Lt. (j.g.) Ian O'Connor- Potentially Pasted Possums
rob mahardy
((Shuttlecraft Carl Sagan, near Deep Space 33))
The lift brought them up two decks into the shuttle bay and the Sagan wasted no time exiting. Ian arced them around the Ronin surveying some of the damage. Things did not look promising. With the amount of devastation and the Captain’s abandon ship order, Ian couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just departed the Ronin for the last time. He glanced at Beck wondering if the doctor had the same feeling.
Beck: Could be worse. Could be–
Niac's voice boomed through the comm cutting Quentin short andmaking him wince.
Niac: =/\= Ronin to Sagan, what the hell do you think you're doing?! =/\=
Beck shot a look at Ian before grimacing and using his thumb to open the comm. Ian just gave him a “you got this” thumbs up
Beck: =/\= Oh, we thought we'd just take the Sagan out for a little spin, sir. Get some fresh air before the warp core breach. =/\=
Ian assumed the Captain probably wouldn’t appreciate the levity right now but none-the-less Ian doubled down.
O'Connor: =/\= Not to mention the view, it’s…well, it’s something =/\=
Niac: =/\= That is not what I had in mind when I issued that order, Lieutenant! Wait one. =/\=
Letting out a sigh, Quentin looked at Ian again before pressing the 'mute' key, then raising his hand to scratch the center of his scalp with all four fingers.
Beck: Geez, you'd think he'd be impressed with our initiative.
O'Connor: Well, let’s make the most of it anyway. Maybe we can grab an escape pod or two before we draw unwanted attention. Anything around us?
Beck turned his attention back to the console. Ian noticed that he tucked the stump of his right wrist into his lap to keep the stupid thing out of the way while his left hand worked the controls. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth, pressing against the upper left corner of his lips.
Beck: I'm reading a handful of fighters coming our way - three Alliance and two of ours. Looks like they're trying to cover us, but they're having some trouble.
O'Connor: Darn, wasn’t looking for them to have to babysit us. Seems like they have their own problems. Maybe we can help them out. If I swing up and try to loop inform the side, do you think you can target the pursuers.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Quentin grimace a little and his nose wrinkle up.
Beck: I'll do what I can, but no promises - I only scored slightly better firing ship's weapons than using hand phasers and I don't know if you know this but I have lost pretty much every fight I've been forced to engage in since being posted here.
O'Connor: Well you’re overdue for a win then. ::gesturing out the forward window:: And judging by what things look like out there I’d say surviving is a win.
Chuckling and narrowing his eyes at the sensor grid, he hovered his hand over the firing stud, tongue pressing to the corner of his mouth again. The fighters were moving damned fast, fast enough he wasn't sure he could hit one anyway… but he trusted his gut.
Beck: Swallow this.
Ian smirked.
oO that’s the spirit. Oo
The Sagan banked hard and accelerated at on of the Alliance fighters. Beck’s fingers descended. The Sagan's primary phaser emitter whirred to life, a crimson lance spearing out through the blackness and boring through the shields of the closest fighter, followed immediately by a small cluster of microtorpedos he'd launched simultaneously. One of their fighters happened to fire their phasers at the exact same moment, and that was enough to overload the Alliance fighter's shields. It exploded a moment later, scattering debris, though the other two fighters managed to avoid being damaged in the explosion.
Quentin whooped and jumped out of his chair, cackling like a madman. Ian smiled a bit
O'Connor: To quote one of my favorite philosophers. “Great shot kid! Don’t get cocky”
Beck: Response
O’Connor: Hold on. I’ll try and line you up another shot.
Beck: Response
The Sagan dipped and slowed slightly allowing the Alliance fighter and the projectile it launched to go shooting by directly above them. Ian popped them back up directly behind it in perfect alignment.
Beck: Response
The fighter banked hard and the phaser beam shot past it into empty space.
Beck: Response
O’Connor: Don’t sweat it. Those ships are faster than us and that pilot is better than I thought. Let’s try something else.
Ian opened the channel.
O’Connor: =/\= Sagan to Singh and Gra'vel. I’m gonna do maneuver possum beta. =/\=
Gra'vel/Singh: =/\= Response =/\=
O'Connor: =/\= What do you mean no torpedoes? Crap. Well, just please be precise with phasers then.=/\=
Gra'vel/Singh: =/\= Response =/\=
O’Connor: Hold on Doc. We’re gonna take a hit.
Beck: Response
Ian gritted his teeth, slowed
their turn a bit and the shuttle rocked.
He tapped at his console and the cabin went completely dark.
O’Connor: Now, we wait...and hope we don't get blown to paste.
Beck/Gra'vel/Singh: Response
Tags/TBC
Lieutenant (j.g.) Ian O’Connor
HCO
USS Ronin NCC-34523
R240009IO4