"Kill that alarm," Trip Tucker ordered as he stepped down onto the bridge. "Get me a situation report from all departments, Marie," he instructed Lieutenant Devereux as he took his seat in the command chair. Flicking his eyes to his mate, he spoke again. "What do you have, T'Pol?"
"Seven Romulan birds of prey have dropped out of warp at the outer edge of the system," she replied, and Tucker nodded. Had this been any other system, the attackers could have gotten much closer to the station before slowing. The mass shadow and sensor distortions cast by the nebula, however, made intra-system warp in the Vigrid System a risky proposition at best. "They are arrayed in a standard battle formation."
"No surprises so far," Trip mused. "Keep an eye on the subspace relays," he instructed, and she gave him a withering look that nearly made him smile; T'Pol hated it when he tried to tell her how to do her job.
"All personnel accounted for, sir," Devereux announced as the lift door slid open. Still clad in his EV suit, Lieutenant Commander Eisler entered the bridge and made a beeline for his station. He was, Trip noticed, carrying a uniform in one hand.
"Signal Bad Omen," Tucker ordered. The curious name for the gunboat had been Hayes' idea and, for some odd reason, the name had appealed to Trip. Even now, with Hayes at its helm and Chief Petty Officer Gray at its weapons console, the gunboat lurked mere meters under Endeavour, so close to the larger ship that its sensor signature would appear as nothing more than a minor sensor shadow. That had been T'Pol's idea and, recalling how successfully it had worked with Lorian's Enterprise in the Expanse, Trip had agreed at once. The element of surprise would only work once, but it might tip the balance just enough...
"Ensign Hayes signals ready, sir," the COM officer stated.
"The Romulans are maneuvering to attack the subspace relay," T'Pol abruptly announced, and Trip suppressed a smile. One of Eisler's first recommendations after he'd awakened had been to seed the immediate area around the relays with proximity mines.
"Onscreen," Trip ordered, and the main viewscreen snapped to life, displaying an image of the relay.
A sudden flash of light filled the screen as one of the Romulan ships swooped into view, triggering a mine during its attack run. Using an old Mark III torpedo as a template, the mine was programmed to detonate when a ship not broadcasting the appropriate IFF transponder code came within 500 kilometers of it; such a distance was negligible in the vastness of space, but distortions emitted by the sensor relays required an attacking vessel to close to within that distance to acquire a targeting lock.
A more 'dirty' weapon than Trip preferred, the mine was a fragmentation grenade written on a huge scale. Hundreds of half-meter long durasteel rods surrounded the outer shell that encased the explosive itself. Upon detonation, these rods would be hurled from the shell at incredible velocities; to any craft within its killing radius, the durasteel shrapnel was devastating if not lethal. Many in Starfleet - Trip included - continued to grumble about using the mines despite orders from Command; the durasteel rods that didn't impact against the target were still out there.
"Surprise," Lieutenant Hsiao muttered from the NAV console.
"Detonation," T'Pol said unnecessarily as she leaned toward her scanning display. Trip gave her backside a quick look, despite the situation and the unflattering Starfleet uniforms. Through the bond, he felt her exasperated amusement at him a fraction of a second before she gave him the mental equivalent of a mild slap. He got the hint: Not now. "Heavy damage to one Romulan craft," she said aloud.
"That'll give 'em something to think about," Trip commented. "Mister Hsiao, cut us loose from the station." Glancing at the empty DCO station, Tucker frowned and mentally reviewed the engineering roster for a replacement. "COB to the bridge," he ordered. He knew that Mackenzie wouldn't want to man the station - Lieutenant Li's station - but right now, Trip needed a damage control officer more than a chief of the boat.
Seeing how Mackenzie responded to Li's death had finally clued Trip in to how close the two had been. He wasn't entirely surprised that they'd had feelings for each other, but it did come as something of a shock to discover that they were still a couple. Amusement flickered over the sadness as he wondered if Jon had felt the same way when he found out about Tucker's relationship with T'Pol.
"How long until they reach firing range?" Trip asked.
"At their present speed," T'Pol replied calmly, "twenty-one point seven five minutes." Trip nodded before glancing at Eisler.
"Commander, you might want to get rid of that EV suit," he suggested. "You can store it in my ready room." The tactical officer gave him a quick nod and darted - or at least the closest equivalent while in a pressure suit - toward the door; he was back within minutes, still buttoning up his uniform jacket.
The lift door slid open and Master Chief Petty Officer Mackenzie entered. Trip gave him a glance, noting the rigid way the Brit held himself. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be entirely professional and completely in control.
"Master Chief," Tucker said in greeting as he gestured toward the Engineering board, "I need you to man the DCO board." Mackenzie flinched almost imperceptibly before giving a sharp nod and striding toward the indicated console.
"Several ECA ships are making a run for the nebula," Lieutenant Hsiao suddenly announced, and Trip frowned. According to the scans that T'Pol had conducted of the nebula, that was a quick suicide; entering the nebula, which was filled with debris and ionic storms, was the stellar equivalent of taking a rowboat into a category 5 hurricane. He mentally weighed their options and felt T'Pol's agreement with his decision.
In situations like this, their bond was invaluable. Words weren't necessary; in the span of a single heartbeat, Trip could tap into T'Pol's experience, exchange ideas and options with her, and develop a working plan at the speed of thought. People had commented on their curious verbal shorthand; he'd tried to explain it to Malcolm several months before Elysium but Reed, having never experienced the sort of telepathic communion Trip had with T'Pol, couldn't wrap his brain around many of the concepts. In the end, Malcolm had been too ... human to understand.
Trip still lost sleep over that thought.
"Lieutenant Devereux, wide broadcast, all Boomer ships," he instructed as he eased back in the command chair, immensely grateful for the sense of calm that T'Pol radiated through the bond; it was important that he look and sound entirely in control. The COM gave him a nod, indicating the channel was open. "This is Captain Tucker of the Endeavour," he announced, his voice perfectly calm and professional-sounding. "Form up on us. We'll punch a hole through the Romulan formation and cover your retreat." He paused for a mere heartbeat; it was a suicide run, and anyone with half a brain could see that. There was simply no way Endeavour could take on that many birds of prey and survive, even with the gunboat's aid. "Godspeed and good luck," he concluded before giving Devereux a nonverbal command to kill the transmission. He turned his eyes to Eisler and found the ex-MACO studying his board with the same intensity he remembered Malcolm having. "Weapons hot," Trip ordered and Eisler reacted without looking up, his hands dancing across his tactical board. The sudden change in Endeavour's ambient noise could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.
"All Boomers report standing by, sir," Lieutenant Devereux declared from her COM station, and Tucker nodded in acknowledgement.
"Lieutenant Hsiao." His voice was cool, his features smooth and almost amused. Control. "Put us between the Romulans and our fleet." He felt T'Pol's momentary confusion at his identification of the Boomers as 'our fleet' but it was almost immediately washed away by understanding and approval at his use of psychology. Here we go, Trip frowned to himself.
At his command, Endeavour's engines roared to life and the ship surged forward.