PNPC 1LT Alene Torado — Kin to a Worm
Nolen Hobart
((Corridor, Deck 8, Main Module, Deep Space 33))
First Lieutenant Alene Torado was alone, in the ways that mattered. She had earlier decided that splitting up from Lieutenant Zenno was suicide. And that was before the Station's shields had flickered. Back when they thought the worst thing was Lattice forces establishing a beachhead at the main docking ports.
Now it seemed like a firefight was waiting around every other turn. And she was in the middle of one. Or, more precisely, she was running away from one.
The air cracked and fizzled with charged particle streams. If just one of them hit her, she'd likely lose a limb at best. She made for every corner she could see in her path, zigging and zagging through a maze of empty corridors. Upon rounding each she spun on her heels and pressed her body tight against it, utilizing as much cover as she could to do some damage. The Tholians in their armored exosuits could take a beating. They seemed like heavily armed spider-tanks. There were Sheliak there, too, she knew. Glopping and slushing behind, they were too smart to expose themselves to direct weapons fire.
Which is why a fair amount of creativity was called for.
Another corner and Alene pressed against it, and listened. By now, the Lattice forces had figured out her game, and would lay down suppressive fire on every wall that predictably shielded her. She counted six seconds, this time; they were gaining. Her heart raced and blood pounded in her ears. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could do. There were at least five, maybe six, coming, and she couldn't run forever. But she'd have to keep running. To stop was to die.
One more corner, and she was staring out a window at a spectacular space battle. Runabouts and peregrines flew by, some chasing, and others being chased. Then a glint of blue-tinged white and gray plating slashed into view, as the Khitomer swung madly past, its orange phaser streams lashing out at… something. She had no time to dwell. Five seconds, this time. She sent a single pulse blindly around the corner and charged down the windowed corridor. No corners left, just a pile of crates and a shiny blue orb.
Alene dove for the meager protection it offered, and bunched up close to an obnoxiously calm-looking Lt. Zenno.
Torado: ::out of breath:: Five seconds!
Zenno: Response
Torado: Well, next time you run, then! Two!
Zenno: Response
There was no time for another smart alec remark. With a firm squeeze of his palm, Alene saw Zenno trigger the detonator. She hadn't seen the small scuttling charge in the outer hull, though she knew it was there. And she was certain that the Lattice forces wouldn't see it, either. Not until it was too late.
Everything that came next was noisy and violent. A deafening bang from the charge blowing turned into the smothering roar of atmosphere venting past her ears and to the brand new hole in the side of the station. Unsteady forcefields flickered into place before heavy emergency bulkheads closed beside them, and all was suddenly oppressively silent.
Until Alene got up and pointed out the window, cackling.
Torado: Ha! Look at those little legs flail! Waving goodbye! Enjoy the endless void of space, you supremacist scum-suckers!
Zenno: Response
Tags/TBC
———
1st Lieutenant Alene Torado
Marine Officer
As simmed by
Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart
Executive Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240001NH3