JP Lt.Cmrds T'Lea and Indobri - Kidnapped! Part 3

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doggybunbun

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Feb 16, 2021, 7:57:10 AM2/16/21
to USS Juneau – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG

Part 3

 

((Lightside station – Kensale Shuttle – Dock C-83))

 

Hurried urgency drove the Betazoid into his seat, and since launch had already been approved for the test flight, he completed the task without delay.  In a matter of short seconds the Kinsale luxury transport was up and away from the station with haste.

 

For a short moment Marot sighed in relief and shook out his bruised wrist.  The hybrid from hell had nearly broken it.  He rubbed at his neck, and then shifted uncomfortably in his seat, recalling the unpleasant pressure applied to both areas during the struggle.  Content that he had avoided any further obstacles, thanks to the Rodulan, Marot relaxed and set the flight plan to warp out.

 

All was well, until the alarms on his helm controls started wailing.  A vicious swear word spat across his lips and he frantically tried to work around the problem that had been triggered when warp attempted to initiate.  Major relay systems must have shorted out when the phaser discharged into the console.  It looked like a good portion of the helm and propulsion system was fried.  That b*tch of a hybrid was a pain in the ass even when stunned, he thought.

 

Computer:  Warning unsafe atmospheric entry in twenty seconds.

 

Marot:  Atmosph—

 

He ripped his eyes from the damaged flight controls and saw a sight that made his facial features drop in horror.  The planet near Lightside station was fast approaching on a deadly course.

 

Marot:  Computer correct flight path to two-one-nine-three.

 

The computer chirped at the request, and Marot hoped.

 

Computer: Unable to comply.

 

Marot:  Frak!

 

He jumped out of his seat and took the co-pilot's chair thinking that maybe the singed components hadn’t traveled that far.  Desperate to find a solution before they burned up in the planet’s atmosphere, Marot tried the other flight console.  The response there was hardly any better.

 

Marot:  C’mon you piece of dren…

 

Computer:  Warning unsafe atmospheric entry in fifteen seconds.

 

Marot:  I know!  I know!  Shut up!

 

In a last ditch effort he split the working parts of each station between the co-pilot and pilot’s consoles.  A sputtering impulse engine responded to the course correction.

 

Computer: Warning unsafe atmospheric entry in nine seconds.

 

Marot:  No, no, no…

 

With the shuttle beginning to quake, he stretched over to the co-pilot’s console and clamored to make the correction again.  His wrist burned from the previous abuse, and his heart pounded in terror as the shuttle descended on a kamikaze dive toward the planet’s ozone layer.

 

Computer: Trajectory accepted.  Warning unsafe atmospheric entry in three, two-

 

Marot:  ::spoken super-fast::  Computer send out a distress signal on back channel Beta-three.  Secure it.

 

He didn’t want Starfleet picking it up, and he knew his contact was close.

 

He thought he heard the computer’s chirpy little reply, but couldn’t be certain as he fell into the chair closest to him.  The G-forces pulled him into the seat as the shuttle made fiery contact with the atmosphere.  He had been able to coax the flight path a little, but the craft was going to take a beating.  Lucky for him and his unconscious passengers on board, the planet’s ozone layer had been depleted enough to not be quite as deadly as it could have been in times past. Still, it was no joy ride and the shields were taking the brunt of the punishment.

 

Suddenly, the white hot flames parted and the abysmal landscape of the planet came into view.

 

Computer:  Shields holding at thirty-seven percent.  Impact in twenty-four seconds.  Course correction advised.

 

Marot:  No kidding!

 

He strained against the forces pushing him back and managed to get to his feet.  Dividing his efforts between the two consoles, he was able to pull the nose of the vessel up at a more friendly angle to the rapidly approaching ground.

 

Marot:  Reverse thrusters.  Initiate.  C’mon.  Initiate!

 

Computer: Impact in twelve seconds.

 

The nightmare roller coaster ride just didn’t seem to end for Marot.  He had escaped the frying pan, and now he was about to land right in the fryer.  One more system reroute and he tried again as the view grew into a ruined planet, ravaged by the careless toxic neglect of its past occupants.

 

Computer:  Reverse thrusters engaged.

 

It was a small triumph as the shuttle slowed shortly before impact.  The vessel skipped like a stone across rough waters.  The shields shimmered as the ground made contact.  Huge plumes of ashen-dirt erupted as the craft rolled out of control and landed upside down in a camouflage of ancient city remains and a peculiar contaminant of overgrowth.

 

Quiet settled across the abandoned land once more.  And an eerie stillness gripped the battered transport vessel.

 

TBC in Part 4

Lieutenant Commander T’Lea 

Trouble-maker Extraordinaire!

Historian/Archaeology Specialist 

USS Juneau

Author ID I238301T10

 

&

 

Lt Commander Karise Indobri, MD

Chief Medical Officer

USS Juneau NX-99801

A239412S10

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