“Professor to Whiplash on SQUADNET,” came the call from the runabout Arghendab.
“Go for Whiplash,” the Andorian wing commander replied.
“How’re you liking your new ride, sir?”
“More leg room, and a cushier seat than my Peregrine,” Whiplash replied, chuckling as he glanced at his copilot and WSO, Lieutenant (JG) AnnaLouisa “Snake-eyes” Hernandez, rolling his eyes. “It’s too comfortable, I hate it. How’s that Danube treatin’ you?”
“Too much of this and I’ll start going soft, boss. My own bunk, nice big dining and recreation area in the rear… I’ll probably gain some weight this week,” Lieutenant (JG) Stewart “Professor” de Besoult replied. Professor had had what was known as a jock pure career up to that point, having only served Apsaras and now Peregrines with the 14th Squadron, and so the assignment to fly the far larger runabout was a luxurious – if temporary – posting.
Whiplash chuckled as Snake-Eyes stifled a laugh with one hand. “I’ll be sure we buzz you later, keep you sharp,” he replied teasingly, one fighter pilot ribbing another in good humor. “And don’t forget, we’re supposed t’be getting some Valkyries at some point, too, so we’ll be in our own style soon enough. All quiet over there?”
“Yeah, situation’s nominal over here on the right flank. Just try to stay on the bright side: it’s only another four days on this exact heading, and then another five-day trip home, and we’ll be back at the bar,” Professor ribbed his CO, who had decided to lead by example and pilot one of the shuttles.
“Sounds to me like you’re offering to buy first round, Prof,” Whiplash teased back.
“‘s what I heard,” Snake-eyes chimed in, perhaps not helpfully to Prof’s finances.
“Hey, you’re the new Acting Wing Commander making the big bucks, not me!” Professor exclaimed.
Whiplash laughed. “Yeah, I’m also not the one who mentioned the bar! Tell ya what, we’ll split the round.”
Meanwhile, Captain O’va, Chief Bong, and HoD Gravok were in conference over subspace.
“So far so good, Captains. We just need to stay vigilant and keep checking our sensor tracks. Once we get another buoy deployed, we should be able to start using the LERA to assist with spotting the Meade.” The chief said from the co-pilot seat of the Dnipro.
The convoy was arranged in a column formation, with the red-trimmed California-class taking point. On the left flank, Solvang‘s Orion-class runabout and Type-14 shuttlecraft, alongside Eos Station’s Danube-class runabout. The K’t’inga-class battlecruiser Amar followed the convoy from the rear under cloak.
Captain O’va nodded in acknowledgment. “Solvang stands ready, Chief. The pirates should see the convoy as a soft target.”
HoD Gravok of House Korvath, and the commanding officer of the IKS Amar, continued where Captain O’va had left off, “It shall be their last error.”
He spoke with a quiet intensity that insinuated far more than what was said. “We stand ready.”
“We’re about to reach our next probe drop location, we should probably tighten our formation in a few hours before we approach the Jugdalak Nebula.”
“Understood, Chief. We shall do so upon your signal.” O’va replied.
Gravok replied flatly, “We too shall adjust accordingly and remain cloaked until we are needed.”
A few minutes later, Bong and Lt. Fanak were working alongside one of the Solvang’s Orion-class scouts to deploy the series of probes that would serve as sensor buoys for the LERA back on Eos to use in their search for the Meade.
“Probe Three is away.” Bong said with hint of boredom in his voice. They were on the left flank of the convoy that included 3 Federation freighters, a Korvalan transport, a Lurian merchantman, a civilian passenger liner, and the FV Darius the Great deep space tug that was hauling a large tank of deuterium to help top up the colonies critically low stockpiles.
“I mean it seems boring…” Elo Fanak traced the probe pattern in the air above his screen, and he waited for the data to slowly roll in. “It always seems boring until something jumps up to bite you.”
“Well said Lieutenant. The problem with having such a long career is that there’s a lot more that I actually find boring than not these days.”
The Risian lieutenant laughed. “Ain’t that the truth? You can be bored to death for 99% of the time and then that one percent is what will kill you or make you a hero.”
“Hurry up and wait,… whoa what’s that.” Dick saw a contact briefly appear on his sensor readout.
Elo whirled around. What were they just talking about? 99% boring and the 1% not. This was the not part of the equation. The Risian chief of science narrowed his eyes at the scanners and gave a light ‘hrm’ sound as he watched the alert. “It almost looks like a cluster of asteroids.”
“It’s moving in the opposite direction to the galactic standard of rest.” Bong noticed.
Nodded very slowly, Lt. Fanak started to adjust the power output to get more data flowing in. “Exactly. They’re moving strangely for asteroids. It’s not impossible but it’s… suspicious.”
Suspicious enough to warrant a closer look, but before they had a chance, the ‘asteroids’ veered towards the convoy.
“Those aren’t asteroids, they’re stealth fighters.”
As they got closer Bong recognized the signature as likely being old predecessors to the Romulan Snakehead-class Scouts.
He opened a channel to the convoy “This is the Dnipro, we have suspected Romulan fightercraft approaching bearing 306 mark 8.”
The Dnipro, along with one of Solvang’s Type-14 shuttles and one of Eos Station’s Type-11 shuttles broke off to engage the flight of intruders, with the hope of driving them off.
“This is the Arghendab. There’s another pair of fighters over here; seems like they’re using stealth tech. Permission to break and engage?” Prof called over the comms from the other flank.
“Rogue Flight, Whiplash. Break and engage, all ships break and engage. Prof, Kolubara, on me,” ch’Saril ordered, his usual snarky joviality vanishing instantly into professional focus as the threat appeared.
Kolubara – the third Danube in the ad-hoc fighter squadron – was slightly further back in the convoy than Whiplash and Professor, but would be able to join the two around their projected intercept point with the inbound fighters. As Prof’s reply – “On your wing” – echoed in his ears and red lights began flashing in the shuttle’s small cabin, ch’Saril demonstrated why exactly his callsign was ‘Whiplash’, throwing his Type-11 shuttle into a full-impulse hairpin turn towards the oncoming threat that pushed both him and Snake-eyes into their seats even despite the shuttle’s inertial dampener.
Fortunately, Prof knew of his CO’s penchant for hairpin and radical maneuvers in combat conditions – even when they weren’t necessary, at least sometimes – and was able to keep the larger runabout in relative formation with the shuttle. Meanwhile, Snake-Eyes brought the shields and weapons online, ready to engage as the shuttle and her wing runabouts closed towards combat range.
Just then, an Intrepid-class ship emerged from behind a rogue planetoid half a lightyear away. The Meade dropped out of warp right on top of the Korvalan transport ship and fired several times with its phaser banks. With its shield power depleted, the Meade began beaming cargo from the freighter’s hold in its own cargo bays.
“Dammit, they baited us.” Said the Dnipro’s pilot.
“Peel us off, take us back towards the convoy. I’m reading transporter traces, looks like they’re beaming cargo out of the Korvalans holds.” Bong was serving as the little ship’s Weapon System Officer tried to get a lock on the Meade with the runabouts micro-torpedoes.
Just as he heard the audible tone of the target lock from his console, out of the corner of his eyes he saw the Amar decloak and cut loose a fusillade of fire towards the Meade but the nimble science vessel was able to dodge the majority of disruptor fire and torpedoes, though she did suffer hits to one of her nacelles and her upper saucer.
“Fire!” Gravok commanded.
The final salvo from the Amar never struck home, as the Meade’s nacelles articulated upward and she went to warp. Within seconds she was speeding off in the direction of the old Romulan border at Warp 9.7 and climbing.
Three of the Romulan fighters had been destroyed, and the others had fled as soon as the Meade had departed. As it turned out the pirates had stolen; vast quantities of deck plates, girders and columns destined for one of newly built commercial stations in orbit around Delta Hodia, and several dozen containers of medical supplies including several hundred doses of anti radiation meds.
