The Unlikely Savior, Part 3

Posted on Thu 28th Apr, 2022 @ 11:44pm by Captain Jason Harrington & Exo-Comp EXQT
Edited on on Mon 2nd May, 2022 @ 12:03am

1,353 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: A Good Day to Hunt
Location: Antero
Timeline: MD 2, 0035

Previously ...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I have an itchy trigger finger and will be more than happy to send you to Sto'Vo'Kor or Hell, whichever one you deserve the most." Jason figured he would probably be going to the latter one. He stood about three meters in front of K'or and had his remaining phaser trained on him, still set to kill. He wasn't eager to kill the Klingon, just to give him an honorable death; however, he was ready to defend himself and his ship if there was no other choice.

{Antero Bridge}

K'or looked at the Human with utter contempt, wondering if the thin sickly man in front of him had it in him to fire. The two shots he had taken already hurt, one of his hearts had stopped beating for a moment there. The Cardio-auto resuscitation was a Klingon trait and it hurt like Hell. His personal field emitters still hummed, recharging from the battery on his belt. It was a gamble if he could take another shot, but K'or lived for these perilous moments.

He lunged, for all intents a good, worthy attempt. Fleet of foot and swift to move, he juked out of the line of fire albeit briefly, to fling the D'ktahg strapped to his forearm, letting the blade fly to slice the hand holding the phaser. The knife was badly thrown, however, as a disruptor blast rocked K'or's senses from behind him. The ground betrayed him as fire rose, lightning spat from the downed Trill, and the Klingon had but one moment for a final thought as the energies disintegrated him, "The Trill? How a Trill Killed me?!"

K'or vanished finally, Anslo was on the ground with a disruptor trained on Jason.

Anslo aimed with an earnest eye on the man, the other taking in telemetry from the console he grabbed to raise himself up. "Drop your weapon, and I'll drop mine. We can save each other's lives here, ok?"

Jason shook his head as he applied pressure to the trigger button on his phaser. Just the slightest pressure more would activate the beam of energy that would certainly kill his adversary. "You drop your weapon and I will accept your surrender. Refuse and I will kill you without hesitation."

Anslo counted the seconds before J'ala could fire again, there was no time! He kept the weapon leveled at Jason, speaking quickly.

Partial truths boosted the efficacy of total lies. "Captain, I'm your only shot at surviving this. You shoot me; they kill you anyways. I shoot you; they kill me for fun. I'm a slave, you get it? This is my chance as much as yours, and I want to live!"

"That sounds like a pretty good reason for you to drop your weapon and surrender, wouldn't you agree?" Jason replied.

Anslo chuckled in a grim manner, shaking his head in a "No." His aim was steady and he made sure the little bot wasn't creeping on him with a side glance. "I'm not interested in trading masters today. I just sabotaged my own fireteam here, trusting you'd recognize my intent is to escape their ship. I'm not lowering my damn weapon. I'm not being taken prisoner, so really, Captain, what happens next is up to you!"

Jason shook his head slowly as he realized that the man in front of him didn't have the vision that he'd thought he did, "We could have made some type of arrangement after we were safely away from the battle, and I can't risk you taking over my ship." Jason squeezed the trigger on his weapon, releasing its fury streaming towards its intended target.

Anslo had led many raids before this one and had been at this point before. Captains always shot to kill on their bridges, there was always a command lockout, they always fought to the death if you made them. It was so much easier to have them surrender, or to gain their trust. His aim was true, firing back in response to the minuscule difference in the captain as he finished the simple statement. Anslo wore body armor and a personnel shield so far untested; a gamble, but one he had made before. Anslo's response fire was at the hand that bit him.

Jason's beam nailed Anslo in the chest, and the heat was nearly murderous of itself, the driving force pushing him back against the facing side of a console. His shot impacted the hand and phaser of Jason Harrington, but he lost track past that, trying not to fall to his knees. It was all he could do to keep his footing. The gun dropped as consciousness faded. Biting his tongue severely gave a minor jolt, and his eyes never closed fully. Breath control resumed; his gun hand held steady. A moment passed where Anslo was forced to consider. J'ala had forced him to this desperate end, trapped between a killer phaser beam and an impossible escape. J'ala would kill them any moment, if he was to live this ship was no longer a possibility. It didn't matter anymore what happened to this ship or the bots, if it was all about to be destroyed.

Anslo operated the console, trying to set up intraship beaming. Another computer user kept scrambling his commands. He would need Jason after all.

"Captain, as I was saying--"

Sound engulfed him. Vibrations in his teeth set fillings on nerve edge and his eyes closed in vain to stop the noise invading every cell. Nothing mattered, only the sounds of his ears splitting and awful throbbing, rushing sounds replacing a wail which traveled across the octaves in pitch and tones beyond anyone's range of hearing. It was the very god of noise itself. His desperate transport commands were allowed through but with an edit on destination. Anslo would be going home to J'ala, not the shuttle-bay of Antero, a gift from Peggy, who just wanted the man gone. Never reincorporating his molecules would have been a matter of overriding system safeties, but Peggy hadn't considered it. Anslo was a dangerous man but had always treated the bots like they were intelligent and with respect.

Anslo dissolved into light and disappeared from the bridge, new adventures to come for him.

The lethal beam from the disruptor was not enough to kill Jason or disintegrate him into oblivion, but his phaser and his hand were gone. Just a smoldering stump where his hand had been. Jason grabbed his arm with his one remaining hand and dropped to his knees in agonizing pain. He began to go into shock, nearly completely unaware of his surroundings, but then the wailing came, unbearable wailing, and then the darkness overtook him.

{Engineering}

Zombie had depleted itself of power but communicated the status to the the rest. Peggy and Nessy were focused on freeing Miarau, cutting through the corridor walls rather than clearing the much heavier caved-in debris. The scene on the bridge hit its zenith, so Peggy, in a moment of pure command, ordered Banshee to do its namesake battle cry, piping it into audio registers, sparing the room Miarau was trapped in. Four other Klingon boarders had made their way to an empty engineering room but found the confinement fields fed directly by the ship's reactor. Their route would take them opposite of Miarau by Peggy's careful design. They wouldn't separate, so Peggy simply vented atmosphere and locked doors. The boarders only barely managed to don respirators.

These respirators had earphones, and once strapped to their heads, Banshee's wail came over comms. Careful not to blow out the speakers, they cusped the audio capability in an ear-bleeding manner nonetheless.

Miarau was spared the worst of it, but the harmonic vibrations of the ship's hull transmitted the siren wail nonetheless, albeit muffled. Sparks flew in the maintenance bay bulkheads as the cutting beams finally pierced the tritanium cortenide.

Peggy and Nessy came through small holes just larger than they were. Nessy had a generic robot voice, devoid of programming. "Miarau Merel are you injured?"

-TBC-

 

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