"STANDBY ALERT. SHIP IN DISTRESS. ALL HANDS TO STATIONS.
STANDBY ALERT. SHIP IN DISTRESS. ALL HANDS TO STATIONS..."
Trathal jumped to her feet, tapping her comm badge. "Lieutenant Trathal to USS Ptolemy. Standby alert sounding on DS6, requesting permission to beam aboard to resume duty."
"Ptolemy here, please await orders."
"Trathal, do you know what's happening?" Orilai was already on her feet. Even as she spoke, she glanced over at one of the Recidivist crew and jerked her head toward the door. As the DS6 crew hurried out of the mess, the Recidivist crew started to leave as well.
"Not a clue, but ship in distress means someone out there is in danger!" Trathal hesitated for a moment, then headed for the exit as well. "I'm heading back to the Ptolemy."
Orilai fell in beside her. "Recidivist's the same way."
Trathal dearly wanted to sprint, but she knew she couldn't make the whole distance going flat out, so she alternated between short sprints and steady jogs. She was grimly amused to see that although Orilai had a much longer stride, the powerfully built Asari was soon struggling to keep up with her. At least I'm still in shape.
"Ptolemy to Trathal. Transporters are at capacity, you will be contacted if you are needed aboard."
Pfth. As sure as a Vulcan promise. She started pushing herself harder, weaving around scurrying DS6 crew, darting through gaps in the crowd, and quickly leaving Orilai behind. As she reached the curving corridor that circled the station, she started to sprint in earnest... then abruptly came to an awkward, flailing halt.
Through the broad windows, she could see the Ptolemy pulling away from the station. She stared after it, distraught, as it moved off under impulse, then vanished into warp drive.
They left me! Why did they leave me?
As the DS6 crew ran hither and thither, all heading to their stations, all with somewhere to be, she just stood and stared helplessly at where the Ptolemy had disappeared.
"Martin, of course, what's the problem?" Forest saw, from the corner of his eye, Commander Shepard moving toward the door. He lifted his hand in a vague 'wait there' gesture. "Commander Shepard's here, do we need privacy?"
"What?" Martin looked tense and distracted. In the background of the call Forest could hear a hubbub of voices. Martin glanced at something out of view, then barked, "No, not yet." He looked back at Forest. "Sorry, not you. Listen, the Higgs just dropped out of warp, four AU out. She's badly damaged, venting plasma and warp core coolant, and we can't raise her. She's on a collision course at full impulse. If her warp core breaches before she gets here we'll lose any of her crew still alive. And if not... our shields and tractor beams could just barely manage a dead-weight collision, but if her warp core breaches when she collides that will finish us."
"Understood, we'll... Blast."
"What?!"
"Shepard just left at a flat-out run. Something's spooked her..."
Martin made an impatient gesture. "Forget her, there's no time. ETA? Right, we've got just over ninety minutes. Please make this a priority?"
Forest paused for an instant, his eyes closed, trying to work out the logistics. "All right, a lot of our maintenance crew are helping with the Zhang Qian, and the Recidivist, it'll take a few minutes to get them on board. If you send me a list of available DS6 damage control and rescue crew, I'll get as many on board as I can and set off in ten minutes. Or... can the Qian help?"
"List is... sent. No, Qian will take minimum forty five minutes to get underway."
"Understood. Forest out."
He strode quickly onto the bridge. Grant had already vacated the captains chair and was standing by the ops console. "Mr Grant! Have you received Captain Carew's emergency response team list?"
Grant glanced over at him. "Aye Sir. The list had a brief but... forthright situation summary. Your permission to recall crew and DS6 first responders?"
"Granted." As Forest sat in the Captain's chair, he glanced round the bridge, then tapped his com badge. "Forest to Pashzto, report on Commander Shepard's location."
"Pashzto... here." The chief of security sounded as if she was panting. "Shepard said the... Recidivist... would help. Sorry, I lost her on... deck four."
"Lost her? What did she do, run away?"
"I... sorry, just..."
"Are you alright?"
"Yessir. I don't know what she... did. It was like she went... to warp on foot." There was a slight thump. "Just got... to catch my... breath." For a few seconds there was just the sound of panting, then, "Getting a call from Crewman Stone at the hard docking port. I'll report back to you soon. Pashzto out."
Forest scowled in frustration, then tapped his comm again. "Captain to all hands. The USS Higgs is inbound, severely damaged and not responding to hails. We are departing to assist imminently. All hands to stations. Forest out."
He nodded to Grant who triggered the 'Emergency Stations' alert. As the lights changed, and the alert sounded, his comm beeped. "Forest."
"Pashzto. Shepard confirmed left by hard docking port."
What is she playing at? Never mind. She's Martin's problem now. "Very good. Forest out. Mr Grant, what progress on bringing our crew and DS6 first responders on board?"
"Transporter room two is still out of action following our last engagement, so transporter capacity is a bottleneck. Nearby crew are coming on board by hard docking port, we're beaming others aboard as fast as we can."
"Thank you. When we reach ten minutes from our receipt of the crew list, or ninety percent of required crew, proceed to undock and intercept the Higgs at top speed."
"Aye sir."
As he sat and waited, Forest tried to anticipate problems and work out contingencies. If the Higgs' crew were incapacitated, could they take control remotely? If the warp core was overheating, and couldn't be shut down, could they separate the saucer section before there was a core breach? And as he pondered, he kept returning to the same nagging worry.
What did Pashzto mean, 'she went to warp on foot'? What surprises do these strange people still have to spring on us?
As Shepard sprinted through DS6 to where Recidivist was docked, she contacted him.
+ Shepard → Recidivist + Reci! Federation ship is incoming on a collision course and may destroy DS6. Message all crew to return to post now! Biotic rush authorised.
- Recidivist - Calling them now! Beni, are you telling me they wouldn't blow it up before it got here?
+ Shepard + What, the Federation? They'd probably sit around wringing their little hands and trying to think how to save everyone until it was too late.
- Recidivist - Want me to pop off a disruptor torpedo or two? Chief S'Koil's got eighteen switched over to FTL flight. It'd solve all our problems...
+ Shepard + Tempting. But, no. We'll get underway, then help them to save the station without pissing them off. Inform the officers.
- Recidivist - Dorot's gonna be maaad...
+ Shepard + Dorot will follow orders!
- Recidivist - Ooohh, it gives me lovely shivers when you're all masterful!
+ Shepard + Fuck you.
- Recidivist - Oh, if only you could...
She cut the connection before he could send anything she couldn't ignore. He's getting worse, I swear! She spotted a clear path ahead, and rushed, leaving startled shouts far behind.
They left me! Why did they leave me?
As the DS6 crew ran hither and thither, all heading to their stations, all with somewhere to be, Trathal just stood and stared helplessly at where the Ptolemy had disappeared.
A moment later, one strong arm wrapped around her, and another lifted her by her knees. She squawked in protest. "What are you doing?!"
Orilai beamed down at her. "I'm sweeping you off your feet. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Trathal managed to produce a faint squeak of embarrassment.
"Good. Now hold tight."
As Orilai started running, Trathal wondered what she thought she was doing. She knows she isn't as fast as meee "eeeeeeEEEKKK!"
Acceleration pushed her into the big woman's chest, and the corridor blurred past her in a rush! Suddenly it stopped. Orilai rounded a corner in three great, thudding strides, and barged past a couple of DS6 security personnel who started trying to shout something. Then everything blurred again, and Trathal could just about hear their yells in the distance behind them.
Trathal wondered if she should try to break free. She'd learned some unarmed combat in the Imperial Guard, enough to hold her own against a bigger opponent. Unless they were also trained. She couldn't imagine a fight would turn out as she might expect against Orilai. And it would be a diplomatic disaster of the worst sort. She couldn't think of anything better to do than cling helplessly to Orilai, press her face into the Asari's shoulder, and wait for the impossible, nauseating journey to end where it would.
Shepard stood just outside the Recidivist's docking port, watching her crew piling aboard. Shosak was in full Marine Sergeant mode, barking terse instructions ("No crowd! You, weapons. Dissstribute! You, armour! Bring to cargo bay!"), grabbing milling crew and shoving them into some semblance of order. Most of the technicians had been aboard anyway, scrambling to try and repair the Blackstar cannon, but the marines and huntresses had been following orders; Mix with the Federation people. Make friends. Keep your eyes and ears open. And if there's going to be any pillow talk, make sure it's them talking, not you!
A blurred shape flickered into the hanger bay, and resolved itself into Vaalka Ierev, hopping on one foot while she pulled a boot on, her jacket and pants bundled under one arm. She was greeted by a scattering of catcalls and ribald comments, which she answered with a grin and an obscene gesture.
Then Orilai rushed into sight carrying someone. Someone with blue skin. Has one of the huntresses been hurt? One of the medics hurried toward them, then stopped as Orilai lowered the stunned looking... Andorian? to her feet. Shepard strode over. What the hell is she playing at? Is she kidnapping one of them? Helping them to desert?
"Chief S'Koil, what's going on here?"
Orilai saluted smartly. "Commander. Lieutenant Trathal's ship just left. If we're going to a Federation ship's aid we'll need some Federation technical know-how. The Lieutenant has volunteered to help."
Shepard took one glance at the little Andorian woman's bewildered, lost kitten expression. 'Volunteered', has she? Really? "Lieutenant, did you volunteer to..."
"Yes commander!"
Shepard was taken aback at how instantly her air of bewilderment was swept away, and replaced by straight-backed and eyes front attention. Not that she believed the Andorian for one moment, but her posture was all wrong. This wasn't a tight-arsed by-the-book Federation technician. This was a soldier covering up for a squad mate's blunder. For a moment Shepard hesitated, then shook her head. If the idiot technician wanted to back up Orilai's lie, Shepard wasn't about to call either of them out on it, not now. And we could use her.
"Right. Lieutenant, kindly stay with Chief S'Koil, advise and inform from Recidivist. Have you been briefed?"
"Not fully, Commander."
Translation: 'I have no idea what's going on'. "Your USS Higgs is inbound on a collision course, venting plasma and something called 'warp core coolant', and can't be raised. Ptolemy has been dispatched to aid her and prevent a collision. We're going to help."
The Lieutenant had gone pale at the mention of warp core coolant, but nodded. "The Higgs is a Galaxy class ship. I'm familiar with their layout and systems, and with protocols for preventing warp core breach. I'll be most useful to your crew on board the Higgs, not advising from Recidivist. And if they've been damaged in combat, some of her crew may be... on edge. I can reassure them you are allies."
Shepard resisted the urge to facepalm. I never even thought of that. "Very well. Stick with Chief S'Koil. Do not take stupid risks! S'Koil, get her some armour, if anything happens to her you'll be in trouble."
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode for the docking port.
"Dropping out of warp. USS Higgs on screen."
"Thank you, match her course." Forest stared gloomily at the ship that appeared on the screen. The Galaxy class ships were the pride, the pinnacle of Starfleet, sister ships to the Enterprise herself. Once they'd been a symbol of the strength of Starfleet and the Federation.
The ship on the screen had become a symbol of their weakness. A symbol of this war. She had obviously been in a brutal battle, her primary hull scored by multiple phased polaron strikes. One had slashed across the hull immediately over her bridge. If there was anyone still alive on the bridge he'd be surprised. But worse than that was the one that cut a wandering path from the port edge of the primary hull, across the top of the hull, and then winding around the secondary hull toward the stern. She must have been rolling. Trying to bring her starboard shields between her and her attacker. But the shields failed almost instantly. Atmosphere was leaking from several points along the trench that had been cut clear through her hulls, and from the secondary hull plasma, glowing a vivid, almost violet blue, sputtered and flashed.
"Mr Grant, scans?"
Grants voice shook ever so slightly as he spoke.
"I'm reading multiple life signs, principally scattered about the primary hull, though there are a number also on the secondary hull. Approx..." He swallowed. "Approximately five hundred in total."
Forest closed his eyes for a moment. Five or six hundred killed. At least. "Any life signs on the bridge?"
"I'm not... Yes. Several, but faint."
"What's the situation in main engineering?"
There was a long pause. "Mr Grant?"
"Sir, temperature in main engineering is three hundred degrees Celsius and rising. Radiation levels exceed personal shield capability to block. Atmosphere is flooded with leaking coolant and plasma."
Forest turned to Sotar. "Mr Sotar, can a warp core breach be avoided?"
Sotar shook his head. "Unlikely. Even if engineering could be vented, the high radiation levels mean that entry would almost certainly be fatal within minutes. As the warp core has not been ejected already, I would suggest that automated safety systems have failed. I would have to assess control systems directly to determine if the core can be ejected manually."
Forest drummed his fingers on his armrest, weighing up his options. "Very well. Mr Grant, I want us to use our tractor beam to try and divert the Higgs from its present course."
"Sir, if her course is locked in, in the state she's in we may break her back attempting that."
"I'm aware of that. Just... try gently. Secondly, start beaming survivors on board, if you can get fixes. Prioritise..." He hesitated. I don't want to say this. "Prioritise the least injured."
Grant actually twisted round, looking back at him in dismay from the ops console. Then slowly turned back. "Sir."
He knows the score. We save the ones most likely to survive first. No point saving people on the point of death and leaving less injured people to die if the core breaches.
"Finally, we'll send two away teams over. I'll lead the team to the bridge. First responders and damage control. Mr Sotar will lead a team to engineering and try to eject the warp core. Mr Sotar, I'd suggest starting at the battle bridge. Please assess whether we can disengage the saucer section, I'll check the same from the main bridge."
"Aye Sir."
"Mr Grant, I'd like Lieutenant Trathal on the bridge away team, she's shown she can work effectively under stressful conditions."
"Agreed, Sir, but the lieutenant is not aboard."
"Not aboard?" Forest hoped he'd been able to keep the unspoken recrimination out of his voice.
"We weren't able to board our full crew complement before launching." Grant was busying himself with his console, organising the away teams, the deflection attempt, and the transporter evacuation of the Higgs' surviving crew.
"Very good. I'll be heading to transporter room one, please keep me informed."
As he headed toward the turbolift, Forest wondered if he really wanted Trathal on his team because of her abilities, or because he'd found her a calming presence on the Jem'Hadar fighter. He guessed that there were going to be a lot of bodies in the near future.
Trathal did not feel in the slightest bit calm. She'd managed to grab some tools off a bewildered technician before Orilai had hustled her aboard the Recidivist, and along its one corridor to what looked like a cargo hold. Both the corridor and the hold were crowded and chaotic, with crew distributing equipment by tossing it over the heads of others, most of whom were either stripping down to their skin, or in various stages of dragging on suits and armour.
Orilai yelled "Foster! Armour for the technician, Commander's orders."
A stocky human with a rather doughy face looked over. His eyebrows went up as he saw that Orilai was pointing at her, then he gave her a careful toes-to-antennae look. "Will those fit in a human or Asari helmet?"
Trathal nodded. "If it's not too tight." She folded her antennae flat on her head to demonstrate.
Foster turned to one of the crew and said "Fetch Myrashi's suit." He looked back. "Technician Myrashi's close enough to your size, and won't be much use on a Federation ship."
"Your technicians are issued with... armoured suits?"
"Mm." Orilai held one arm up and snagged a bundle as it sailed over the heads of a couple of Asari, who ducked with practised ease. "We're all military trained. Right, clothes off, let's see if Foster's got a good eye."
Trathal took a deep breath. Come on, it's just like showering in the Guard, no room for modesty. She soon realised that it was literally a case of 'no room'. The suit itself was a heavy, flexible garment that fit like a surgeon's glove. It was black, glossy, and threaded with silvery lines in angular, circuit like patterns. The armour plates then snapped onto it, though she couldn't see what locked them in place; they seemed to just jump onto the suit when they were brought close, and stick there. The whole process took barely a minute.
She lowered the helmet into place, wincing as it squashed her antennae. It would be bearable, but was hellishly uncomfortable. "You're not really explorers, are you?"
Orilai just gave a non-committal shrug. "Do you have much zero gravity experience?"
Trathal sighed. I'm not getting an answer, am I? "No, not really. I've had training, simulated... um."
"Oh, that's good, we can always use at least some experience of 'um'."
Trathal ground her teeth in frustration. "Simulated combat boarding, if you must know. Not in Starfleet."
"Ah, right, in your Imperial Guard."
"Mm. A complete waste of time. Nobody's done hard vacuum boarding in over two hundred years, not since transporters became commonplace." She sighed. "But in the Imperial Guard we love our archaic traditions."
Orilai gave her an evil grin. "Well, guess how we'll be getting onto the Higgs, if we can't dock?" She waved at one end of the cargo space they were in.
With a sinking feeling, Trathal realised it was a big loading door.
The bridge of the USS Higgs was a wreck. Fire suppression systems had worked, after a fashion. Nothing was actually burning, but the air was still full of smoke and stank of ozone. Several consoles were crackling and Forest could see electricity arcing behind their shattered surfaces. Part of the ceiling had sagged down, vomiting cabling and ductwork, and several panels had collapsed completely.
The moment they finished transporting, the first responders in his team spread out. Some looked for survivors, administering first aid where they could and signalling the Ptolemy to beam back any who needed urgent treatment in a properly equipped medical centre. Others started assessing damage and trying to ensure nothing would explode, shutting off power to wrecked systems.
Forest headed for the captain's chair. He didn't recognise the man slumped in the chair. Not long ago the captains of Galaxy class ships were known, by reputation at least, to every officer in Starfleet, but so many people had died in the last few months, and so many hastily promoted or transferred, it had become impossible to keep track.
Forest couldn't see any sign of injury, but when he touched the man's shoulder and said "Captain, can you hear me?" the Higgs' captain only twitched slightly. Forest caught the eye of one of his team and nodded him over. The crewman ran her medical scanner over him and murmured "Pulse is strong. Cerebral contusions, not critical but he'll need some treatment and close observation. Mild compression injury to his chest, looks like he got caught in an inertial damper fluctuation."
"Can he be brought round?"
The crewman hesitated. "Um. Maybe, but inadvisable. Best to leave him unconscious for now, or cerebral bleeding may start up in earnest. I'll stabilise him and send him back to Ptolemy."
Forest shook his head firmly. "I know it's a risk, but we need to know as soon as we can what..."
Abruptly he found a fist knotted in his shirt. The Higgs' captain's eyes were open. His lips moved, and a faint croak came out. Forest leant closer to him, and made out the faint word. "Dominion." A slight gasp, and then, "Coming... Attack..."
"It's alright. You got away. You're close to DS6..."
"No!"
Forest was shocked by the sudden vehemence in the man's voice, and the urgency in his eyes. But then his hand dropped away and his eyes started to wander. "Dominion. Attack... Dominion..." His eyes closed.
"Sir, you're not going to get anything coherent from him until the cerebral swelling's been reduced. Permission to send him to Ptolemy, please!" The first responder was glaring at him with an expression of high indignation.
Forest turned away with a frustrated "Permission granted." He glanced around the bridge, but it was obvious he wasn't going to get anything from the few survivors, most of whom were unconscious. The only one who wasn't was continuously moaning in pain.
I'm wasting time, I should be focussing on stopping the ship, or saving the crew. But something's going on here. Martin said the Higgs was just coming in for routine repairs, what happened to her?
He moved over to the ops console, but it quickly became obvious that it was entirely wrecked, and while the console in the captain's ready room was intact and had power, no ship control functions seemed to be available. With a weary grimace he tapped his com badge. "Forest to Commander Sotar."
"Sotar he###."
Forest winced at the crackling interference that broke up Sotar's voice. He tried to speak slowly and clearly; hopefully enough of what he said would get through. "The bridge is no go. Consoles destroyed or non-functional. Bridge crew incapacitated. Any luck?"
"Negative Ca##ain. Data links from ### battle bridge to ###ineering are severed. I have #### ascertained that primary hull ###not be decoupled due to warping or fusing of the lock### gear. Should it be nec###ary, I suggest pulsed phas## fire to the locking points. ###ever, that would be extremely high risk, with destruct### of both prim### and secondary hulls likely.
"Captain, I propose seek### for the data link breach and att##pting to repair. Do you agree?"
"Agreed. Can you estimate time to core breach?"
"No, Captain. Not ####out detailed data from engineer###. ### I would advise that you return to Ptolemy immed####ly and stand off at a safe dist####."
"Thank you. Permission granted to attempt repairs, but evacuate yourself soon."
"Aye aye. Sot## out."
Forest put his head in his hands. Trying to save the Higgs could take hours. It's hopeless, we just have to beam off as many survivors as possible and destroy the Higgs. Unless we can divert it, buy some time. But the warp core could go any moment...
"Dammit. Forest to Ptolemy."
"Ptolemy here."
"Mr Grant, what progress on evacuation?"
"Poor. We're having trouble getting transporter locks on life signs in the secondary hull, and medical is already swamped with evacuees from primary hull."
Forest had the feeling there was going to be no good news from Grant, but he persisted anyway. It wasn't as if he could usefully do anything else. "Any luck diverting the Higgs?"
"Sorry Sir. As I suspected, the course is locked in. Any time we try to pull her off course she corrects. The best we can do is slow her down. Unless you want us to target their impulse drive?"
"In the state she's in? No, that might destroy her. I'll direct my team to locate, triage and provide first aid to survivors. Transport a team or two to the secondary hull in case we can't get access."
"Aye Sir."
"Very well. Forest..."
"Sir, before you sign off, Commander Shepard has signalled to say they'll be on scene shortly."
"What?! What do they think they can do?"
"..."
Forest put his fingers to his temples, trying to massage away a growing headache. "No, don't bother answering, rhetorical question. Can you raise the Recidivist and put me through?"
"Aye Sir."
# Dorot → Shepard # This is a bad idea. We should stand off from the station, let the Federation fix their own mess. Not risk the mission babysitting them.
+ Shepard + Right. And if the station's destroyed, then what? Blunder aimlessly round a war-zone hoping to run into a friendly ship? Head for one of their colonies and hope they wait to talk before shooting?
# Dorot # Seems like talking's all they do. What's the real reason?
+ Shepard + ...
# Dorot # Shepard?
+ Shepard + Dorot, we're not just soldiers. We're spacers. You know the rule, you help a ship in distress. Any ship, even in war, unless they open fire.
# Dorot # Hrmm. Always said you're too soft.
+ Shepard + Too bad. We're doing this.
Shepard glanced over the marines crowded into their cargo loading bay (now their exceedingly makeshift deployment bay). Everyone seemed to be ready, so she clapped her hands for attention.
"Ok people, listen up! I've liaised with Captain Forest of the USS Ptolemy. We're going to be boarding a wreck heading for DS6. Its course is locked in and it's on the point of exploding. Once onboard we'll split into two groups. The larger group will spread out, search for survivors and stabilise the injured. I, XO Granar, Chief S'Koil, marines Ierev and Gucks, and Federation tech Trathal will head for the main power core and try to stop it exploding and taking us all with it.
"Be aware! The ship has been trashed in combat. Most of the crew are dead. The survivors will be frightened, and they know nothing about us. Expect friendly fire. Do NOT escalate! However. This may be a fire ship sent by the Dominion to destroy DS6. If they left soldiers on board to ensure it hits, you may come under hostile fire. Check your targets, only open fire on confirmed enemies, or as a last resort if you cannot retreat or de-escalate.
"Any questions?"
Shepard saw a hand pop up from the packed crowd of marines. The fact that it was beside Orilai, and all she could see of the person was the hand, told her who it was. "Yes, Trathal?"
"Do we know conditions in main engineering?"
"Temperature three hundred Celsius plus, ionizing radiation, toxic atmosphere. Nothing our suits can't handle."
"Really!?"
Shepard rolled her eyes, while there were a few muffled sniggers from the marines.
"Yes. Really." It's as if Federation crews are too precious to enter hostile environments. I thought their soldiers use personal shields, why aren't those standard?
"Any last minute preparation, finish it now, we deploy in two minutes. "
Another hand went up. "Commander, is use of biotics authorised?"
"We haven't got time to mess about with incompatible docking ports, we're going in through a hull breach, so biotics are required. Unless you want to force a way in with your hands?"
"Ooh, yes, can we Commander? Please?"
"No! Double check your gear, we deploy in two minutes."
Ignore the spinning ignore the spinning do not throw up! Concentrate on what Orilai told me, tap here... here? No, here! Good, controls. Oh, context sensitive, neat. Auto stabilise. Wait... wait... okay, better, tuck in, wait... Right, manual rotation... um... got it. Where's the Higgs argh that's close, don't panic, adjust pitch... ok, now yaw... good, never mind what direction I'm facing, straighten up flex knees, wait for it... and engage artificial gravity suits with their own gravity-that's-insane-stop-it-concentrate... Now! "Ooof!"
Trathal straightened up, her knees aching. She was standing... well, she was standing on a near featureless plain. It might have been a planet of metal, except that the horizon was far too close, and in front of her, beyond the horizon, was a vast wall of whiteness, its curved edge cutting through the star scattered sky. It might have been a rising moon, but it was too close, too big. Her senses screamed at her that it was going to fall on her, or the world she was on was going to crash into it.
It made no difference that she knew she was standing on the starboard side of the secondary hull of the USS Higgs, and was looking towards the underside of her primary hull. Her hindbrain could only process the view as a moon about to fall to the surface of Andoria.
She turned away, trying not to look at the impossible. Aft must be to the right... Oh. Oh shit. Now she was looking aft, along the starboard side of the Higgs, she could see where a Dominion phased polaron beam had cut a trench through her hull. It was like looking at a volcanic crack in the ground. Atmosphere was still leaking out, lit up from below by venting plasma and erratic blue flashes of high tension arcing.
Are we seriously going to climb down into that?!
With a shake of her head (and a wince as her abused antennae rubbed on the inside of her borrowed helmet) she pulled herself together, and starting heading toward it. She could see several of the Recidivist crew silhouetted against the flickering blue light. Others of the crew who had landed near her were already on their way. Trathal didn't try to mimic their high speed walking action, but followed the advice of the trainer back in the Imperial Guard academy who'd taught them zero gravity boarding. Drop your hands to the hull, keep your boots flat. Pretend you're climbing a steep slope, one foot at a time, use your thighs to push you along. Use handholds if they're there, but whatever you do, don't try drifting over the surface. If you miss a grip you'll just tumble off into nowhere.
She was pleased to see that one of the Asari had muffed her landing, bouncing off the surface, and was slowly drifting away from the hull, rotating and cursing. Hey, I might not be as good as most, but I'm better than some! Just then their sergeant, Shosak, went past her, his strange loping stride moving him at near running speed. He reached up, grabbed the flailing Asari by one ankle and slammed her into the hull with a furious shriek. "Ssstupid! Fffucker!" He pinned her to the deck until she managed to get her feet under her, then let her stand.
"Embarrassssed yourssself!"
"Yes Sergeant."
"Embarrassssed Shepard!"
"Sorry Sergeant."
"Embarrassssed me!"
"It won't happen again Sergeant!"
The enraged Vorcha abruptly stepped forward, grabbed hold of her and hissed venomously "Practiccce!" Then he yanked her off her feet and bodily hurled her off into space.
For a moment Trathal gaped. Is he trying to kill her? Then she saw the dark, twisted bulk of the Recidivist delicately manoeuvring so that the unfortunate Asari was drifting toward its open loading bay.
Shosak turned momentarily and glared at Trathal. The inside of his visor had drops of saliva on it. Then he muttered "Time iss sshort" and loped off towards the hull breach.
Forest sat on the bridge of the Ptolemy and fretted. He'd reluctantly taken Sotar's advice; there was little point in his risking either himself or the Ptolemy, and with his background in strategy and xeno linguistics he didn't have the specialist engineering or medical skills that this mission called for. But even though Sotar's advice was logical and reasonable, he hated it. He hated feeling useless, waiting while other people handled the crisis.
"Captain, incoming message from Lieutenant Trathal."
"Put her through. Lieutenant, what progress?"
"Sir, most of ### Recidivist crew have spread out looking ### survivors. We had a couple of close calls ### crew thinking they were Dominion, but one ## the techs we loca### managed to get a message ### over the ###ouncement system, so that should have helped. The group I'm with have almost reach## main engin###ing. I haven't been able to contact Com###der Sotar to co-ordinate with him, comms channels are swamp## ## interference from damaged systems, I was lucky to find a dead spot to call the Ptol###."
"Mr Sotar's aware. He'll try to restore control in case you can't do anything in engineering. Is Commander Shepard confident their suits can take the conditions in engineering? Temperature there's up to... Mr Grant?"
"Five hundred and climbing."
"Got that Sir. ### very confident."
"Overconfident?"
"### not sure Sir. She said that if I can't eject the warp core, #### she'll rip it out and throw it off the #### herself. And I know it sounds ridic###us, but after what I've seen them ## ## capable of, I think she might just do it."
"... You're right. That sounds ridiculous."
"Sir, she and Dorot just #### a buckled pressure door out of its frame, and are ##### it to prop open a collapsed corridor. Marine Gucks, an###er Krogan, is holding the collapsed deck up with ### ##re hands. Their suits... I think it's their suits, are capable of gener#### powerful localised gravitational fields. They might be able ##### just what they say. Sorry Sir, our way's clear, got ### go ### bef###..."
"Signal lost, Sir."
Forest grunted irritably. "Time to DS6?"
"Twenty minutes, Sir."
Damn. We're going to have to destroy her. Do I get Sotar to shut down the impulse drive? To try to shut it down? No, preventing warp core breach is the priority... or is that just wishful thinking? I don't know what 's the right thing to do. No idea at all... "Evacuation progress?"
"Estimated sixty percent complete."
Maybe two hundred souls still aboard. Forest sat, sunk in thought for a few seconds. When you have no good decisions, take your best guess and take it with confidence. Vacillating helps no-one. "Very well. Prepare to withdraw our crew on board and signal the Recidivist that we will destroy the USS Higgs at two minutes before impact with DS6."
The slight background of murmuring on the bridge, as crew dealt with the ongoing business of running a starship, stopped abruptly. Then, after a painfully long pause, Grant responded. "Aye Captain."
Forest listened gloomily as discussions started up again, slightly louder and with increased urgency. Transporter capacity, medical capacity, where to put crew from the Higgs as medical bays ran out of room; food, fluid, first aid and counselling for the walking wounded...
His comm badge chirruped urgently, high priority direct to Captain. "Forest."
"Pashzto here. Sir, we have a situation. May I brief you privately?"
"Bear with me. Mr Grant, you have the bridge." Forest crossed quickly to his ready room. "Well?"
"Sir, I'm in transporter room three. Our next group of evacuees from the Higgs includes three who have triggered a transporter alert. Sir, we're getting a Borg warning on them."
"WHAT?!"
"Sir, I think it's a false alarm. Their bodies are swarming with nanites, but I've spoken to them over comms and they're clearly not Borg. However, they were all given medical aid by the crew of the Recidivist, and are recovering from their injuries unreasonably fast. Do I have your permission to bring them aboard? If so, I think they should be isolated in a high security field protected area."
"Damn! Damn damn damn!" Forest slammed his hand down on his desk. He was distantly aware that he was losing his self control, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. "Why this, now of all times?! What do those loose cannon... what do they think they're playing at? Infesting our people with nanites?"
"With respect Sir, I believe they thought they were playing at saving lives." Pashzto's tone had gone rather cold. "From the description of their injuries given by fellow crew, at least two of them should have died before we could have treated them."
Forest slumped onto a chair with a groan. "Yes, of course, bring them on board, what else can we do? By rights we should quarantine them on the Higgs, along with everyone they've come into contact with. But of course there's no time, the Higgs could go up at any moment! Can you set the transporters to filter out the nanites?"
"I'll check with Lieutenant Quarost and Doctor Mathis, but there's no telling if the nanites are actively keeping them alive right now."
"Right, right. Well, do the best you can to minimise the risk. For these and any other cases that crop up..."
"I've just been updated. We're looking at thirty crew and counting."
"Right. Ok. Of course we are." On impulse he came to his feet, got a bottle from his desk, pulled the stopper and took a slug straight from the bottle. Then guiltily rammed the stopper back and threw the bottle into the replicator, which obediently destroyed it as waste. I can't go back to my old ways. Mustn't. Won't! "Thank you for alerting me to this Commander. As I say, take all steps you think are necessary to minimise risk. Also, brief Doctor Mathis and keep me informed of any developments."
"Aye aye. Pashzto out."
Forest took a few deep breaths. Can't go back on the bridge looking like I'm not coping. Do any other Captains feel like this? Impotently standing in the path of a torrent of events? Trying to plot a course over a mill race full of tumbling boulders? Do all of them feel like that, and just fake the confidence and certainty? He headed for the doors to the bridge. Well, time to see what the next twist in the tale is, I suppose. No chance it'll be a good one.
"I... really need... to do more... marathon... training." Trathal leant against a wall and panted, waiting for her vision to clear.
Orilai, stooped over and bracing her hands on her knees, looked up and pulled a rueful expression. "Same."
Shepard clicked her tongue in irritation. "Stop whining and pull yourselves together. S'Koil, I know you're not front line infantry, but first chance we get I'm putting you on a physical fitness regime."
Orilai lifted her hand in a gesture of surrender, then straightened up with a groan. "How much further?"
"Almost there. Through that pressure door, then ten metres."
Shepard grunted, and turned to Dorot. "What's the hold up?"
"Force field. Trathal, you're up."
Trathal staggered over to the pressure door. She didn't even bother trying the controls, just pulled the panel open and began ferreting around inside.
She was beginning to understand, not just how the crew of the Recidivist had slaughtered the Jem'Hadar, but how fast it must have happened. It was no wonder there'd been no effective defence. Almost any obstacle they encountered was either ripped apart, slammed out of the way, or (when Shepard had lost her temper) compressed into a dense wad of metal and used like a cannon ball against the next obstruction. More than once they'd simply drawn their weapons and unleashed a barrage against a particularly recalcitrant pressure door, then used their gravity manipulators (or whatever they were) to force the resulting hole wide enough for the two Krogan.
More than a few survivors had suffered near panic attacks as the Recidivist crew had torn and pulverised their way into view, and Trathal had to waste precious seconds reassuring them so nobody got shot.
Even moving from vacuum to an area with survivors didn't faze them. Dorot or Shepard simply generated one of their 'barriers' to hold the atmosphere, forced open whatever pressure door or bulkhead was in their way, then sealed it again behind them.
Trathal was rather proud of how fast she'd become at using one of their particle beam weapons to weld torn up decking plates over a gaping hole.
And when their way was clear, they always moved at least at a jog, if not a full speed sprint. Trathal guessed the only reason they weren't doing what Orilai had called 'biotic rush' was because not even she was prepared to carry Trathal the whole way. Trathal was glad of that; if she'd just been carried like an infant, she thought she might have died from shame.
In fact, the only thing that gave them real pause were the emergency force fields that had been raised across the ship to retain atmosphere. For those, either Trathal had to shut them down, or they had to use sustained weapons fire to cut through the corridor plating and destroy the field emitters. To her relief the force field over the pressure door flickered and died, and her tricorder showed atmosphere on the far side. A gesture by Dorot accompanied by a blue glow, the door ground open, and they were off at a sprint.
The lights along the corridor were mostly out, and the few that showed any illumination were flickering erratically. A plasma conduit had ruptured, sending a stream of plasma across the corridor into the opposite wall, burning through into the equipment beyond, which was spewing sparks and smoke, making the corridor even darker.
Trathal reached for the gravitic callipers clipped to her waist, but Shepard shouted "No time! Recidivist has just signalled, Captain Forest intends to destroy the Higgs in nineteen minutes and counting!" Then she simply rushed through the plasma stream in a blur, her suit's shields flaring blue and the plasma momentarily spraying out in all directions. The other Recidivist crew did the same, except for Orilai. She turned to Trathal, started to speak, but Trathal shouted "I'm fine!", then dived and rolled under the blue-hot plasma, her own suit shields protecting her from the heat radiating off it, and came smoothly to her feet on the other side. In the privacy of her own head she cheered herself (and her old drill sergeant snapped "Sloppy. Try again.") Then Orilai rushed through the plasma and gave her a grin and a quick thumbs-up, and her inner sergeant shut his mouth and went off in a sulk.
They sprinted down the corridor at full speed. As the isolation door to engineering came into view, she was startled to see a figure standing by an open wall panel, working at furious speed on a tricorder which seemed to have been connected to a mess of half-dismantled circuitry. As they drew nearer, she realised with a start that it was Commander Sotar. He looked in a bad way, a thread of smoke rising from a patch of singed hair, and one sleeve wet with his green blood. He glanced around, then turned his attention back to the tricorder.
"Lieutenant."
"Commander! I thought... are you alright?"
"My injuries are minor."
Shepard cleared her throat. "Commander, what's the situation?"
"I have been able to close down feeds from all but seven antimatter pods to the warp core. I regret I have only been able to eject five pods safely. I have also redirected plasma flow to the impulse drive, reducing plasma leaks into main engineering and stabilising temperature at five hundred and fifty degrees Celsius. However, if I were to shut down the impulse drive then temperature would start to rise rapidly. It is imperative that either temperature and radiation are returned to safe operating levels, or that the warp core is ejected. Given the Higgs' imminent destruction, I advise the latter."
"Right. Lets get in there."
"I shall continue to stabilise the system for as long as I am able, although once you open the isolation doors I suspect that I will succumb within a matter of seconds."
Shepard gave him a curious look, then snapped "Ierev, Gucks, barrier over the door. Trathal, get it open."
Trathal checked the emergency door release control. It looked intact. She glanced over at Sotar and said "Trust me, Sir, you'll be fine."
He lifted an eyebrow, but before he could start explaining why, logically, he would not, the Asari huntress and the Krogan marine generated a vivid blue barrier over the isolation door, and Trathal triggered the control. She was faintly surprised when it started to open; not at all surprised when, with a shuddering groan, it stopped halfway. Sotar appeared to observe his lack of immolation with mild approval, and turned his attention back to his jury-rigged control console.
"Everyone else bubble up. Trathal, stick close to me. Not a finger outside my barrier, you hear? Dorot and Orilai can do whatever's needed if you can't reach. Understood?"
Hang on, why can't she just turn on my suit's barrier... They're not generating those barriers themselves, are they? But if they've got implants to do that, why the suits? Never mind. Not important now. "Understood. Please grab hold, I may need to move quickly and won't have time to call directions."
"Heh, bossy little thing on your own turf, aren't you."
"It is not logical to interpret a simple statement of necessity as an assertion of authority." Sotar hadn't bothered looking round as he said this, so didn't see the grateful look Trathal gave him. Shepard lifted a sceptical eyebrow, as if in mockery of the Vulcan, but caught hold of the top edge of the armour plate on Trathal's back. Trathal fervently prayed it wouldn't come off. Then the Recidivist crew generated additional barriers around themselves, and moved forward, ducking under the isolation door. Getting through the barrier that Ierev and Gucks were maintaining was like pushing through a wall of treacle. Then they were in main engineering.
Even through Shepard's barrier and her suit's shields, Trathal felt the heat. There were a few alarms bleating pathetically, but they were almost drowned out by a continuous, anguished screaming. She looked around. There were bodies in the room carbonised and smoking. She felt herself dissociating from her feelings. It had become almost automatic by this point. She'd been analysing violent crime scenes for a long time before she joined Starfleet. The bodies in the room weren't people, just objects. Things to be analysed and recorded. Puzzles to be solved.
That one was running toward the door, then fell. Carried on crawling for... two point seven metres. From the drag marks on the floor, their... legs? No, whole body, was burning. That one fell from the upper gantry. Skull looks intact. Broken neck? Probably. That one... looks like they tried to hide under the equipment rack. Isolation door was probably already closed.
She realised the screaming sound was the superheated air in the room being vented to vacuum, while liquid nitrogen was was boiling out of the emergency fire suppression system. It was the scream of a dying ship, her safety systems desperately trying to keep her from destruction.
For a moment Trathal was puzzled by the hazy blue lighting, rather than emergency red. Then, with a sort of dull dismay, she realised that the lighting had failed completely, but the radiation leaking from the warp core was ionizing the air. A sudden rash of warning signals appeared on her visor's HUD. At least they're amber, not red. I hope they use the same warning colours we do. Hang on, why would they?
Before she could start to ask, Shepard said "Heat and radiation levels won't be a problem. Not in the time we have. What now?"
"Ummm..." Trathal checked her tricorder. At least she was still picking up local diagnostic alerts from the hardware. Most of them just signalling 'Failed'. "Dilithium matrix ninety nine point eight percent saturated, containment at twelve percent, retention clamps jammed... superstructure's warped... Oh."
She studied her tricorder carefully, making sure she hadn't misread it. Shepard's voice cut into her musing. "Trathal..."
"The ejection coils are fully charged."
"Meaning?"
"If we try to free the retention clamps, they must all be freed within a microsecond, or the warp core will just jam in the ejection channel, and with only internal power it'll breach in four... maybe six seconds."
She realised the fingers of her right hand were drumming rapidly against her tricorder. They sometimes did that. When things were really bad. She watched them vaguely for a moment, then carefully closed her hand into a fist. Abruptly Orilai was in front of her, holding her shoulders, face close to hers. "Tra, are you ok?"
Trathal blinked, puzzled. "I'm fine."
Orilai looked dubious, but didn't press the matter. "If we can't release the clamps simultaneously, can we power down the ejection coils?"
Trathal shook her head. "Not without generating an EM pulse that'll fry these suits and your implants. Or blow up the ship. Or both. And the core will still breach. I don't think..." She stopped.
Don't think about what you can't do. Think about what they might be able to do.
She took a deep breath. "The only way we could do it would be to hold the core in place, release the clamps, then let it go. But the ejection coils are exerting eight mega-newtons of force. I don't know of any way to hold it...?"
Orilai looked questioningly over her head at Shepard, who was still standing just behind her. Then Dorot spoke. "No."
"Dorot..."
"No. It's too much. Even for you. We evacuate, stand clear, let the Federation destroy the ship."
Trathal twisted round, looked up at Shepard, who was standing with her eyes cast down, frowning in thought.
Then Shepard looked up at Dorot. "I'll have to drop my barrier. Dorot, cover me. Orilai, take the lieutenant. Trathal, in case you need help, pinpoint the clamps on MEP cast."
Before Trathal could ask how to do that, Orilai leant over, tapped Trathal's forearm to bring up her suit's holographic display, then danced her fingers over it. Suddenly Trathal could see through the decking, the bulkheads, the equipment in engineering. The hidden equipment, even the internal structures of components, appeared in ghostly, grainy monochrome, fading out with distance. Orilai said "Just look and call each clamp in turn."
Oh. That's very useful. Mach better than trying to visualise a Tricorder readout. I must see if they'll let me keep the suit. "Err... right. There... there..."
Orilai said "Got it."
A momentary pause, then Dorot also said "Got it." He sounded as if he was agreeing to his death sentence. Then he moved over to stand close behind Shepard. He looked as if he wanted to put his arms around her. Possibly to protect her. Possibly to drag her out of engineering.
Orilai moved close to get Trathal within her barrier. Trathal was surprised to see an expression of strain on her face, and Shepard asked "How much longer can you keep your barrier up?"
"Long enough." She stood behind Trathal and took hold of her shoulders. "Have you got the tools to release the clamps?" Trathal nodded. "Then let's get in place."
Trathal moved quickly over to the first clamp. Should be enough to disable the safeties and apply torsion force with the gravitic callipers... Shepard held her hands out toward the core. "On my mark..."
Then brilliant, dazzling blue light crawled over Shepard like a plasma burst, far brighter than Trathal had seen on any of them so far, and Trathal heard a creak from the warp core as it was pushed into its cradle.
"MARK!"
The control panel for the clamp was useless, but a couple of thumps with the handle of a quantum flux regulator freed the maintenance cover, and a quick wrench with a decoupler disengaged the safeties. If Sotar saw me abusing tools like this he'd be writing me up for retraining, or disciplinary action. Then a hard twist with the gravitic calliper and the clamp abruptly thudded open. Well that's a wreck now. She suppressed the urge to start laughing, and scampered over to the next one, Orilai in tow.
Over the suit comms she heard a faint groan. She looked over at Shepard, who was starting to hunch over, and was panting. "Quicker if... you can... Trathal..."
Oh. She really is doing this herself. I wonder how? Trathal bent back to work on the clamp. This one was faster, she just had to reroute power past a blown regulator to the main actuator, and the clamp ground open.
One more, just one more... And then it all went wrong. She got the safeties off and checked the actuator was powered. Then she saw that the the clamp wasn't just misaligned and needing some help to clear the core. The clamp channel itself was buckled. A solid block of durasteel, crushing another, and neither of them was budging any time soon.
"Death spanner!" She winced at having used her childish nickname for it without thinking, but Orilai passed it to her without comment.
Right. Tune the focus, need it much larger. Can I spread the channel without splitting the clamp? Probably not. So compress the clamp and twist... No good. She felt her focus slipping, and panic starting to break through. Now what? Errr. Try overloading the actuator? Not working. Use the death spanner in torsion mode? The clamp actually moved then, by maybe a half millimetre. No good. Shit! Try spreading the channel, can't make things worse by splitting the clamp oh shitohshitoshit nothing!
Shepard gave a loud, desperate moan. She'd dropped to her knees and was trembling as if she was on the verge of a fit.
"Trathal!" Dorot snarled her name, glaring at her furiously. They were probably all going to die anyway, but if Shepard died first he looked like he'd make sure Trathal was next in line.
"Dorot, it's locked solid, I can't disengage it! There's no way..."
An instant later she was looking down the barrel of a gun. It was just a really big handgun, though it was as oversized as the Krogan's massive fist, but in that moment it seemed to fill Trathal's universe. It was a vast, endless pit into oblivion.
Then he bellowed "CLEAR!" and Trathal felt herself being yanked violently backward.
The sound of the gun firing was ear-splitting. Trathal stared in horror as he fired three times into the clamp channel. On the third shot the durasteel block shattered, and the clamp actuator hurled the clamp away from the warp core, into – and through! - the wall.
There was a concussive thump that seemed to both compress and expand the entire room, and everything went black.
After a moment, her vision... cleared? Not exactly. Everything was grey, a ghostly, grainy monochrome. And central engineering seemed ghostlike, transparent, its internal details fading away with distance. Is this what being dead is like? Will I haunt this ship? That's sad, I'd rather haunt the Ptolemy. I wonder if I can walk through walls now? Everything looks so... thin. She waved her hand vaguely at the decking, and grimaced as her gauntleted hand rapped against it. She felt very disappointed. Well where's the fun in that?
There were distant voices, hands lifting her up, the warbling hum of a medical sensor. Oh. Ghosts do medicine? I suppose even doctors die, so maybe ghost doctors do ghost medicine.
Then, for a while, even being dead went away.
Codex
Biotics
All members of the Asari Republic Navy are required to be at least competent biotics, including non-Asari personnel. While there is some leeway for diversity in biotic skills in non-combat roles, all combat personnel are required to be proficient in a common skill-set comprising; Charge, Rush, Barrier and Pull/Lift/Throw.
Incursion team marines/huntresses will ideally also be skilled at least at Warp and Singularity. Members of incursion teams are usually among the strongest biotics in the navy.
Biotic Rush
A biotic ability closely related to Biotic Charge, a biotic rush allows a skilled biotic to cover distances extremely fast.
While the distance that can be covered by a rush is a good deal greater than by a charge, it will not cause major damage to a target, and will not protect the biotic from damage. Indeed, a collision can cause more damage to the biotic than to the object collided with.
Biotic rush is therefore never used for attacks, but it can be useful in combat to increase mobility, avoid incoming attacks, and disengage from an enemy.
Personal artificial gravity
While personal gravity generators are not standard issue, incursion teams are required to operate, and fight, in zero gravity often enough that their marines will have suits fitted with these power hungry systems.
While the generators noticeably improve combat performance over simple 'sticky boots' systems (such as magnetic), there are significant limitations. Loss of contact with a surface, especially in a cluttered environment, can result in the suit VI being unable to determine which surface should be considered the 'ground', which can lead to uncontrolled spinning.
Therefore, marines must be rigorously trained not to jump or dodge-roll (except as a last resort), and to speed walk rather than run. This has led to their being given the nickname "mincers". It is a point of honour among incursion teams to forcefully remind other branches of the Asari Republic military that the purpose of a mincer is to pulverise meat.
Medi-gel
The initial version of medi-gel was a crude collection of general purpose treatments for simple wounds suspended in an engineered bioplasm. While it could keep a soldier going if they had suffered only very minor wounds, it largely acted only to prevent infection and blood loss, and beyond that it simply masked the debilitating effect of injuries.
It is unknown who produced the first version of the medi-gel currently employed by Asari Republic militaries, as the designs were leaked anonymously into the galactic communication network. However, since then many new versions have been produced by several organisations. It is a matter of note that the most advanced versions are always produced by Dah'tan Nanotech.
Based on research into Reaper nanotech, in particular the nanites used to create Reaper shock troops from corpses (and, horrifically, living captives), medi-gel is capable of stabilising even major injuries, rapidly healing minor injuries, breaking down excessive scar tissue and clearing established infections. While the Matriarchs resisted the adoption of this technology in the Asari Republic for some fifty years, its enthusiastic adoption by other regions and the ongoing conflict with Sol region has forced them to reluctantly permit (though not mandate) its use by the Republic military.
Versions have also been developed which are capable of increasing strength, endurance and aggression, and even performing gross physical modifications. These versions are outright banned in Asari Republic space, with their mere importation (or even transportation through Republic space) carrying extreme penalties.