((USS Albion - Main Bridge))
Taybrim: ::He spared a moment to look back to where Doctor Malcolm was tending Tatash:: How is he, Doctor?
Malcolm: Nothing that can’t be repaired, Sir. Give us a moment.
Tatash: Feel like I’ve got half a console in my back… ::he muttered, shaking his head as the tactical console calmly advised him that the Albion’s weapons were next to useless:: Weapons offline Sir.
::She shook her head and touched her hand to his face, directing it away from his console::
Malcolm: You’re going to have to stop working for a few minutes. Lt.
::He grunted in agreement, his station, at least for the time being little more then a useless sheet of glass.::
Tatash: Understood Doctor, be quick. Don't worry about the pain. Believe me I've had worse.
::He nodded, understanding completely as the Doctor did her best to numb the site of the invading mental, doing his best to relax as she started working on extracting the foreign object::
Tatash: Stings... bit ::he hissed throuh clenched teeth::
Taybrim: =/\= Tactical, Engineering - I want priority on getting the phasers back online. We'll buy you time. =/\= ::A sharp pause, he turned back towards Falcon:: We need time. And weapons.
Falcon: Option two… ::She looked to the viewscreen, and her eyes went wide as an absolutely crazy plan formed in her head..:: We’ve got a whole field of explosives right there. Just have to get Stormcrow into them.
Taybrim: ::He was all ears:: And how do we do that?
Falcon: We don’t need full power, just enough to maneuver. Think of it like… marshal arts. Jujitsu with starships. Stormcrow pushes, we use that force against them and throw them into the field.
Taybrim: So we need to lure him in and push him?
Falcon: I know it’s crazy. Probably the craziest thought I’ve ever had. But it’s the best plan I can make in five seconds. I’m open to any other suggestions.
Nira: Actually... ::Nira finally spoke up, her voice noticeably shaky:: That is not crazy at all! We can use the tractor beam for leverage too... Assuming it's still working.
::He checked the systems. Yes, the tractor beam was working. A plan started to formulate.::
Taybrim: Falcon, get the calculations in for your 'jiu-jitsu' - and make it work. Nira, back her us with sensors and positioning.
Taybrim: Anders, Vondaryan - I need that pulse wave ready as soon as possible! Ready it to fire once the Stormcrow's in position.
::On the viewscreen the Stormcrow banked, coming in hard and fast towards their port again::
Taybrim: Now Falcon! Do it now!
Falcon: oO Close enough! Oo
::Tatash watched, stomach lurching slightly as the asteroid field starting to spin with a tremendous intensity, seemingly distracting him as the pain in his back increased, blood pooling at his feet as he was finally free of it.::
Falcon: Swinging now!
Tatash: Beams primed, I've got them. ::he exclaimed, his console flaring to life as he silently thanked Theo, weapons, all be it limited starting to respond once more::
::The ship practically screamed in protest as her already battered engines were pushed to the limit, the expert guidance of the helm swinging the Stormcrow around them like a prize winning hammer throw.::
Falcon: Ready! Cut tractor!
Tatash: Tractor detatched!
::The tether between them was cut, though Kaitlyn was ready for it. She stepped the power down, freeing it for their hopeful counterattack and allowing their angular momentum to bring their undamaged starboard side to bear. Stormcrow careened toward the field, and had to be far too close to avoid entry.::
Taybrim: Set the pulse wave! Hit him with everyone we can muster!
::With a grim satisfaction the pulses finally went off, for a second the Stormcrows shield seemed to shimmer a bizarre shade of green and blue before dissipating completely, the wave refracting and spreading the energy around until it was next to useless. One hell of a device, one hell of a fine piece of engineering.
One by one the twinkling lights of the Stormcrow started to flicker, sporadic energy surges causing her warp nacelles to flare up and die down as her conduits overloaded, this was it, this was the time, perhaps their only chance.
His fingers drifted over his finally functioning console, blessed by superhuman engineering team with life, cycling the forward torpedo launcher through available munitions as his left hand confirmed and reconfirmed his firing choice selection. The last resort, the one he'd thought up as the one he'd never have to press.
His father had passed down an old military saying to him. "Never has a true Gorn killed in anger". The same icy blood coursing through his veins as the notions of pain, vengeance and treachery left him. There was no anger, only control, calculation and victory. This was the legacy of his people.
The ship barely flinched as a single blue projectile belched from her forward torpedo bay, spearing towards the stricken Stormcrow with a predefined determination, shattering through her main deflector dish like a stone thrown into a crystal lake. Shards splintering off, refracting light as a few lifeboats erupted from the area near her bridge.
For a moment there was silence, all noise around him fading into the background becoming little more then a background hum as he watched for a handful of seconds. The warhead smashing through decks and bulkheads, following it's infallible course to pierce the Stormcrows hallowed heart.
For a heartbeat the rear of the Cheyenne class seemed to compress in on itself, as primordial forces were tortured and compressed in an unholy ritual as the zero-point quantum warhead detonated, energies being focused and shaped into a deadly charge.
Finally, a blister of a white-hot energy shattered outwards, peeling the engineering section apart like an over-ripe fruit, decks and plating flayed off while her quadruple nacelles tore themselves from their moorings and spun towards the minefield like hellish fireworks, each one attracting the attention of the reactivated field adding to the hellscape before them.
The Stomcrow continued to twist, her back broken, groaning in her death throes as those terrible, unfathomable forces destroyed her leaving the broken saucer flung against an asteroid like it was hit by a deity angered by her crews treacherous folly.
A moment passed, the fires dying down as oxygen was rapidly consumed, leaving only twisted metal and scorched ceramics drifting through a cloud of dead plasma. Finally, the Gorn spoke up. There was no anger in his voice, no sense of victory or appreciation, just an icy confirmation of the Armageddon just unleashed::
Tatash: Target destroyed. Three lifeboats, life-signs aboard.
SB 118 Operations