‘Thought I heard a rumblin’
Callin’ to my name
Two hundred million guns are loaded
Satan cries, “Take aim!”
Better run through the jungle…’ John Fogarty, Run Through the Jungle (1970)
“Alright all, we’re about to emerge from the last band of the systems Oort cloud, and we should get clear sensor resolution. Stay sharp. FV Bora Creek, we’re nearing the edge of your assigned patrol grid, do you want to stay with us or head back towards El Doradia? We’re expecting contact with some of these outlaws at any minute.” Ingram said overthe comms from the pipots seat of the USS New Britannic to the other vessels.
The Bora Creek was the Federation Provost Cutter that had joined up with their patrol group whilst underway. Ingram couldn’t blame the Special Agent in command of the little ship for wanting to link up with them; another cutter on patrol nearby a few weeks prior had been attacked by Nausicaan raiders and severely damaged. The law enforcement vessel vaguely resembled an upsized, smoothed out Danube with light great and ‘Federation Blue’ highlights. She was only armed with three type VII phaser arrays, and a medium range tractor beam. Fine for local policing and general patrols, but she and the few other cutters the Provosts operated out of El Doradia simply weren’t capable of confronting any of the pirates and outlaws capital ships operating in and around the belt.
Special Agent Firtow, a veteran mustached Lesothan, replied, “With all due respect Commander, everyone aboard has had friends and colleagues injured or killed by these criminals. We’ve got plenty of Anti-matter left in the tank and we aren’t due back at the Colony for a few more days. We’ll stick with you.”
“Roger that.” Ingram watched as the ship emerged from the last band of the crowded and chaotic band of the protoplanetary disc of Cappa Hodia.
“So what’s the deal with this star system’s name? Cappa isn’t spelled right, and isn’t even the proper Greek letter to use given the Belts naming scheme. I mean there’s an Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma and Epsilon, Cappa just seems out of place.” Ingram’s co-pilot asked.
“Probably some stellar cartographers inside jok…” The Human/Polluxian hybrid was interrupted by the chime from a console to his left.
“Contact! Bearing 012 mark 5. Check that, two targets confirmed.” Chief Dorre said from her console.
Ingram opened the channel with the other ships again, “Shields up everyone, we have contacts bearing 012 mark 5.”
“It’s an Orion Destroyer and a Nausican raider sir!” exclaimed Dorre with more than a hint of concern in her voice.
“Shit.” Ingram thought to himself. Being a seasoned pilot his mind snapped into tactical mode and within the next 0.9 seconds he had figured out his course of action.
“Contact the Trenton let em know what we’ve,” Ingram then opened the channel to the rest of ‘NewFor’, “Orions and Nausicaan, this might get hot if they don’t bolt. Shields up arm your weapons people.
The Trenton’s CAG switched his console to monitor the New Atlantic class runabouts sensors. For this sortie he had made sure the boat was equipped for long range patrols, and mounted with micro torpedoes and sensor modules on her hardpoints.
“What colour is the Orion ship chief?”
“Sir?” Dorre replied.
“You heard me Chief. What colour paint scheme?”
“Blue and…orange.” The Chief squinted at the screen to make out the colours.
“Blue Sun, double shit.” Ingram thought. He then opened general hail, hoping he might be able to bluff them.
“To all nearby vessels. This is the USS New Britannic patrol wing, we have several formations on maneuvers moving through this region. We ask that all nearby ships remain at a safe distance according to interstellar law.” He closed the channel.
“They’re coming about, charging weapons sir. Time to intercept, six minutes sir.”
Ingram orders were to immediately head towards the Trenton or Vor’nak if they encountered something they weren’t able to handle, and this certainly counted. If it had just been a Nausicaan raider or even two, he’d accept the engagement, but their little four ship formation definitely couldn’t conceivably bang blow for blow with a Orion Destroyer and survive.
The Vor’nak had just executed an intercept with a wanted illegal mining freighter roughly 0.7 lightyears to their starboard, and had the seized vessel currently under tow. The Trenton was only roughly half a light year ‘above them’ on the z-axis, but the distance wasn’t the issue, the problem was that much of that distance would take the Trenton through the system’s raging proto-planetary cloud which would prevent them from warming to their current location. Or so Ingram thought.
“Any hostile actions will be viewed as an act of war and be met with swift repercussions. I will warn you again, remain at a safe distance and do not approach our formation.” Vaughn was bluffing again. As if the Federation would bother declaring a ‘War on Piracy’ over whatever little scrape they were about to get into.
“Chief?”
“They’re still coming sir.”
Ingram again reopened the channel to the rest of the formation, “Imjin, Irrawaddy hold positions, lock all weapons on the Nausicaans and prepare to fire. Then I want everyone to come about and head back into the cloud. We’ll see if we can draw the smaller in while we wait for the cavalry to arrive. Bora Creek, come about now and take up a position behind that big comet at 094 mark 2.”
“Get in there!” Tesa yelled as she pointed to the Trentons Sickbay door. She had stopped by intent on joining Mee IH for a some dinner, which would be breakfast for him since they both served on different shifts.
Mee IH, head hung low, hovered into the central portion of the medical complex. He sighed deeply as Tesa walked in behind him.
“Hey you two.” Doc Bucket replied as she hovered out of her office. She quickly noticed the reddish purple streaks of blood on the sides of the XOs head.
“Whoa, what happened? Set yourself down on this bio bed pal.”
“Tell her Mee IH, or I will. And I’m taking this and figuring out how to make it whale fur friendly.” The ship’s chief engineer, and Mee IHs girlfriend held up the VR headset before whirling around and storming out of the room.
“Lemme guess, extreme chaffing and dermatitis?” The exocomp CMO asked the Beluga consolingly. She scanned the abrasions and replicated a dermal regenerator for her took attachment.
After sighing again Mee IH said, “Yep. I guess I’ve been spending too much time with my head out of water.”
“Tsk tsk tsk my cetacean friend. You’ve been scratching this against something too I see. Any other symptoms I need to know about.” The Doc began treating his open wounds.
Mee IH let out a tiny meep followed by a frustrated gurgle out of his blowhole.
“Haha, well you might as well tell me or I’ll just get it out of your girlfriend later at ladies night.”
“I’m getting teethaches too…” he groaned. He was having some right now in fact.
“Not good sir. You know what this means.”
“No Doc, you can’t, we’re heading into a major operation here.” the XO sensed that he was about to be relieved of duty.
Just as the Doc was about to restrict the whale to ‘pool duties only’, the ship went to Red Alert.
Mee IHs head popped up from the bio bed and he activated his repulsor, “Come on Doc, just gimme something for the pain, I promise I’ll stay wet.”
“You better keep your head underwater. I should be placing you on pool duty, but… Alright, open up.” Doc Bucket said as she replicated a hypo filled with a Cordrazine shot to help alleviate the nerve pain the XO was feeling.
“Ahhhh… fankssss Doc.” the whale said as she opened his pointy tooth-filled mouth.
By the time Mee IH had made it to the bridge, the Trenton was already heading towards NewFor’s location, but at a rather paltry speed of warp 3 as they still nearly immersed the cloud.
“What’s up?” the Beluga asked Wong as she swiftly dunked himself in his little pool.
“NewFor is being engaged by and Orion warship and a Nausicaan raider…Time to intercept Lasage?”
“Fowerteen h’minoots sar.” The helmsman replied.
Mee IH wished he had his headset right now; he’d be working on finding a safe path where they could increase their speed.
“This fight’s going to tip off in five minutes and likely be over in six sirs.” Dawes called out from the Tac console.
“I’ll get my boys on it Cap. Gimme sixty seconds.” Mee IH said as he dunked his head under the water and tapped his comm badge.
“Bridge to cetacean ops. We need to find a path through this shmutz, otherwise our runabout might be toast. Joe, get in the cetacean science pod, we’ll some fancy flying and I want you backstopping Lasage. Tim, I need you to chart a parabolic course around the edge of the cloud for us at warp 9, or better if you can, and I need the flight path like quickie quick, and don’t fly us into one of these rogue comets.”
“On my way boss.” The Dolphin Joe replied.
“On it sir.” Added Ensign Timmesin the big Orca interstellar dynamics specialist.
To both their credit, Joe made it into the pod within fifteen seconds and Tim got back to him with a corrected flight path forty seconds after that.
“What speed?” Mee IH.
“Uhhh, 9.1, safely sir.” Tim stammered.
“Copy forward the flight path to the helm, now.” Mee IH turned to Wong and nodded.
“The kids good, I trust him.” He added.
“Helm, you’re getting a new flight path from cetacean ops, lay it in and engage at warp 9.1.” Wong ordered.
Back with NewFor Ingram and his fellow pilots had loosed their barrage of torpedoes and phaser fire and scattered back into the cloud of comets, asteroids, planetesimals and dust.
As he predicted the Nausicaans took the bait and followed them in while the Destroyer approached the edge of the cloud but didn’t enter it.
“All ships, focus on these Nausicaans, it’s our best chance at holding out until the Trenton arrives. Imjin break to starboard in 3, 2, 1.” Ingram said through the comm before whirling around the New Britannic in a button hook maneuver that lined her up on the aft quarter of the nimble raider that was four times her size.
“They’re staying on us.” replied Ensign Booeca, the pilot on the USS Imjin.
Along with maneuvering around the various celestial bodies of all shapes and sizes, each pilot had to contend with beams and torpedoes lashing out from their two foes. The destroyer, though she remained, at the edge of the cloud was still engaging with her disruptors and kinetic weapons.
As he zoomed the ship around the edge of hurtling asteroid Ingram called to the tactical officer next to him, “Fire.”
Nearly simultaneously the raider fired her disruptors and hit the rear shield of the Imjin, and a fraction of a second later three torpedoes fired by the destroyer streaked through the murk and two struck home on the port side of the venerable Danube. The Imjin exploded in a burst of orange and yellow flames as several large pieces of debris we’re seen scathing through the wake of a comet.
The New Britannics volley slammed hard into the starboard engines of the raider, buckling her shields.
“Focus on that engine!” Ingram turned back to Chief Dorre, “How far away is the Trenton.”
“They just came into sensor range now. Twenty seconds sir!”
Ingram was impressed, he thought they would still be at least a few minutes out.
The Provost cutter then raced out from around the edge of a planetesimal and fired several well aimed bursts from her two forward phaser arrays and deftly dodged a disruptor blast from the raider.
“Hit em hard.” Ingram said to his tactical officer. The runabout then loosed a salvo of three micro-torpedoes, the last of which slammed a hole through the side of the raiders nacelle.
“Irrawaddy break off and look for survivors from the Imjin.”
The raider and destroyers sensors had obviously picked up the Trenton streaking down towards them, both turned to disengage and vectored away from the system.
Either their sensors were miscalibrated or their crews’ reactions had been too slow because the Trenton dropped out of warp a few seconds later and instantly opened fire on the Destroyer before launching a stream of four Peregrines out of her main hangar at the rear of the vessel. The fighters quickly lined up on the Nausicaan ship and strafed along the vessel, against its axis of travel.
Not being one to let a tactical opportunity pass him by, Ingram raced after the raider, giving his weapons operator a clear angle from which to fire a salvo of phaser fire and torpedoes that caused the outlaw ship to lose power and begin an uncontrolled spin.
The Orions apparently wanted no part of the Trenton or her attack fighters and quickly went to warp, while the Peregrines looped around and finished off the Nausicaans. The thought of trying to disable the ship and arrest any of the outlaws had long since left any of the Starfleet or Provosts minds.
Ingram opened a channel, “Thanks Trenton. The Imjin is down, I say again, the Imjin has been destroyed.”
Ingram could hear the Chief grunt and slam her fist on her console to his rear and left, “Irrawaddy reports no survivors, sir.”
There were another four Starfleet families that would be receiving next of kin notifications because of these outlaws.
