Lt. Commander Foster - A Little Bit of Victory!
Jamie LeBlanc
((Somewhere in the Temurian Asteroid Field, MFT Maximum Thrusters))
Things were coming together.
Wyn really didn’t know what he expected when they started out on this mission.
Or more likely he did know. Somehow he had it in his head they would go to the Drakos system, they would find the Temurians, Sol would take the Pidgeon and get onto the planet – find and arrest Onzion Reence, and they would be diplomatic with the Temurians and… good stuff would happen? His mind hadn’t gotten farther in that plan, because as soon as they found the minefield, the mines and the Orion Marauder the whole plan changed.
At this point he was looking at an unpleasant meeting with Commodore Taybrim, telling him that no, they were not able to apprehend Onzion Reence, but yes they saved a bunch of innocent Temurians, made some new allies and came back with a whole lot of new information that would made Sol and Evan’s underlings in the Intel Tower foam at the mouth with jealousy.
And the funny thing was he wasn’t disappointed in any of that. He was proud of his crew. No one knew what they would find when they got here and all things considered they did extremely well with that they found.
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: =/\= ...rescued? What were they doing out there? =/\=
Foster: =/\= Working as forced labor mining for valuable ores, probably to bankroll the Syndicate’s experiments. =/\=
Wyn’s voice was dour, not liking the situation the Pidgeon had uncovered one bit.
Ross: =/\= Oh, he's not gonna like this. I'll let him know. Be safe out there, alright? =/\=
Foster: =/\= You as well. Thrusters out. =/\=
He took in a long, deep breath and looked up to his bridge crew. They had some rescued Temurians to get home.
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.
Nodding slowly Wyn let his antennae flex as if he could somehow hear the Orions creeping around in space if he listened hard enough. He didn’t trust them. But, for now, sensors said they had the upper hand.
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.
For all its good qualities, the MFT wasn’t the sleekest ship he could imagine.
Then again, Wyn didn’t know of a whole lot of sleek stealthy ships. Maybe a Defiant class, or one of those new, sleek little Rhode Island class ships? Maybe even an Intrepid or a Pathfinder. That was about it. Most Starfleet ships were imposing, like the Sovereign, or big bulky explorers like the Galaxy and the Ambassador class.
Focus, Wyn. The MFT is what you have, and it’s kept you alive so far along with Tori’s tactical skills and Mi’sh’s piloting skills. You use what you have and appreciate it for what it’s got.
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?
He leaned back to carefully listen to ideas.
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.
He looked towards Mi’sh eager to hear her answer.
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.
Foster: Can we make it happen? And if so, how?
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.
Wyn hiked one eyebrow and one antennae in perfect unison. It was a working plan that sounded equal parts enticing and incredibly dangerous. So he looked towards Mi’sh to hear her overview of it.
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.
He took in a long, slow breath. It was dangerous. Then again waving a big red flag of ‘here we are!’ was also dangerous.
He was also aware that it meant the Pidgeon was the biggest, brightest thing moving, which if the Orions were out there made the Pidgeon a target.
He reminded himself that Sol was capable and the shuttle was a Klingon fighter shuttle, which was a well armored little thing. He had to trust them all to do their part.
Foster: Alright, let’s do it. And be better get moving.
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!
The flight suits had been visible since the trio took the bridge. Wyn had vaguely wondered if they were actually going to use them. He had heard tales from Major Tatash, CAG Antero Flynn and Commander Dal about the Marine pilots – the raptors – suiting up before getting into a fight.
Now he knew why. So, with haste and without hesitation he climbed into the flight suit and locked the helmet on.
And then mentally he chalked up the fifty-seventh thing he had done on this mission that he had never done before.
Fourteen years in Starfleet and the number of new things on this mission alone was enough to make his head explode.
However, to prevent his actual head from actually exploding, he checked the EVA controls, made sure they were working and belted himself in.
And once Tori had done the same, they were ready. And they were off, working with ludicrously low power, surfing on the stellar winds, avoiding asteroids like it was some kind of demented video game.
Except it was real.
sh’Sonora: Yaaahhhoooo!!!
Ysatch: ?
Foster: Watch the structural integrity!
There was a crackiung sound. It might have been small but in the silence of space without much power it was thunderous.
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?
There was an engineering kit on the bridge, which looked oddly like a med kit but… not. Patching a structure wasn’t all that dissimilar to patching a wound.
Foster: I’ll patch, Tori, get just enough power to maintain the structural integrity field on the fore of the Thrusters.
Ysatch: ?
He unclicked his seatbelt and braced his way over, getting the kit open. Oh, this was like triage with a medkit from 2320… he remembered his Dad complaining about Derma-Plast, a battlefield wound closure paste that was not elegant in any way shape or form, but it saved lives.
Well, this kit had what was effectively Derma-plast for ships. A thick, self-propelled silicone-duranium powder adhesive that dried instantly. The warning on it said in the biggest, angriest letters Wyn had ever read: DO NOT USE ON SKIN.
Yeah, that was a no-brainer. However, Wyn still had the steady hands of a surgeon, even if it was for repairs.
He had just finished when he heard Mi’sh call out.
sh’Sonora: Made it! YES!
He put this probably highly dangerous repair adhesive back, before any mishaps happened and braced back to his seat.
Foster: Excellent. Get us within transporter range.
Ysatch/sh’Sonora: ?
Foster: As soon as we take on the refugees, the Pidgeon is headed towards the planet. With any luck they will draw any potential attention.
Ysatch/sh’Sonora: ?
Foster: Exactly, let them draw attention, put our shields up and get back to the Temurian settlement as fast as possible.
Ysatch/sh’Sonora: ?
Foster: Then we have to get repairs underway so we can get ourselves home!
Because it wasn;t a successful mission if they were stuck here.
Ysatch/sh’Sonora: ?
~*~
tags/tbc
~*~
Lt. Commander Shar’Wyn Foster
Acting Commanding officer
StarBase 118 Ops / MFT Maximum Thrusters
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0