Cannons To The Right of Them

Posted on Thu Feb 22nd, 2024 @ 12:15pm by Captain Tristan Faust & Lieutenant T'kara & Lieutenant Commander Darrod Hanous & Ensign Erahlik Ezazzan & Chief Petty Officer Meredith Corden

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Mission 4: Through a Glass, Darkly
Location: Deck 11; Deck 1: Bridge
Timeline: M4 MD06 (2268.07.15) 1330-1340

-- Below Decks (Deck 11) --

The ship was under attack. Erahlik had not been privy to the goings on upstairs, but the rumor mill had been that the Midway had entered an alternate universe. That they were now engaged with an alternate Constitution-class starship. The way the ship was rocking due to weapons hits, the Gorn believed it. He was rushing toward a blown out bulkhead on Deck 15 when the emergency response for repairs came in for weapons and power. There was too much going on.

Focusing, he turned to two Engineers who were assisting him.

"Crewman Philips, stay here to repair this power relay," he said pointing at the sparking, opened panel. Philips nodded, getting to work swiftly. The Gorn looked to his other associate. "Johnson, you're with me, we need repair the weapons and power systems."

Johnson nodded and swiftly followed behind - careful of the flying tail - the Gorn. Erahlik rushed past crewmen, both injured and not, and one screaming in pain as they literally bled to death on the floor. He shucked the visage from his mind. Clan over the individual. Clan was more important. The Ship was the Clan, he reminded himself repeatedly. The Turbolift opened at their arrival and, quickly, Johnson followed right behind.

He exited with his crewman engineer by his side on Deck 11. It was hell. Sparks. Fire. Screaming. Erahlik pulled Johnson to his side, pointing a claw at a rather important part of the weapons relay network on this deck. It was just around the corridor, visible, burning. "There!" he cried, and together the two rushed.

The repairs took precious time, more than he would have liked, and he didn't have time to do it right. Johnson took care of the fire with a extinguisher and the Gorn slid under the panel to literally rip wires from their sockets that were useless and unecessary. "Spanner!" he cried, and it was handed to him. Precious seconds again, then... "Got it! Back online!"

In his moment of triumph and adrenaline, the Gorn pulled himself up and slammed a fist on the nearest communicator panel.

=/\=Deck 11 to Bridge, Damage Control Team Bravo, weapons back online. Give them hell.=/\=

He didn't have time to consider a reply. Johnson and he rushed off to the figure out other critical systems. For now, weapons and power had been successfully relayed - however haphazardly.

--Bridge --

"Sir, there's fighting on deck two now," Meredith announced.

Darrod looked at Meredith and again, forced himself to sit down and lean back. He was giving orders, not following them. That 'Captain's lean' he'd seen so many times was something he was doing now, forcing himself to stay at his post. "Deck 11, acknowledged. Keep up the good work."

The look he gave Meredith was nowhere near as relaxed. "They mean to take us, and we have boarders, too? Security, deploy anesthezine gas to the combat areas, drop the bulkheads, and beam our people out of there; we don't have time for this, Science, scan the ship. Any personnel who don't belong, alert Security immediately."

He shook his head at the situation as he stood up and watched the crew work. A smoking panel, a young near-dead crewman being worried over by a medic on his Bridge. He didn't even have time to stop and think about it being his Bridge, it just was. "Let's give 'em the fight they want, then. Engineering - continue fore shield reinforcement. Helm, all ahead, full - don't stop for anything until I say so. Tactical, she's soft in all the same spots we are. Prepare Alpha Strike on their Deck 3 Fore - Section A3. Fire once you have confirmed hit range on that section and all weapons are ready. Helm, as soon as we fire, incline zed-axis and prepare to bring us about between their nacelles."

T’kara heard the commands being given and repeated them, without hesitation. Her hands danced over the Midway’s controls and the big ship responded handsomely. Deep in her core, T’kara knew that her only function, in that moment, was to save the Midway. She also knew with the same certainty that she would accomplish this by lining Tactical up for the best shots on Defiant while simultaneously protecting Midway’s vulnerabilities. Not an easy task…but that’s why she was the Chief Navigator.

She felt the hum of the ship beneath her, responding to her touch. With her heart pounding in her chest, she made another series of commands, expertly maneuvering the Midway into another advantageous position. She was a dancer and the ship was her partner, moving in perfect synchrony with her.

Each thrum and vibration of the Midway served as a pulse that kept time with her heartbeat. The tactical display blinked as the enemy ship came into the firing range. She repeated the commands called out across the bridge, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Her fingers danced across the control panel, the intricate ballet of her movements translating into the Midway's swift and precise response. She pulled the ship up into a steep climb, twisted it into a roll and then plunged it into a daring dive that brought them underneath the Defiant. Shots fired from the enemy missed their mark, sailing into the void as the Midway slipped out of their line of fire.

With a deep breath, she aligned the ship for the next attack run, every calculation, every movement designed to give the Tactical team the best possible opportunity to strike. Her confidence in herself and her crew never wavered, even as the Defiant loomed larger in the view screen.

T’kara was the heart of the Midway, her pulse guiding its movements, her commands shaping its response. She was not just the Chief Navigator. In this moment, she was the Midway.

It was obvious that the attack had sparked some kind of fire in the Engineer. At first, he'd been trying to take the Defiant, aiming at places which would disable the ship with minimal casualties. But they'd crossed a line somewhere and he didn't quite know where or how. His planned attack was one of pure murder. He was focusing the whole of the world-shattering destructive power of a Constitution-class ship on a single point on their sister vessel - the photon torpedo bank, which had both the launchers and the magazine. The chain reaction, if it happened, would be enormous. Even if there was no reaction, it was guaranteed to cost them dearly and take many lives. He hated the idea of killing another sentient life form; but they'd shown their clear intent to kill the crew of the Midway. With an Away team aboard the Defiant, he couldn't run; they had to stand and fight. So he'd make it painful, and make it quick. And, by firing on that one spot, he would stop them from learning how to use an Alpha Strike themselves, since so much of the tactical strength of the ship would be stripped in one single attack.

 

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