her face when next he saw the CMO. Sharp stepped ahead of Ford and looked down at him with sympathy and confusion.
“What was that?”
Ford shook his head and stared at nothing. He stooped so low now that Thomas pushed in and took the commodore’s arm over his wide shoulder. “I don’t know… I guess I did something wrong…”
END.
Topic: Story Number 10! Of the Survivors... (Read 14524 times)