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-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br> | -Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br> | ||
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br> | -Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br> | ||
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Moving the Rock - Episode II</h3> | |||
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by | |||
Michael "Mike" Dailey 2-19-1997</h4> | |||
STARDATE: 90219.2120<br> | |||
SCENE: USS NOGURA II<br> | |||
MD: 4.1650<br> | |||
Both squads of security troops gazed beyond the NOGURA II's | |||
viewports, into the bitter, numbing realities of combat. Majestic, and yet | |||
gargantuan when compared to their FEYNMAN. The CHEYENE class starship that | |||
had engaged and pursued the runabout now lay to their port side, dwarfing the | |||
NOGURA II. Sleek in the design of her pearlescent hull, save for the missing starboard | |||
side of the saucer section. | |||
Starfleet officers and non-commissioned officers alike dealt with the | |||
risks and hazards of space. That loss had touched, and wrenched at the hearts | |||
and minds of nearly every trooper, save J.C. Starfleet losses had been overwhelming | |||
recently, especially in SILVER. If this mission didn't have some success, the | |||
BISMARK, PEARSON, and HAWKING could follow as SILVER's casualties mounted. | |||
*Spirits, we've got to help them,* the CSO thought to himself. Swallowing hard, J.C. | |||
tried to suppress the screams of their ghosts in the back of his mind. *I don't remember | |||
a CHEYENE on regular patrol in this sector.* Then, it occurred to J.C. the may not | |||
even been 'fleet, perhaps Maquis or renegades? Grey fleet? | |||
Another shuddering though came to J.C. * If Lt. Jerran were to order his | |||
squads split-up, J.C. would resolutely object, in the log if it came to that. | |||
With just fourteen people total, the odds were already leaning in a direction he did | |||
not favor. Their luck, they would board a troop transport. | |||
Gradually everyone regained their composure, except for SCPO T'boc, who of | |||
course never lost his. Returning to their seats, J.C. called his three NCO's T'boc, Karr, | |||
and Tamarov. | |||
"LT. Jerran will give us the 'go' any minute. As soon as they maneuver into position | |||
and locate a appropriate point of entry for us." He halted as the front cabin door parted | |||
to deposit the FEYNMAN's Counselor, Ens. Landers. Nodding to Loren, J.C. continued on | |||
briefing his NCO's. | |||
"I want a final weapons check. No last minute surprises for us." ordered the CSO. | |||
"Sir," T'boc added, "I recommend a comm check also. In addition to serving a useful | |||
purpose, it will provide a distraction from the waiting period." Everyone wore the | |||
standard hands-free comm headset. Two channels, one for squad-level communications, | |||
the other tied into the NOGURA II. Both scrambled, of course. | |||
Alex, standing a few paces behind SCPO T'Boc, made a strange face as if to say | |||
'I was about to suggest that', but decided to leave the Vulcan NCO alone, for now. | |||
Mr. Karr, the most recent security NCO on the FEYNMAN, remained silent likewise. | |||
"So ordered, Mr. T'boc. Complete all checks in five minutes, then have the troops | |||
stand ready, Alex." A trio of 'aye Sirs trailed them, as they barked out the necessary | |||
orders. J.C. turned his attention back to the inquisitive Counselor. | |||
"What's on your mind, Loren." J.C. checked both channels of his own comm unit, though he | |||
had already done so at least four times. | |||
"Hey, I'm supposed to ask that question." Loren painted a sly smile on his face. In the | |||
few months their friendship had grown, J.C. knew the Counselor was scheming something. | |||
"Need an extra man?" asked Loren, seemingly from out of nowhere. | |||
"With 'Captain Jerran's' approval, sure." J.C. reached over beside his seat, | |||
grabbing his MARK-VII rifle. He held it upright, and tossed it to Landers. "That is, | |||
if you think you can handle one of these." Loren picked the weapon from mid-flight. | |||
"Now you really don't want me to remind you about my last qualification score, do | |||
you 'Sir'?" *Touche,* good one, Loren. | |||
"Mr. T'boc, get the Ensign set up in blacks and gear. He'll be joining us." ordered | |||
J.C. | |||
"Aye, Lt. Allard." | |||
"Loren, how quick can you get rid of your pretty blue uniform," said J.C. | |||
[SNIP] | |||
Darkness. Beyond darkness. Alex and Mr. Karr's squad were beamed into the freighter's | |||
bridge, while J.C. and T'boc's squad with the addition of their versatile CNS were beamed | |||
into Engineering. | |||
J.C. made a quick sweep of the area, grateful for the light mounted upon | |||
his rifle. Chilling coldness of the freighter was evident as he could see their breath | |||
vapors in the light. Eight including himself, all accounted for. Reaching on the side of | |||
his comm set, J.C. keyed the transmit and diagnostic toggles twice in rapid unison. | |||
Jerran would be looking for this signal, which to anyone else would appear as 'space noise'. | |||
Once back aboard the FEYNMAN, he would thank Bat for that little trick he had shared. | |||
Cold, dark, and J.C. covered his mouth, as did a few others. The freighter, with | |||
age in excess of fifty years or more, had evidently not been cleaned or aired out since | |||
it's construction. PO/3 O'Rorke nearly lost his breakfast, but regained himself. A quick | |||
look at Loren told he was not much better shape. Giving the signal to fan out, the group | |||
broke off into pairs. J.C. motioned for Loren to stick with him. | |||
Engineering was dead, in both power and crew, as many bodies, or remnants of | |||
such lay sparsely about here and there. Extensive damage from exploding consoles | |||
and falling structural pieces were the warrantors of death. Of the three freighters | |||
in the convoy, one had succumbed to the battle, and the second had been a victim of it's | |||
own toxic cargo. Not exactly the outcome Captain Zane had planned, but then when | |||
did plans ever develop properly. This one, the lead ship, was the only one left to board. | |||
Briefly startled at Alex Tamarov's voice in his ear, J.C. switched to channel 2. | |||
"Sir, No resistance at all. Actually only three survivors, and none are conscious | |||
or in condition to offer any resistance. They do need medical attention though." | |||
said the ACSO. | |||
"As far as the bridge, 90% destroyed. No power. Perhaps if we had, we could access the | |||
computer, if this junk heap even has one." J.C. agreed, expecting a portion of the hull | |||
to simply fall off any minute. | |||
"Acknowledged. Send two men back to the NOGURA with the wounded, and advance toward | |||
engineering. We'll proceed towards you, and meet." ordered J.C. | |||
"Aye sir, Tamarov out." J.C. motioned for Loren to follow. Through engineering, the | |||
came to an access ladder leading down. It took both men to force the manual override | |||
lever down to release the hatch. Gazing into the eyes of his friend, J.C. held his | |||
own rifle, unaware his knuckles were turning white. | |||
"I'll go down first. Shoot ANYTHING that moves, Ensign." J.C. ordered with a forced | |||
calm. Loren did need to be a telepath or esper to know how J.C. felt, as he shared | |||
the same uneasiness. Loren aimed his rifle-light beam down the hatch ladder, but | |||
revealed nothing but continued blackness of damp darkness. J.C. tuned to back down | |||
the ladder, rifle clutched tightly in his left hand. | |||
Step after cautious and gradual step, J.C. descended. After a dozen or so, | |||
he looked down, and from the powerful beam of Loren's light, could still see nothing | |||
more than the blackness. Looking up, Loren shrugged. | |||
Continuing on, the ability to breath 'good air' was disappearing as he made | |||
his descent. He had climbed down nearly fifteen meters. "Loren, I don't think this | |||
leads anywhere. We may..." but the sentence never concluded. The hand that had | |||
grabbed hold of his ankle in the same instant all color drained from the CSO's face. | |||
Clutching for dear life to the ladder rungs with his right hand, J.C. pivoted and | |||
brought the rifle to bear on more than a dozen pairs of eyes. | |||
"LOREN, HOLD YOUR FIRE", he blurted out, though knew not what forced had allowed | |||
him to think. Shining his light, they saw their faces matched their forms, ragged, | |||
dirty, and probably undernourished. | |||
Submitted, | |||
Mike Dailey | |||
splatter2@qtm.net | |||
<nowiki>******** | |||
* NRPG * | |||
********</nowiki> | |||
Hello all. Well, our battle already strayed us a bit from the original plan, | |||
so I (of course) took another little detour. <G> Joseph, enjoy interrogating the | |||
three 'guests' Alex will have beamed over. I'm sure Jerran is as good an inquisitor | |||
as a pilot? Hmmm. (How many light do you see?? ....) | |||
Kevin - Well, you wanted to come along, so here you are. Hope you don't shoot J.C. | |||
accidentally <BG> Develop the dozen+ 'survivors' as you wish... refugees? or | |||
perhaps slave laborers? Also, order my troops about as you wish. You're an officer | |||
and all are NCO's or below. | |||
Team 1 - You guys are quiet??? Melanie, I wondered what Meleah was up too..<G> | |||
FEYNMAN - Talk about surprises from nowhere! I thought she was recaptured and | |||
sent back to some prison - rehab colony??? | |||
Cheers All! | |||
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br> | |||
* Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard CSO - USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG *<br> | |||
* Lt. (Dr.) D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - OPS/20 - USS E. BLACKWELL SILVER FLEET *<br> | |||
* Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny CNS - USS BURKE GREEN FLEET *<br> | |||
* Lcdr. Ion Steiner L.C. - SFDOC TEAM ALPHA-1 SFDOC *<br> | |||
* Codr. Johan Baurr - COMSFDOC "All I ask is a tall ship..." *<br> | |||
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br> |