Fleet Opening Mission: To Our Future

[Steve Malloway]

OOC: Posting as Malloway

IC:

STARBASE THRINACIA
Command Deck
1950 hours

John turned to Steve, “Looks like the rocky start we wished to avoid. Am sure since the Carassians already know, am sure the Romulans and Klingons won't be long in finding out. We better have them diplomats ready after this mess.”, John recommended.

Steve looked up at John as another torpedo hit rocked the deck, an officer across the way calling out that shields were down to 55% average round the base, weakening somewhat round the Command Deck. "I think we'll need more than diplomacy after this," he replied, "as for the Klingons and Romulans – who knows, but guaranteed they’ll have wanted to know why they weren’t told of this piece of candy we now have.” Another shock rattled the decking, this time not so severe. “Report!” Steve called out, allowing John to work with Connor.

“Fighters are inbound to aid our defences, as is a smaller craft registered to the new Ambassador.”

“Provide additional cover where possible to the Fighters, defend our defenders-“

“Admiral, Independence has been boarded and Thunderstorm reports they are under attack!”

Steve whipped round to look over at the reporting officer. “Damn Cardassians!” He called aloud, sliding back underneath the rail to the main command podium in the centre of the deck. “Inform the Thunderstorm we are unable to offer assistance but are aware of their situation, scramble out any additional support craft available.”

“What can I do?” She asked once everyone was accounted for, as another Torpedo hit almost making her loose her grip on the railing.

The Admiral looked up at the enquiring voice, recognising Emma. “Ah, Commodore – if you could assist Tactical with supporting the Fleet to coordinate defences that would be greatly appreciated.” He replied, nodding once to her as a thanks, just as another tremble waved underneath through the deck-plating. “Status report!”

“Structural Integrity field down to 71%, Shields at 54%, Ventral weapons offline, Pulse defences fluctuating through sections Charlie and Omega, Life Support at 88%, Minor Hull Breaches on the Promenade which has been evacuated by Emergency response teams-“

The Admiral waved his hand quickly to shut him up. “Understood, we’re not looking good all in all. Re-evaluate all power distribution networks and re-route as necessary to the shield grid; we have too many personnel onboard to lose them and I’d rather keep up our defences. Our Fleet status?”

“Heavy damage reported. Agamemnon, Excelsior Mark III Class, is making her way into the action after repair, no hits as yet. Thunderstorm, Intrepid Class, has taken some hits, minor shield loss. Independence, Challenger Class, shield loss and boarding parties are present, significant damage. Braveheart, Sovereign Class, yet to send her status but sensors indicate minor damage, shields their main concern. Majesty, Galaxy Class, has taken severe damage her warp core was taken offline but seems somewhat repaired at present; Admiral Targus has ordered they retreat behind Thrinacia until repairs to their shields and weapons systems complete. Jaggedier, Wildcat Class, has shields at 39% with aft torpedo bays offline and nearing repair. Cockerel, Saber Class and Thrinacia’s assigned Command vessel is also yet to send report but again sensors,” mid-report another volley hit the decks, sparks flying from aft consoles.

“Command Deck shields in the red zone!”

“Again sensors indicate significant damage with their aft shields offline. Born, Nebula Class, holding her own with little damage or effect from Cardassians – they seem to be ignoring her for now.”

“Patch me through to Lieutenant Berettey.” Steve commanded, looking up at the viewscreen as it changed from the battle to the face of the younger officer, commanding the Cockerel.

=/\=Admiral, we’re taking hits here!=/\=

=/\=”Lieutenant, Lieutenant?” Steve began, squinting some as static broke up the image on the screen as the Cockerel took another hit. “Lieutenant, reroute as much power to your shields as you can, the Cockerel isn’t designed for this sort of barrage. Get your asses back inside the mushroom, I’d rather not lose the li-“=/\=

The transmission ended suddenly. Within split seconds the screen had cut from the face of the Lieutenant back to the battle, focused on the Cockerel from the hail. Or, rather, momentarily focused. As soon as the image had changed it was lit up as the small Saber class was enveloped in orange, red and yellow sparks. Destroyed. Hull fragments spiralled outwards from the explosion, narrowly missing the fighters in her vicinity.

“Conn, how many had gotten to the Saber before launch?” Steve asked as the room had fallen silent as many eyes had witnessed the explosion. The reply came back with 118 personnel, 2 of which had been specially-assigned Cadets from the Academy only a week previous for on-site training. “That loss was not acceptable.” The Admiral finally said, breaking the silence as the base rocked under fire again, the lighting fluctuating only a little. He reached down and pressed a comm-channel for Fleet-wide to all vessels.

=/\=”This is Admiral Malloway to all ships. The Cockerel has been destroyed. Get what you can from those bast-“=/\=

Another hit and the channel ended. “Sir, they’ve disabled our communications system. We’re operating on sensors only. Weapon systems round the mushroom are down to 49%, holding for now with temporarily rerouted power.”

Steve looked around the deck at the officers present, some looking his way for further direction, many others already doing what was necessary to keep Thrinacia going. With the gateway having been brought online right now all her resources were limited and new systems were still having been installed through the main Fleet command base; it wasn’t a secret that things behind the scenes were still patching up with the refit and addition of the new toy. “OK people, this is it. The Cockerel has gone, she shouldn’t have. The Gateway is here and its ours. The Cardassians are here and they shouldn’t be. We all know what we have to do, you’re all here because you know the ropes. Now lets take out these turds!” Steve called aloud, slapping his palm on the command console to finish.

As he did, another report came through, just as the alarm confirmed.

“Cardassian Marines, Promenade deck!”

TAG: Thrinacia lot