| After twelve minutes, Mansel had become impatient. “Ok, Broadaway,” he said. “Bring us back online.” Almost instantly, the bridge light flickered on and Mansel sat down in his chair. “Captain,” called Talaj, “I’m detecting a large amount of emission in close proximity.” “The tailpipe of a cloaked ship,” deducted Vaughn. “Shields!” The order came too late. Khlim had just fired the first two shells. They caught the Explorer in the aft, leaving two big craters where there was previously hull covering. “Shields in place, Captain!” yelled Lieutenant Ingle over the waling of alarms. “Return fire?” “Return fire at what?” Mansel asked, confused. “It’s a cloaked ship. Pull all the spare energy you can into the shields.” “Aye.” Commander Vaughn was out of his seat and crouching beside Lieutenant Commander Talaj. “Talaj,” he began, “is there any way to track the route of the emissions and use it as a model to figure out their next move?” “It’s possible,” the Venutian Science officer said. “I’ll get to work on it.” “Give me a random phaser blast, Ingle,” commanded Mansel. “Maybe we’ll hit something.” “Random phasers, aye.” The Tactical officer’s first random volley proved to be essentially useless. No hits were scored against the Crimson Star. “Again,” ordered the Captain. “Buy us as much time as you can so Talaj can finish the model.” “Right.” Mansel winced as his ship shook again, under fire from the unseen enemy. “Return fire from the source of that blast,” Vaughn dictated, knowing already that it was a futile gesture. Much to no one’s surprise, the phaser volley hit nothing. The Sovereign class ship trembled again under the steady barrage. “Shields weakening,” Lieutenant Ingle warned. “No pressure, Talaj, but uh…tick tock.” “Evasive maneuver Delta, Broadaway,” Mansel ordered from his chair. The helmsman took the Explorer down five thousand meters, spinning on its vertical axis. The maneuver was just enough for Anarcha and the Crimson Star to miss with its next flurry of torpedoes and guns. “Captain,” this model idea isn’t going to work,” the Science officer piped up from her console behind Mansel and Vaughn. “Their patterns are just too random. There’s only an eight percent chance that we’ll come close to hitting the ship.” “Fine then,” said Mansel. “Prepare to retreat. We should able to shake them in this nebula.” “Ready and waiting, sir,” commented Lieutenant Commander Broadaway. “Another ship approaching rapidly!” reported Talaj. “Prepare the cannons!” called out Mansel. “Wait, Captain,” interrupted Talaj, something she normally wouldn’t do. “It’s Stealthlon class. As a matter of fact, it’s the Stealthlon!” The USS Stealthlon, commanded by the alternate Captain Blackbird and the real Brungess, soared from behind a concentration of dust particles and opened fire on a blank spot in space. The shots rang true and both ships had locked onto the source and were firing upon it. “Get us out of here!” yelled Anarcha from the Crimson Star. “It’s Brungess and that new ship!” Indeed it was. The Stealthlon had never looked so good, flying trough space like a black dagger. She was one of the few ships that were painted black, but the sleekness and deadliness combined with its sheer firepower made it a force to be reckoned with. The Crimson Star quickly pulled out of the battle already heading for faster-than-light speeds. “Should we pursue, sir?” Commander Hays asked on the bridge of the Stealthlon. Captain Blackbird shook his head. “Right now, let’s help Mansel and his starship. I have a feeling that won’t be the last time we see Anarcha.” |
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