Hiding his concern from the junior officers, Captain Reinarr turned his chair back to them and took full command of the situation again, regaling them with his charm and his wit and that same winning smile that had seen them out of the worst before, and one they figured they could count on to do the same again here. Lest he allow any thoughts to the contrary begin to foster, the Captain quickly put them to work.
"Ensign, keep us at this position. As for you, Lieutenant," He said, standing up from his seat and leaning over the back of Grigori's chair, "Did the gearheads back at Andor equip us with any class four probes for this shakedown cruise?"
"No sir, not any functioning ones at least. They won't be installed until next Tuesday."
"Alright, the transporters are online, correct?"
"Yes, sir, but only the industrial transporters. Anything biological going through those and we'd need a transporter chief onboard to correct for it."
The Captain rubbed his chin and pondered for a moment, his tactical officer patiently awaiting his next command, gazing up at a man who had been the Fleet's number one hotshot, rising through the ranks at exponential speed en-route to the captaincy. For Grigori, like so many others, Dash Reinarr had modeled for the galaxy as the spitting image of perfection in an officer. Now he stood here, next to Grigori, running through a dozen different ways out of their predicament in his mind. It was, if nothing else, fascinating to watch, even after all their months of service together.
"Alright, we still have some cargo containers onboard, correct? What's in them?"
Pulling up the specifications on his console, Grigori answered, "Mostly spare items in the event of an emergency and leftovers from the construction. We've got stem bolts, spare casings, a pocket welder, the likes of that, sir. Probably two or three crates full of the things."
"Hey Doc," The Captain said while studying the screen, "Did you bring along any of your experiments or samples along with you?"
"Oh no," She said, taking a step back, "You are not ruining my Dalvin hissing beetle hatchery again."
"Look, that was just the one time, and it helped us get rid of those pirates didn't it?"
"What do you even plan to do with the poor things?"
Captain Reinarr looked to her with a grin and a half shrug.
"Let's call it science. The Dalvin hissing beetle biology is rather similar to the Callisto Betans, isn't it? We put a few of them in a crate, use the industrial transporter to beam it on a course down to the planet, then," He said with a theatrical turn, "The Nyos picks it up, thinks it's an escape pod from whatever idiot decided to attack them, and either comes to investigate or leaves the system. If she comes over to investigate," He flattened his hand and gently coasted it across the air, mimicking the ship, "Then we drop in from the top and let her have it!" With his other hand in a fist, he slammed it down on his outstretched fingers to illustrate the point.
"Simple plan, simple solution. Sound good to you?"
"No, it's a terrible plan," She replied, "Just who do you think you're going to be sending down there?" She followed with more than a little acid in her voice.
"Doc, come on," The Captain said with that same winning grin he'd used to charm every politician and admiral he'd met, "I'm not even talking about throwing the whole batch out, it's just a couple of bugs."
Doctor Prinn made a face that looked like she'd been shot.
"Just a couple of bugs?" She steeled herself in determination and folded her arms, "Then who are you going to send down? Lula? Rose? Kepso?" The doctor asked incredulously, "You can't just send sentient beings out to their death indiscriminately!"
Captain Reinarr paused and simply pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
She'd been at this Starfleet thing far longer than he'd been, but she'd never been in a position of command, she'd never had to deal with the things he did, how could she even possibly stand there and make such an insubordinate statement? He could just as easily toss her off the ship as he could put her in the holding cells for that- but that would be getting ahead of himself. Plus, she was one of the good ones, Dash told himself, he couldn't do that to her even if he wanted to. She was just defending her opinion, and he could respect that.
His own opinions had been made for him a long time ago. He'd tried to separate himself from then, to become his own man, but some shadows can't be escaped.
All the while I'm beholden to those same decisions, even now, He mused.
But they didn't keep him up at night. Other officers, like Fleet Captain Garth, they had morals. They made decisions and had to deal with them. Dash simply followed orders and lived with it.
Sometimes they were the wrong ones, sometimes they valued a life over another. His mentor had taught him that much. Yet, despite that knowledge, Dash had to wonder if he could ever command that same total indifference that the man he'd trained under for years did.
Sometimes, Captain Reinarr thought silently, you make the wrong decision for the right reasons. Right?
He put his hands up in surrender and wrenched his mind back to the current moment.
"Alright, alright, maybe you've got a point, Doc. Besides, I mean," He gestured around to the nearly empty bridge, "We don't have the capacity or the firepower to take down the Nyos that way anyways. They probably still have their shields up and without photons I doubt we'd even dent the armour."
Letting go of the breath she'd been holding, Doctor Prinn relaxed and nodded her thanks to the Captain, who returned it before turning back to his human compatriots.
"Ensign, Lieutenant, I'm open to suggestions."
It must've been rather miraculous to the two younger men that Captain Reinarr of all people was asking for a solution, but they hid their astonishment well and quickly went to work in tandem between themselves.
"What about a sensor refraction?" Ensign Marlowe offered, "We send out one narrowbeam into the wreckage, it refracts off the pieces into a dozen different directions and overwhelms the Nyos' sensors for a moment."
"No, no, you think too simply," The Russian responded, "We must strike fast and strike now, while they are unawares. A quick warp burst should catch them off guard, make them think we have left system, then we come back in and punch a hole through their engines."
"Perhaps, but the Meridian isn't equipped for short burst jumps, we'd be spinning her up and then down at speeds far too inefficiently for your idea," The younger helmsman countered.
"Hold on, Ensign," The Captain said, stepping in between the pair, "Perhaps we should combine the plans. Pull up a visual breakdown of Corinth Four on the main viewer."
A quick tapping on the console by Grigori and the drifting inferno below them was replaced by a detailed tactical view of the planet. Axes, gravitational fields, plant and indigenous life, those two now unfortunately rendered all but useless, hemisphere data, historical information, everything that had been in Memory Alpha's server storage and transferred into the Meridian's computer core was now emblazoned and scrolling away in front of them.
"Lieutenant, adjust these calculations for what's transpired down there. From what we saw the entire world was just burning away and that's bound to have some effect on the atmosphere and the push and pull of its physics."
"One moment, sir," A series of rushed calculations were fed into the Meridian's computer, deciphered and solved, and consequently updated on the screen, "Finished, sir."
"Ensign, run a simulation," He looked to the young man, "Either in your head or in the computer, whichever works best," Then, back to the screen as he stepped closer to examine it, "And see if the Meridian can handle short run ups and hard cut offs at impulse speeds.
Then, run a few mockups by the computer and see what it thinks about coasting along using the gravitational fields of the planet to guide along some of these axes."
As Ensign Marlowe set himself to work, Captain Reinarr traced his finger along in various lines across Corinth IV, wondering silently to himself if his plan could actually work. He ran down the mathematics and the physics required to do so in his own head, knowing that the process was as routine for him as it would be for the Meridian's computer. It was standard twentieth century spacing, honestly, just with an added twist.
If his former mentor really was still aboard that other ship, and Dash knew better than to think anybody else would be over there, then these next maneuvers would appear to be a combination of the astonishingly mundane and pure brilliance.
It was a good defense; he could most certainly pull it off.
Once he put everything into action, it was doubtful that Ensign Marlowe wouldn't recognize what they were doing. The helmsman was young, the youngest member of Dash's senior staff during the War, and, although he'd understand well enough once they got down into the thick of it, he couldn't come to the same conclusions as quickly that someone as seasoned as Doctor Prinn could. Even now, without looking back, he could see her watching him like a hawk. Perhaps that came from her being an Eksokaisen, but in truth she'd always watched him like that.
Sometimes it felt as though it was because she was still suspicious of him for whatever reason her mind had chosen to come up with, but most times, especially when he was putting a plan together, it was because she was attempting to come to the same understanding that he was. The good Doctor had become quite adept at it- almost to the point that she could practically finish his planning speech before he could. Doubtless now she could see what he was planning, understanding it, and preparing herself to help put it into action.
Good, all the better.
He'd need every hand on deck for this one, sparse as they were, and Doctor Prinn could easily take over one of the rear consoles. Dash would get Lieutenant Grigori to reroute the shutdown routine through to one of them and she could have it primed and ready to go during each encounter. Speaking of all hands on deck, he'd need them to be on the same page he was if worse came to worse.
Best to head it off now at the pass, he thought as he took one last look at the data to ensure he was still correct in his planning, Than to let it all come spiraling down later.
"Heads up, attention forward," Captain Reinarr spoke up, his voice waxing melodic and power into one across the bridge, "We're about to take the fight to the Nyos, there's no doubt about that, but we all need to be clear on a few things."
He paced past the front consoles and stood up on the upper step in front of the captain's chair, commanding the attention of his bridge crew with his chin cocked upward, his stance emanating the same stone-still, picturesque authority that many of the historical statues back on Earth did.
"Let there be no doubt in your minds that what you see before you," He jabbed a finger at the viewscreen as, with a quick tap on the arm of his chair, it reverted to the slowly drifting, and slowly dying, fireball below them, "Was undoubtedly caused by the Nyos."
A brief pause for dramatic effect, then he continued- not letting them have time enough for questions to begin forming.
"We'll deal with that situation when we come to it, boys, but right now we need to ensure we're in the proper position to mete out justice to those who think they can step above their station like this. In order to do so, we're going to play a little game of cat and mouse with them."
He sat down in his chair and pulled up the simulations on the viewer that he'd had the Ensign run through the Meridian's computer.
"We'll fire up all of our systems and take this path down into the loving embrace of Corinth Four's gravitational pull. If we time it right, and thanks to our Ensign having been essentially born and raised in Fleet ships I don't think that'll be much of an issue, we'll cast down into an orbit of the planet. The sudden burst of energy will spike their sensors and they'll come screaming over here, spoiling for a fight that they won't be getting."
He could see Grigori noticeably stiffen in suspense, typical of any tactical officer to be told that they'd be provoking a fight without finishing it. Captain Reinarr held the amusement beneath the mask of command for the moment, though.
"Because as soon as we get confirmation from the sensors that we are in orbit we're shutting down all systems. We'll practically vanish off their sensors and, with our speed and the planet's natural fields pulling us along, we'll be out of visual range too. When we come back around again, we'll fire everything up again and slam them with our phasers, then repeat the process and wait till we come back around again. We'll keep passive sensors active so they can't get the jump on us, but if all goes well we'll already be on the opposite side of the planet by the time they adjust to our shadow."
Ensign Marlowe's eyes dawned with that same understanding Captain Reinarr had seen dozens of times before and he instantly set himself to work on preparing the Meridian for the operation. Lieutenant Grigori did not relax even slightly, but the gears were turning- he could see the value of a good plan, and he'd do everything in his ability to ensure it went even better than the Captain expected. Those mechanical hands would be a godsend for quick aiming and firing of the phasers.
He turned his head back to Doctor Prinn as he relaxed back into his chair.
"So, you were right, as usual. Looks like your precious Lula and Kepso are safe yet, Doctor," He said with a smirk.
"Or you've simply doomed us to share their fate, Captain," She responded with a shrug, "At least I can live with that one."
"Hey, I thought you were excited to finally be on your last life cycle." She gave the Captain a demure smile.
"As we say back home, Captain Reinarr, there is nothing as eternally exciting or as eternally terrifying as the final cycle," She uncrossed her arms and made her way towards the turbolift.
"I will go secure sickbay and then we may get underway, Captain," She looked back at him from between her wings, "I will return in thirty minutes, at the most."
"Fair enough, Doc," He nodded to her, "Bring back some good books for us, this op is going to be filled with more than its fair share of waiting."
It must've made for quite a sight on the boards of the Nyos.
One moment, there was silence, nothing to fill the void of space but the wreckage of the destroyed ship and the carbon dioxide and radiation now escaping the ruins of Corinth IV.
Then, as far as the Nyos' scanners were concerned, the light came down from the heavens- and it was good.
The Meridian, her sleek form hardly visible from any distance, let alone the forty to fifty million kilometers distant Nyos, lit up the entire universe as she roared to life and ripped away from her current position in a mad dash for freedom.
As the warship came to a life of its own, weapons primed, shields up, it rocketed across the gap like a lion on a gazelle that had accidentally strayed from the safety of its pack. Certainly, that's how the Nyos' commander saw it as the order for full speed ahead was given. Yet, to its disappointment, by the time it reached the devastated world the light had gone. The universe, for all intents and purposes, was dark again.
Setting upon the Meridian's last known trajectory, the Nyos fell perfectly into the trap.
Meanwhile, the little ship coasted along in a gentle orbit on the opposite side of the planet. She was preparing to make her first strike, this one assuredly happening quicker than any of the others would given the momentum it had built up in its race towards the planet's embrace. Silently, carried by the solar winds and the gentle arms of Corinth IV, she overcame the apoapsis of her run and began her descent.
Confident that they could hunt with impunity if their enemy was going to simply hide, the Nyos lowers their shields but keeps the weapons system hot.
Holding bated breath, the crew of the Meridian, from bow to stern, collectively prepared for the worst as she awaited her moment.
Mentally, her captain exercised a few old tricks, attempting to calm his nerves and keep a good tempo to their movements by singing a shanty or two in his head.
Carry him to his burying ground, we'll lower him down on a golden chain…
With vigor and vinegar, the little border cutter sprung to life from a near cold start and bore down on the warship.
On every link we'll carve his name…
Her phasers light up the skies as she dashes past her opponent. Without the shields, the fire slams into the nacelles and the hull. Their damage is minimal, the aim is off and the cold start costs them precious energy that could've otherwise delivered a stiff blow, but it strikes a chord of fury nonetheless.
The Nyos returns the fire but, caught off guard, only fires where the Meridian was, and the little ship coasts off into the dark night once more.
Neither commander nor crew know what has just occurred, and begin the hunt in a new direction, following in the trail of their attacker. Their shields are now raised, determined to ensure another attack will be of little consequence.
Yet, for the Meridian and her crew, this is a victory worth celebrating. They allow themselves their moment of hope, fleeting as it may be, before settling into the silence again.
The game is afoot.
It is going to be a long night, and the crew of the Meridian digs into their trench and eagerly awaits the next meeting.