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Star Trek Enterprise
Here We Stand
Chapter 21:
Cyborgs From The Future.
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(A Brief note, I do not own Star Trek or its associated products. Also please forgive any grammar and spelling errors I am Dyslexic and even with a spell checker it is difficult for me to see them.)
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One of the most fun things about upgrading a starship is the design phase its clean and by the numbers, not that Horatio minded getting his hands dirty no sir, but the design phase was just fun for him. Ideally, he would have liked to add a secondary hull like that of the future Sabre Class, but the budget wouldn't stretch that far.
so, he had done what he thought was the best thing for the ship and turned it into the equivalent of the Bird of Prey for the Star Fleet. But he had made one more change to the original upgrade plans and that was a set of directional shutters attached to the impulse exhaust.
This addition would allow for directional control of the thrust when adding in the RCS thrusters the ship would turn practically on a dime, with the same degree of speed in turning as the future Ares class this addition wouldn't break the bank.
The SS Roanoke was a reliable ship, and the class was the workhorse of Star Fleet but with these upgrades the raiders would have to think twice about attacking her and her sisters. As he fine-tuned the design, he heard something from behind him.
"Impulse exhaust shutters? That's unorthodox," remarked Lieutenant Commander Talia, Her Queensland brogue flowing out of her like a wave crashing on the shore, she was a very seasoned engineer having been in Star Fleet R&D for the past twelve years.
"Yes," he replied without leaving his desk "the math says it'll work well, and the simulators agree, we'll test them out and if they work as advertised then those raiders are in for a world of hurt."
"me and the boys are going for a brew, gotta teach some Canadian boys how to drink, you in?" she asked, spun on his chair keeping his eyes on the plans till the last second before turning around fully to face her. He had her blond dreads tied back and her uniform half off, the arms of her jump suit tied around her waist, she had shining blue eyes and a healthy golden tan her right arm a riot of colours from the tattoos, she wore a white vest top and had a shark tooth neckless around her neck.
"not tonight" he replied, her smile dimmed slightly as he continued "I want to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow."
"alright their boss." she said, "we'll be at the Victoria Inn if you change your mind." she said as she pulled the tie holding her bun up that allowed her hair to cascade down like blond tree vines.
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The design phase had been a whirlwind of calculations and simulations with incremental updates. Horatio and his crews had meticulously balanced thrust dynamics and structural integrity, ensuring that his vision didn't compromise the Ship's core functions.
The wings had to be reinforced to hold the NX warp nacelles which had been the largest of the expenses outside of the engines the work crews were busy on the ship almost around the clock. Late nights in the guts of the ship blurred into early mornings in the draft room looking over plans and blueprints as they fine-tuned every detail, from the weapons to the engines down to the seatbelts on the chairs nothing was left untouched.
As an old if annoying friend in intelligence had once told him "an ounce of planning saves pounds of pain" the days turned into weeks turned into months the Roanoke was transformed into a vessel capable of out manoeuvring any adversary and had a punch of a ship at least two classes above it, at least in the frontal arch and on paper.
Its port and starboard weapons were lower powered as even with the expanded power from its improved reactors there would be no way that they could fully power all of the weapon system equally, so they had changed the layout to add a laser defence system instead of more power-hungry phase cannons this was not only power economical but financially as well but that meant that the broad side weapons had around half the punch.
They had taken out the old chemical propulsion system, a mainstay of the old reactor powered fleet, and added an NX style impulse rector with his directional shutters, something that the old chemical engines had but were never put on the impulse drive till now.
the last thing they had to do was adding in the new Captains Chair with the NX upgrades, it was the final piece of the puzzle and as the last bolt was driven into place the Roanoke was finally ready.
Externally the and ship looked almost unchanged to the untrained eye. The most blatant change had been the Hull's colour, changing from a warm metallic silver/brown of the old armour plating to a colder pure metallic grey of the new and its larger nacelles and slightly thicker wings.
But the biggest change had been internally, they had sacrificed one of the cargo bays for the new shield system, the engine room had been expanded now that they had gotten rid of the chemical tanks for the older chemical reaction engines for the NX warp core.
Along with the changes to the main computer core making the Enterprise incident with the Orion's nearly impossible. The truest test of these upgrades lay ahead as the Roanoke was being prepared for its new maiden voyage and shakedown cruise post-upgrade something would force them into action.
Thankfully there was a experienced crew ready to take her out on that voyage and shake down.
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Commander Drake sat in the Captain's ready room or as he called it the office aboard the starship SS Cumberland, the ship hummed with controlled activity as he awaited updates on the rescue mission to the Arctic research centre.
The Cumberland was an Intrepid Type Starship that he had taken command of a few weeks ago, it was one of the ships on permanent assignment to the Sol System, its job was security patrolling and Search and Rescue Operations which is why they were currently in orbit of the Artic.
The base had gone Dark and all attempts to contact them had gone unanswered, Command had sent in a security team, but they too suddenly vanished without a trace. That's when Command had reached out to him.
The Cumberland's crew specialised in Hazardous rescue operations and several of them had the best tactical training the Academy had, he had over ten years of rescue experience that varied from sea patrol to ship recovery.
the most hazardous mission he had been on to this point was a deep space recovery operation in conjunction with the Vulcans for a partially intact Promellian Battle Cruiser. Sadly, the ship had been badly degraded by time and battle damage its Lang Cycle engines were damaged beyond repair and its memory coils degraded beyond recovery.
It had sat in an asteroid field in a binary star and needed to be recovered before its orbit degraded any farther and it fell into the stars.
But this mission was probably the strangest he had ever seen, he leaned forward in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the polished surface of his desk before he pressed the nearby button to contact his communications officer.
the small terminal on his right activated and there was a young brunet woman, her hair was cut in a pixy cut and her makeup was designed to be as natural as possible while accentuating her green eyes, she was new, and her predecessor was on maternity leave, but she had proven to be just as able.
"Ensign Stack, contact Command," he directed, his tone firm yet composed. The urgency of the situation was evident in his demeanour. "I would like a status report on rescue one. They've missed their scheduled check-in."
Stack, Commander Drake's capable assistant, nodded briskly.
"Yes sir," she acknowledged swiftly, her eyes moving away from his as she started to comply with the order. Her fingers danced across the console like a concert pianist, initiating the necessary communication protocols and sending the coded transmission.
"Should I also notify MACO operations?" Stack inquired, her eyes briefly meeting the Commander's stern gaze as she awaited further instructions. The Military Assault Command Operations (MACO) base at McMurdo could potentially provide critical support given its proximity to the Arctic research centre.
Commander Drake's expression hardened slightly with resolve.
"Get to it, Stack," he affirmed, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. The fate of the Arctic base and the rescue mission team hung in the balance, and Commander Drake knew that swift action was imperative.
Stack nodded once more; her efficiency undeterred.
She swiftly relayed the data and status query to Command, as well as initiated contact with MACO operations at McMurdo. The communication lines buzzed with activity as moments later responses began to filter in.
One of the only good things about being on the Sol Deployment was that Command was moments away. though that was as much boon as it was a burden for commanders, it beat waiting hours for a response to tactical situations, rear as that may be.
Another downside was that they had to act as Taxi services for pompous Admirals.
"Sir MACO operations confirmed they're moving a combat shuttle and recovery team to the base." Drake nodded as she spoke his mind raced with possibilities. "they say that they have been unable to locate our rescue team and are moving onto the base itself."
The crashed ship debris that the Arctic base was studying held tantalizing mysteries, analyses of the debris had shown that it had crashed around the time of Earth's first contact with the Vulcans. Something that had set off alarm bells at Star Fleet Command.
Some of the more 'out-there' officers had let the twisted implications and their own paranoia turn these events into a Dark conspiracy that got more outlandish the more they went on.
Commander Drake, a pragmatic man, had listened to these murmurs with a mix of caution and scepticism. While he acknowledged the potential gravity of the situation, he treaded carefully amidst the swirling currents of conjecture and conjecture.
"Conspiracy theories have a way of clouding judgment," Commander Drake remarked during a briefing with senior staff when they had the results back. "Let's focus on the facts and our mission objectives."
Nevertheless, the undercurrent of suspicion lingered. The crashed ship represented the potential to rewrite the narrative of first contact and reshape their understanding of the event.
Some Command level officers had been young enough to be there at the Warp 2 sight when Cochrane had gotten drunk at the opening ceremony and talked about people from the future and cyborgs so when they pulled out cyborgs from the wreckage a few days ago they'd been trodden out again.
Still, others had more measured theories but all of them had something to do with the Vulcans. He even agreed with some of them could the Vulcans with all of their advanced technology and watchful gaze, have been actively searching for this mysterious vessel during Cochrane's flight?
If so, why leave it in the ice, could they have recovered everything they wanted, then there was also a distinct possibility that the Vulcans themselves were unaware of the secrets buried beneath the ice. He didn't know for sure, but the truth awaited discovery beneath the ice, and Star Fleet had been determined to uncover it, one piece of evidence at a time.
Ensign Stack's voice broke through the commander's contemplation, delivering updates from Star Fleet Command.
"Sir, Command has authorized expanded reconnaissance efforts at the Arctic base," she reported, her expression mirroring the gravity of the situation.
"nice to see there on top of things" he muttered, MACO's being more prompt that Fleet Command was a running trend these days. "Prepare a briefing for our medical team," Commander Drake responded, his voice tinged with determination. "We need to be ready for whatever the MACOs find," he said "and tell medical that they need to prepare isolation rooms for a potential mass casualty event." He ordered as he shut the screen off and made his way onto the bridge.
The Intrepid Class Bridge was nearly identical to the NX class if only a bit smaller, but the crew were all busy as he entered through the door there was a frenetic energy to them, preparations of this variety were intensified aboard a starship.
Some protocols needed to be completed with the time frames to do it were very slim and very precise. Commander Drake had an unsettling feeling that they were on the brink of confronting something, something potentially deadly, it was like all the hair was standing on the back of his neck and the animalistic part of his brain was begging to poke at his consciousness as the fight or flight response roused itself.
As he got to his command chair Ensign Stack looked up from her console, her expression grave.
Commander Drake's eyes were fixed on the screen, the air view displaying the Arctic base with its ominous red and green dots marking the location of the MACO squad and the Cumberland team.
The base consisted of a simple collection of five dual-story buildings, each connected to the main building by enclosed walkways on both floors. Additionally, a much longer enclosed walkway led to the landing bay where the transport ship should still be housed.
Ensign Stack's updates on the sensor disruption field and the deployment of reconnaissance drones as a means of seeing through it and allowing the safety beacons to transmit clearly. But this whole situation had set him on edge as things seemed set on getting much more dangerous.
As the telemetry data streamed in, Drake's focus sharpened. The movements of the dots, representing the MACOs, painted a dynamic picture of the reconnaissance and rescue operation in progress. The MACOs moved with a fluidity that can only come from years of drilling and training.
"This is Major Diego Lopez to the Cumberland. Are you receiving?" The voice crackled through the communications speakers, accompanied by slight static that cleared as Major Lopez finished speaking. His Spanish accent danced over the communication line like an audio tango.
"Cumberland Command here, receiving you 4 by 5," responded the Commander, confirming the connection and its strength.
"Acknowledged, Cumberland Command. We're breaching in four," Major Lopez announced, his voice firm and decisive. The dots representing the MACO team aligned at the wall of the main structure, a moment later Lopez began the countdown, "Three, two, go-go-go," there was the rough sound of a breaching charge being detonated signalling that they had breached.
On the screen, Commander Drake watched intently as the dots representing the MACO team infiltrated the base. The dots moved with precision, swarming around the large main building's interior.
Moments later, Major Lopez's voice crackled through the comm again. "Cumberland Command, we've cleared the room. Your rescue team is here," he reported, his tone solemn. "They're deceased. Judging from the lividity, they've been gone for about an hour."
The news hit Commander Drake like a blow. The confirmation of casualties within the base sent ripples of sombre realization through the crew as the bridge suddenly silenced.
Ensign Stack exchanged a glance with Commander Drake, her expression reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"Understood, Major Lopez," Commander Drake replied, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "Proceed with caution."
"Aye Commander we're moving to secure the area." As Major Lopez and his team continued their reconnaissance, Commander Drake contemplated the implications of the grim discovery. The fate of the Arctic Research Centre and its personnel remained uncertain.
"Have you been able to find any of the researchers," Commander Drake asked, his gaze fixed on the screen displaying the ongoing operation.
"Negative Commander." replied the Major, Drake frowned there were very few places that they could be. "we've seen neither the researchers nor the cyborgs."
"Have you located the transport skimmer?" he asked, the air transport would be the next logical place to be, other than the crash site.
Commander Drake's heart sank as he observed the dots representing the deceased rescue team closing in on Major Lopez and the MACO squad. Horror gripped the bridge as the grim reality of the situation unfolded before their eyes.
"Major Lopez, are you sure that the rescue team is down?" Commander Drake's voice conveyed alarm as he sought confirmation, hoping against hope for an alternative explanation.
"Aye sir," Major Lopez responded, his voice tinged with disbelief. "No pulse, no breathing, no brain waves."
Commander Drake's mind raced, grappling with the unthinkable. "They are closing on your position," he reported, his voice laden with horror.
The transmission crackled with urgency as the MACO team on the ground reacted in shock. "Mother of god," came the startled exclamation in Spanish, audible over the mic.
In the Arctic base, the scene was a nightmarish tableau. An abominable intelligence had reanimated the corpses of the rescue team, transforming them into grotesque hybrids of flesh and machine.
Their skin was pallid grey, with machine parts ripping and tearing through their flesh, they moved with an eerie semblance of life.
Commander Drake's heart pounded as he assessed the dire situation. The reanimated crew members posed a grave threat not only to the MACO squad but potentially to the entire operation.
"Major Lopez, fall back to a defensible position," Commander Drake ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We need to contain the threat until we can devise a strategy."
Ensign Stack worked feverishly at her console, coordinating with the MACO squad while initiating emergency protocols aboard the starship. Reports of the unfolding crisis spread through the command bridge, heightening the sense of urgency.
"Prepare a containment team," Commander Drake directed, his gaze fixed on the screen displaying the nightmarish scene at the Arctic base. "We can't afford to let this threat spread."
"We're being overrun." shouted Major Lopez the sound of rapid-fire plasma guns blaring in the background, we cannot retreat, I repeat we have no means of escape." Commander Drake felt a surge of helplessness as he watched the MACO team on the ground become surrounded by the reanimated crew members. The situation was rapidly spiralling out of control, and decisive action was imperative to prevent further loss of life.
"We can't get a shuttle to you, but we can get you out, Major," Commander Drake relayed urgently, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Do it!" Major Lopez's response was resolute, the sounds of explosions echoing in the background as the situation escalated.
Commander Drake's finger hit the button on his chair's console with force, a sharp pain shooting through his hand. "Transporter room," he barked into the comm. "Lock on to the MACOs' signal and get them out of there."
In the transporter room aboard the starship, technicians sprang into action. They initiated the complex sequence of locking onto the MACOs' bio-signals amidst the tumult of the Arctic base.
"Lock established," reported one of the transporter technicians. "Preparing for transport."
Commander Drake watched with bated breath; his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the ongoing confrontation. The reanimated crew members closed in on the beleaguered MACOs, their movements unsettlingly coordinated.
"Transport in progress," announced the transporter technician.
A tense moment passed; the air thick with anticipation. Then, in a shimmer of blue light, the MACO team materialized on the transporter pad aboard the starship. Major Lopez and his surviving squad members appeared, their expressions a mix of relief and exhaustion.
"Major Lopez, report," Commander Drake demanded, his voice edged with concern.
"We're clear, Commander," Major Lopez replied, catching his breath. "The threat has been neutralized... for now."
Commander Drake nodded, a wave of relief washing over him. "Good work, Major. Stand by for medical evaluation and debriefing."
As the surviving MACOs were escorted to the medical bay for assessment, Commander Drake turned his attention back to Ensign Stack. "Status report on the Arctic base," he requested, his voice composed but laden with underlying tension.
Ensign Stack's fingers danced across the console; her focus unwavering. "We're monitoring the situation, Commander," she reported. "The reanimated crew members are contained within the base but they're moving to the transport as we speak."
"Continue monitoring," Commander Drake instructed, his gaze fixed on the screen displaying the aftermath of the harrowing encounter. "We need to assess the situation and determine our next steps."
As the red dots representing the reanimated rescue team members converged on the transport ship, Commander Drake's heart sank with dread.
The tense standoff escalated to a devastating climax as a blinding light erupted, signalling the destruction of the reconnaissance drone, and leaving everyone on the Bridge momentarily blinded.
Commander Drake instinctively shielded his eyes, his mind racing to grasp the implications of the explosion. Ensign Stack, beside him, reacted swiftly, her hands flying over the console to stabilize the bridge systems.
"Report!" Commander Drake called out; his voice edged with urgency despite the disorientation caused by the blinding flash.
Ensign Stack blinked rapidly, her vision slowly adjusting as she worked to regain control of the screens and sensors. "We've lost visual on the Arctic base," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "The drone feed is offline."
Commander Drake's jaw clenched with frustration. The loss of the drone meant a critical loss of situational awareness and surveillance over the Arctic base. The reanimated crew members, now proven to be a formidable threat, had seized the initiative in the conflict.
"Initiate emergency protocols," Commander Drake ordered, his voice firm as he composed himself. "move us into strike range." he ordered "Target the Arctic base with special torpedoes and plasma cannons." he turned to the tactical position manned by the Japanese Lieutenant Ito.
"target locked ready to fire," he said his eyes not leaving the targeting screen.
"Fire a full salvo of torpedoes I want that base a crater"
"understood sir."
"Fire." Amid the chaos, Commander Drake's mind raced with tactical considerations.
The blinding attack had demonstrated a level of coordination and intelligence behind the reanimated crew members—an intelligence that posed a dire threat to the mission and all personnel involved so destroying it now was the best option.
they watched as a small star appeared where the base used to be before Commander Drake turned to the science station.
"Any sign of the transport ship?" Commander Drake inquired, his eyes scanning the screens for any indication of the MACO team's status. Ensign Stack's brow furrowed as she analysed the incoming data.
"Negative, Commander," she reported, her voice tinged with concern. "The transport ship's bio-signals are offline. We've lost contact."
Commander Drake's expression darkened. The situation had escalated beyond crisis; it had descended into chaos.
Commander Drake's heart sank as the Arctic transport ship, now under the control of the reanimated crew members and those mysterious cyborgs, unleashed venom-green energy beams that tore into the Cumberland with ruthless precision.
The starship's engines, critical for pursuit and mobility, became the primary target of the relentless assault.
"Damage report!" Commander Drake barked; his voice edged with urgency as he watched the chaos unfold on the viewscreen. Ensign Stack relayed orders to the engineering teams, scrambling to assess the extent of the damage and implement emergency repairs.
"Engines are taking heavy damage," reported one of the Lieutenant Ito. "Critical systems are offline, damage control teams are responding."
Commander Drake clenched his fists, a surge of frustration coursing through him. The Cumberland, a stalwart vessel of Star Fleet, had been caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events. Pursuit of the Arctic transport ship, now a hostile threat, seemed increasingly unlikely.
"Weapons, target the transport ship," Commander Drake ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Disable their propulsion systems. We need to regain control of the situation."
The weapons officers onboard the Cumberland responded swiftly, redirecting power to the Plasma Cannon banks and torpedoes.
Bright amber pulses blasted out from the starship, converging on the Arctic transport ship with precision. However, the reanimated crew members piloting the transport ship proved to be agile and evasive, dodging the incoming fire with unnatural skill.
Any bolts that did hit were blocked by an energy shield of the same venom-green as its weapons systems.
The Arctic transport ship accelerated away at speeds far exceeding its design limits. Commander Drake watched helplessly as the hostile vessel disappeared into the distance, leaving the Cumberland crippled in its wake.
"Status report," Commander Drake demanded, his voice echoing with resolve despite the setback.
Lieutenant Ito relayed the damage assessments from various departments. "Main engines are offline, and we've sustained structural damage to multiple sections," he reported, his expression grim. "the port nacelle is venting drive plasma this is going to take time to fix sir."
Commander Drake's mind raced with strategic calculations. The reanimated crew members had proven themselves to be formidable adversaries, demonstrating tactical sophistication and a chilling disregard for human life.
"We need to regroup," Commander Drake stated his voice firm. "Initiate emergency repairs and prepare for pursuit. We can't allow that transport ship to escape."
"if we reroute the drive plasma, we can probably get Warp 2 at best." reported Ito "but putting that kind of strain on one nacelle could blow the coils."
"We're going to have to risk it," said Commander Drake as the bridge crew mobilized to stabilize the starship and prepare for the next phase of the mission, Drake's resolve hardened.
He was amazed that a simple search and rescue mission had intensified into a high-stakes confrontation against an enemy that defied conventional understanding—an enemy whose origins and motives remained shrouded in darkness.
Commander Drake's mind raced with the Cumberland crippled and unable to pursue the hostile ship, his thoughts turned to the tactical situation. that's ship had handled his Intrepid type of ship with ease and its speed was something he had never encountered before.
Star Fleet had twelve ships in the system and none of them was fast enough to catch the Transport, then it hit him The SS Roanoke. She is undergoing a shakedown run after a major refit under the command of his old friend Captain Jonathan Archer.
"Ensign Stack, open a secure channel to the Roanoke," Commander Drake ordered, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Patch me through to Captain Archer." if there was one man who could handle this situation it was Johnny.
Stack nodded, swiftly initiating the secure communications link to the Roanoke. As the channel connected, he saw the smiling face of his old friend and drinking buddy.
"Captain Archer, this is Commander Drake of the Cumberland," he began as the transmission was established. "We've encountered a hostile transport ship under the control of reanimated crew members." it was a tribute to all he had seen that Archer took this weird development in his stride. "Our engines are offline, and we're unable to pursue them. I need your assistance to intercept and neutralize the threat."
Captain Archer took a mere moment to process what his old friend had said but his response was swift and resolute.
"Commander Drake, we're standing by to assist," came the reply over the comm. "We'll pursue the target and apprehend them. Roanoke out."
Commander Drake exhaled a sigh of relief, knowing that Johnny Archer was on the job was a relief, he was their best chance to intercept the hostile transport ship. Archer's tactical prowess and experienced crew should be able to handle what these ghouls were dishing out.
"Ensign Stack, coordinate with Captain Archer," Commander Drake instructed, "Provide him with our last known coordinates and all available sensor data on the enemy vessel."
Stack nodded, swiftly relaying the necessary information to the Roanoke. Commander Drake watched intently as the display updated with Roanoke's course correction, aligning for the pursuit of the Arctic transport ship.
the tactical screen brought up the main viewer and showed the positions of the Roanoke and the transport, it showed Archer moving to intercept the ship at Warp 4.
"Keep me updated on the Roanoke's progress," Commander Drake instructed, his focus unwavering. "We need to regain control of the situation before it escalates further." he ordered "I'm heading down to Engineering to get a handle on the damage Ito you take command."
he didn't wait for the man to respond as the doors closed on the turbo lift with the Roanoke now on course to intercept the hostile transport ship, Commander Drake allowed himself a moment of cautious optimism.
With the combined efforts of two starships, driven by seasoned commanders and skilled crews, offered the best possible solution to this incident. He was bound and determined to get the Cumberland back in the fight even if he had to get out and push, he was not sitting this one out.