Star Trek: Vigilant
The Anvil, Part I
United Earth Starship NX-501 Vigilant
Low orbit around gas giant Kendara IV
Captain Clayton Wright stared at the main view screen, stony-faced. Smoke bled from ruptured EPS conduits in the walls and the red emergency lamps flickered with eerie radiance in the absence of steady power. Crewmen with fire extinguishers scurried about, smothering electrical fires around the perimeter with blasts of carbon dioxide; the cold plumes of fire retardant gas compounding the smoky mist that hung about the Vigilant's Combat Information Center.
The gas giant Kendara 4 loomed large in front of the Vigilant. Orange clouds swirled and twisted in the upper atmosphere, occasionally illuminated by blue bursts of chain lightning. Above the sea of orange clouds, a cold, grey moon hung motionless, balefully eyeing the Vigilant as it sped by in low orbit. Between them, the void of space stretched far, punctuated by distant specks of frigid starlight.
"How many of them, Vorin?" Wright's voice was even and cold, harshly contrasting with the current state of his ship.
"Six Romulan Birds of Prey, heading one-one-three mark zero-two-niner, 600,000 kilometers and closing on Kendara 4," the Vulcan sensor officer replied.
"Can we go to warp?"
"That is inadvisable, captain. The Praetor-class vessels that are approaching have maximum speeds in the warp-7 range. We would never be able to outrun them."
"Then what's the likelihood of them spotting us in K4's magnetosphere?"
"Very likely, captain," Vorin replied, hammering out several more commands at his console in the process. "Their sensors are in active mode, which means they know we're here and they're determined to pinpoint us; the side effect being that we saw them before they'll be able to see us."
"When will they see us?"
"They will detect us when they close to 100,000 kilometers. At their present velocity that will be in less than three minutes."
Wright growled a low guttural tone and tightened his hand into a fist at the thought of facing additional enemy vessels with a crippled ship. The sudden arrival of another Romulan squadron significantly complicated matters. They needed more time to finish the repairs. The captain tapped the PTT on his commander's display.
"Lieutenant Zimmerman, you have two minutes to get shields back online!"
Lieutenant Rebekah Zimmerman's reply over the COMM waves was nearly drowned out by the commotion in the background. Wright could hear fire extinguisher blasts and frantic shouts before the chief engineer's voice cut in. "I'm a little busy, here! We're dealing with a plasma fire near number 4 impulse reactor and a fractured EPS backbone on E deck!"
"Time is of essence, lieutenant. What can you give me?"
"Sir, I'd be hard-pressed to give you anything right now. We're trying to— what the hell do you think you're doing, crewman?" Wright winced at the sudden increase in volume to his headset. Zimmerman continued her rant. "Didn't they teach you anything at academy? Shut down that damn EPS node before you open that access cover or you'll blow us halfway to K3!"
"Lieutenant?" Wright prompted.
"Sorry sir, things are a mess down here," Zimmerman said, returning her attention to the captain. "I've already got a team working on hull power and I'm trying to fix the shield generator right now. I'll get back to you."
"Make it happen, lieutenant."
Captain Wright turned his chair around to face number one tactical station, addressing the man seated there. "Yosko, I hate to say it, but-"
"I know, sir. We're in over our heads again," Commander Chris Yoskowicz said. "Just like academy, eh?"
"Don't make me bust you back down to crewman, Chris," Wright said, stifling a smirk. "I'd hate to have to promote Zimmerman to first officer. Now get to work."
"Yes, sir!" Yoskowicz replied, a little too cheerily. He keyed in a command on his console and put on his headset, absent-mindedly cradling the earpiece as he spoke. "This is the XO. All crews report to general quarters, this is a tactical alert. I say again, this is a tactical alert. All crews report to general quarters."
"How about that, chief?" Yoskowicz said with a goofy grin.
"Wrong pay grade, ace," Wright said flatly. "Just keep an eye on the rest of my ship while I get down to business."
Wright whirled his chair around to face tactical station 2. "Donovan, munitions status."
Lieutenant Aaron Donovan looked up from his console, addressing the captain directly. "Forward tubes one and five are dry, number two rear tube is damaged, and number 5 Triton rack is completely expended. We have a grand total of 22 Mk. 48 photonic torpedoes ready to fire: 17 fore, 5 aft and 60 Mk. 46 Triton nuclear torpedoes in launch condition."
Wright nodded. "Phase cannons?"
"Number one dorsal gun has a severed remote connection. Auto-targeting is offline, but my console says the gunnery station is still functional."
Wright tapped a few buttons on his commander's display to switch COMM channels. "Major Petrovich!"
"Captain?" a gruff voice with a thick Russian accent came over the COMM waves.
"I need gun crews to report to stations immediately. Have the MACOs secure the reactor rooms, CIC, and tactical stations."
"Da, captain. MACOs are on their way; Petrovich, out."
Mentally checking off tasks from his list, Wright turned his chair to the communications console. "Ortega, can you get through to Starfleet command?"
"Negative, captain," the ensign replied, "K4's gravity well is blocking our subspace transmissions and I'm getting wideband electromagnetic interference on all standard Starfleet wireless channels."
"Any quick fixes?"
"If we got up higher up in K4's magnetosphere, I might be able to cut through the interference with a pulsed directional transmission using the high-gain wireless antennas."
At this, Vorin turned from his console to face Ens. Ortega. "While I can agree that your method is technically sound, it would also take us out of the radiation belt that is currently shielding us from Romulan long-range sensors."
"What's it matter? The Rommies will be on us any second now. If we can get a message to Starbase 41, they'll have Navarra and Sydney up here to help us kick Romulan ass in two minutes flat."
"I must remind you that there are six Romulan birds of prey that will be in attack range within 90 seconds. We will not have enough time to—"
"Duly noted, subcommander," Captain Wright said, interrupting the Vulcan. "But it looks like we're out of options. We'll pop up, transmit our message, then dive back into the radiation belt for cover."
Wright keyed his PTT again. "Zimmerman, I need a SITREP on those shields!"
"I've got bad news and I've got good news, captain," Zimmerman replied. A crackling noise came over the COMM, followed by the sizzle of cooling metal as the engineer took an arc welder to some component. "Which do you want first?"
"Give me the bad news."
"The bad news? We got the plasma fire put out and managed to patch up the EPS backbone. We've got full power to engines and weapons."
Wright allowed himself a chuckle. "With bad news like that, I almost don't want to hear the good news."
"Well, I'm required by law to give it to you anyways, sir," Zimmerman said. Wright could almost hear the smirk in her voice. "Shields are still FUBAR. I'm working on the generator with my crew right now, but we're not having any luck."
"What about hull plating?"
"My team got a jerry-rigged solution in place, but it can't handle 100% hull polarization. The best I can give you is 60% for 5 minutes."
"That'll have to do. We're out of time." The captain turned his chair to face the helm station in front of him. "Deavers, plot a course. Orbital injection burn, 12 seconds, then reverse impulse for 16 to deorbit us."
"Aye, captain," the broad-shouldered man at the helm replied. "Ready to execute burn on your mark."
Wright took a deep breath and calmly exhaled. He had faced odds like this many times in the past: the Klingons, the Xindi, and now the Romulans. Each time, he had taken an imperfect situation and forged victory from it. This time would be no different.
"Punch it."
Ensign Rodney Deavers keyed the console. The floor vibrated as Vigilant's impulse engines roared to life, boosting the ship into a higher orbit. Kendara 4 shrank in the view screen as Vigilant pulled away.
"Orbital injection burn complete," Deavers said. "Helm standing by."
The captain nodded. "Make the call, Ortega."
"Configuring antenna now," the ensign said, his fingers dancing over the keyboard.
"Captain!" Vorin said concurrently with a sensor ping. "The birds of prey have spotted us and have moved to intercept."
"Standby weapons and impulse engines!" Wright commanded.
He watched on his commander's display as the red triangles indicating the positions of the Romulan ships closed steadily on the Vigilant's position. A thin yellow line traced out the orbit that Deavers' impulse burn would take them into. Overlayed on that line was a transparent red cone indicating the probable route that the birds of prey would take. In the upper right corner, a timer counted down the seconds until the Romulans would enter weapon range.
"Starbase 41," Ortega began his message, "This is the United Earth starship Vigilant requesting immediate assistance. We have been engaged by multiple Romulan vessels around Kendara 4 and have sustained heavy damage. Starbase 41, do you copy?"
"Starbase 41 copies, Vigilant," came the reply. "Starships Sydney and Navarra are being scrambled to your position, ETA 15 minutes."
"We'll be dead in ten..." Ortega muttered. "Vigilant copies. Don't be late."
"Bad news, captain..." the ensign began.
"I heard, ensign," Wright said. "Deavers, give me a deorbit burn. Drop us back into the magnetosphere."
"You got it cap" The ship shuddered violently. Wright spun his chair to face the viewscreen as a glowing green bolt of superheated plasma impacted on the starboard bow. Wright's gaze focused on the viewscreen at six distant dots that shone brighter than the stars around them.
"Vorin, what the hell was that?"
"My apologies, captain," the Vulcan said. "It appears that the Romulans are capable of engaging at longer distances than Starfleet records indicate."
"Save the apologies and give me sensor locks!" Wright replied, simultaneously switching COMM channels. "Zimmerman! Where's my hull plating?"
"Hold on!" Zimmerman retorted. "I found the problem! This EPS node is shot to hell. Crewman, get your ass over here and bring me a spanner and a flex conduit! We're going to bypass this this entire segment!"
The ship rocked again, as another disruptor blast struck the hull. "Zimmerman! Now would be a good time!"
"GOT IT! HAHA!" the engineer exulted. "Hull plating online!"
"Donovan, charge the hull!"
"Aye, sir!"
Another disruptor bolt slammed into the hull, causing green plasma spray in front of the view screen sensors. Instead of a jarring crash, the ship softly resonated for a moment, as if a marble had struck a tuning fork. Wright nodded. The polarized hull plating was doing its job.
"Deavers, new course; take us straight at them," the captain ordered. "Lieutenant Donovan, phase cannons. Fire a spread at the lead ship. Let's see if we can break up that formation."
"Firing solution laid in."
"Let 'em have it!"
"Guns, guns, guns!"
The viewscreen washed out as radiant bolts of charged particles screamed past the sensors. The phaser blasts formed a cloud of glowing orange lances that sped away from the Vigilant like a mob of angry hornets. Captain Wright divided his attention between his tactical display and the main viewscreen, but both told him the same thing. In sync with the bright dots on the viewscreen, the red triangles on the tactical display peeled off and reoriented themselves to safer approach vectors. Wright tapped the touchscreen over each of the red triangles, tagging them with identifying numbers using the key pad in his other hand.
"Deavers, new course. Bring us to heading zero-four-five mark two-two-zero and give me a nine-second impulse burn."
"Sir," the helmsman replied quizzically, "that will bring us into the firing arcs of three of those birds of prey."
"Let tactical and engineering worry about that, Ensign. Set your course."
The starfield in the viewscreen spun wildly as Deavers brought the ship about to the designated course. Three bright points of light continued moving rapidly after the starfield stopped. Wright tapped a button on his keypad and green boxes appeared around the points of light, designating them birds of prey Bravo 1, 4, and 6. Bravo 4 opened fire, disruptor blasts screaming past the viewscreen and splashing off the hull. The ship shuddered from the impact, but showed no sign of buckling.
"Deavers, maneuver us in, but keep us on a steady heading. Lieutenant Donovan, phase cannon spread, box them in and hit them with photonic torpedoes when we hit minimum safe distance."
Without a word, Lt. Donovan keyed in the commands. The viewscreen image tilted as Deavers maneuvered to avoid fire and the phase cannons lashed back at their Romulan prey. Blue shield splash lit the space around the Bird of Prey as phaser blasts impacted the protective force field surrounding the ship. Just as Wright had predicted, the bird shifted to avoid the incoming fire, centering itself within the phaser corridor.
"Fire photonic torpedoes."
"Bruisers on the way." Donovan keyed the firing controls again. Four spiky balls of orange light streaked forward at the Romulan bird of prey, now barely visible as a ship. The Romulan captain realized his mistake too late; before he could maneuver, Vigilant's torpedoes struck his shields and detonated. Blindingly bright white flashes engulfed the Romulan vessel, piercing its shields, buckling its armor, and ultimately tearing it to bits.
"Scratch one," Yoskowicz said with a chuckle.
"Let us not celebrate too soon," Vorin said. "Targets Bravo 6 and Bravo 4 have altered their approach vectors. Romulan Birds of Prey inbound on bearings zero-three-five mark five-one-zero and two-seven-two mark zero-zero-one."
"Tactical, train weapons on target Bravo 4 and maneuver to bring us level with Bravo 6. Roll us over to keep dorsal phase cannons on target; reinforce hull plating on firing side."
"Hull and phase cannons primed," Donovan said.
"Fire!"
The view of K3 and its moons whipped around once again as Deavers delivered a quick impulse burn, pushing the Vigilant away from the cloud of oncoming debris. The Vigilant darted between disruptor blasts, laying down fire with its phase cannons as it threaded a path between the two Romulan ships. Green lances of radiant energy continued to assail the Earth vessel, every individual blow hammering out a loud PING. The PINGs rapidly faded into that oddly soothing electric hum of the hull plating dissipating blast energy.
"Gunnery reports a good hit on target Bravo 4," Lt. Donovan said. In the viewscreen, one of the green stars flared brightly before spinning off wildly into the void, a victim of Vigilant's phase cannons.
"I've got a confirmed mobility kill," Yoskowicz reported. "Bravo 4 is adrift. Thermal indicates that they're venting plasma."
"Two down, four to go," Captain Wright remarked. "Deavers, bring us to course two-two-eight mark zero-one-four. Tactical stations standby; target Bravo 6 is next."
"Aye, captain," came the unison reply. Suddenly, alarms blared from the captain's console.
"Captain," Vorin cut in. "The birds of prey have regrouped and are coming about for another run in formation."
"They've fired torpedoes; eight birds inbound, impact in 17 seconds," Donovan reported in quick succession.
Wright looked down at his tactical display to see eight blinking red circles moving rapidly toward his ship. On the main viewscreen, eight bright flares of light suddenly appeared, centered on the the formation of sparkling green lights. The ship jolted as Deavers kicked it around to avoid disruptor fire. The stars spun wildly in the viewscreen and red HUD boxes appeared around eight fast-moving points of light, all headed for the Vigilant.
"Get ECM online!" Wright ordered.
"They're coming in too fast!" Yosko shouted over the alarm. "ECM won't do any good!"
"Then give me CIWS! I want weapons locks and evasive action!"
"You don't have to tell me twice!" Deavers shouted.
"CIWS tracking and engaging!" Donovan said.
Wright could feel the Vigilant shift beneath him as Ensign Deavers kicked the ship to one side and applied a long impulse burn, pushing the captain back into his seat. The viewscreen spun and the HUD boxes with it. One by one, the red boxes winked out as invisible microwave beams from the point defense emitters cooked their guidance and propulsion systems, rendering the missiles harmless.
"Two left!" Donovan reported. Wright focused on the two last red dots closing rapidly on the Vigilant. The timer in the corner of his tactical display spun down steadily. Twelve seconds. Ten seconds. Eight seconds.
"One left!" Donovan reported, tension creeping into his voice. Wright looked to the viewscreen. Where was the red box? Six seconds. He couldn't see it on screen. Five seconds. The missile was too close now, moving too fast in relation to the ship, CIWS wouldn't be able to track it. Four seconds. Wright keyed the intercom.
"Vampire, vampire!" he shouted into the microphone. "All hands brace for impact!"
Wright gripped the armrests on his chair, despite the fact that he knew it would do little good. The impact was sudden. Vigilant shuddered as the Romulan Pilum torpedo smashed into her hull. CIC filled with smoke as the cryogenic fire suppression system kicked in, smothering the plasma fires erupting in local EPS conduits. Sparks shot from previously opened panels as the electromagnetic pulse from the Pilum's nuclear detonation flooded circuits with a supercharged pulse of electrical energy. The main viewscreen flooded with static, as did Wright's tactical display.
"The electromagnetic pulse from the torpedo temporarily overloaded our primary systems," Vorin said. "Secondary systems coming online in five seconds."
The main viewscreen came back on, albeit with occasional flickers of static. Wright's tactical display also rebooted with similar results. Status reports in red text flooded the tactical display. Wright's eyes narrowed. This would never have happened if they were at full fighting capacity. With the hull plating fully functional, the Vigilant could have shrugged off hits like that with little more than a scratched paint job. But now was not the time for wishful thinking. Wright had to stay focused.
"Lieutenant Zimmerman, SITREP."
"It's one big Charlie Foxtrot down here, sir," Zimmerman replied, hacking violently. In the background, the hisses of fire extinguishers mingled with the crackle of fires and the indistinct shouts of distant crewmen. She continued between coughs, "The power surge from the EMP knocked out one of our major EPS junctions. Power to hull plating is gone, we're running on ablative armor now."
"Shields?"
"No good, captain." Lt. Zimmerman grunted, regaining her composure after voiding her lungs. "I'm not going to get into the gory details, but the entire assembly is pretty much fried. It would take a goddamn miracle to get it working again."
"Lieutenant, I need you to make a miracle happen!"
"I'm no saint, captain, but I'll do what I can. Zimmerman, out."
"Captain," Vorin cut in. "The birds of prey have regrouped and are coming about for another pass."
"Yosko, pop an antimatter spread to mask our trail!"
"You got it!" Yoskowicz replied as he keyed the command. The viewscreen of the Vigilant lit up with blazing white flashes as spare antimatter from the storage podes was vented into empty space. As the ship passed through the forward arc of the antimatter spread, Wright noted the dozens of false infrared sensor contacts on his tactical display. With any luck, the Romulans would be seeing exactly the same thing.
"Deavers, evasive maneuvers!" Wright rapidly punched in n new commands on his keypad. "I've laid in a new course. Give me a 22 second full impulse burn and take us in as low as you can."
"Into the moon, sir?" Deavers said quizzically.
"Just keep your head in the window and you'll be fine," Yoskowicz quipped.
"Can it, Yosko. We're going to use the moon's gravity to slingshot us back toward the Romulans," Wright replied. "If we time it correctly, we'll be coming in too fast for them to avoid us.
"Captain," Vorin interjected. "Your course will take us directly into the firing arcs of their torpedo launchers. We will be unlikely to survive another torpedo hit like the last one without shields or the polarized hull."
"Duly noted, Vorin," Wright said. "But don't forget that we've got torpedoes, too. Deavers, punch it!"
The viewscreen shifted again, this time, centering itself on K4's closest moon. Though the starfield around the moon spun crazily as Deavers executed evasive maneuvers, the pitted, rocky sphere grew rapidly in size as Vigilant closed in on it. Soon, the moon filled the entire viewscreen. Just when it seemed that the ship would smash into the moon, the Vigilant nosed up and leveled out. The moon's surface formed a rocky sky above and the void of space an inky sea below. Rocky crater rims and dusty outcroppings flew by at breakneck speed as Vigilant hurled itself swiftly around the moon. Wright leaned forward and folded his hands, resting his chin atop them.
"Prime all remaining Triton racks and active photonic torpedo tubes and prepare for salvo fire."
"Size of the salvo, captain?" Donovan asked as he punched in the commands.
"All of them."
"All of them, sir?"
"You heard me, lieutenant. Arm all launchers and dial all warhead yields to maximum. Get ready to hit them with everything we've got."
"Do you actually have a plan or are you finally losing it, Clayton?" Yoskowicz remarked.
"The plan is to come at them so fast that they won't be able to react," Wright snapped. "We'll box them in using a phase cannon corridor and then salvo fire all torpedoes at once when we close to 1000 kilometers. Yosko, I want you to get ECM online and jam their COMMs when we get close so they won't be able to break away on command."
"Captain, I do not have to remind you about how risky your strategem is. We will not be likely to survive being caught in the firing arcs of the enemy weapons, let alone the blast of our own torpedoes at the range at which you are preparing to fire them."
"Tell me something, Vorin. Romulans are hunters, are they not?"
"Their battle tactics suggest they are as such," the Vulcan affirmed. "They utilize cloaking devices to hide from their prey until they are within a favorable position to strike."
"Then they appreciate predictable prey."
"That they do, captain. Romulans quickly identify and deal with creatures of habit."
"What we're doing right now, my Vulcan friend, is being unpredictable. The first thing that they'll expect us to do is run. The last thing they'll expect us to do is come screaming at them, guns blazing."
"That still does not address our shield problem, Captain."
"We'll brake at the last possible second and use a full-power impulse burn to push us free of the blast. With any luck at all we'll be out of this fight without one scratch more."
"Let us hope you are right, captain. We will be in weapons range in ninety seconds."
The viewscreen went dark as Vigilant swung around the far side of the moon, shielded from the light of Kendara's sun. The tension in CIC was palpable. Wright's gaze narrowed on the main viewscreen as Vigilant approached the edge of the moon's shadow. All of his senses seemed heightened. His heart pounded in his chest. The smell of burnt electronics hung heavy in his nostrils. The metallic taste of adrenaline flooded his mouth. The sounds of Ortega, Yoskowicz, Donovan, Deavers, and the bridge DC teams drawing labored breath filled his ears. For a moment, he thought he could even hear Zimmerman cursing her plasma torch in engineering.
As Vigilant crossed out of the umbra, the viewscreen washed out with blindingly bright sunlight. The view screen repolarized, cutting the glare down and allowing Captain Wright's marks to be seen. Red HUD boxes appeared on screen, indicating the relative positions of the Romulan Birds of Prey as they came out of the moon's sensor shadow. Wright carefully watched the timer on his tactical display, which rapidly ticked down the time until contact, in sync with the red triangles moving closer on his tactical display and the red boxes growing larger on the viewscreen.
"Tubes primed and racks open, Captain," Donovan reported.
"Prepare to execute at 1000 kilometers," Wright ordered.
"Course laid in," Deavers said. "Ready to break on your mark, Captain."
"Brace yourselves."
The timer continued to count down the final moments. Fifteen seconds. The rain of disruptor fire began again. Thirteen seconds. It got loud; very loud. Without the charged hull plating active, each hit felt like a giant sledgehammer slamming into the side of the ship. Eleven seconds. Alarms blared, the alert lamps flashed, and more blinking red text appeared on Wright's tactical display. Nine seconds.
"Two thousand kilometers and closing," Vorin reported, his steady voice contrasting heavily with the lurching and shaking of the ship.
"Hold her steady, Deavers," Wright said. The captain focused on the timer on his tactical display. "I need phase cannons and ECM."
"Number three ventral gun just stopped responding!" Donovan shouted above the cacophony of disruptor fire.
"Hull breach on B deck, port side!" Yoskowicz shouted.
"Donovan, switch gun control to manual and tell the MACOs to keep up the fire; Yoskowicz, get damage control up there, double time!"
A double beep sounded in Wright's headset, indicating an incoming transmission. Wright hammered the COMM switch to answer. "This better be good, Zimmerman!"
"Would I be radioing in the middle of a firefight if it weren't?"
"LIEUTENANT!"
"Yeah, yeah, listen; I can give you shield power for five seconds, but no more."
"Can you route controls to CIC?"
"No can do, sir. The shield generator is so jerry-rigged and daisy-chained that I have to physically wire the connections to get it to work."
"Stay on the line, lieutenant! Be ready to plug that thing in on my mark!"
"Roger that, sir."
"ECM online," Yoskowicz reported. "Nobody's phoning home now!"
"Twelve hundred kilometers and closing," Vorin reported.
"Steady..."
"One thousand kilometers."
"EXECUTE! EXECUTE! EXECUTE!"
Everything happened at once. To Wright, it seemed like he was moving in slow motion. Ringing in his ears was a maelstrom of sound; the hammer strokes of Romulan disruptor fire impacting on the hull, the blaring tones of the computerized alarms telling him his ship was about to break apart, the low rumbling of sixty Triton nuclear torpedoes roaring clear of their berths, the eerie whistling of a ruptured EPS conduit bleeding superheated plasma, and the awful grinding sounds of shearing metal. The viewscreen was useless. Even though Wright could tell it wasn't engulfed in static, the entire screen was lit up by pure white light; so bright that it handily illuminated the grim shadows of CIC.
As the white began to clear, Wright could pick up bits and pieces of starship debris intermingled with gouts of flame as internal atmosphere from the birds of prey vented into the void of space. Nuclear fire raged all around Vigilant as every single remaining munition in its arsenal ignited on contact with the Romulan ships. The jolt was substantial. Unlike the disruptor hits, the nuclear wash caused the entire ship to violently jerk, as if giant hands were tearing it apart.
Wright looked down. He was no longer in his seat, but suspended above it. No, not suspended, thrown from it. He was moving forward slowly, headed towards the rear of the helm console where Deavers was seated. The captain shielded his face with his forearms and braced for impact. Wright had to admit, it hurt. There was no "crunch" or "squish" sound, so that meant no broken bones or torn flesh, but it still hurt. The second impact with the ground knocked the wind out of him. Little pinpricks of light danced in his field of vision as his head connected with the floor of CIC.
"I have to focus," Wright said to himself. He quickly pushed himself into a sitting position. Rolling back over, Wright pulled himself back into his commander's chair and smacked the tactical display with an open palm. His vision swam and his head throbbed; try as he might, the display would not stop spinning. He looked up at the viewscreen; the image was also spinning, but everyone else in the bridge was sitting still.
"Sir, are you all right?" He could hear Yoskowicz yell. His speech was muted, as if on the far side of a glass window. Wright waved him off.
"I'll live. What the hell is going on?" Wright swiveled his head around. The alarms were still blaring, but at a different pitch. Even in his concussed state, Wright recognized the alarm as a flight alarm; they only activated when there was a non-combat emergency.
"Nothing good, sir. Bekah's shield pulse blunted most of the nuke wash, but one of the Romulan Birds of Prey suffered a reactor breach. We underestimated how much antimatter there was in there; the blast threw us way off course."
"So now we're out of control." Wright said grimly. "Deavers, can you stabilize the ship?"
"I can't, sir!" Deavers said, audibly struggling with the controls. "RCS thrusters are no good and we're spinning too fast for me to compensate with impulse!"
Wright keyed the COMM. "Zimmerman, what can you give me?"
"A tongue-lashing about how I should be getting hazard pay for this!" the engineer spat.
"LIEUTENANT!"
"Right, right," Zimmerman continued, "I have a plan. I might be able to realign the warp coils and shunt the warp flux through our inertial dampeners to-"
"English, lieutenant!"
"- create a warp spike, like a subspace drogue chute. It'll slow us down and stabilize the ship."
"Captain," Vorin said, still unnervingly calm. "I'm getting an inertial drift warning from our ship accelerometers, we're falling into a gravity well. I believe we are spinning towards Kendara 4."
"Zimmerman! Whatever you're about to do, do it quickly!"
"Way ahead of you, Clay," she said calmly before closing the channel. Wright did a double take, but shook the feeling quickly. He had a ship to run.
"Ortega, send out a wideband distress signal on all Starfleet wireless and subspace channels and prepare to jettison the ship's data core. Standby escape pods."
"It's a damn shame, sir. We just got her." Ortega said, tapping out the commands at his console.
"We'll get to keep her if Zimmerman can pull something out of her ass in the next ninety seconds," Yoskowicz said flatly.
"Can it, Yosko. I have faith in my crew, Ortega. We'll just leave it at that." Wright calmly laid his hand on the tactical display, bringing up the countdown timer until atmospheric entry. Eighty seconds. Where was the call from engineering? Wright instinctively reached for the PTT, but stopped himself. Bekah could do it. Seventy-five seconds. Suddenly, the PTT lit up, indicating an incoming transmission.
"Go."
"You feel like a gambling man, Captain?" Zimmerman said. Seventy seconds.
"I'm willing to try anything at this point. Are your modifications ready?"
"Ready when you are."
"Punch it."
