A Warrior’s Welcome Part lll

Posted on Tue 27th Aug, 2019 @ 9:11pm by 2nd Lieutenant Carlos Vasquez & Krell House of Mer'uk
Edited on on Sat 21st Sep, 2019 @ 12:06am

874 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Unknown System not far from SB109
Timeline: MD 6, 1430

Old:

The Bej’joq spun slowly and appeared to be off kilter. The lights flickered and then went out. Red emergency lighting kicked in as the ship began to fill with smoke.

New:

A bloody glove reached up and grabbed the console and the Warrior slowly rose from the floor of the ship that was now a mess. Krell coughed and wiped the blood from his eyes that interfered with his vision. “Status on our enemies?”

“We have no sensors, but at the time of impact the other ship was coming apart, so it should be destroyed.”

“Weapons?” Krell asked.

“Gone....”

“Shields?” he asked.

“Gone.”

“Engines?” Krell asked once more.

“Gone! We are limited to thrusters and battery back up. We do have life support.”

“Very well, send out an emergency distress call and fire up those thrusters and get us on station keeping," Krell ordered. He saw the sensors during the battle and noticed that there were Federation ships close by. Perhaps, if there were any more of his enemy out there, they would defend the Bej’joq.

"Annnd ... there it is," Carlos said under his breath as the distress call came through. "Not only loco, but distressed now. Hind One, Hind Two--You think our five tractor beams can tug that Vor'cha into port?"

"Worth a try," Brandt answered with a shrug. "I'll check with the Major. Maybe she's close enough to help ... or someone is."

"Aardvark Actual, Hind One," Darrell sent. "We're thinking we can try tractoring that big bird in toward base. They don't seem to have coms, but the distress signal is loud and clear. Orders?"

"Hind One, Butch," the Major answered, using her personal call sign instead of the positional one she'd used earlier. "The other CAP unit is swinging wide to determine if there are more tangos. I'll get a couple of yard tug boats out to you. ETA about twenty mikes. Can you stay on station until they arrive and escort them back to harbor?"

"Butch, Hind One. Affirmative. I repeat affirmative. Better idea, anyway," he said, knowing she would hear the amusement in his voice. "Hind One out."

"Butch, Hind Two. Happy to wait for vessels with real tractor power," Carlos replied. "Breaking right."

"So answer me this riddle," Darrell posed to Carlos. "1 +3 -3 = what was the point of that little exercise?"

"Brah, you're asking me to do math?" Carlos shot back. He scanned for damage on the starboard side of the Bej'joq and shook his head. "That was a costly little exercise--three, maybe four ships that are now toast, and God only knows how many were killed. If there was a point to this stir-up, it makes no sense to me. Why waste three ships and their crews, when one good assassin is all you need?"

"Ouch! That hurt!" Darrell laughed, pointing his sensors in a different direction as he continued to circle the Klingon ship. "You have one devious mind, fella."

"Comes from playing too much Runequest," Carlos said. "You ought to join our game sometimes. There's pizza!"

"Pizza?" Dribbler asked from the EW bird. "I'm in."

"Also," HighTop added, "remember that, even though you're on the squadron push, Butch is listening to everything."

---

Krell was under a console working on sensors as the Chief Engineer approached him with his damage report, “Captain Krell,” he said to get the ambassador’s attention.

Krell, still on his back, moved his head enough to see who was talking. “Yes?”

“We can have main power in two hours, Impulse drive in eight hours and with only one nacelle, we can have warp two in sixteen hours,” the engineer briefed him.

The captain nodded and went back to work on his task as the engineer walked away with lots of work to do.

After fifteen minutes, Krell had managed to get the external sensors online. He stood and glanced at the helmsman, “Check your sensors and tell me what you detect.”

The Klingon studied his reading, “I’m detecting a large debris field all around the ship and two Federation fighters circling us.”

“Hail them,” Krell ordered.

“Channel open.”

=^=This is Captain Krell of the Bej’joq. We are requesting assistance if you are able to provide it, or possibly contact SB109 for assistance. We have wounded and the ship is damaged. We currently have thrusters only.=^=

"No shit, Sherlock," Carlos muttered, but he kept his communicatgions off so Fleas could speak to the Bej'joq without interference.

In the EW bird, Fleas cued up the channel. "Roger that, Bej'joq," he said, only slightly mangling the Klingon pronunciation. "This is Lieutenant Love of the circulating aerospace patrol. We are aware of your situation, and yard tugs are on their way. Do you require immediate medical evacuation for any of your injured personnel?"

=^=I have many wounded requiring immediate medical attention=^= Krell said.

"Roger, Bej'joq. I'm tracking a fast shuttle en route with triage and emergent treatment personnel," Fleas responded. "Estimated time of arrival, five minutes. Is your shuttle bay functional, or shall I instruct them to transport aboard?"

=A=Shuttle bay is out of commission, so everything will have to be by transporter.=A= Krell replied.

 

RSS Feed