Alrighty...now things get interesting.
BTW...how's the editting been so far. Horrid mistakes? [Andy can't be the one answering this one...]
CH. 6
Lieutenant Commander Rathus Slik stood rigid and watched as the junior officer manning the main sensor console went about their relayed orders. Endeavour’s sensors scoured the orbital area of the planet Jobia, looking for any spaceborne weapons platforms that might exist. Both these officers seemed proficient. Both seemed well versed in their duties and diligent.
They were also scared to death of him.
Slik found this entertaining. Such fears and apprehension were supposedly far behind the races of the enlightened Federation. Such rubbish. Primal fear among primate species in the presence of large reptilian creatures was hardwired into the brain. These Earthers thought themselves so far removed from their animal beginnings. Such thought was as foolish as it was counter productive.
The Gorn officer stepped back out of their perceptual range and leaned against the tactical console. The weapons officer did not fear him so much. He smelled little fright within Nechayev. No, more the lieutenant felt great loathing and hostile feelings for Slik. His every sense was attuned to Slik’s movements and actions. Daniel Nechayev would cooperate with the Gorn. He would follow his orders. But the weapons officer very much wanted a reason to harm Commander Slik.
Since his coming to the Federation and being sponsored into Starfleet, Slik had not encountered such a negative force directed his way. For some reason, the gunner hated him. Likely hated all Gorn. He decided that he’d devote some research to Nechayev’s past to discover the reason for such animosity. Curiosity ate at the commander every time he thought about the weapons officer and the smell that emanated from him.
“Commander.” One of the sensor officers piped up. Rathus’s attention refocused on the science console.
“Yes?”
“We have yet to detect any space weapons of any kind. However, there are twelve nuclear armed vehicles traveling at supersonic velocity on a southerly heading.” The youngest, golden haired male told him.
“Course?”
“Indeterminate as yet, sir.” There was hesitation in the young one’s response. “But the rocketry field is close by the projected flight path the craft are currently on. If they angle their path toward the field, they will be over it inside fifteen minutes.”
Slik turned, paying the sensor officers and tactical no further attention, and descended to the conn. His long, clawed talon tapped the intercom controls. “Transporter rooms! Reaffirm your lock on the landing parties!”
“Aye, sir.”
Another tap to the controls.
“Commodore Ford, this is Lieutenant Commander Slik. Respond, please.”
Ford’s comm buzzed silently in his oversized pocket, the movement alerting him to the call. He withdrew the device carefully and withdrew into a recess built into the wooden wall behind him. There were about fifty observers up here on the platform now. Talking on a wireless device now would definitely arouse suspicion. “Ford.”
“Commodore, this is Slik. We have detected a large squadron of heavily armed nuclear bombers en route to your general location. I suggest egress.”
Ford looked up to his fellow officers. They nodded that they’d understood the message. As a whole, they turned to head back to the stair that had brought them here. The building flow of spectators was growing thicker by the passing second. As the launch time approached, many were seeking a good place to view the spectacle. The CO grimaced, holding his communicator low as he stepped in behind Goodwin to cover his use of alien tech. “Egress may be difficult. A crowd’s drawing in this area. How long till arrival of aircraft?”
“Fourteen minutes, sir.”
Ford clapped the antennae down on the comm and tucked it away. He had no idea how long it would take to reach a safe area for beam out. He wished for the millionth time for Sharp’s renowned ‘Sixth Sense’ for danger. It had saved unknown hundreds of landing parties from just this sort of calamity. While the commodore had expected a war to eventually break out among these people, he’d figured on more of a warning than this.
The landing party moved ahead with all due swiftness, pushing their way at times through the thickening crowd. The observers seemed confused that anyone would want to leave this strategic viewing area. Some pushed back against the crew, rudely spitting insults at them. At last they reached the head of the wooden stair. The path down was all but blocked off. Some of the kinder individuals made a way for them along one side. The party was able to escape the platform level one at a time, with Ford bringing up the rear.
Three minutes were thusly lost.
Slik leaned close, his earlier amusement and the cause for it momentarily lost to the crisis. The techs sitting side by side before him had all but tuned out his presence and acknowledged him only as a senior and the officer of the deck. The Gorn commander watched as the icon on his screens shifted and slowly advanced on the nation who prepared to launch their rocket skyward. Due to the upload from Surall’s tricorder and their own sensor sweep of the rocket field, Endeavour’s crew was well aware of the existence of fission weaponry in Ford’s location.
New telemetry was beginning to spring up along the border zone.
“I think the southern nation has gone on the alert, Commander.” The senior of the technicians told Slik. “I read aircraft launches from several airfields and ground based ordnance becoming mobile. I’m also getting more fission signatures!”
“Details?” Rathus asked.
“Field cannon…heavy bore.” The kid read from the screen. The young officer was not familiar with primitive artillery. He was having to report only what the computer told him. This process was slower than what an experienced, knowledgeable officer could render. “Nuclear shell-cased projectiles. Projected yield 500 kilotons.”
“They attempt to defend themselves.” Rathus commented. He privately wished them luck. Their success in defending themselves would safeguard the CO and his people. These details were now being fed to the tricorders of the ground teams. Perhaps they might find it useful should they actually have the time to read it.
“The aircraft are splitting up!” The most youthful of the pair of tech’s reported. She pointed to the craft depicted on the screen. The vessels were indeed taking divergent routes to their targets. They were flying in pairs, their speed nearly twice that of sound. “Two units are bearing for Commodore Ford’s position…with another two still capable of rerouting to strike there as well.”
“Redundancy…” Slik muttered further. His refractive eyes turned to another monitor, one showing the transponder markers for Ford’s landing party. His group had yet to leave that building. Should he be forced to, Slik was not above abandoning the Prime Directive and beaming his crew out in full view of every primate down there. The transporter rooms were on hot standby, awaiting his order.
“Antiaircraft fire now opening along the border region. Interceptor fighters closing on first two flights of bombers.” The two continued to report.
“Shall I go to alert status?” Nechayev asked the deck officer.
Slik turned around languidly. He’d nearly tuned out the very existence of the remainder of the bridge crew. Both Lieutenants Nechayev and Bronstien were staring intently his way. The weapons officer did so with obvious distaste. Rathus considered the suggestion.
“Indeed, Lieutenant. Sound Yellow Alert, but leave deflectors down for swift transport purposes.”
“Aye.”
Slik looked back to the helmsman who smelled of artificial prosthetics. The youngling seemed very attuned to the disposition of the parties on the ground. He’d likely served with these people for some time. Primates developed such overstated attachments. Slik cocked his head and returned his own view to the array of screens before him at science.
“Bombers have breached the first barrier of AA guns, Commander.” The tech was reporting further. “Aircraft are far too high up to be hit by those guns. I’m not reading guided ground to air weaponry. One intercept squadron now coming into weapons range of bomber unit three…”
The battle began to ensue on the main monitor. Slik half watched it unfold while continuing to glance at the ground team’s signatures. They had parted themselves from the observatory and were halted behind it. The number of lifesign indicators in the area was increasing by the second. The whole collection of aliens within the field was converging on that one building.
“Border cannon are opening fire on the northern country, Commander!” The young female reported, jabbing a pale finger to the indicators. “They’re firing their nukes!”
Commander Davenport slowed to a trot as he and his party emerged from the last in a long series of alleyways. They had left the tavern and their stunned policemen far behind. They were nearly across town from their starting point and well out of immediate danger. The XO paused to take stock of his two team members. Both were short of breath after their breakneck run, but no worse for wear. Neither was injured.
Montoya was looking straight at him and speaking. He could barely hear the slightest of mumbles from her. She wasn’t shouting for all to hear, thankfully. He probably still wouldn’t have understood her if she had been. He silenced her futile attempts by pointing to his ear and shaking his head.
Ronald took a slow look around their surroundings, careful to watch for witnesses. This mission was no longer viable given the police interest in them and the apparent war footing these people were on. Finding no one within the immediate vicinity, he drew out his command flipped it open. The familiar tingle of the transporter field took him just as his finger found the control to signal recall. Someone on the other end had had the same idea.
The blue glow of subspace energy enfolded around the away team and deposited them back within the semi-dark confines of Endeavour’s transporter room. Ron glanced at his people, who were now positioned behind him, and then nodded to the transport operator. The middle-aged woman at the controls was saying something to him. He couldn’t help but wince out a smile. This was going to be an entertaining next few minutes…
Ford and party halted and tried not to seem desperate to leave as the seven, armed men appeared at the edges of the gathering crowd of guests flocking around the observation center. The men before them were arrayed in full combat gear, green fatigues and helmets. They had semi-automatic rifles in hand and stern looks upon their faces. Those among the crowd who noticed the soldiers looked back and forth with confusion. An alarm soon began to wail in the distance.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The senior among the Jobian soldiers began to address the now concerned mass. “A condition of emergency now exists at this field! The Tadikad Affiliation has launched a strike on this installation and we are now all in danger! You will follow us as directed to the on-base bomb shelter. You must move quickly and orderly! Please, move this way!”
The soldier pointed off to a long row of green painted buildings with a heavy, reinforced concrete foundation. The murmuring of the crowd began to increase dramatically as their course was changed and they were herded toward this area of safety. Ford looked about quickly for an easy route toward escape for he and his party. None abounded. More soldiers were being deployed to handle the large number of civilians as they were moved slowly but steadily toward the intended buildings.
Shelter in this structure may or may not be sufficient to avoid injury and rad poisoning from a nuclear strike. Ford did not like the idea of remaining here and trusting to these people’s capacity for construction and the targeting priorities of the enemy. He’d order his people beamed up in the midst of them if he were forced to. His communicator vibrated in his coat. Hunkering close behind Mister Goodwin and Smith, he answered it.
“Ford, go ahead!”
“Commodore, the XO’s position has been shelled by ballistic cannon firing nuclear ordnance.” Commander Slik told him. “I ordered his immediate transport prior to impact. They were extracted well before the attack struck.”
“The reactor?”
“Being hit now. Projections show the entire area will be destroyed, including the nearby town. The airforce of the southern nation is having little success in bringing down the supersonic bombers en route to you. You now have four minutes to make your exit.”
“If we don’t make it away from the crowd in time, you initiate transport, Mister Slik. I don’t like the Prime Directive well enough to be a wall shadow!”
“Understood, sir. Endeavour out.”
Chevis looked up and about once more as he put away his communicator. One of the Jobian women nearest him had overheard most of what he’d told Slik and was staring wide-eyed as they jostled along with the masses. Ford shot her a sad smile and turned away. He hoped very much that the woman would still be alive an hour from now. “I think we’re probably just gonna have witnesses to our extraction,” he told his crew.
Lieutenant Surall turned half around to look back to her commander. “That is unfortunate, but hardly avoidable at this point. I don’t believe there will be any survivors to report our mysterious disappearance.”
“Why?”
“The concrete comprising the structure we’re being guided toward is inferior. It will collapse under the stress and heat of a nuclear detonation above four hundred kilotons. Endeavour’s computers report the devices used by the northern forces to be in excess of half a megaton.”
The commodore panned the crowd visually and swallowed. There were nearly a thousand people within easy view of him. More within the near buildings and about the rocketry platform. Most of them were going to die, while he and his crew beamed away to safety. It was a sobering thought. There was no transporter room waiting far above to take these victims away from their deaths.
The Starfleet team continued on, slowing as the crowds bunched up and pressed into the shelter. They had just over a minute left till Armageddon came calling.
Topic: #14: Relaunch (Read 17379 times)