PLOT - JDL | Capt Ivanova, LtCmdr Waterhouse, Cmdr Dahe'el, Cmdr Archer, Cmdr PontBrillant, LtCmdr Neyes, Lt Novak, SCmdr Lareth - "Titanium pt. II"

Posted on Sun Oct 26th, 2014 @ 1:02pm by Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant & Commander James Archer & Commander Tristan Neyes PhD. & Lieutenant Henry Novak
Edited on on Mon Oct 27th, 2014 @ 5:54am

3,384 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: All Hallows’

"Fuck..." swore Vlimar as he began tapping rapidly on his console. "D'deridex, Starboard, nine hundred fifty meters!" he shouted as he instinctively raised the shields at the same time. "Its shields are up, weapons loaded." he continued as he was about to put the ship on red alert, but some respectful restraint invisibly held his hand on top of the button and had him looking at Rochelle. He already had raised the Vindicator's shields without asking, but there was something about putting an entire ship in red alert mode that he couldn't just do, even if he'd done it so many times before.

Vlimar then heard a sound on his panel that attracted his eyes back. "Ma'am, they are hailing us." he stated.

“On screen.” The view screen came to life with the image of a Romulan SubCommander, one that wasn't much better than that of the green D'deridex staring them in the face. Rochelle felt a pang of white hot anger begin to boil in her veins at the sight of the other woman. “Commander, the war is over and you are in Klingon space.” She didn't waste time with formalities as she stood up from her chair. “What reason do you have to be here?” She asked, doing her damnedest to hold true to a more diplomatic posture.

“Jolan tru, Captain Ivanova.” The young SubCommander replied with a standard Romulan smile. “By order of the Romulan Star Empire, you’re here-by ordered to hand over James Archer to my custody.”

A single red brow arched high over the Captain’s right eye and she cast a glance towards Archer and back at the Romulan. “That’s not quite how this works—“

“You have five minutes to comply.” The Romulan scoffed and the screen went blank, reverting back to the imposing sight of the armed D’deridex.

“Fucking Romulans.” Rochelle muttered under her breath, “Red alert!” the petite redhead bellowed and retreated back to her seat, looking over at Archer, “Why didn't you tell me you had friends coming over? I’d have made brownies.” She huffed, shaking her head and tutting her tongue at him.

“Had I known that attractive young thing was coming over, I’d have worn my vintage Armani.” James replied sarcastically.

"Such manners..." Amelia muttered, shaking her head. "Ready the cow catcher, and arm weapons."

Klaxons blared and lights flashed as the ship readied herself for battle. The skipper knew just how fearsome a fully armed Discovery class could appear and wondered how desperate, or stupid, the Romulans really were. “Armani? For a Romulan? Shame on you, Commander Archer.”

James chuckled, “You’re right. She’s only worth a Dolce and Gabana.”

Rochelle’s eyes rolled in response to the Commander’s quip. “More like something you pull out of a thrift shop on quarter day.” She huffed and folded her arms, waiting for the time to tick down and reveal just what the little green wench had in store. “How stupid do you think she’ll get?” The question was open for interpretation to the three officers that sat beside her.

Neyes looked on at all of them with morbid disbelief, looking on from his chair at Ivanova and the others. On one hand he recognized the witty exchange between the officers as a way to diffuse the tension that threatened to strangle the bridge. On the other, he was stricken with a sudden reality that a battle was about to take place unless significant diplomatic efforts were made. He felt his fingers tighten around the arm of his chair as he once again looked at the Romulan warship on the viewscreen. "I would suggest she seemed agitated, already impatient, and the crew in the background looked wearier than I'd expect for a Romulan bridge. They must have been tracking us for some time without rest."

A quip about how desperate a woman could get over the prospect of vintage Armani, especially if she wasn't worthy of it, died on Amelia's lips when the counselor spoke up first. His serious tone killed Amelia's desire to continue the joke, and she frowned. She realized that not everyone felt comfortable diffusing tension with jokes, but for others it was exactly what was needed to keep the mind sharp in battle. It was normal to her at least.

James tapped the mini-console on the arm of his chair “Her name is SubCommander P’mag Lareth.” He said, transferring the information to the big chair, “She’s in command of the IRW Ssaed Hllue and according to the information I have here… She’s desperate.” He grinned, “Family’s fallen out of favor with the Praetor and she’s here looking to make a name for herself. What all that has to do with me? I have no idea.” The last part was a lie. Bold faced.

Rochelle shifted in her seat, folding her legs and drumming her fingers along the controls to bring up the Romulan's dossier. She was young. So very young for a Romulan in any form of power, and yet she was stuck on an outdated piece of technology. “How frustrated she must be to be stuck having to play hardball with us so far from home.” She smirked.

Vlimar waited for Rochelle to end her sentence to inform her. "Captain, quantum torpedoes are armed and ready to go, I am keeping a lock on their starboard nacelle."

"She doesn't expect to win a fight with us in that ship, does she?" The question was almost incredulous. The Discovery class was proven against larger Romulan forces, and Neyes had the experience to prove it. His eyes stole a quick look at Archer as he spoke. Lareth was there to take him, and it was all she demanded, nothing else. Surely the exceptional intelligence officer knew more than he was letting on.

Tilting to her head to the side, she peered at Tristan sidelong. While Landon had been a sharp and exciting tactician, he was obviously so very new at the games that were afoot. "Just because it looks like a junk heap doesn't mean they haven't added a little something extra to the cocktail. Rule number one, never underestimate your opponent." It was the same cautionary tale that Landon Neyes had told a rambunctious and cocky young Commander nearly two years ago.

The more pressing matter at hand was that five minutes passed like five seconds with the bridge crew of the Vindicator sitting tense. Rochelle already had Lareth’s answer waiting at the tip of her tongue, begging for release.

"Captain, they are hailing us again," assertively stated the Strategic Ops Commander, as he kept one hand on the Tactical console, one hand on the OPS one, multitasking.

“On screen.” Rochelle half-sighed as she issued her order. Games with the Romulans were tiresome and often boring. The last time she’d played tit for tat the Vindicator had decimated them. An act she was certain they remembered.

“Time’s up Captain.” Lareth postured, folding her arms across her chest. “What is your answer?”

“My answer? The same one I was going to give you before you ever so hastily closed the comm.” Rochelle replied, her legs uncrossing as she once again found her feet and stepped nearer to the view screen. “Your demand for Commander Archer’s release needs to go through official channels, you can’t just come waltzing into Klingon space and demand fo—“

“You are harboring a criminal and an enemy of the Romulan Star Empire.” The Romulan interjected sharply, cutting the little Captain off mid-sentence. “By the order of the Praetor you will hand him over.”

Rochelle shifted her weight from one hip to the other. The entire scene was getting old and fast. “Well that’s just sweet, Commander, but you see I don’t take my orders from the Praetor. You can head on back to your side of the quadrant and tell them to send a request through official channels. Sound good?” She replied, her tone sharp and crisp as she began to lose whatever good humor she’d had going into their little chat.

“We don’t have time to go through official channels to extradite your ‘Commander’, if that’s who he told you he was.” Lareth practically snorted with indignation. “He’s wanted for the murder of seventy-five Romulan citizens and the destruction of multiple Romulan ships.”

“Only seventy-five? Could have sworn it was mo-“ James was quickly cut off as the little redhead flashed in a look that simply said ‘shut the fuck up’.

“Seventy-five Romulans that were in Federation space!” Rochelle roared in response, “You had three vessels chasing him clear across Federation space and we ended it. War is war, Commander. Shed your tears, send your condolences to the families affected and move on.”

“We were guests of your government on a diplomatic mission. We weren’t part of your war.” The Romulan laughed bitterly. “If you won’t hand him over peaceably, I’ll have no choice but to take him by force.”

To this Rochelle scoffed, her chin tipping upwards ever so slightly in nothing less than sheer defiance. “Hate to break it to you, Commander, but Federation First was not and never will be our governme—.” She’d never have the chance to finish her sentence. The screen was killed, reflecting back to nothing but their view of the hot and heavily armed D’deridex. A second later, the Vindicator rocked in response to taking fire and the diminutive little woman was nearly thrown from her feet as she made her way back to her seat. “Lock weapons! Return fire!” She bellowed, sliding into her chair before the next hit could shake the ship, “Aim for their starboard nacelle! I want them crippled and fast!”

Lareth, however, had the same plan as Rochelle, aiming for the Vindicator's vulnerable starboard nacelle and associated impulse engine. A barrage of disruptor cannon fire made quick work of the Vindicator’s starboard shields, hitting Lareth's desired target and consequently depolarizing the starboard nacelle and causing a trail of venting plasma to leak from the crippled engine.

Vlimar smiled even through the commotion of returning fire. "Oh yeah, baby," he said, tapping the console as if playing the piano, sending spread of quantum torpedoes onto the Starboard nacelle, sprinkled with the 22 phasers arrays throwing their good stuff at the enemy ship. Within seconds, 20 torpedoes were sent through 4 of the 8 torpedoes tubes, the others unable to be used due to the unusual localization of the enemy.

'Shields down to 75%, and holding," barked Vlimar to Rochelle. "Firing 2nd wave," he stated, tapping the console melodically again, throwing another 20 torpedoes at the enemy ship, with constant phaser fire.

"Warp drive offline! We're venting plasma, attempting to reroute flow and contain the problem," Almar roared as he felt a twinge, his ship was hurting and he knew it, "Starboard nacelle is dead, suggest evasive maneuvers."

"RCS thruster efficiency has dropped 10%. Requesting additional power be rerouted for thrust control," Henry reported, little beads of sweat forming on his brow. If the power continued to drop much further, evasive maneuvers wouldn't be much use.

The Ssaed Hllue rocked as she took the brunt of the incoming fire from the Vindicator. Her shields were down to 90% and holding. This D'deridex had been refit with stronger shields and armor and, to the delight of Lareth, was performing quite well. "Keep our bow on them and divert power to the forward shields." As the hulking green monster yaws to starboard she let loose another barrage of disruptor fire. The beak of the warbird flashed as a giant ball of burning plasma was hurled towards the Vidicator's saucer section.

"Incoming!" yelled Vlimar, as he quickly diverted non-essential power to the shields. "We barely made a dent into them, Captain," he stated, continuing to arm torpedoes and sending phaser bursts to the enemy ship.

"Come to star—" Rochelle yelled and was silenced by the violent shaking of the ship taking head to head fire. Sparks flew from an EPS conduit, someone screamed in pain and her attention shifted to them immediately. That split second was all it took for an overhead panel to swing down and catch the diminutive Captain in the face, sending her crashing backwards into the cushion of her chair. She yelped in surprise and covered her head with her arms as more sparks spat from a nearby console, burning her ears and any skin that wasn't covered by her uniform.

Iron.

She tasted iron and color flashed behind her tightly closed eyelids and with it came the sensation of drowning and the bridge spinning when she knew it was perfectly still. With a sputter and a cough, Rochelle felt the wet, thick splatter of blood hit her hands and exposed wrists and she knew at once that her nose had been broken. The sting of her pouty lower lip promised that it had been split. A lesser person would have passed out. The Captain, however, got to her feet and set her jaw. "Bring us along starboard, don't give them our nose as a target!" She blasted, wiping her bleeding nose on the only thing she could; her sleeve. "Fire everything we have at their wing and neck and do it NOW!" Her eyes wild, quickly found Amelia, Tristan and Archer — they were alive, relatively unharmed, their faces illuminated by the flashing red lights through the smoke. "Engineering, report!" she called, she couldn't immediately see Almar, but she knew he'd be furiously working away.

The jarring of the ship from the shot had caused Amelia to grasp the arms of her chair, closing her eyes to the sparks that showered that section of the bridge. Rochelle's reaction to taking the panel to the face had drawn the willowy woman's attention like a spot light, but before she could react more than just looking that way, Rochelle was already bouncing back from the blow. She looked a fright with the blood, the split lip, and the bleeding nose. The lighting on the bridge made it hard to see, but Amelia swore it looked like she nose was broken. If anything, the abuse made her look that much more intimidating as she barked orders and looked around the bridge.

Amelia nodded quickly to Rochelle as their eyes met, and after that fleeting moment, the fiery phoenix's attention was drawn elsewhere. Amelia turned her attention back to the display at the arm of her chair, comparing the verbal information flying above her head with the sensor data that was available to her.

Vlimar had unleashed hell. Torpedoes were fired at will, succeeding in rapid succession, almost like a full-automatic weapon. The phaser was lighting the neck of the enemy's ship, as collision was seen onto the neck from the torpedoes. Vlimar was no longer enjoying this, he was fully concentrated into surviving and he knew that winning this dog fight was the only way to accomplish this. He hung on to the console, as his fingers kept repeating the same pattern: Arming quantum torpedoes, confirming target zone, firing, renewing phaser banks and coordinates, firing, checking shield's status.

The break-neck intensity of the rocking ship had done more damage than Tristan would have thought possible. He knew better, and he knew what space battles were like. The memories of Landon and the others did not dissuade him from white-knuckling his station's console, and bracing for impact from the moment the red alert klaxon had sounded. A deep terror was vibrating from his head to his toes, and it took him a moment to recover from the shock when the sparks and explosions halted.

Seeing the Captain bloodied in the face, he immediately snapped off the emergency med-kit at his console and made a bee-line for her. Taking up post next to her chair, he quickly made use of his medical expertise. His expressive face told of his concern as the medical tricorder whirled over the wound. "Minor fracture," was all he said.

Rochelle shied as Tristan came near, her feral eyes rolling until they focused on him and the curl of her lip softened slightly as she recognized the Trill and what he was trying to accomplish. Standing still, however, wasn't in her prime list of current abilities as she shook her head and pulled away from him. Now wasn't the time. "I know." Was all she said, the viciousness of battle subsiding for a split second to allow her fingers to touch the back of his hand in an attempt at comforting her friend. "We'll be ok." she added, her lips quirking into a sort of smile — and then she was off again, the fire back to burning out of control as she raged against the rocking of the ship, and Tristan off to other injured. "Scramble the fighters! Have them attack the same points I ordered you to!" She yelled, pointing at Vlimar.

"Heavy damage to the starboard section, explosive decompression on decks seventeen through nineteen, emergency forcefields and bulkheads in place, damage control teams report plasma leaks inside Main Engineering!" the Cardassian shouted over the din of battle as the console next to him rippled and burst in a shower of sparks, burning his arm and hand into a charred black, the pain caused him to pause for a second as it washed over him, a judder of the ship sending him face first into the console, "Any more hits on decks eighteen or nineteen and we run the risk of rupturing the Deuterium storage."

Vlimar nodded and tapped on the console, authorizing the fighters to scramble and providing them with an overridden target to attack. It was to ensure that the pilots would follow the plan their Captain had set forth. It was then he continued to send volleys of torpedoes and phaser fire ripping back towards two targets: the junction where the neck and head of the enemy's vessel met, and that wing nacelle and impulse drive that had been left so very vulnerable. "Fighters are scrambling, ETA Forty seconds!" He stated strongly, tapping away on his console and unexpectedly stable under the circumstances.

Rochelle watched as the lights that were her fighters began to fill the space around them, zipping past the view screen with gusto. It was a strange display, a light show like no other as they were forced to dodge both inbound and outbound fire. The Captain felt her woozy head shake in response to both the Cardassian and the Frenchman, acknowledging them both as she left the relative safety of her seat to step closer to the view screen. “Us or them…” She whispered, remembering what Landon had once said after a similar situation, lamenting the fight and the brutality that had transpired. She’d replied that it would always be for as long as they both fought and never was it never more true than in that pivotal moment in time.

Sparks flew, word of a fire in her ready room was screamed, something about automated fire suppression equipment failing and all Rochelle could do was demand more of the ship, bellowing to continue on, to continue firing as she watched the D’deridex ship light up with hit after brutal hit. The Vindicator shuddered more violently than ever before and bellowed against the massive hit she took somewhere around deck seven. The quake was severe enough that it sent Rochelle to the deck plates below in a heap of battle freed hair and legs and… Nothing. Suddenly it was silent aside from the klaxons and the crew. Suddenly the sky failed to light up with incoming fire. Rochelle pushed herself up to her knees and looked on, the D’deridex dark and eerily still.

=/\= To Be Continued... =/\=

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Lt Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

Commander Almar Dahe'el
Chief Enginering Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Commander James Archer
Starfleet Intelligence
USS VINDICATOR, NCC-78213-E

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
SOC
USS VINDICATOR

Lt Commander Tristan Neyes
Chief Counseling Officer
USS Vindicator 78213-E

Lieutenant Henry Novak
Flight Control Officer
USS Vindicator

SubCommander P’mag Lareth
Commanding Officer
IRW Ssaed Hllue
apb Sean`

 

RSS Feed