Cavalry

Posted on Thu Jan 17th, 2019 @ 7:55am by Captain Benjamin Ingram Dr & Lieutenant Commander Mara Ricci

Mission: S1E2: A Temple To New Gods
Location: In Orbit
Timeline: MD3 10.30AM

"Shuttle's away," the replacement Conn officer reported.

Benjie leaned a little further back in his seat and smiled. Now that the majority of his problems were off hunting down a rogue radio transmitter on a death world, he was free to continue the work needed to be done.

"Excellent. Have our long-range scans detected the Modules?"

"The Engineering Module is in a stable orbit at the planet's L5 Lagrange point, trailing its orbital path," the Operations tech reported. "The Support Module...is...er..."

"Is...what? Spit it out or throw it onto the main-" Benjie began, as the Ops tech beat him to the pip and put the sensor feed onto the main view screen. "Ah. Yes. I see. Get Chief Ricci up her right away."

It took exactly thirty seconds for Mara to make her way from the Engine room all the way up to the bridge. She couldn't help but grin at how tiny this ship was. "Ricci reporting as ordered, sir," she said by way of an announcement.

No one responded to her, their eyes transfixed on the main display. On it was the flared cylinder of the Support Module, one side of it a pristine Starfleet white whilst the other was a scorched and warped black. Beside the image was an orbital diagram, showing the poisoned world below, and the highly eccentric orbit the Support Module had fallen into. It was a looping affair, tightening and stretching out with each gravity assisted pass of the planet.

Currently, it was nearly the far end of its arc, but the track back towards the planet no longer skimmed just above the atmosphere. Instead, it dipped lower and continued to bend sharply down into the planet's surface.

6 Hours, 48 Minutes, 12 Seconds.

"It would seem we have a problem," Ingram said after a moment, looking over his shoulder at Ricci. "Thoughts?"

Oh, no! was Mara's only thought for a hot minute. "Have we been able to raise them?" she asked, already afraid that the answer was negative.

"You joined us just on the cusp of the attempt. Meanwhile, you have six hours to figure out a way for the warp tug's to arrest the orbital decline of the Support Module," he said and nodded to the engineering console. "Stay a moment, if we can get ahold of someone there we might be able to learn what's been going on here."

He then gestured to the Op's tech.

"Canopus Support Module, this is Commander Ingram on board the USS Resolute. We are here to assist and return you to the arrival system, please respond," Ingram waited a moment for a response.

Nothing but static silence was returned.

“Maybe we’re not close enough,” Mara offered nervously. “The communications on the support module are pretty limited, after all.”

"Good thought, helm if you'd be so kind bring us to within one hundred meters of the hull," Ingram instructed, before looking over his shoulder to the tactical station. "Keep weapons and shields on ready status, just in case. I know the man put in charge of the Support Module, and whilst it's armament is limited it is Starbase grade. I'd like to not be incinerated by mistake."

Both officer's nodded, and the Resolute's engines rumbled beneath the deck plates. It edged closer still, the view of the Support Module growing ever closer. As the Module rotated it was easy to assume everything was alright. But as the Module rotated, the scorched atmosphere roasted side came into view, revealing the bulking hull plates warped by the abrasive passage through the toxic atmosphere of the planet.

Somehow, Benjie thought, this will be reported as Axon's fault.

"Hail them again. And if that doesn't work use the near field communication network all combadges are synced to. We're close enough to the hull that the Resolute should be picking them up as a network node," Benjie stated. He then looked back at Mara. "If this doesn't get us an answer, we'll use one of the service airlocks and do this the old fashion way."

The comm signal remained silent for a while until suddenly a chirp came through, followed by a clear voice.

"Resolute, I hear you loud and clear," came an unfamiliar voice.

"Finally," Ingram breathed out a sigh. "Support Module, this is Commander Ingram. I want a full status update on the Modules status, and what steps you've taken to secure its declining orbital stability. Furthermore, could you put the officer of the deck on the line, I'd like to have a word with him about his communications protocols."

"That's uh..." the young man sounded slightly confused but quite uncomfortable with this situation. "Sir, this is Petty Officer Serilyns. The module's communication system is not available, I was only able to pick up your message through my fighter's comm system. Currently, the crew we have on board is trying its best to stabilize but we aren't having any luck."

Meanwhile, Mara was busily racing through every scenario to get the module out of its orbit. Its thrusters weren’t strong enough to break the pull. This little ship wasn’t strong enough to pull it out. Could they do it together? Was the tractor beam on a Norway strong enough to hold the module? She doubted it. But then.

“Warp tugs!” she exclaimed. “We could grab a warp tug or two and rig up some sort of rudimentary system to pull them free. If we use the module’s thrusters in conjuction as well as the Resolute’s tractor beam if we need it. We should be able to- oh! There’s tons of spare metal tubing! It’s definitely strong enough to withstand the force. We’d just have to get within docking distance and we take a skiff to wrap it around and hook it up!” She had been mostly talking to herself and there were a few kinks to straighten out, but she was sure it would work, and they could be home in time for supper!

"That...sounds...good?" Benjie said, his brow furrowing. Had he a light board and time to funnel the math on the problem, he to might sound as excited as a child at Christmas the idea of stripping a third of a space station to make a lifeline. He pointed a finger at her. "Get on it."

He then returned his attention to the comm link.

"PO Serilyns. As far as I'm aware the Support Module didn't house the Gryphon Squadron, they were separated out between the Command and Engineering Module. Did you shuttle it across to act as a comm's relay? If so..." he felt the bile rise a little in his throat. "If...so...could you please connect me to Commander Vendrest. Its imperative I speak to him to iron out what needs to happen now."

"Actually, sir, I was running patrol with another pilot when..." There was silence for a moment. "When a mutiny broke out on the Engineering section. The other fighter was shot down by Marines and I came to the Support section for safety. We can't get close without being fired upon. Last I heard from Commander Vendrest, he was being pursued by Colonel Sytex."

Vereyn walked onto the bridge. He could feel the tension on bridge when he saw the decaying orbit of the Engineering section. He walked up and stood just behind the Commander, clasping his hands behind his back and not saying anything.

"What do you mean shot down by Marines? You mean our Marines? My Marines?" Benjie said, feeling his hackles rising at the presumption. He turned his head, noticing the Doctor had arrived and gave the briefest of nods. "And Axon didn't cause any of this? He wasn't giving them orders to seize control? Then why did they fire on you for the sake of Blue Fire?"

"Sir, I'm not sure what's happening or why. I'm telling you everything I know," the young man's voice said through the comm.

"No doubt," Benjie said, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought over the puzzle. "In either case, we are working on a plan of rescue. Hold tight, we'll get back to you shortly. Resolute out."

He made a cutting gesture to Op's tech, and then turned to look at his current assortment of officers. He nodded to himself.

"Raise the sheilds, but do not power weapons. Helm, take to the L5 point and the Engineering Module at half impulse. That should give us a few extra minutes to feel out the nature of this tale of woe," Benjie commanded. He looked to the security console. "Lieutenant...Zodan yes? Given we've not detected the Engineering Module's antimatter reactor in operation, what sort of obstacles could we be facing?"

Rising up from beneath a thick mane of silvery, lank white, a pair of blue antenna straightened in quiet speculation. “th’Zohan, sir.” Offered the deep, inflected voice of one Theylan th’Zohan in correction, the powerfully built Andorian thaan looming over the tactical console of which the screen already bore a break down of the Engineering Module to one side while the other side had a break down of the Starfleet Marine Contingent command staff, all the way from the ranking commander of the detachment to the lowliest lieutenant and some of the upper NCOs. Any data displayed generally limited to a few fine details such as training and psychological profiles. The left most screen offering a simplified overview of the various systems and corridors that ran throughout the module.

“Presuming the lack of the main reactor’s operation, it can be assumed that the station is at best running on emergency power and thus any progress that could be made throughout the corridors would be slow due to the requirement of manually opening each and every door. That is of course not accounting for any obstacles as a result of internal damage such as fallen pylons, bulkheads, et cetera. Furthurmore, if we are to presume that the marine detachment is indeed engaged in mutiny then it stands to reason that they would have created set killzones to funnel any intruders into via the use of bulkheads as well entrenching themselves in key positions throughout the structure. In short, they would be counting on the limited time and desperation in tandem with these measures to ensure any assault or engagement would work in their favour. I would also assume they’d have created a form of transporter scrambler in certain key areas to protect against sudden beam-ins, but given the lack of power it would only be to the most critical of areas thus the use of the transporter is an option.” The words were offered with an almost Vulcan-esque curtness it seemed as th’Zohan’s antenna twitched pensively, looking for a way to make such an issue evaporate.

"Not to mention the setting of a fine trap. We beam in a landing party to secure the area, the scrambler turns on and we lose the ability to withdraw our forces in an orderly fashion. Thank you Lieutenant th'Zohan, that was an unusually comprehensive appraisal," Benjie said. A compliment from the commander was like quantum unicorns, they were theoretically possible but it was finding them without collapsing the waveform that was the problem.

The viewscreen began to swell with the image of the approaching Engineering Module. The spherical structure housing the massive antimatter reactor that would power Canopus Station for centuries, and the forest of antenna and sensor spines that capped its lower pole looked pristine.

"The one advantage we have is we have a working antimatter reactor on the Resolute. We have the endurance to least wait them out, but I'm concerned on two fronts. One we have personnel on the Engineering Module in distress, and secondly the seventy tons of anti lithium in the fuel bunkers. Antimatter pod's run on batteries when not powered, and they are not long-lived. Not to mention we can't make more Anti Matter without the Engineering Modules cyclotron," Benjie shook his head. "If anyone has an idea on how we can save the Module, in the time limit of orbital decay of the Support Module, I'm all ears. Because one idea that comes to mind is opening all the airtight doors and letting the great god Vacuum do the work for us."

Theylan merely arched an eyebrow at the Commander's... unique suggestion. Yes, unique would be the term he'd stick with. Reckless was another term that crossed the Andorian's mind but he was quick to remember that he was on this expedition due to difficult senior line officers. With a curling forward of his antenna his pale blue tongue popped out of his mouth to lick his lips.

Perhaps he was on the right track though? A flurry of digits dancing over the console brought up a break down of the interior of the support section. While it was extensively retrofitted for its current task, at the heart of it was like any comparable section of a Stardock-class starbase. The lens of the ocular implant within the Andorian's head gently twitched, shifting in resolution as he used it to more closely scrutinise the screen.

"Well, I might possibly have a suggestion as to handle the issue of the marines, Commander. Assuming you'd not be adverse to a little unconventional chemical warfare of course." The offer made with a very serious look on the Andorian's face as he offered it.

Ingram raised an eyebrow.

“One of my PhD’s is in chemistry, I’d not be adverse to hearing an unusual proposal in practical chemical reactions,” he said with a easy smile. Sometimes problems just solved themselves.

"Well," began Theylan with a twitching of his antenna to denote a most pensive of moods. "This is simply a laymen's view of things, our Chief Engineer may or may not find flaw with this and it would be dependent on her for the execution, but reading over the logs there are several inactive life support nodes throughout the module that would only have been activated by an engineering team upon the successful integration of all modules, thus allowing for the sustaining of a larger station population. Now from what I can see here, these aren't sealed off, nor are they in critical areas as deemed by the Marines. We could beam in several canisters of a modified and fast-acting halogenated ether that would incapacitate the marines in the inner sections, for the rest of them we could simply blow the airlocks. By the time emergency forcefields or bulkheads came down, the gas would have been effectively spread to the outer areas of the station due to the differential pressure. Given the state of heightened adrenaline, we could potentially see the entire section pacified within half an hour to an hour, depending on how gradual you wish it to be. Another more flammable option might be Methoxypropane."

"That is assuming the Marine's are not in hardshell EVA armour with their own life support," Benjie said as a counterpoint but held up a hand. "But I like the idea, if only because we don't have the time or manpower to engage in a corridor by corridor boarding action. No offence to you or your security team Lieutenant th'Zohan, but you are not the 501st and I can't afford to throw bodies at the problem. Doctor Kiiz, your own opinion on this matter would not be amiss. What are the chances of accidental fatalities from this course of action?"

“I vote yes,” piped up Mara, having listened carefully to the plan they’d been discussing. “If we wait too long, they’ll all die. Better the possibility of some than the certainty of all.”

"The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few, "Ingram said with a somewhat sour expression on his face. Some might take it as distaste for the act of violence on other conscious beings when in reality it was the dusty taste of the Vulcan proverb.

"Commander, we're receiving a hail from the Engineering Module. It's from Lieutenant Colonel Sytex," the Ops tech reported.

"Put him on the comm now," Ingram growled. "Colonel Sytex, this is Commander Ingram. I apologise for the bluntness, but what by Blue Fire is going on out here?"

"Aye, I know you're here, lad," the man's voice said through the comm system. "I need ye to back up that ship of yours and power down the weapons. Let's work this out like gentlemen, eh?"

"If only wishing made it so," Ingram said curtly to the air. "Colonel Sytex, I've had some very worrying reports given to me by the crew of the Support Module that you've not only taken unlawful actions detrimental to Canopus Station, but that you've also fired on and killed members of the crew. I would, of course, be more than willing to hear out your side of the argument."

"I do what I need to to protect my crew," the Colonel stated.

"Huum...touche`. Protect them from what, pray tell?" Ingram asked

"From ye, lad!" the man screamed through the comm system. "Now ye just back that ship of yours up, right now ye gombeen, or I'll blow this entire module to sky high."

Ingram made a cutting gesture across his throat to the Op's tech.

"Oh, yes. It does seem as though LtCol Sytex has gone a little off the rails. To be fair I assumed that sort of thing was going to happen eventually, being out here past the edge of the map. But I had assumed some significant amount of time would have gone by before the gun toting fools went sideways," the Commander of Canopus opined. He turned to the security officer. "th'Zohan, I want that Module fumigated. For the purposes of the record, you've just become the stations Chief of Security. If this all goes well and we're able to return to Carpathia with both Modules, we can talk about it becoming a more permanent affair."

The right eyebrow and antenna of the Andorian rose pensively at the words passing his ears, his eyes turning down to glance at his console and blinking for several scant moments.

"Commencing preparations for fumigation with extreme prejudice, Sir." The Andorian's tone casual, perhaps almost playful to certain ears, though one would have hard pressed to tell from his expression, the Andorian quickly becoming engrossed in his task. His fingers already sending data down to the engineering section on the type of dispersal device he'd require, it wasn't as though Starfleet normally had a ready built application for such a thing. Thus, at best all he could offer was a list of requests down to dispersal pattern and intensity. The explosives to blow open the bulkheads... well then, those were to be his little technical contribution... now he just had to find a way to avoid explosive decompression. Perhaps lowering the yield, less a large explosion and more smaller explosions meant to at first poke holes and get a current going and then allow the built up expulsion of energy to do the same. Not quite as flashy as he'd like and way more finicky, but certainly better.

Ingram smiled, and made a note to read the man's career jacket. No doubt it would be the sort of exciting Boy's Own Adventure tale most Security and Tactical Officer's tended to write by way of life experience. If anything it would at least be interesting bedside reading, given that even the AI Ghestalt author's of King and Knootz were beginning to run short on ideas.

"We might as well at least try to warn Axon about what's going to happen," Ingram said if only because there was a record being recorded. In a time before such a surveilled environment as the bridge of a ship, he might have enquired if the gases formulation might hurt those it affected. And, if at all possible, if it did not could it be tweaked just a bit to produce some pain? Even a little?

"This is Commander Benjamin Ingram to Axon Vendrest," Benjie said. He quietly hoped the former CO and bane of his plots had suffered some sort of injury. Nothing life-threatening, he wasn't a savage.

Maybe a knife wound, or a broken nose? Something character building.

There was silence for a few moments before the comm channel opened with a response. "Axon here," came the voice of the former Captain, obvious pain could be heard through the hushed tones of his voice. "This might be the first time I'm saying this, Benjie, but I'm certainly glad to hear from you."

"The feeling, I assure you, is more than mutual," Benjie said with a thin smile. "We can't speak long. We have a plan to neutralise the Marine insurrection and bring the Engineering Module back under our control. If you're in an environmentally sealable space, you might want to go about dogging the hatches. We're going to gas the crew rated spaces. Should be an interesting experiment in chaotic dispersal methods if nothing else. I just need to know if the Marine have done anything to the Station's antimatter reserves? The Colonel was talking about blowing up the Module, and 70 tons of antimatter going off would do it nice enough."

As he spoke he turned back to his chair and using the command console typed out a message to th'Zohan: EXECUTE PLAN IMMEDIATELY.

The word “devilish” seemed all too appropriate to the smile on the lips of the Andorian as he read the order, cleaned beneath his bowed head. Perhaps owing to a slight (very slight) inclination towards explosions he had already selected out a most perfect series of explosive to cut just enough duranium to do his job. Surprisingly, when he had got word that the Engineering department actually had “just the thing” in what could have only been considered record time, his eyes began to gleam. Granted, it was all very uncivilised to have to gas the “jarheads”, a proper warrior should only have the pleasure of putting boot to face to the traitors after administering a proper beating but then life wasn’t fair.

He took a few moments to look over the suggested canisters that were loading, pressing his lower lip up with a nod of his head. “Most clever.” The Andorian murmured, quietly amused that the Engineering’s contribution was a effectively a militarised version of a fumigation “bomb”. With more powerful nozzles, the cylindrical containers were about half the height of an ordinary humanoid, possessing six such nozzles along the upper rim that would evacuate the contained gas within seconds. The rest as it were was up to his little beauties. The fact that the weapons were glorified insect killers amused him to no end. He would have to speak to the fellow whom made that suggestion, buy him or her an ale.

When he received word that the canisters were ready with a handy set of pick-up coordinates, the fingers of Theylan moved like a player of some fine great instrument, a human piano or something grand he’d like to think, though his face would hardly show it. His strong fingers dancing over the screen as one, two, three… ultimately six canisters where dispersed throughout the station, nestled out of view from the marines and unknown to the slumbering sensors within these regions.

For his next trick, came the explosives, for amidst the darkness of space small shimmers of blue silently appeared like faint stars in the great void. Each one leaving behind a lone explosive no greater than a human female’s palm. Inertia and magnetism would do the rest as they locked upon their intended points. Three dozen in all, now locked to the various airlocks and structural weakpoints of the station.

It was than that a message appeared on the command console, a single word: “Ready”

Benjie returned to his seat, tugging on the hem of his uniform jacket to settle it, and smiled the smile of a child with a magnifying glass.

"Proceed when ready."

What was to follow could only be considered both terrifying and surreal, as barely registering upon the viewscreen silent bursts of light peppered the module. To their eyes, but a silent show of lights while closer, the explosions tore and rended metal, tearing away the supports and breaking open windows. The souls caught unawares as they were suddenly sucked towards the newly opened holes, holes that grew and grew. A small tear growing larger and larger until the very airlock was torn away into the void of space. The entire module seemingly caught in a pandemonium as confusion rang throughout the ranks, mercifully though forcefields and bulkheads came down quickly enough, wearing at the limited reserves of the station's power.

For a time, with the hum of energy and the clanging of bulkheads, all seemed well. Those brought to the outer regions by the commotion flushed with adrenaline, rage and indignation flooding them. Within the inner most depths though, a lone officer at his watch became to cough.

A touch of the dust perhaps? Or perhaps he was coming down with something? Either way, he pushed it to the edges of his mind, holding the phaser rifle firmly as he looked around, wondering just what it was that had shaken the module so. Were they under attack?. But then another, and another… soon entire sections were caught by the coughing fit and a strange, miasmic scent that wafted into the air.

Their lungs burning, their minds addled, each breath feeling laborious… He looked around with cold fear, primal features of his mortality dueling with deeply ingrained training until finally he fell over the fort of tables and detritus that had served as crude sandbags. His ears filled with sound of comrades clamouring for air, their throats raw from the coughing fits.

One by one, they fell like a great wave. Unconscious bodies falling left and right, their bodies overloaded with drowsiness and lethargy so great that their weapons fell from their arms and their minds so consumed by the pain and fear of near asphyxiation with the fits of coughing.

Theylan himself watched it all through his scanners, a dispassionate look in his eyes and a cold ever so slight smile on his lips as he watched the various lifesigns sorted again and again by the computer. From frantic indicators of stress and duress to finally something that he understood meant that the very least most of them were down.

"Excellent work," Benjamin said from the commander's chair, his fingers knitted together. "Form a landing party. Let's assume the worse, that whatever madness the Marines brought up from the surface is airborne in some fashion: full biohazard protocol. Focus on seizing the Antimatter reactor, and the antimatter fuel bunker as key assets. And rescuing the caretaker crew as secondary."

He got up.

"Lieutenant th'Zohan I will accompany you, whilst Commander Ricci remains to finalise the salvaging of the Support Module. Dr Kiiz, I'll want you with the landing part to assess crew injuries and to begin working up the paper work to have Colonel Sytex committed to the padded room of his choice. Unless anyone else has any ideas?"