Lt. Jg. Mi'shune sh'Sonora - Seat Belts Everyone!
d.reinhart
sh’Sonora: Sir, I recommend overwatch. They may need more than an emergency dustoff.
Ysatch: Our remaining torpedoes are good to launch, but we do not have power for phasers. I can try and find some, but we may have to make some choices about what systems we do and don't need to get it.
Overzealousness set aside, Mi’shune saw her initial reaction to be foolhardy. Why, she thought to herself, was her first instinct when others were on the line was to run towards the danger rather than away from it? Every evolutionary theorist from T’Pammu to Darwin would be shaking their heads at the life and times of Clan Sonora’s misfit prodigal daughter.
Foster, in her mind, proved to have the keener survival instinct.
Foster: We’re going to need transporters for sure, we need to get our teams back. And shields – because while we confirmed loss of power on that Marauder, it’s hull was intact and we don’t know if the crew is trying to repair it, or if they had an escape plan or another ship.
So she had a job. Keep the Maximum Thrusters from not scrambling her teammate’s molecules across the sector through the combination of an untimely move and an oncoming disaster. Play it safe. Keep the ship steady. And keep her eyes and antennae open to danger.
Ysatch: Transporter lock on all three initiated. Ready to energize on your command, Captain.
McLaren: =/\= Thrusters, you still out there? =/\=
Foster: Hold on that for a moment, let me take this call.
Foster: =/\= Hey Pidgeon, we’re still alive. How are you guys? =/\=
McLaren: =/\= Things are fine on this end... the mining rig is gone... but we've got a group of about thirty Temurians that we're going to deliver to their outpost... How about on your end?=/\=
Foster: =/\= We disabled the Marauder with their own mine field. Wait until you see the log data! =/\=
McLaren: =/\= Sounds like you guys punched well above your weight... =/\=
Foster: =/\= That is one way to put it. We’re at the outpost now, we could pick up your refugees and get them back for you – that would keep you mobile. What else do you have on your docket after dropping off the refugees? =/\=
McLaren: =/\= I don't know... I was thinking about taking a nap after dropping this group off... unless you'd like my team somewhere else... =/\=
He thought about that and his previous paranoid sprang up again.
Foster: =/\= We didn’t destroy that marauder. The crew had to go somewhere and they were close enough to the planet for an evacuation. Can you do a flyby, see if there’s life signs down there – or any evidence of where they went? =/\=
McLaren: =/\= Sounds good. Out. =/\=
He looked towards the two intrepid officers on his bridge.
Foster: Well, that’s good news. Before we leave to play schoolbus, let me see if Ross’ team is ok.
sh’Sonora: Roger that!
Foster: =/\= Thrusters to Ross. We read a power surge – are you guys OK down there? =/\=
Ross: =/\= ?
Foster: =/\= Alright, had to check to make sure.=/\= ::he paused a moment and added:: =/\=
Also, Pidgeon rescued about thirty Temurians from the Nybarrite mining rig, we’re going to bring them back to the camp, if you can let our Temurian contact know. =/\=
Ross: =/\= ?
Staying still with the ‘ambush me’ course and speed, still and steady so as not to screw up the dust off, was, for the excitable Andorian, more excruciating than actual combat. She didn’t like standing still. She didn’t like being patient. Her instinct were to do, to act, to attack! As one uncomfortable with playing the bit in someone else’s drama, Starfleet disciplinary training worked overtime to keep the Andorian pilot in check.
Foster’s orders came as a relief. Finally, she could do something!
Foster: Ok, Mi’sh, plot a course to rendezvous with the Pidgeon, and try to keep us under the cover of the asteroids.
sh’Sonora: Aye yay, captain! Plotting course around the ferrous asteroid. It’s a roundabout way, but we should minimize detection and avoid any remaining mines. We’ll rendezvous in three minutes.
Foster: Tori, keep an eye on sensors. See if you can get a read on what’s left of the Marauder – or a heads up if anything else is hiding in this system.
Ysatch: The Marauder is still adrift. Either they are truly dead in the water or the crew has abandoned ship. I'm not picking up anything else, and I really hope that stays the case because I don't think we can pull off another duel.
Mi’shune felt a smug satisfaction on hearing the Marauder’s status.
sh’Sonora: oO Teach you to play dead and fight dirty, bastards. Oo
Foster: Exactly. We’re not in great shape, we don’t have phasers, and we have to pick between transporters or shields. So bluster mode is done. Now we’re on silent running.
Ysatch: Easier said than done. This ship was not built to keep a low profile.
sh’Sonora: It was also meant to haul low volume cargos at high speed, for all the good that did it.
Foster: I know we don’t have a cloak, but what else can we do to dampen our energy signals?
Ysatch: Well the warp core being offline actually works in our favor here, but the impulse engines are pretty big flares. ::to Mi'shune:: Do we have enough inertia to meet the Pigeon rendezvous? If so, we could cut our engines completely and coast there.
Mi’shune’s antennae quivered. This was actually part of her skill set.
sh’Sonora: Newton’s third law of Motion, Ensign. I just need one good burst and I can float at more or less the same speed. We’re less reliant on the continual ejection of propelled ions than you think. ::Tapping away at her console, she presented a map of the local asteroid field, tracing a finger around a newly generated path.:: Do a burst out all the aft thrusters right between these three asteroids and I can coast with the occasional course correction with our direction thrusters while minimizing our chances of detection. Only one problem… we need a little more power to do so. Thrusters aren’t meant to shoot starships at impulse speeds.
Or any speed beyond relativistic scales. Ion thrusters of the 24th century were efficient for their power to weight ratio, but to push the Maximum Thrusters at a speed that wasn’t going to take them several days to get where they needed to go was asking a lot, that was, if she had the deft touch enough not to blow them out the aft section like a badly lit roman candle.
Naturally, Ysatch Tori had an equally insane plan to indulge Mi’shune’s reckless flying.
Ysatch: ::sharp intake of breath:: The navigational deflector. Even with shields down, it's pushing out a force field to block micrometeors and other astral debris from hitting the hull. Combined with the warp core being offline and the impulse engines going dark, turning it off would take us off the board for most tactical sensors.
sh'Sonora: I mean… yes, we COULD do that. And yes, the hull COULD handle a few micrometeorite impacts, but I won’t lie, we’d be one golden BB of a meteor impact away from sucking space vacuum with our Orion counterparts over there.
Ysatch: No sugar-coating, it's a huge risk. We'll take some hits, probably a hull breach. But want to disappear? Warp core, engines, deflector all gotta go.
sh'Sonora: ::shrugs:: I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t normally recommend it, but we’re in no shape to fight, and if they have backup I’m sure they’ll be plenty pissed off and not so easy to trick. I say we go for it.
Foster: ?
Catching her flight helmet by the toe of her boot, Mi’shune kicked it up in the air and caught it in her hand. She spoke as she fitted the helmet on and zipped up her flight suit.
sh’Sonora: Then seat belts, helmets, and EVA suits on, everyone. You’re not gonna like flight without the inertial dampers online, much less getting sucked through a latinum-slip sized hole in the hull while being turned into the universe’s goriest sausage. Happy thoughts now! Here we go!
Nudging the Maximum Thrusters into position, Mi’shune began to slowly power down all the non-vital systems, one by one, the steady drop less noticeable than the instant blip of vanishing power signatures. A puff of the dorsal thrusters launched the souped-up transport vessel like a champagne cork in the starry, rock-strewn sky. She saw it all in her head, confirmed by the sensor screens what her raw memory told her. Drifting upwards, the shadows of massive asteroids filling up the ship’s canopy, blotting out the natural light of the Temurian sun.
Then, she was kicked back into her seat, her flight suit pressing hard against her ribs as the aft thrusters shot the vessel forth in a synchronized burst. This was it, naked, unaltered flight.
sh’Sonora: Yaaahhhoooo!!!
Any: ?
She nudged the flight stick out of the path of an oncoming asteroid, feeling the kick of g-forces to her side as the vessel nudged. Pops and pings in the hull told the young pilot she was being peppered by space dust and pebbles. Nothing yet to be worried about… yet.
Then, a ping off her canopy. A spider-web of cracked transparent aluminum spread across, growing by the second. A welling of panic grew from her stomach up into a heavy lump in her throat.
sh’Sonora: ::The artificial antennae from her flight helmet point towards the growing crack.:: I can’t take my hands off the stick! Can someone take care of that for me?
Any: ?
She put trust in her compatriots, her hands unyielding as the flight stick bucked against her, the thruster controls played like a pianist’s concerto, puffs here and there to weave between the asteroids.
Until she saw the silhouette of the Angry Pigeon on her screen.
sh’Sonora: Made it! YES!
Any: ?
TBC
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tags/tbc
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Lieutenant jg. Mi’shune sh’Sonora
Helm Officer
Starbase 118 - Ops Department
O240208MS1