Rescue!

Posted on Sun 15th Dec, 2024 @ 5:08pm by Commodore H'tek & Commander Heriah Rex & Izwyx 'Lo

2,343 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: The Phoenix Gamble
Location: Deep inside Former Romulan Territory

Previously… https://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/viewpost/2371

-Start-

{Runabout Akita}

Liza Hannahm of the small workhorse runabout Akita was monitoring the feeds so closely she had forgotten the unfortunate tendency of her partners humming and singing to help soothe his nerves. She heard the tunes and sung out loud, “Ten little Runabouts all jumping on a bed, one fell off and broke his head…”

Grantham stopped, looking back in bemusement at the co-pilots raised eyebrow fixed stare, “Sorry.”

She shook her head in faux dismay, surprising him with “We took them to the Doctor and the Doctor said!?”

He laughed, tensions broken and fingers relaxed on controls a bit. The last half hour had seen them moving at Warp 9.4, much faster than these tugs could achieve on their own. The lead ship pulled the second place ship at full burn to redline and then took the end spot to be dragged and recover. The process was not for faint of heart and at these speeds leapfrogging and towing with tractor beams was perilous at best.

“Thirty second to Freighter contact Liza, prepare Tachyons for deploy.”

The two shared a look, before making their final preparations. They carried four micro torpedoes, and an extra capacitor to feed the shields and give them a little more staying power. It was moot though, against the Raider they lacked the ability to inflict much true damage.

“Lily in Foxhound will be in front, I bet she timed that.”

He agreed, “She seems the type, ten seconds!”

The runabouts tore through space in a parade, arriving with fanfare to see the defunct freighter Xon Halliar venting gas and under tow. The Runabout Foxhound sent an open channel query to the owner of the freighter but got nothing in return. They all arrived within moments of each other, but none of them got any answers.

Liza was able to break the spell, and initiated their plan. “Team, coordinate tractor pulls. Disrupt the Romulan beam, do not shear the hull, coordinate with everyone not just your partner!”

The freighter was huge, easily three times the tonnage of the little runabouts, they couldn’t win a tug of war, but the name of the game was to buy time for the Thunderchild to make a splash. Ten Runabouts, selected from the rugged workers pool and geared for action took their places and locked on, a low energy tug, spread the beam effect as far across as the hull was shaped to allow. The effect was immediate, and now linked the whole procession slowed, the warp field stressed and nearly Collapsed. Were it not for the powerful warship tugging it along and juicing the freighters warp field with its own.

Over the comms ‘Wasserhund’ sent word on its update in sequence after their predecessor, “We’re at warp 2.6 equivalent, and falling, systems nominal-“

The message was truncated as the 'Wasserhund' was destroyed in a single blast. A 1/8 yield plasma disruptor bolt was brutal overkill, and the explosive result popped the shields of ‘Kubasz’ simply at proximity. The Romulan ship managed to fire off several smaller energy canon as they reduced power load simultaneously to dropping their cloak. A medium sized raiding destroyer type vessel, it would be no match for a Galaxy class starship, nor even the Akira class Thunderchild. This Shrike Raider was a wolf, and did outmatch the Runabouts hands down. Small craft fighters needed powerful shielding to survive plasma disruption bolts, and though their fleet was maximizing their shield output, the raider could scale to match.

Liza called the orders from the ‘Akita’, modified especially for communications and cloak detection.

“Formation, Wing 1 on me, evasive!”

They abandoned the pull, as did the Raider. Nine small craft split directions, and the disruptor shots missed their marks. The runabouts were nimble enough to evade fire at range, but could be corralled into overlapping fire fields.

Their plan called for this, and they used the freighter as cover, regrouping into a Lance formation skirting the shadow of the Xon Halliar. Each Runabout had to make a run on the Raider. The last one would rear face fire to disable the freighter, so it couldn’t power its own kidnapping. Once they delivered their payloads it was maximum distance harassment.

The runabouts regrouped with a planned efficiency, towing larger ships was part of their training as well the maneuvers necessary. The Shrike brought its forward plasma weapon into firing arcs but their targets had spread out to begin their attack run, forcing disruptor beams instead. Single beams from the Shrike didn't hit anyone as all eight runabouts fired off their micro torpedos to coalesce at the same spot. A single fully charged phaser shot coordinated onto the shields made a path for their torpedoes to follow.

Thirty two impacts did the job well enough, and through compromised shields, seven pierced through to impact on direct hull. Internal damage and structural collapse of one of their decks made it apparent the damage had been done, but that maneuver and team fire was the only heavy guns they had. Their goal was to keep the freighter alive and hold for their mothership now.

Luck held for the moment as they all switched to aft shielding reinforcement, using their extra power pack to make it sturdy. Four beams struck four of the retreating runabouts, blowing out shield emitters but not crippling the whole ship. Those ones peeled away, to attempt to regenerate some of their shielding. Ensign Liza Milsough called more orders, “Let’s put the Yorkie, Dogue, Airedale, and Malamute up front, swap to fore shielding drop non essentials and reinforce we might can buy a shot. Squad, Line up behind them for the rest of us. We are doing another flyby, overcharge lance strips, drag at indicated points.”

Targeting solutions came to being as Liza input them, “Get in line, fall off if impacted, evasive theta-Bravo. Mark!”

Nine Runabouts in a row fired their phasers at the Romulan shield emitters, dragging a three second pulse from shields to engines. Tragically, their opponent had foreseen this and shored up their own deflectors. With their evasive scatter already under way, four beams coalesced to two targets, and the Anatolian took its second shot, vaporizing in a puff. Kuvasz had already suffered ancillary damage as well, and though the two Shrike beams didn't land squarely, it blew out their main systems and the runabout was adrift.

Liza hated it, but they didn't have the capacity to rescue anyone from their team, dropping shields was out of the question. She saw the blessing awaiting them only two minutes away at present speeds. They could hold the line, with seven, with five, even if she had to go it alone. There was no way these colonists would be dragged into the black inky depths of space if she had breath left in her.

“Regroup, single fire team, evasive and recovery, use Xon Halliar as cover! Do not let them reacquire tractor lock, that is out goal! Stay alive, and be clever for two minutes, help is coming!

{SS Suv’Wi}

H’tek’s flagship had once been a dread pirates dream, with everything from creaky floorboards, mysterious decks, a blackened desolate motif… even the green light of the bare plasma flames was apropos. With their recent restoration of his mental acuity and the return of his fleet and support lines the Iconic K’vort class Heavy Cruiser had never seen better days. The ship was geared for war for the Dominion, and given all the upgrades the lat 24th century had to offer. When he took the ship he knew it might be obsolete one day, but until then it was a silent killer.

Anslo sat at his side, ready to report but wisely waiting for H’tek to acknowledge the man first.

“Tu’Quo Anslo?”

“Maj, we are seeing runabouts from the Star Cradle vessel interfere with the G’konns attempt. It is likely the Thunderchild will be able to arrive in time.”

H’tek knew the Akira class was able to outgun him, but this was a perfect situation for an ambush predator such as he.

“Let’s leave a surprise for them in their path. You get to use one of those cloaking devices I told you we needed today!” He smiled a toothy grin, “And Prepare a boarding party!”

The distress call from the Raider was a foolish move by over ambitious amateurs, nobody but a worse foe could respond out here. H’tek was not afraid of the Tal Shiar, taking this prize was how the game was played. They’d retaliate in some fashion and so forth, the dance of profit and loss was an old one. However he saw this play out in a certain way that was favorable. First, the Shrike raider, a fine acquisition to the Second Sons Pirate outfit. Next was the freighter, a fortune in black markets in so many ways. Then if he could dare to dream, disabling the Ticonderoga and sacking it would line the coffers on this prize.

It was the thought of the Thunderchild which gave him the raised hairs on his neck. If they could disable that damned vessel, the Second Sons would enjoy a week of unmolested operations. If they destroyed it, a stronger vessel would come along, so it had to be disabled.

“Anslo prepare the Isolytic charge, rip them out of warp and rend Subspace in their area so they cannot escape except through Impulse. The invisible flames will compel their crew as the radiations cook them. They will be forced to abandon ship, leave it to drift for them to retrieve it. Today will be a very profitable day if we can manage it.”

The Trill hated it when H’tek got ambitious. The scope of this heist kept growing. Still, the mad Klingon had done impossible feats too many times to call him incompetent or truly insane. The plan was sound, so Anslo nodded to his Captain, “It will be done.”

He left the bridge, uncertainty creeping into his mind. He had only ever fought with Trill agents. When Anslo fled Trill, the Symbiosis commission authorized government sanctioned hit squads to come after him. He had never had to fight or kill Starfleet up to this point. The time with H’tek had been necessary, he was impossible to track and oddly loyal. H’tek defended Anslo’s life in many ways out of a sense of co-dependency and it worked.

As Anslo pieced the cloak from two dozen years ago onto the Isolytic compound, he realized he was making a weapon that was a true violation of Khitomer accords and international treaty. This felt like a Rubicon, as if he could see there was the line in the sand where he was truly lost, and this was it.

The cloak worked perfectly on such a small device. Anslo listened to the squirming in his gut, Tol. The symbiont was begging him not to do this.

With little other options, Anslo did the only thing to make sense. In the power cell, he disrupted the cloaks recharging cycle, not enough to notice for the next twenty minutes, but after they left it behind it would be detectable. Suddenly the weight was lessened. The Thunderchild had been their bane for so long, but murdering a whole crew was simply not an option. Anslo would run from the hitmen on an open street if he had to but this wasn’t something he could live with. Anslo also adjusted the charge yield, minimizing the real world impact, but significantly increasing the subspace impact. It would give the crew a fighting chance to escape, the ship would be able to navigate free on autopilot thrust.

Despite all these self assurances, Anslo felt terrible. He had once worn that uniform, it was the Trill which betrayed him, not Starfleet.

“Commander?” The engineer assigned to the armory looked to the strange device Anslo held. Tol gave more advice in a wordless expression, “There shouldn’t be witnesses, get out of there.”

Anslo left without comment, tossing a cloth over the heavy yet compact device. He also made a mental note to cover his tracks later by erasing security footage. He made his way to the aft torpedo bay, usually reserved for specialist tube launches. Two ‘la stood on duty alert. Anslo waved them off, directing one to open the access port for the readied torpedo.

The charge fit neatly, Klingon torpedoes were built for variable charge capacity and had the means to be upgraded like this on the fly. After a moment more, the cloak was installed. Anslo stared at the item of mass destruction, unwilling to commit. The die had been cast, he had given the Thunderchild a chance.

Anslo closed the torpedo. He motioned for it to be loaded, and programmed guidance to navigate into the Thunderchilds path. With one last measure, he told it to detonate at .25 LY, reasoning if H’tek asked it could be answered to give the subspace effects a chance to spread over a greater area. At .1 LY the spread wasn’t large, but the heat was concentrated.

Anslo had never felt more conflicted than this to date. What was his life worth really, compared to their whole crew complement?

Tol intoned wordlessly as a monk might simply stare while communicating profound depths, “You feel less guilt when the ones you righteously oppose come for you. These people are not coming for you, but to save others. You are conflicted, because you are moral.”

H’tek made the decision, “Torpedo Control, authorization to fire when Anslo completes modifications.”

The two ‘la in the room stepped up to carry out their duty, and Anslo knew he was done here. Out of control of this perilous scene, Anslo realized his days were numbered here. Returning to the bridge he felt the launch and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t stay here. Safe wasn’t enough.

-TBC-

 

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