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Gone Galatea

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Scarlett, Fri 30 Mar, 2018 1:22 AM
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    #1
     –  Last edited by Scarlett; Fri 30 Mar, 2018 11:39 AM.
    Early 2409 …

    Galatea entered the system a short distance from the ringed planet. Resting above the orbit of the icy rings was the focus for the Exeter-class ship and crew.

    “Satellite in range of sensors, scanning now.” Omazei, the Trill Science Chief, reported dutifully as her fingers danced upon the console.

    Kathryn touched her rank pips absentmindedly and spoke without looking away from the viewscreen. “Anthi, anything on tactical? Being this close to Klingon-space I’m not in the mood to take chances.”

    The Andorian First Officer tapped on her console and after a few seconds replied, “Passive scans within the system are negative.”

    Anthi’s brother, Thel Ythysi, spoke from the Engineering section of the bridge. “Captain, initial analysis of the satellite reveal it is fully functional within expected parameters.” His tone was slightly incredulous. From his unexpected report, the bridge crew became silent.

    Kathryn leaned forward in her chair, visually inspecting the large machine in the void. Slowly rotating on its y-axis, it was a remote research satellite that hosted a myriad array of sensors dedicated to the planet. Several days ago, a request was made from Starfleet Corps of Engineers to investigate possible faulty bio-neural gel packs as telemetry was getting scrambled. USS Galatea answered the call. As innocuous as the situation should be, Kathryn started to feel uneasy about it.

    The Captain turned to Omazei, whose face was highlighted by shifting colors from the console, waiting for additional confirmation. Only the dim hum from the ship’s engines could be heard over the next few seconds. She suddenly looked to Kathryn and shouted, “Vessel decloaking, port fifteen degrees!”

    The viewscreen added a shimmer to the star field behind the satellite. As the ship coalesced, dread washed over Kathryn and someone unseen gasped. The Vor’cha-class battlecruiser drifted menacingly toward the Federation vessel.

    “Open a hailing frequency,” Kathryn ordered. After a few seconds she added, “Klingon vessel, this is Captain Beringer of the USS Galatea on a routine maintenance mission to a Federation satellite. Are you here to assist?” Kathryn swallowed, the query felt stale in her mouth, but she couldn’t invite hostilities as the Klingon ship clearly outclassed her own vessel in many ways.

    After a few moments, the Comm Officer acknowledged no response.

    An alarm rang from Anthi’s console, starling everyone. “Weapons lock!”

    Kathryn whispered a curse, then said, “Raise shields!”

    Omazei followed, “Another contact, starboard one-three-five degrees.”

    The viewscreen was replaced by a top-down tactical display where a second Vor’cha battlecruiser appeared behind and to the right of Galatea. The screen changed back to the windowed-display view. Green beams appeared from “behind” the camera and obliterated the satellite.

    Kathryn spoke quickly. “Someone’s getting a bill; Helm get us out of here, dealer’s choice!”

    At the controls, Ian McKinnon swiftly tugged on his gloves and deftly keyed in commands. Galatea banked to port and impulse engines revved louder. The Vor’cha to the front maneuvered to match the Starfleet ship’s vector and fired, disruptor beams belching from emitters until a few found their target. The small ship shuddered from the attack and Kathryn clutched the armrests to keep from being thrown to the floor.

    With the klaxon blaring, Anthi roared, “shields at 42%, hull damage multiple decks!”

    Kathryn noticed the helmsman furiously stabbing the console. Anthi called out, “Brace for impact!”

    Multiple torpedo strikes rocked Galatea further, causing a console behind Kathryn to explode, showering her with sparks and small debris. She turned to her Chief Engineer. “Thel, how’s she holding?”

    The bulky Andorian wiped sweat off his brow and shook his head, antennae stiff from worry. “We need to get out of here.”

    Kathryn jumped to the helm station and forced calm into her voice. “Mr. McKinnon, toot sweet please.”

    He pressed a key on the console and the stars on the viewscreen stretched as the ship limped into a Warp tunnel.

    +++
    Three Hours Later …

    The Executive Team sat silently in the Ready-Room as they waited for Thel Ythysi to arrive. Each officer’s uniform was dirty to varying degrees, depending on how much work they performed in the nooks and crannies of the ship. Everyone looked tired as no one was above the paramount need to repair the ship.

    The doors swished open and Thel walked in holding several PADDs, his own uniform tattered at the cuffs along with the ubiquitous smudges. Sitting down he handed everyone a PADD. “No need for a presentation, it’s all there and it’s obvious the situation is dire.”

    Ian swiveled toward the Captain to get attention. “We are currently in the Arucanis Sector. Navigation is still out so it’s hard to get a precise reading. We’re safe from the Klingons but that’s not a guarantee. After three hours, if they really wanted a kill they could have tagged us.”

    The Science Chief spoke up next. “Deflector control will need a few more hours at the least. The primary dish will likely need replacing.” Omazei tucked her short hair behind ears, revealing Trill patterns along her neck. “The damage to comms will take about four hours to fix. Until then, we can only send tight-beam subspace transmissions.” She crossed her arms as a sign she was finished.

    Kathryn gazed upon the Chief of Operations, S’Rel. The Vulcan sensed eyes on her and looked away from the PADD. “Captain, considering the structural damage to the ship, I recommend reduced shift time for everyone aboard until we can reach a suitable Starbase to affect substantial repairs. I have prepared a roster rotation and will affix it to Thel’s report.”

    “On that note”, Doctor Annika Kramer punctuated, “we have three dead and forty-seven wounded beyond first-aid; twelve being out-of-action. Other than the deceased, we can triage.” She pulled a hair tie, releasing her bright blond hair to fall onto her shoulders without further attention. “We are relatively lucky.”

    By this point Kathryn was pinching the bridge of her nose while listening intently. A dull headache was in its second hour and she resolved to persevere without medication. “Anthi, let’s pretend the Klingon’s are on the hunt, what are your chances?”

    The proud Andorean First Officer sat straighter. “Slim. Two-beam arrays and the rear torpedo launcher are destroyed. No offense to Galatea, but I don’t believe she could fight-to-win. The sooner we get to a space dock, the better.”

    Thel leaned forward. “I agree. Current speed capabilities are Warp two-point-four. Don’t go that fast for more than an hour: the starboard pylon structural integrity is uncomfortably weak. At our current estimated position, it’ll take us two weeks to get to a suitable dry dock. The detail is in the report, of course.”

    Kathryn sighed and nodded solemnly. She looked over the PADD briefly before placing her hands on the table as if to fix the ship with her force of will. “We will respect our dead when we reach port. Time is of the essence now. Galatea is beaten up, but not beaten down. As cheesey as that sounds, it’s true.“

    She looked to each of the assemble crew. “Take an hour, if your teams do not need your immediate attention. Although this looks bad, I’m confident she’ll get us home.”

    ---

    Cast for crew:
    Kathryn Beringer - Katheryn Winnick
    Anthi Ythysi - Monique Ganderton
    Thel Ythysi - Kevin Sorbo
    Ian McKinnon - Ben Browder
    Omazei - Gemma Arterton
    S'Rel - Morena Baccarin
    Annika Kramer - Abbie Cornish