Crusade ch10
Malcolm looked out the viewscreen and at the same image of Beta-Hydra he had been seeing for the last five hours. Ever since Captain Snyder and his team had left the ship, things had taken a turn for the boring, and it showed on every crewmember. Lieutenant Gonzales was sitting at her console, pushing buttons and relaying commands to the computer in an attempt to look busy. Ensign Norman was going over hostile intruder simulations for the sixth time in ten minutes, and a plethora of other officers and crewmen were doing every job necessary to keep Ulysses functional and secure. The only person without a job to do was Malcolm himself.
After a few more minutes of discovering the infinite possibilities of Captain's Chair fabric, Malcolm sighed, stood up, and stretched his cramped muscles. The popping sounds that emitted from his tired joints turned everyone on the bridge's attention toward him. The commander emitted a sheepish smile and blushed a bit before giving a stern look to the staring crew, ordering them to get back to work. When the crew went back to their duties, Malcolm shuffled his tired legs over to Norman's console.
"How're the sims coming?"
"Fine, sir." The ensign replied without turning to face the commander, "The projected outcome of all armed intrusions into Ulysses have all met with swift actions, and dealt with in less than an hour."
"Good, good. Glad to see you're so diligent-"
"Except the Borg," Norman interrupted.
"The Borg?"
"We can hold off every armed intruder in less than an hour EXCEPT the Borg."
"Do you expect the Borg to attack us on this mission, ensign?"
"No, sir, but I thought it might be a good thing to go over how we would fare against a cube, in case one came our way."
"Ensign, we are in a Noble-class vessel. We'd hold like a piece of tissue paper if we engaged a cube. Please don't waste valuable computer power running frivolous exercises again."
Norman sighed loudly before shutting down the Borg simulation, and moving on to routine security checks. It took a moment before the young man added "Yes, sir."
"Glad to see we're in agreement."
Malcolm proceeded to converse a bit with the rest of the crew on the bridge for a few minutes before Gonzales suddenly shouted over the dull milling.
"SIR!"
"What...?" Malcolm asked as he tuned toward the viewscreen. His eyes widened when he saw it.
The beautiful panorama of the Beta-Hydra's rings were twisting and flashing in random intervals. And a rushing cloud of what looked like plasma energy was heading toward Ulysses at an incredible rate.
"Sheilds!" Malcolm ordered.
"Captain, our proximity to the rings is interfering with our tactical systems," Norman reported, "The computer hypothesizes that our moving within the range of the rings is the reason why we can't get a good sensor lock on the planet, and why it's reacting."
"Why now?" The bridge was starting to rumble and quake as the inertial dampers struggled to keep the ship in relative position.
"I don't know, but we can't raise shields or fire weapons while we're still here."
"Move us out of here, Lieutenant!" Malcolm ordered the obvious.
"The helm is sluggish in the storm!" Gonzales shouted over the growing noise of the bridge.
Malcolm looked on in horror as the approaching plasma stream grew larger on the viewscreen. Lights dimmed as the warp core took power from every available system just to keep the ship in one piece. The computer' voice cut over the chaos with a not-too-subtle warning:
"Warning, unstable plasma stream ahead, please take caution. Structural integrity is at ninety percent and falling."
"How's that maneuver coming, Lieutenant?" Malcolm shouted.
"It's like trying to push a cart with square wheels here, sir, it's just too slow!"
Malcolm watched the storm grow ever larger on the viewscreen.
**********
Snyder's away team reached the top of the large hill nearly an hour later, tired and panting from the physical exertion. But finally, the ground leveled and it was a smooth walk. Just ahead was a small camp, with crude tents set up near a small stream that ran directly into the now distant woods. A small curl of smoke wafted over a small fire in the center of the camp, and the smell of roasting meat hit the team's nostrils, causing all three stomachs to rumble with the hunger they had forgotten since they began the chase.
"That smells so good!" Hartofrd exclaimed, doubling her pace to get to the food.
The trio finished their walk with a new vigor, if only to get some food.
At the camp, the trio found not a sign of life. Even the smell of food had started to fade, as the team noticed that the fire had been hastily put out, and the rotisserie sticks were scattered around the dark pit.
"Damn." Hartford said with resignation.
"I don't get it, "Snyder said, "The tricorder says they're right on top of us..."
Snyder didn't finish his statement, because at that exact moment, a large club suddenly hit the back of his head with stunning force. Before his vision went completely dark, Snyder saw similar fates befalling his team.
**********
Ulysses struggled out of the incoming plasma storm like a prehistoric animal caught in tar. Since her shields weren't in operation, the first few licks of superheated matter began to blacken her pristine outer hull. Flames began to eat away at the hull plates like acid, which would inexorably expose the innards of the ship, and the helpless crewmembers. The ship creaked and groaned like an old wooden ship on Earth, threatening the crew with a sudden hull rupture, or worse, total decompression.
Gonzales worked the helm furiously. Everything she did was met with such an extreme slowness, that it seemed that all of her movements just brought the ship further into the storm. But, like a sudden flash of plasma, she got an idea.
"I'm going to activate emergency thrusters!"
"What?" Commander Malcolm shouted back, "You can't do that in this storm! We'll fry!"
Pretending not to listen, Gonzales shouted "Hang on!" and pressed the thruster control switch.
From many outer points along Ulysses' hull, small blue flames emerged, slowly pushing the ship toward the oncoming firestorm. The already volatile storm took in the miniscule energy of the thrusters and took it into its own, turning the violent firestorm into a maelstrom of uncontrolled power.
Malcolm nearly wept in horror at the ineptitude of that move. The ship shook even fiercer than before. Consoles sparked and died, crewmembers fell and took serious injuries, and Ulysses herself was literally falling apart. In a moment it would all be over...
Until it ended as suddenly as it began. The energy dissipated so smoothly, that no one seemed to have paid attention. Malcolm opened his eyes slowly as he began to realize that he was still alive. At the helm, Gonzales was staring into space, her hair amiss and her uniform darkened by sparks, but otherwise alive. Ensign Norman was clutching his console for dear life, his knuckles white with effort, but he was also coming to his senses. The rest of the crew followed suit slowly, collecting damage reports and trying to return the ship to normal.
"Report," Malcolm weakly ordered.
"All ship functions returning to normal, Sir," Norman reported in a voice just a weak as Malcolm's.
"Good." He said before getting out of his chair again. Turning to it, he noticed a rather large collection of dust and other particulates burned on the back of his chair. If he had been standing, or at least turned at any other angle, he would have been cooked alive. He silently thanked the chair. "I'll call a senior staff meeting when we get this all sorted out."
As Malcolm walked off the bridge, he watched the shaky crew try to do the first patched of work on he damaged ship, and the very pristine planet in the distance, mocking them in its serenity.
Malcolm looked out the viewscreen and at the same image of Beta-Hydra he had been seeing for the last five hours. Ever since Captain Snyder and his team had left the ship, things had taken a turn for the boring, and it showed on every crewmember. Lieutenant Gonzales was sitting at her console, pushing buttons and relaying commands to the computer in an attempt to look busy. Ensign Norman was going over hostile intruder simulations for the sixth time in ten minutes, and a plethora of other officers and crewmen were doing every job necessary to keep Ulysses functional and secure. The only person without a job to do was Malcolm himself.
After a few more minutes of discovering the infinite possibilities of Captain's Chair fabric, Malcolm sighed, stood up, and stretched his cramped muscles. The popping sounds that emitted from his tired joints turned everyone on the bridge's attention toward him. The commander emitted a sheepish smile and blushed a bit before giving a stern look to the staring crew, ordering them to get back to work. When the crew went back to their duties, Malcolm shuffled his tired legs over to Norman's console.
"How're the sims coming?"
"Fine, sir." The ensign replied without turning to face the commander, "The projected outcome of all armed intrusions into Ulysses have all met with swift actions, and dealt with in less than an hour."
"Good, good. Glad to see you're so diligent-"
"Except the Borg," Norman interrupted.
"The Borg?"
"We can hold off every armed intruder in less than an hour EXCEPT the Borg."
"Do you expect the Borg to attack us on this mission, ensign?"
"No, sir, but I thought it might be a good thing to go over how we would fare against a cube, in case one came our way."
"Ensign, we are in a Noble-class vessel. We'd hold like a piece of tissue paper if we engaged a cube. Please don't waste valuable computer power running frivolous exercises again."
Norman sighed loudly before shutting down the Borg simulation, and moving on to routine security checks. It took a moment before the young man added "Yes, sir."
"Glad to see we're in agreement."
Malcolm proceeded to converse a bit with the rest of the crew on the bridge for a few minutes before Gonzales suddenly shouted over the dull milling.
"SIR!"
"What...?" Malcolm asked as he tuned toward the viewscreen. His eyes widened when he saw it.
The beautiful panorama of the Beta-Hydra's rings were twisting and flashing in random intervals. And a rushing cloud of what looked like plasma energy was heading toward Ulysses at an incredible rate.
"Sheilds!" Malcolm ordered.
"Captain, our proximity to the rings is interfering with our tactical systems," Norman reported, "The computer hypothesizes that our moving within the range of the rings is the reason why we can't get a good sensor lock on the planet, and why it's reacting."
"Why now?" The bridge was starting to rumble and quake as the inertial dampers struggled to keep the ship in relative position.
"I don't know, but we can't raise shields or fire weapons while we're still here."
"Move us out of here, Lieutenant!" Malcolm ordered the obvious.
"The helm is sluggish in the storm!" Gonzales shouted over the growing noise of the bridge.
Malcolm looked on in horror as the approaching plasma stream grew larger on the viewscreen. Lights dimmed as the warp core took power from every available system just to keep the ship in one piece. The computer' voice cut over the chaos with a not-too-subtle warning:
"Warning, unstable plasma stream ahead, please take caution. Structural integrity is at ninety percent and falling."
"How's that maneuver coming, Lieutenant?" Malcolm shouted.
"It's like trying to push a cart with square wheels here, sir, it's just too slow!"
Malcolm watched the storm grow ever larger on the viewscreen.
**********
Snyder's away team reached the top of the large hill nearly an hour later, tired and panting from the physical exertion. But finally, the ground leveled and it was a smooth walk. Just ahead was a small camp, with crude tents set up near a small stream that ran directly into the now distant woods. A small curl of smoke wafted over a small fire in the center of the camp, and the smell of roasting meat hit the team's nostrils, causing all three stomachs to rumble with the hunger they had forgotten since they began the chase.
"That smells so good!" Hartofrd exclaimed, doubling her pace to get to the food.
The trio finished their walk with a new vigor, if only to get some food.
At the camp, the trio found not a sign of life. Even the smell of food had started to fade, as the team noticed that the fire had been hastily put out, and the rotisserie sticks were scattered around the dark pit.
"Damn." Hartford said with resignation.
"I don't get it, "Snyder said, "The tricorder says they're right on top of us..."
Snyder didn't finish his statement, because at that exact moment, a large club suddenly hit the back of his head with stunning force. Before his vision went completely dark, Snyder saw similar fates befalling his team.
**********
Ulysses struggled out of the incoming plasma storm like a prehistoric animal caught in tar. Since her shields weren't in operation, the first few licks of superheated matter began to blacken her pristine outer hull. Flames began to eat away at the hull plates like acid, which would inexorably expose the innards of the ship, and the helpless crewmembers. The ship creaked and groaned like an old wooden ship on Earth, threatening the crew with a sudden hull rupture, or worse, total decompression.
Gonzales worked the helm furiously. Everything she did was met with such an extreme slowness, that it seemed that all of her movements just brought the ship further into the storm. But, like a sudden flash of plasma, she got an idea.
"I'm going to activate emergency thrusters!"
"What?" Commander Malcolm shouted back, "You can't do that in this storm! We'll fry!"
Pretending not to listen, Gonzales shouted "Hang on!" and pressed the thruster control switch.
From many outer points along Ulysses' hull, small blue flames emerged, slowly pushing the ship toward the oncoming firestorm. The already volatile storm took in the miniscule energy of the thrusters and took it into its own, turning the violent firestorm into a maelstrom of uncontrolled power.
Malcolm nearly wept in horror at the ineptitude of that move. The ship shook even fiercer than before. Consoles sparked and died, crewmembers fell and took serious injuries, and Ulysses herself was literally falling apart. In a moment it would all be over...
Until it ended as suddenly as it began. The energy dissipated so smoothly, that no one seemed to have paid attention. Malcolm opened his eyes slowly as he began to realize that he was still alive. At the helm, Gonzales was staring into space, her hair amiss and her uniform darkened by sparks, but otherwise alive. Ensign Norman was clutching his console for dear life, his knuckles white with effort, but he was also coming to his senses. The rest of the crew followed suit slowly, collecting damage reports and trying to return the ship to normal.
"Report," Malcolm weakly ordered.
"All ship functions returning to normal, Sir," Norman reported in a voice just a weak as Malcolm's.
"Good." He said before getting out of his chair again. Turning to it, he noticed a rather large collection of dust and other particulates burned on the back of his chair. If he had been standing, or at least turned at any other angle, he would have been cooked alive. He silently thanked the chair. "I'll call a senior staff meeting when we get this all sorted out."
As Malcolm walked off the bridge, he watched the shaky crew try to do the first patched of work on he damaged ship, and the very pristine planet in the distance, mocking them in its serenity.