Trekfire Turn 60, pt 2
IKN Reprisal fleet, On piquet duty at the Pursuit-Hydra warp hole.
The Klingon fleet hung motionless, just as it had for the past umpteen
months. 6 groups situated 3.25LS distant from the wormhole, each offset 60
degrees around this central point from its neighbour. The two base stations
formed the groups at galactic North and South, the frigate squadrons formed
the two western groups while the flagship IKS Arrow and the fleet escorts
between them formed the 5th and 6th groups to the East.
Calm space started to churn in the centre of the formation, energy and
astral debris boiling until shapes started to vomit forth.
BS1 and the escort U18 were at rotational battle readiness and transmitted
the alarm within milliseconds of each other.
Around the fleet, klaxons blared and heavy footfalls echoed along corridors
as the Klingon crews raced to their battle duty stations.
Aboard the Arrow, General Bartok raised part way out of his seat, his locked
arms suspending him from the padded rests in mid motion.
“Tactical!” he bellowed.
“Partial confirmation. I have a trio of Hydran destroyers plus more vessels
of an unknown configuration, probably frigates.”
“Federation? Gorn?”
“No General. They do not resemble any known vessel types.”
“Helm, make battle ready and prepare to engage.”
“I cannot, General. Main power is offline for maintenance. Shields are down,
engines are cold. Helm responding to thrusters only and I have a minimal
drive field from auxiliary power. Missile racks and inboard turrets are
functional and reporting ready. I can give you one, perhaps two laser
volleys from the energy cells then that’s it.”
“Engineer! I want power NOW! I want engines and shields on-line and If I
don’t have it NOW I will personally slit your belly and strangle you with
your own entrails!!!”
Bartok swung from the microphone to glare at the ships tactical Officer. He
didn’t need to speak to convey the fact that there had better be a concise
report ready for him.
“Enemy is transiting in scattered formation. They do not appear to have
navigational data on the warp point,” stated the Officer. Bartok grunted
acknowledgment and nodded for him to proceed with the report.
“They are arcing their attack runs to concentrate on the bases. Shall I
order the fleet to move in and cover as soon as they are able?”
Bartok shook his shaggy mane. “No. The bases can take care of themselves for
a while longer. We need to maintain maximum coverage around the warp point
until we see the full composition of their fleet. Order all units to fire on
their closest target. No ripple fire, just kill them!”
Fire started spewing from both fleets, though sporadically. The aggressors
were having a hard time targeting after the scrambling effect that warp
travel had on all electronics, while the Klingons were not at full battle
readiness.
Guns fired as they Became active, giving a great visual effect but little
cohesion. Little by little the pugilists battered away at each other. A
frigate caught at the warp pint with its rear to a Klingon frigate group
took shot after shot in the rear, leaving it drifting and lifeless. The main
escort groups ragged salvos left a Hydran destroyer slowed and leaking
atmosphere. BS2 sent a missile flurry that tore the nose off another, only
to have its armour repeatedly pierced by return laser fire.
Gunner, that one! The Hydran! Every missile you have. Finish it!
All told fifteen warheads arced across the ether towards the damaged craft.
Once the fiery blossom had died down, there was no trace left.
“Second wave incoming!”
Then the universe heaved. Every light went out, faces now lit only by the
panel indicators. Gravity lessened, crew members holding on to chairs or
stations as they felt themselves become weightless. The huge battlecruiser
lurched once then shuddered from bow to stern.
8 8 8 8 8 8
IKS Battleaxe, Northern Fleet, Territories Edge System
“Enter” called B’moth in answer to the door chime. He sat at his spartan
desk, pouring over the data learned at the first battle of Pursuit and
circulated to all fleet officers. If It wasn’t a convoy, he wanted to be
ready.
The Second read from a datapad. “Results of the latest battle drills.
Response scores for the fleet range from 94.37 percent to perfect, averaging
at 98.42.”
The General stared at him blankly. The silence stretched out.
“And your point?” asked B’moth, almost gently.
The Second sighed. “I will order the drill to be carried out again until all
crew responses are acceptable.”
B’moth grunted. Then he enquired, “Any update from the convoy?”
“None, sir. Same course and speed. They seem completely oblivious to their
shadow, or they are accepting it as a legitimate military escort.”
“Very well. Keep me informed.”
to be continued...
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