Lt. Cmdr. Kirsty Carpenter - On We Flare

[Justin Partridge]

((Bridge, Deck 3, U.S.S. Ronin.))

Like she had so many years before now, Kirsty found her breath evening out the closer she was to the fight. It made no sense then and it makes even less to her now. The whole of the transport, everyone, herself included, had been living livewires. Thrumming with nervous energy and frantically focused work to shore up their joint plan of attack. 

Work that was made all the shorter, maybe even suffusing with their own nervous anticipation, by the many hands of the U.S.S. Khitomer. Working from Captain Shayne and a Mister Hobart's engagement plan, the Security, Tactical, and Engineering department had more than risen to the occasion. Rising further with the active datastream between the fleet's sisters set up by that same Mister Hobart, providing them an invisible tether from their home to the ship currently speeding above and ahead of them. One that would keep them in contact and taking in dual computer's worth of scans as they bisected their approach vectors on opposing sides of the station. 

They were dropping first. That was just one of the many things Kirsty didn't like about the plan. Her not being on DS33 in the first place filled her with an inwardly directed ire that came from her Monday morning quarterbacking. But the very concept of firing on DS33, yes, after comprehensive scanning for and determining the combatants and non-combatants inside the potential target pool they had worked out. She had boiled it down to a blunted hayseed metric logic in her head.

It read cold, they fired. They read bio-heat (even enemy signals), they didn't. Simple as. But monstrously difficult likely to actually execute with a dispassionate quickness. And that wasn't even taking into account the secondary objectives of neutralizing the S-Wave generation the L.A. now had complete range of. The relative simplicity of her job, point and shoot, freed her from considering what would happen if any of their gambits failed.

She wouldn't hesitate. She couldn't afford to and she reminded herself that everyone else couldn't either. The Captains, Alieth and her team, the people on Thirty-Three. All there fates would be decided in the coming hours (that would surely compress themselves into seconds, at least to Kirsty's experience; fights always felt quicksilver fast under her fingers. She wondered warmly what it was like for everyone else). 

Ahead of her in the Main Viewer, the Kitty winked from the corridor. They were dropping. Kirsty took one last long and even inhale into an exhale. The moment had come, but thankfully, it had been (relatively) prepared for by two of the finest crews (Kirsty's stance and anyone who questioned that assessment would have a stringent debate on their hands) in "country". Now, nothing to it but to do it. 

They flew straight into hell.

In the breath of a second between their arrival to sector space and their incoming hard bank into firing/distraction position, she had to clamp a soft

Carpenter: Oh God.

From her lips just with the sheer scale of the fight, hopefully quiet enough not to completely shatter her outwardly stony persona. She had been in spatial and orbital conflicts before, but nothing near like this. The station hung blazing and semi-damaged directly in the middle of the Viewer, lancing light and valiant surface-to-space "AA" grids were keeping the station alive. But the swarms of fighter forms and the looming capital ships of the Alliance, some of which even looking ghoulish familiar to the two decoy freighters that had greeted them at the cloaked platform.

They would be overrun eventually. A blanket of energy weapons and projectile ordinances wove between the station, Snowball's defenders, and the looming and swooping attackers. Kirsty narrowed her eyes through the din, spying a few rows of spiny landing pods, the very same that had nearly shorn the Ronin in two, so that also meant deck-by-deck fighting. Kirsty literally burned for action, bracing herself powerfully against her console as O'Connor sped them into position. Outside it had to look like two underfed birds trying to fly through a to-be-harvested field. 

But the Kitty was proving she had claws, piercing powerfully and suddenly through the swarm of would-be-ousters as she sailed on her own vector, true to their word and bond. But she felt a dam break down the Center of the Bridge. Her Captain's eyes and voice found her.

Niac:  Commander Carpenter, launch tricobalt devices alpha through foxtrot at the Khitomers priority targets.  Phasers fire at will.  

She spared her eyes to the scopes, keying in the targets (and dismissing the Computer's warnings about the station's prefix code), hoping, PRAYING this would be work. They read cold. Kirsty allowed herself a breath.

Carpenter:  Sir, yes, Sir. 

Her hands trickled confidently across the haptics. Phasers were targeting the fighter forms and the torpedoes...

They were away. Come what may. Her terminal would tell her what and which landed. She forced herself to keep her trembling brow turned toward the Main Viewer, a tinny adrenaline now coursing through her frame as the web of warfare caught them up once more. She tracked them as far as she could as they streaked through the carnage around them. 

Niac:  Mr. O'Connor, adjust your course to come starboard ten degrees and drop us under the station, full impulse.  I want to get a clear shot at those boarding craft attached to the station.  Keep us moving and keep it unpredictable.  

O'Connor: Aye, Captain. I’m gonna spin us around the station’s equator and drop us in upside down underneath.

 

The ship jostled stolidly like they had run over a rock. The jutter was so heavy it seemed to creak into her wrists. But she kept shooting, ignoring the tight heat now blooming in her wrists and fingers.

Niac:  Chief, begin charging the main deflector.  If we detect a build-up of s-wave radiation from one of those big ships out there I want to try the Khitomer's chroniton pulse.  Until then I want all the power you can spare routed to the shields.  

Tucker: The main deflector is charging at thirty-two percent and rising. I’ve taken most nonessential systems offline and diverted them to the shields.

Kirsty heard soft bootfalls across the center platform. She kept shooting. 70% of the fired torpedoes were still on target. In a matter of minutes, Kirsty Carpenter would have fired on a Starfleet installation. She remembered out of nowhere an op with Zero where they had appended a Logic cell who had laid siege to a Federation Embassy on Jupiter. Was she any better than them now? She crimped that thought at the center. There wasn't time. She kept shooting. 

Niac:  Doctor Beck, I want constant reports on the radiation levels around the station.  It seems like the Alliance is holding off on the big guns for now...probably worried about outright destroying the station before they can claim ownership.  If that changes I want to know it as soon as possible.  

Beck:  RESPONSE

Her terminal told her half a second before the image in the Main Viewer did. She gave a sharp snap of breath, figuring she didn't need to say what they had all just seen. 66% of the volley had hit flush. The image dipped slightly with their slew to port, but the computers now told them all they needed to know. They had hit and the roiling waves of destruction they were currently avoiding were gaining the swarms attentions.  

Niac:  Report effect on targets!  Helm, take us across the stations long axis and then plot an outbound arc towards the Khitomer, we need to get some of the heat off them so they can recharge their shields.  

O’Connor: Aye.

The ship rocked again and alarms began blaring. Kirsty continued to shoot, her hands now dancing creakily, painfully across the haptics, but dealing out green contact upon green contact. These fighter forms seemed to spread out forever. 

Niac:  Damage report!  

Tucker: Shields holding at sixty percent. Minor damages to decks five, seven, and nine. There are no casualties to report at this time. I think we got lucky…this time. Also, the deflector shield is almost fully charged and ready to go, currently at ninety-seven percent.

Marty crouched his body, harshly talking into his comm, but Kirsty was too far away and too focused still on the fight to hear what they were saying. Phase energy and plasma streamed from her fingertips against a black crystalline tide. 

O’Connor: Thanks, Tuck. I’ll hold off on anything too crazy strenuous ‘til you guys got a handle on that. Meantime Captain, we are still good at full impulse.

Carpenter: We certainly are gettin' their attention now. Multiple contacts bearing, but that hopefully takes some pressure off Snowball and the station.

Beck:  RESPONSE

Niac:  Swat those fighters, Commander, this is our sky and they don't have my permission to fly in it.  Doctor Beck, give me a bioscan of the station...what's the status of the population?  

The ship swung around once more, deftly positioning herself under the guidance of Ian and his extensive talents. Still the fighters were coming, more and more now it seemed. Shocked into action no doubt by their explosive reentry into the system. 

That was just fine by her, however. That meant more guns turned away from her people(family). And more of the Alliance to turn to ash. The tinny, acrid feeling she had after firing on the station had been replaced by the acidic and dominative taste of battle.

She slightly hated herself for thinking it tasted better than aged tulaberry.

Tucker: Skipper, I’ve got the inertial dampers hemorrhaging power, and I’m trying to compensate so we all don’t end up smears on the bulkhead. And I’m getting fluctuations and surges in the structural integrity field, jumping between forty and sixty percent. I’ve sent Lieutenant Morgan and Crewman Dahl to investigate; I should know more soon. 

O'Connor: Trying to compensate best I can but we are gonna get wailed on if I can’t make a few tight turns.

She consulted her scopes and the still miraculously active data stream from the Khitomer. She gave a grim, tight smile to their gospel. 

Carpenter: More fighters movin' to engage us. It's workin' so far.

 

Beck:  RESPONSE

Sensors and contact alerts bellowed through the fog of the battle. Kirsty kept her hands moving across the ship's weapons arrays, but snapped her eyes powerfully toward the Main Viewer. The sheer scale of it, hoving through the nearby starfield toward them, astonished her. For some reason, her mind flashed to some of the massive ancient holy houses of pre-Eugenic Catholicism. As if a titanic cathedral had crept from the darkness of a warp corridor. 

But it's points were no spires and it's drive struts were no buttresses. And there was certainly nothing at all holy about it. It simply looked wrong. Wrong and huge, like a further bulked up version of the Sheliak Juggernaut. Just with a furtherly massive and formidability placed..."long gun" like segment jutting out from the bottom of the jagged hull. 

Kirsty gave herself 3 guesses and figured the first 2 wouldn't count. 

Their Captain pivoted to greet them, a new animation playing across his burly countenance. 

Niac:  Sensors, tell me everything you can about that contact. 

Marty seemed entranced, but still sung out loud in his report.

Tucker: Captain, I’ve seen this monstrosity once before, but only a schematic. I didn’t think they’d build it, but Sheliak and Tholians designed it together. It’s one massive S-wave cannon, and if what I read was true, it could single-handedly spin its web. There is no need for a grouping of ships.

O'Connor: I can’t recall anything like that. It’s like one massive spider and we’re the closest gimpy fly.

The datafeed from the Kitty started to scream. She swept her eyes across the readouts quickly, but carefully. She didn't know the technical aspects, it would take her years probably to even close to that, but she knew enough to say...

Carpenter: Scopes confirm. Traces of S-Wave particles coming from the...ship? Platform? An' buildin'. Computer's still tryin' to make somethin' with it's profile. 

oO A Web from a single ship...helluva thing...Oo

  

Beck:  RESPONSE

More terminals screamed through the ongoing fight. Kirsty's hands felt raw and wrung leathery with her continues phaser volleys. But the contacts were coming too heavy for any of their pre-programmed attack patterns and automotive defense screens.

But still she kept shooting. And she would likely until they reached the end of this path. Wherever it led. 

Niac: RESPONSE

Tucker: If that news wasn’t bad enough, it’s starting its powering-up cycle; from the readings I’m getting, it’s pointed right at Deep Space Thirty-three.

 

O’Connor: I’m not sure if I should be offended or relieved we are target number one.

Carpenter: Well, the objective WAS to get their attention...

 

Niac/Beck: RESPONSE

 

O'Connor: That doesn’t make me feel better.

Another fighter form blinked from space under Kirsty's hand. She grew impatient at their now studdered flight path.

Carpenter: If we get closer, we might get a better look at it. 

Niac/Beck/Tucker:  RESPONSE

 

O’Connor: Aye, taking us around and dropping us hard and fast right on top of it. Hold on, here we go.

Carpenter: Covering fire. 

Niac/Beck/Tucker:  RESPONSE

As the ship coursed carefully through the battle, the closed distance just heightened its impossibility. Even looking at it, Kirsty couldn't decide if it was beautiful or the most horrid thing she had ever seen. But still it demanded her gaze as the ship's computer's started to bombard it with sensor pulses and tac-scans. 

It didn't seem to have much by way of conventional weaponry or point-to-point defenses, but then again, she wondered quickly, why the hell would it? It was a flying cathedral of pain lurking through the web. Even DS33, still ferociously defending itself, looked miniscule by comparison. 

But the fighter forms didn't break off their attack runs so neither did Kirsty's hands stop their trained and now aching striking and lashing with the ship's arrays.  But the connection between themselves and the Kitty started to warble darkly. They were detecting more S-Wave particles. But at the same time, using the opportunity to gather as much waveform and particle analysis. She allowed herself a terse smirk. Whoever was over in the Kitty's Blue One department were just as on the stick as Chief Alieth would have been.

Unfortunately, a blinking, blazing corona cross of light started to ripple at the tip of the massive "gun barrel" that divided the bottom of the floating cyclopean horror. The datafeed screamed in time with the hard-to-look-at light. More S-Wave.

Their Captain reoriented them once more.

Niac: RESPONSE

Tucker/O'Connor: RESPONSE

How it was Kirsty's turn for an insane idea. 

oO Captain Shayne, I hope yer ears are burnin' out there.Oo

Carpenter: Let 'em.  

She felt all the eyes of the Bridge on her and her station. 

Niac: RESPONSE

Carpenter: I'm sayin', they wanna use us as the first weave of their web? We make one of our own with the Khitomer and her chron-pulse. ::she hooked a thumb toward the still open and steadily increasing data feed:: We are already workin' on the cancelation form. We put us and the Kitty between THEM and the station. They throw their web wave, we throw ours. And pray to God ours cancels theirs out. 

Tucker: RESPONSE

O'Connor: RESPONSE

Beck: RESPONSE

She nodded darkly, realizing the wisdom of the statement. It would still take them minutes still to gather the right cancelation frequency. And they had no real idea how long it would take the warp-blasted horror in their Viewer to fire. Her hands still thrummed, now red hot with pain, across the haptics of the phasers, even as she spoke.

Carpenter: We would...be cutting it close. But we also might be the station's only chance. If we-

The monitor to her left, the precious data-feed monitor with the Kitty, and the screen under her aching hands burst into a momentary spark of blue-white. She yelps, half driven, half-diving away from the scorching pain now of her left side and the absence of the sound of phasers. She grunts, a more frustrated than painful noise and she is already back on her feet and crossing back to the alcove picoseconds before the pain signals of her body howl all across her left side. Blistering heat, mostly on her forearm and the bottoms of her hands with hot trails of pain running in screaming runnels down her the side of her leg. 

None of that registers to her. Yet, anyway. 

She slaps her hands across the sides of the now useless terminal, willing away the wooze of her head as she turns toward the ancillary terminal that was once behind her. She has finally stopped shooting. But the data feed was still active...however...

Niac: RESPONSE

Carpenter: Phasers are down, but the Khitomer data feed is still up. We just can't see the progress here. We'll have to eyeball it. 

 

Any Bridge: RESPONSE

--

TAG/TBC

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Lieutenant Commander

Kirsty L. Carpenter

//\\

Chief of Security & Tactical

Starfleet SAR

(Marine Rank: Major)

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U.S.S. RONIN

NCC-34523

ID: E239512QC0

//\\

F.N.S. Contributor