Kr'Togr pt.5

Posted on Sat 2nd Sep, 2023 @ 8:24pm by Commodore H'tek
Edited on on Wed 29th Nov, 2023 @ 2:51pm

2,093 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: O' the Cardiff Rose

Previously: https://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/viewpost/2215


-5-

Engineering in many vessels is understood as the beating heart, and a vital defense point. The command points could be seized, power controls, life support, came from the machines here. This very command vessel had made their lives hell, and the payback was glorious. Despite their disadvantage, the boarding party had only taken minimal casualties, keeping the injured stable, as recruiting new crew was the least preferable option. However, the entry was well guarded, a single long corridor, designed to slow progress created a zone of control it would take blood to pierce.

Zakdorn tendencies for strategy had taken this vital defensiveness to an insane degree. creating bottlenecks, switchback routes with sealed corridor bullheads, vented atmosphere, field emitters embedded behind sensor camouflage, holographic counter insurgency protocols… For the intrepid boarders this was a life of adventure or horror, today qualified for the latter. The only advantage left, now that surprise had been spent in the madness of ambush to gain them this precious beachhead, time was the greatest enemy as the sheer crushing number of them would become insurmountable if they didn’t control it.

The gallant Zakdorn understood every bit the importance and fought with calculating precision, executing tactics in firefights many in the raider crew would come to admire and emulate. Two of the Zak defenders were covering one another and moving to new angles, nailing shots and disappearing under the others cover fire. A charge is met with soft space as a change in gravity held the crew back. Improvising on the fly, they responded with an anti gravity freight sled loaded with explosives that was sent barreling down the corridor. In the process of the explosion, intentional debris obstruction occluded the main access suite.

Other, similar strategems as part of a scheme of containment had forced the raiders into a tough spot where they found a fight for their lives had begun. Soon, they would be surrounded, the other hit teams were diversions, any captain would protect their engine rooms first with all they had. Losing here meant losing everywhere. The Captain had ordered restraint, saying that the ship would only come with the grace of a surrender, which was the greater prize. Self destruct or wanton sabotage was the result of they tried to simply take it by force.

Their enemy was showing no mercy, so they could only do their best to follow the contrary orders of taking by force. Rassv was the team leader, a brash Klingon who had long ago traded his soul for profit found little reason to hold to such orders once he had been shot. Armor only took away the lethality, burns, internal damage and all accompanied such lessons. He primed a stun grenade rolling it slowly knowing they’d pick it off as it rolled towards the Engineering defense perimeter. As predicted, it was fired upon, detonating in a solid flash and disguising the second sonic grenade thrown at the flash, when the goggles of the defense teams would be blanched and the split second was available.

Piercing tone vibrated the structure with resonance, despite ear protection both sides of the hallway were trapped in a metal corridor. An Infrasonic grenade made everyone suffer under the brutality of two hundred decibels. Rassv would be near deaf for a few days until the doctor fixed his hearing, recovery from gunshots made for longer recoveries to boot. As well trained as the Zakdorn were, they didn’t have similar resolve or willpower to endure, pain for them was a sign of failure, for allowing your enemy to find a mark. So they fell, screaming as Rassv walked over them in silence stunning by conscious effort to keep the body count low to show he was following orders.

The middle aged brute used hand signals to tell his party to continue on, this final stretch lead to the main entrance, and a collapsed bulkhead sealing the way in. An intentional feature of the emergency bulkheads was that they would fall into place block the passage. For all of their brutality, none could lift the beams especially under fire from the defenders on the other side. Yet another delay would prove their undoing, Rassv sent text to the team line,

Protocol outlined the necessity of replying in the same medium, so Kr’togr sent an ominous reply.

A waving hand prompted Rassv to look towards one of his crew, talking and pointing. The muffled words were meaningless, but the lips and context explained well enough. They were running out of batteries for personal shields. The sonic grenade had depleted the charge doing its job. Soon, armor would be all that was left and it was not sufficient for the force being arrayed against them. Holding this would mean fighting and dying for a cause, something he had no interest in. Surrender wasn’t an option though, so he prepared to fight his way with full force as well.

At a fraction of the sound but ten times as terrifying, a bellow issued out of the besieged depths of the swath carved by the boarders. Their work had been to open the lane, but it was Gurns to open the door.

As if poetry came in bulk form, a thousand moving pieces of flesh and armor shifted over one another to accommodate an impossibly agile and swift warrior. Dressed in the remnants of shuttle craft armor and with a three meter sword, Hell on two feet announced his arrival long before the eyes would see. This allowed the imagination to marinate, to tell their enemy that the troubles up to now had been trivial. It was however a shame they couldn’t hear a damn thing. So it was a rare empathy for them to experience unbridled terror at the footfalls reverberating seconds before Gurn charged a pile of burning metal and twisted bulkheads, moving it with little effort.

Kr’togr was seen shooting bodies on the ground, a stun to keep them down from the looks of it. As a bird in the field feasting on the wake of the combine, the way was clear and the crew opened fire at the newly exposed vein of enemy.

“Rassv, I see you lagging again I’ll let Cid know he can take your job with my blessing.”

Rassv was none the wiser to the rebuke due to his bleeding ears, but took on the energy restored from Gurns charge in a running infuriated rage.

Kr’togr took the lead by simply being there, and his running pace to keep up with Gurn inspired the frenzy to return.

He passed the team, formerly held at the bottleneck entrance, but was soon joined by twenty odd of his crew. A score of men and women. Well armed warriors versus only what was let inside Engineering. Victory was possible, and the prospect of the payoff lifted spirits. Of course there was also the boon of working behind the largest Klingon any of them had ever seen.

Kr’togr took to proclamation as a tactic pressing his advantage with Gurn’s morale churn in effect, “Officers, lay down your weapons and be spared death. Lay them down and know you will be allowed to live and taken to a Federation outpost. If you fight, I tell Gurn here to be less restrained. I tell him to let loose.”

Gurn was no stranger to this moment, terror was a series of smaller scary moments clashing together creating a panic. His captain had used this many times, but never to such an audacious degree, it was a staggering move of hubris. Gurn could appreciate that, so playing his part meant showing them what half of his strength would yield. Let them tremble at the might of their own imagination Words an old friend had spoken to him returned, her gentle manner calming the beast so often. He would feed this machination of nightmares with a visual stimuli.

As the Captain spoke Gurn lifted the red hot wreckage of the fallen girders, plasma and molten slag popping off in fits of sparks. The pendulous Bat’leth still upon his back as the brute had little artistry with the tool and could only rend flesh completely. To spare lives he would be clever and use a blunt tool, and as such swung with glee at huddled defenders whose shots were simply absorbed with his ablative plating armor.

A shot burned him, high powered and sustained. Focus fire from several points gave hope for a split instance of victory, but Gurns support team wasn’t sitting on their hands at this point either. Using what was left of personal shielding, they returned fire, a withering barrage forcing most back into cover. Kelo, a barzanian heiress cheated of her wealth had learned to shoot by hating her husband the thief. She snagged a grenade leaving the hands of a defender sending the besieged defenders to the ground in agony poking a hole in their defenders lines.

“Gurn, clear out, port quarter is open, GO!” Kr’togr grabbed the only defenders with shields left, charging the open port, getting hit twice in his chest on the way. The field emitters in his belt sparked, their capacity exceeded. The remaining energy of the second blast drilled his heart, the aim of the security forces deadly accurate even for Klingon physiology. The heat and loss of heart function dropped the stalwart vagabond to both knees in a gasp.

One of his number lifted him by the shoulders, shouting “Cuk’tal haGij bo!”

It was a reference to the tale of Alloran of Ketha whose heart failed mid duel, but sustained his life long enough to complete the bout with willpower alone. The phrase as translated were his final words, spoken over his slain opponent, “Without pursuit it is over.” Kr’togr accepted the advice using iron resolve to amp his heart into action. Bloodlust was a Klingon gift and burden, today serving as the former. A bestial roar and strong desire to live gave him a pulse as adrenaline surged within his beating heart.

This the line he knew had to be crossed or avoided, wanton death and destruction or the contest of wills between parties fighting to the death. The dead around him were strong incentive to carry through this mission, or the losses would be terminal. Though the goal up to now had been minimal losses to the Zakdorn crew and coerced capitulation, the lives of his crew and the future of this outfit depended on winning.

Gurn had taken up position to launch the glowing orange girder down the throats of seven unlucky engineers. As it flew the final obstacles to their progress forward scattered. The girder bounced off of the core containment field and hit two of the huddled Zak. The Fireteam was right behind him but held the beast back from stepping into a mined floor tile.

Kr’togr his hit communicator stud on his belt while typing command overrides into the Engineering console. The local comms routed to the bridge and he could her Mellikor fighting to get control. These codes had come at a great cost, it was vital they had to use them, “Melli, Engineering is ours for the moment, fix the fire teams to guard our paths in. Linking from primary, give me your codes!”

Mellikor had all of thirty seconds left before the Zak computer rebooted and resumed normal operations. Kr’togr knew the Romulan would come through. The biometric cypher could come in saliva or blood, Mellikor had said.

That would take too long, the half Human decided. Kr’togr pointed his weapons as the core, “Rahnand, we have both come to a truthful point, where you know I’ve played all my cards, and you have a choice. Your crew lives, my crew lives. I lose control, we all die. It’s over. Don’t sacrifice, you told me two thousand crew right? Are they really all to die?”

The computer core clicked on, and consoles repopulated with data but the script was in Romulan. Mellikor had taken the computer over. As a response to this, in only a moment more a voice issued from the bridge of Overseer Ranahnd,

“Overseer’s order. End defensive actions. All boarders know the action is over. Cease hostilities immediately or we will be forced to self-destruct. All hands prepare to depart in emergency vehicles.”

-TBC=

 

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