Boarder Patrol

 Episode Name:  Boarder Patrol

   Written By:  Shaft

         Cast:  Alarcon, Dakin, Foster, Lao, Medes, Poole and Shaft.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Shaft

     Aired On:  Mon Mar 17 03:37:20 2003

     Stardate:  53073.6

Time: Sun Mar 16 20:26:24 2003

Stardate: 53072.8

Continuing its role as a patrol vessel in lieu of the depleted fleet of Norway Class and Sabre Class vessels which normally pursue such activities, the USS Thomas Paine and its crew are plying the space along the Klingon / Federation Neutral Zone. As is often the custom, there is a secondary vessel on a similar patrol route, the USS Antietam, one of the few Norway Class still manifested to Dulcais Sector Command in the wake of the Dominion War. Captain Carmichael, the Antietam's Captain, has been in regular contact with the Thomas Paine, directing their leg of the Patrol. In the last two hours, however, he and the Antietam have doubled back in the direction of 419 to test a theory of ships sneaking across the border behind regularly scheduled patrols. It's been a quiet patrol thusfar, so the separation seems like a worthy sort of experiment at the time of separation.

Naturally, this opportunity becomes a complication within one hour. As the Thomas Paine is circling back at the edge of Sector Space, a distress signal flashes red across the Operations console.

For that one hour, Poole was having a nice little quiet patrol. Nothing exciting for her. Nothing dangerous. No lives to save, none to take. Sigh. She leans forward in her seat and looks to Operations, "Foster, report." -direct to Foster-

Foster raises his brow curiously, yet objectively, at the bleeping red signal. He runs his fingers, moving through well practiced and used commands before responding to his Mission Commander. "Receiving a visual distress signal from the KIS Kol'mak, a B'rel class scout. On screen, sir?"

"Yes," Poole answers Foster, then stands, attention on the viewscreen. She has her 'The Klingons are asking for help so it must be really bad' face on.

Foster nods, once bringing his single pointer finger down on the LCARS panel control to bring the visual on screen. "On screen."

Dakin frowns as he takes the tactical sensors off the diagnostic he was running and sets them to active scan. His finger hovers closely to the shield activation key. "Not an easy thing attacking a Bird of Prey this close to Klingon space," he wonders aloud. "Or smart either."

Looking somewhat out of place over here at Helm and not at Engineering -- watch as Medes shifts slightly uncomfortably, as if she should be... doing something!... -- she does what helm does. She holds course and awaits orders.

GAME: Alarcon spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Alarcon taps quietly at her own console. "Sir, long-range sensors are detecting four vessels, about twenty minutes, maximum warp, away from us. One is likely the Kol'mak in distress. The other three are circling--an older make Romulan warbird. The others also appear to be unidentified B'rel class ships like the Kol'mak."

Lao was sitting at his post going over the Engineering console, seeing as it's his first time onboard the ship, but at the alert he looks up. He follows what's going on for a moment, and then looks back down to his board, calling up three different possible power configurations for battle. Once those are prepped for loading, he looks back up, his entire posture displaying a relaxed readiness. Surprisingly relaxed, all told.

The image is grainy and backlit in the red of a Klingon B'rel at red alert. The Bridge itself is clouded with smoke, fires burning at the majority of the visible consoles, Klingon officers lying dead at their posts with others rushing to fill the ranks of the fallen. Dauntless, fearless, and likely doomed, the Captain relays the details of distress.

"Q'pla! I am Captain Ch'koth of the IKS Kol'mak! We have been attacked by three vessels of the United Nausicaan Alliance! We have been rendered unable to continue our battle in space and are currently repelling boarders! MANY Boarders! We are enroute to Qo'nos under orders from Martok and Captain Gr'laH and flying in Federation Space from Station 419! We request that all vessels honor our treaties of Alliance and render immediate assistance in repelling these vermin!"

At that point, there is a bright flash from off screen and the image promptly ends, only to cycle again a short time later. It is at this point that a hail is received, bleeping at Operations, this one from the Antietam.

Poole frowns and looks to Foster again, "Signal the Antietam. Inform Captain Carmichael that we are going to the aid of the Kol'mak. Then signal Station 419 as well. Have them try to get ahold of Ambassador Zuh'rah'do. Perhaps we can stop this without further weapons fire." In general she says, "Yellow alert." To Medes, "Lay in an intercept course for the Kol'mak, best speed and engage." Breath and she looks to Dakin, "Phaser banks only, Lieutenant. We're only going in to break up this party, not to kill anyone." To Alarcon, "Scan ahead. I want to know exactly what we're running into. Feed the sensor data to tactical." And Lao, "We may need a boost to our shields... should those ships decide they don't want us there."

Dakin nods sharply to Poole and begins inputting the necessary commands into his station. "Phasers charged, raising shields." His gaze flicks back and forth between his console and the main viewer, as if ready to pounce on the first sign of trouble.

Foster runs his middle ages fingers with tried and true tactics over the obsidian LCARS panel of the Operations console before him. "Sending out those messages, sir. The Antietam has been notified. They report that they are likewise en route to engage, but will at best speed arive fourty minutes after us. Station 419 Operations reports that Ambassador Zuh'raah'do is unavailable at the moment."

"Laying in an intercept course, sir. Maximum warp, engaged." Medes's hands move ably over her console, shaved head bent over it, her diminutive form appearing somewhat dwarfed by the LCARS layout.

"Yes, sir," replies Alarcon, promptly beginning the necessary calculations for once the ship is within a closer range. She waits for the ability to use short-range sensors or further orders, whichever comes first, after sending what data she has so far to tactical.

<CONTEST> Lao contests his Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Lao's hands fly across the console. "Rerouting all nonessential power to the shields, sir," he says, as his console lights up, deactivating the replicators, some lights, certain aspects of life support in unoccupied areas of the ship, and so forth. "Just let me know if you need more, and we'll see what we can squeeze." He looks up from his console, smiling.

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

It becomes a race towards rescue with the Thomas Paine at an early lead. The diminutive Brilliant Class Escort speeds in excess of warp nine, straining her engines and evaporating coolant slush at an alarming rate. All the same, the distance is rapidly closed as the minutes between peaceful travel and possible combat in the void grows ever more rapidly short.

Twenty minutes from the moment of warp entry, the Thomas Paine drops from warp and slides into the empty space where the battle is currently raging aboard the IKS B'rel. A trio of vessels bearing the crest of the UNA circle the craft, holding it fast in tractor beams as transport signals rain boarders into the craft. The Kol'mak is a ruin of disruptor damage and torpedo holes. What's left of the once able scout vessel glows dully with internal fire and the intermittent flicker of emergency power. The Paine and her crew have arrived in time to witness -- or attempt to end -- the last minutes of the boarding action.

Okay, anyone taking odds? Poole grips the sides of her chair. Careful now, or everyone will end up dead. "Foster, open hailing frequencies." -direct to Foster-

<CONTEST> Foster contests his Shipboard Systems (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

Foster keeps his eyes locked on the viewscreen as he watches the last remnants of a starship battle unfolding before the bridge crew. He once more makes practiced motions over the console before him, calling back as he completes the given order. "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

The channel is received by the Romulan Warbird, clearly the flagship of this little interdiction. The bridge is predictably Romulan, save for the presence of a Nausicaan crew. Their Captain, a Nausicaan that approaches stately, rests idly in his bridge chair, picking at his mandibles with one long nailed finger. Bored, in short. He is dressed wholly in black, right down to the half cape about his shoulders. His matted hair is decorated with finger bones and the tusks of beasts from various worlds. He eyes the crew with beady eyes before his mandibles spread in prelude to a gurgled sound that may just be laughter.

"Greetings, Starfleet. I am Captain Zh'int'ram of the United Nausicaan Alliance. We apologize for this intrusion and shall be gone shortly with our catch in tow. Do not interfere. Speak with Gr'raak'ta's representatives if you wish to pursue this matter."

"Unfortunately, that's not an option, Captain." Poole says sharply, standing from her seat. "You will disengage from the Kol'mak now and you will leave Federation space peaceably. And, in the interest of maintaining peaceful relations with the Federation, you might want to explain why you are attacking one of our ally's ships." She stands ram-rod straight, staring down the other captain.

Dakin's eyes dart from one direction to the other. The tactical console. The Nausicaan on the viewscreen. Console. Nausicaan. As before, his pose at the tactical station is to be considered at-the-ready by those also present on the bridge, the expression on his face inscrutable.

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Foster averts his eyes from the gaze of the mandible-beared Nausicaan captain. He is very, very pleased at this moment to be on this bridge, and not on that one. He smirks slightly at Poole. Somehow, he knew she'd get them all killed. He works on getting every available energy output possible to Dakin. It's not Havaris over there, but he'll be damned if he isn't going to give that man every ounce of energy he can use to bust a hole right through those Nausicaan-by-capture vessels.

Hey! Look at this really exciting /console!/ The top's of Medes's ears turn red as she stares down at it, idly poking at her controls with a finger. Poke. Pokepoke. STAB. Ahem. Ship out of warp. At impulse. STAB. Poky. Stupid. Taptap POKE POKE POKE.

Ahem.

Alarcon taps busily away at her console. Everything she calls up is sent immediately to tactical and also command... the Nausicaan craft are ably powered and ready, weapons powered, as well. The IKS is poorly powered and on its last legs, really--bad shape. Shields on the Nausicaan craft are down for the boarding, of course.

<CONTEST> Lao contests his Shipboard Systems (Transporter) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Lao starts running routines into his station, not even paying attention to the screen. The terminal replies to his query, and starts spitting out power configurations to maximize the transporters to grab every Klingon lifeform in range as quickly as possible. He frowns down...yes, we can get them, but how many? He taps at the console, demanding more information.

GAME: Foster spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Foster (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Weapon Systems) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Zh'int'ra ceases his amused laughter at Poole's bold stance and challenging words. That wasn't quite what he was expecting, it would appear. "You are in no position to make demands of us. Not at present, Lieutenant Whoever-you-are. These Klingons have been erecting a conspiracy to bring us to war. We are putting an end to it once and for all. This vessel and its cargo will -not- reach Qo'nos and Martok. These are the orders of Gr'raak'ta! Any attempt to intervene in any manner will be viewed as a hostile intervention. It is a lamentable thing that so many must die to preserve /two/ nations. But these are the costs. You will stand down, you will stand by, or you will be disabled. Zh'int'ra out." The channel is closed, leaving the view screen displaying the trio of craft circling the embattled B'rel. It is at this point that the Warbird ceases its tractor lock and raises its shields, moving to interpose itself between the Thomas Paine and the continuing actions of the boarding B'rels.

"A pity." Poole says, shaking her head. "Foster... signal the Antietam that we are engaging the Naussicans to disable, not to destroy. We cannot let them do this to an ally." Looking to Lao, she says, "We may need that power squeeze in a hurry... stay frosty, Mister Lao." To Alarcon now, "Scan their ships fully. Any weaknesses that would allow us to disable them, then speak up." A serious look to Medes now, though the woman who knows her best might see that little flicker of fear behind her eyes. Poole's only faced something this no win scenario only twice before. "Bring us into weapon's range and.... and try not to let them hit us." Her last look is to Dakin, "Red Alert. Arm the torpedos." Obviously she means business now. "Phaser fire on the romulan ship. Torpedos on the boarding B'rels. Shoot to disable."

GAME: Poole spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Command (Starship) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Dakin nods and begins punching commands into his console, rattling off confirmation of his doings to Poole. "Flooding launchers... targeting all hostiles... phasers locked on the Warbird... all weapons..." The mother of all LCARS keypads is depressed. "Firing."

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Dakin contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming disadvantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill and Fails!

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Foster (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Weapon Systems) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

Foster attempts to keep a steady and constant flow of power to Dakin's tactical systems, his eyes now never leaving his console as he works diligently, however not oblivious to the actions of his comrades around him as they carry out their said orders.

Medes's hands slip over the helm's LCARS, all the pretty colors on the nice black background that she's tapping at adeptly, her eyes flickering from display to viewscreen to readout as she does so. It's kinda like dancing, only your partner's /trying/ to step on your foot.

"Sir..." Tap tap tap goes the busy bald Isobel. "...all craft are equipped with state-of-the-art disruptors -and- torpedoes. Each B'rel is comparable to our ship. The Warbird alone could take us on with a good crew--its weaponry is double that of one of the B'rel. If the Nausicaans hit us twice, solid hits, the fight is over." It's a flat statement, and Alarcon's not finished yet. "Even if we fully disable the Warbird, the B'rel stand a very good chance against us. Worse odds for us the longer the fight drags."

Lao's hands fly across the console, sending out messages to panels across the ship. "Prepping damage control teams, sir."

<CONTEST> Lao contests his Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

It isn't the first time and it won't be the last-- hopefully. The Thomas Paine is first to engage in weapons fire. It catches the craft somewhat off guard, though their crews evidence an alarming competency at evasion. The Warbird rolls onto its side to allow the slice of phaser fire to pass harmlessly by, staying knife edged for its own counter volley which, due to the piloting skills of Medes slips across the narrow profile of the Thomas Paine without much more than a hiss at the shields. The first B'rel is unable to evade the torpedo sent its way, and with its shields down is rather brutally damaged by a portside shot. It rocks to the side and lists momentarily before raising its shields and disengaging from the boarding. The third B'rel is quick to respond, dropping its tractor hold and raising its shields, pushing forward out of the line of the torpedo shot aimed its way. It wastes no time in drawing over the top of the fight to approach the Thomas Paine from above. Its counter volley of disruptor fire strikes the Paine square in its saucer section, flashing green light across the bridge's viewscreens and rocking the ship from stem to stern.

This isn't going to be easy.

A channel is opened, and it is Captain Carmichael's african features that appear on screen. He speaks in a thick accent reminiscent of central africa. Certain and grim. "Lieutenant Poole, we are too far away to be of help... hold fast. We are coming." He is silent for a moment more before shaking his head and ending the hail. When a veteran captain of the line shakes his head in dismay? It's time to worry.

. o O Medes thinks "Gwen, I love you, but if you've just gotten us killed the day before your wedding, I'm going to wait for you in the Celestial Temple and kick your shapely buttocks into another, much less attractive shape."

<CONTEST> Foster (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Weapon Systems) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

"Cease fire on the one... you hit it too much more and it'll pop," Poole instructs Dakin. "Concentrate fire on the two remaining ships... weapons systems, shields, main propulsion... anything to take them out of the fight." Never discourage she keeps belting out orders. "Foster, if you could lend your assistance in boosting power to our defensive systems?..." A look to Medes, "More dodging. Please. And be ready to blink out of here at a moments notice." To Alarcon, "Scan the Kol'mak. Determine if we can beam out their people and their cargo in a reasonable amount of time...." Lao, "Any power you can give us, Mister Lao would be appreciated... shields and weapons in that order. Keep us in this."

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Command (Starship) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard System (Flight Control) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Dakin contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard System (Flight Control) skill and Fails!

Dakin is trying to maintain his cool under fire, but the fact that none of his shots are going anywhere except harmless vacuum is putting that to the test. "Recommend we concentrate fire on one hostile at a time... the Paine's targeting scanners aren't equipped for continual multiple targeting..."

Foster grits his teeth as he leans against the console, then back and pressing his hands to steady himself. He works furiously at the controls, beads of sweat forming as hands move across the console. "Don't worry about that, Lieutenant, I can give you the juice to keep that up.. don't ask me for how long though."

Medes flinches when the first hit comes in, but regains her control within a few seconds. It's enough, however, for her to lose her edge, especially with the ships joining the fray this time around. "/GWEN!/ We have /got/ to get out of here! I can't keep this up much longer." After a pause to execute a sharp dodging maneuver, she adds, "Sir. Really. The longer this goes on, the less likely I am to be able to dodge /all/ their fire, especially if we're just disabling them. That third craft is still firing on us. Even if we can pull away and try to split their forces up, I'll stand a better chance."

Alarcon clings to her console, bracing as the impact hits, and still doing some hurried calculations based on sensor data. "Sir," she replies, unable to keep the slight timbre of doubt out of her voice. "Uh, it would require us to power transporters at the cost of weapons systems, or... shielding. The cargo? One transporter cycle. All survivors? Two transporter cycles. That's a lengthy period of vulnerability."

<CONTEST> Lao (claiming advantage) contests his Systems Engineering (Shields) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Lao rearranges the power to one of the setting he pre-loaded on the way here. He drops power from life support, lights, unused doors, just about everything, including waste reclamation and the galley sink, and pumps it into the shields. He looks up from his console. "Captain!" he calls, using the traditional term for whomever is sitting in the Big Chair, regardless of their rank. "I have a nefarious plan!" he announces. "I think I can match our transporter beam to our shield harmonics, and mass-transport the Klingons and their cargo from their ship to ours." He leans over the console. "A grab-and-run, sir! The only problem is that we'd have to divert power for the transport, and I suggest we take it from impulse power, and keep the shields at full. It would only be for a few seconds."

The battle is not going well for the Starfleet Vessel and its crew. The limping B'rel barely manages to evade the fire aimed its way, but the Warbird and the more spry B'rel duck in and out of the phaser spread without difficulty. As they had the Klingon vessel before, they begin to circle the Thomas Paine, wolf packing the Brillian Class and nipping at its shields one hopeless volley at a time. Another blast of disruptor fire further drains the 'Paine's shields. It becomes, now, a point of question as to which they wish to keep going the more -- multi fire on their weapon arrays, or power to their shields.

And if that wasn't enough, another hail is raised on the Operations terminal. Harmlessly blinking amidst all the warning lights. 'Power levels critical' 'Shields at 2.' 'Weapon Systems at minimal charge.' 'Coolant Slush at quarter capacity.' 'You have mail!'

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming disadvantage) contests her Starship Tactics (Naval) skill vs Shaft's Starship Tactics (Naval) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Command (Starship) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

GAME: Dakin spends a courage point.

"Photon torpedos only, Rann, hit them where it will hurt the most," Poole orders, before she swings about to look at Lao and nods. "The Klingon crew takes precedence... if we can't save their ship, we can at least save them. Attempt to match our transporters to our shield harmonics. Hold and be ready to initiate it on my mark...." she looks to Alarcon, "You're in charge of the beam out... Klingons first. Then their cargo." A look to Medes, "Be prepared for a slowdown in speed..." To Foster, "Keep our power managed. We may just save the lot of them and get out of here while the getting is good.... But I want to know who /that/ is first." She points to the light on his console indicating a hail. Good eye. -direct to Foster-

Dakin nods and targets the hostiles, floods the launchers with a full spread of photon torpedoes. "Torpedoes hot... firing."

Foster nods. "Aye, sir. Opening hailing frequencies.

The channel is opened revealing a towering middle-aged Klingon brooding in his seat. His balled fist is raised to hover near his ear, elbow propped on the arm of his command chair, body tense with the taste of battle. His crew stand at their stations, shouting jokes back and forth. They stink of battle experience, laughing as they are.

"I am Fleet Captain Chu'daQ, son of Go'laH of the IKS Ghogh flying under the orders of Chancellor Martok! We are answering the distress of the IKS Kol'mak and were coming to rendez-vous with that B'rel of our Wing for the transfer of cargo. We see your plight and are not blind to it, Thomas Paine. We come fast and we come hard! We shall paint the void with Nausicaan blood! /STAND FAST!/ For the battle is joined! We are only four minutes from your location. Extend in our direction! Let the Kol'mak fight! Their rescue is secondary to their cargo! Q'pla!"

The triple pointed emblem of the Klingon Empire winks from the screen, leaving only the fog of battle and the hornet swarm of the dogfight.

Poole frowns, but as much as she doesn't like the idea of leaving, even if they are returning, she stands and gives more orders. "Change of plans... slightly. Lao, continue work on matching our transporters to our shield harmonics. Rann... keep firing those torpedos until we jump to warp... Medes, intercept course with the Ghogh, warp five. Engage." Pause. "Everyone get ready for round two."

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill and Fails!

Dakin nods, and targets the biggest threat, namely the warbird, and unleashes all sorts of photon torpedo hell on the Romulan hand-me-down.

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!

Medes dodge. Medes weave. Medes set a course for the ship captained by the son of Go'laH and sends the 'Paine zooming along at warp five. "Acknowledged, sir." By the time she says it, her stubby-fingered hands are already picking out the course and sending the Brilliant Class Escort sliding away through space. Through gritted teeth, she mutters under her breath, "I hate running from Nausicaans."

<CONTEST> Foster (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Weapon Systems) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Alarcon does nothing, personally, but ready herself for an order that doesn't seem likely to come her way as yet. She's ready, though--but poised.

<CONTEST> Lao (claiming advantage) contests his Systems Engineering (Shields) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

Lao starts working the console. "This is tricky," he mutters. He keeps working on it, though, as the ship sails away from the battle. "I'm going to need at least a few minutes, here," he calls out. "If it works at all."

The Warbird takes it like a champ. The torpedoes rock the vessel and brutalize its forward shields, but being easily three times the size of the Thomas Paine and with power plants to match, the old Bird just keeps right on flying. When the 'Paine turns to disengage, the flight of Nausicaan vessels do not pursue. They circle back towards the Kol'mak. By the time the Paine has entered into warp, they are in their previous positions, continuing with the boarding operation. Likely, its conclusion.

Precious minutes pass. And in the two minutes it takes to rendez-vous with the Ghogh, the Nausicaan vessels are, themselves, entering into warp. The Kol'mak is left adrift, a smoking husk, as lifeless now as its crew is likely to be. Upon that rendez-vous, however, Chu'daQ is quick to turn the tide of pursuit.

Again a hail is opened, and the Fleet Captain is pounding on his command terminal. "They _MUST NOT_ escape! The Kol'mak carried the body of B'val's assassin, slain by my niece! Martok ordered it returned! The fate of the Alliance /and/ the Empire depends on this matter! Inform the Antietam to continue on intercept! There is no time to waste! Follow us into death and glory, Thomas Paine! /BUT FOLLOW US/!" He ends the hail with a slam of his fist and the Ghogh begins accelerating to pursue.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Poole replies, grim determination on her features. "Mister Medes, pursuit course. Engage..." Grrrr. "Rann... All weapons at the ready. Charge them up. Pick your targets. We're still firing to disable." A look over in Lao's direction and she says, "Focus on keeping us in one piece, Mr. Lao." Glancing to Alarcon, she says, "Keep those ship's on the scope and try to determine which one has the body that was stolen." Foster comes last, but has an important order, "Inform the Antietam of Fleet Captain Chu'daQ's orders." She takes one last look at the derelict Kol'mak and sighs, murmuring something softly. Then she hastily crosses herself. Ahem. Now, to kick BUTT.

Foster smirks softly. He's doing much more than sending hails around, though he does do his assigned task as well as send the power that Lao has been squeezing out to where it needs to go.

Dakin nods sharply. "Shoot to disable, aye." He then sets about flooding the torpedo bays once again and charging the phasers. Though it's unsaid, a thought floats through his head about a bunch of self-important cloak-and-dagger <insert piece of Bajoran profanity unflattering to their spiritual upbringing> andn how they took his Akira-class pride and joy away.

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"Pursuit course engaged, sir," replies Medes, her hands tapping surely over her console. One disadvantage to shaving your head? Sweat getting in your eyes. The tiny engineer runs the cuff of one sleeve over her forehead and blinks a couple of times, clearing her vision.

GAME: Alarcon spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Impossible and Succeeds!

Alarcon is completely wrapped up in her own little sensor console world. She would look the part of the perfect mad scientist in the throes of just-pre-eureka ecstacy... had she the hair to be mussed. "Sir! I have it! The -Warbird- has it--a stasis field surrounding a Klingon corpse. The--" she blinks a bit. "--stomach cavity is split open." A look of pleasantly grim satisfaction slides its way across Alarcon's face. "And fingernails? Very dirty."

GAME: Lao spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Lao (claiming advantage) contests his Systems Engineering (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Lao's hands fly across the console. "I've managed to replenish our power plant to some degree, sir," he calls. "You have about 50 recharged, and shields are up to 86. I don't know how much more I can get out of her. This is -not- my specialty."

The Wounded B'rel is in no position to flee at full speed. Damaged, limping behind the rest of the craft as it is, it breaks away at a forty-five degree tangent from their escape heading, splitting the pursuit. Fortunately, with the unprecedented work of Alarcon at Sciences, that fleeing craft can be left to flee all it likes. Eyes on the prize. As the minutes tick away, the second B'rel breaks away at a similar but opposing tangent, taking itself from the fight as well. And still, due to their foreknowledge, the pursuit craft continue to track down their quarry. And with all of that said, the Nausicaan Border looms closer and closer still.

The Antietam hails in within the first minutes of the pursuit, reporting they are closing with the Ghogh and the Thomas Paine. Soon the roles will be reversed. Soon, if the timing plays out, three allied craft will circle that Warbird and bring it to its knees. One can hope, at least.

And when it becomes clear that escape is not an option, that fleeing destiny is not something one can do, the Warbird suddenly drops from warp, executes a high-energy turn, kills its inertial dampeners, and skids in reverse, spitting a spread of torpedoes into the face of their pursuers. Full spread, full to fore.

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Command (Starship) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

"Helm, evasive manuevers!" Poole barks. -direct to Medes-

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming disadvantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> IKS Ghogh (claiming advantage) contests its Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

At warp speed... heading into a torpedo spread... Medes starts frantically hitting controls, yelling back, "Hold on to your seats!" And, still at warp, the Thomas Paine starts to dance around the torpedos. A roll, a duck, and a bit of a wiggle. Maybe the wiggle won't do so well, but the recovery from that duck at warp is hell, really.

...That third shimmering speck of red grows very large, very quickly. Very. Very quickly.

There is a flash of light and then, for a moment, nothing. Maybe it was a dud?

No.

Thunder erupts around the Thomas Paine and the ship groans and rattles as its warp field destabilizes around the force of the impact. Damage control lights begin flashing over Lao's terminal like some sick melodic game of whack-a-warning. Foster's terminal screams bloody murder where the foreward shields are concerned, and the viewscreen left of center receives a hairling fracture that kills all signal in a shower of sparks.

But there they are, weapons charged, staring down the throat of the enemy, the Ghogh -- hard and fast as promised -- flying right beside.

GAME: Poole spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Starship Tactics (Naval) skill vs Shaft's Starship Tactics (Naval) skill and Succeeds!

Poole clenches her chair's armrests tightly, managing to keep her seat during the rough warp re-entry. Immediately she brings up the mini-console attached to the Captain's chair to survey the situation. "Damned... bastards... Fight dirty shall we?" Frowning in the sour puss way the british have, she barks her new orders, "Thea... highest impulse possible, up and over. Keep our front shields out of the full view of his weapon's arcs....... Rann, lock on and fire all weapons at will. Whatever it takes to get that blasted shield down so we can steal back that corpse. Johnathon, try to restore some strength to that forward shield... Mister Lao, if you would, coordinate those damage control teams... Isobel, be ready to beam that corpse out of there at the first opportunity. And make sure no one sneaks up on us whilst we're fighting here."

Foster's console isn't the only thing by the Operations console that screams bloody murder. The console itself sparks from the overload and then catches fire, sending a shower of sparks and a small explosion which makes Foster scream bloody murdur, as well as sending him sprawling to the ground several feet from the console, many bad burns coating his skin, his once pristine uniform dirtied and blooded by debri and his own hemoglobin. He does however manage to stand, making it over to an unoccupied science console and changing it's format to a makeshift Operations terminal. He immediately begins working on Making Sure The Ship Doesn't Fall Apart.

GAME: Dakin spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Dakin contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill (given disadvantage) and Fails!

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs Shaft's Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill (given disadvantage) and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> IKS Ghogh (claiming advantage) contests its Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

Dakin frowns as he gets jarred from the impact, but manages to pick out Poole's orders amongst the very loud bits of chaos. "Firing torpedoes..!!"

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Alarcon taps. And some more. She'd managed not to have anything blow up in her face, though the impact was definitely jarring, and sweat has begun to bead on her scalp and upper lip. "Shields still up, so standing by to beam the body over. Meantime, sir..." More pensive tapping, and Alarcon finally continues, scowling down at her display. "The Antietam is closing fast. Those two B'rel that split off as decoys... they're probably cloaked. I don't have 'em anymore. Nausicaan border... we have two Nausicaan patrol craft and a Romulan Warbird patrolling. They're... well, they don't appear to be altering their normal patrol patterns. Not coming to help their fellows, here."

<CONTEST> Lao (claiming advantage) contests his Systems Engineering (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

Lao jumps back as his console sparks, sucking on a pair of fingers. One-handed, he turns to a console right behind him, transfers engineering control to it with a deft stroke of his good hand, and then says, "Computer! Load Lao Zeta Gamma!" The panel flickers into life, and excess power floods from the warp core. blowing power conduits all over the ship. Good thing about backups... "Damn!" he blurts. "Captain, I'm working on getting shields and structural integrity up!" A glance at the console. "Damage control teams are on the go!"

This Warbird and its crew seem to have plenty of tricks up their sleeve. Even as the Thomas Paine empties its weapons into the face of the Warbird, rocking it once again with the force of the blast -- and the Ghogh's volley flying harmlessly overhead -- they're up to something. Because they're just -sitting there-. The game is up, apparently, when their shields inexplicably drop. Their external shields, in any event. And from the open mouth of their shuttle bay zip first two, then four, then six, then eight, then ten arrownhead shaped fighter craft. Black as the void, matte to the point of no reflection, each one speeding away at a radial of their aft arc, speeding towards Nausicaan space. It becomes rather obvious right about now...

You're dogfighting a dog brain. And have been since the opening volley.

Time for inward groaning. Poole growls, "What are they playing at?" Before rashly going to order a pursuit course, she instead leans forward and says, "Isobel... Find that body. If you can grab it, do so." -direct to Alarcon-

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

Much, much tapping. =Furious= tappage. And, surprised, she looks up. "It's not on any of the shuttles, sir. It's got to be on the ship." Realization dawns, and she scowls back down at the console, slams her hands down. "They could be aiming to destroy it, sir. Ship, body and all!"

--redirect--

"Back us off, Thea... I don't like this," Poole says, frowning. She sends a worry tinged glance to Dakin and says, "Scan that corpse... stasis pod and all for a hidden explosive." Then to Foster, "If there aren't any booby traps, beam it out... and then we'll get the hell out of here. This /stinks/ of a trap.... Mister Lao, divert power from weapons to our shields, structural integrity field and transporters.... Isobel... have they set a self-destruct sequence on that ship?"

GAME: Dakin spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Dakin (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Command skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Dakin frowns as she runs over the ship's structure with the sensors. "There's too little resolution... I'm not reading anything, but that's no indication..."

Foster frowns, thoughtfully. "Let me take a look then, Lieutenant."

GAME: Foster spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Foster (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Foster says, "Uh.. sir. The body is crawling with nanites. I don't know what to make of that."

"Ensign Lao, listen to me. Do /exactly as I say,/" Medes calls, even as her hands are flying over the console in front of her, and the Paine backs away from the wounded Warbird. "/Please,/ for the love of the Prophets, follow my directions. Do you remember the diagram in the Systems Engineering 202 course material, from the third chapter? First, slowly direct energy /out/ of the chrono-ionic impulse processor. Re-route it through the super-polar distortion capacitor. You can then deactivate the pre-impulse energy interlock and the ionic warp transponder. You'll find overflow in the focal energy collector. Bleed that out as quick as the system will handle, but watch it carefully, or the whole works will blow. Once you've bled the collector dry, reverse the process. Reactivate the ionic warp transponder FIRST, then the pre-impulse energy interlock. Route energy SLOWLY back into the chrono-ionic impulse processor, but if you get a moment's warning, switch it back immediately, it'll function as a sort of half-baked backup until we can stop and take a better look at the system. If you need me to repeat any of that, just say so, and I will."

GAME: Lao spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Lao (claiming advantage) contests his Systems Engineering (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

Lao frowns, following the instructions as Medes barks them out, and watches with a vaguely annoyed expression as his console winks into darkness. "Didn't exactly work, Lieutenant," he calls weakly, and looks around for another available console.

The face of Chu'daQ flashes across the right-of-center viescreen. He doesn't look pleased. "We will do it /ourselves/, then! Far be it from me to allow your suddenly acquired good-sense to stand between the solvency of an Empire, the survival of the Alliance, and your pathetic survival. Caution, it seems, is late learned with you, Lieutenant, and poorly applied." He glances aside to one of his officers, barking in Klingon, "Lock onto the body! Beam it into containment!" His gaze swings back to leer into the screen. "Take hart, Lieutenant. If we all die when that body disappears, you have the distinction of dying in good company!" Back to the officer, "/ENERGIZE/!"

It's more or less at this point that the Warbird decides to explode into a starburst of energy sufficient to make things not much fun for anyone in the course of the next few seconds. Fortunately for the crew of the Thomas Paine, they backed away.

Unfortuantely for the Ghogh, its shields were down at the time.

So it is with the somewhat-comfort of relative safety that the crew of the Thomas Paine are treated to the picture presented on the viewscreen. That of Ghogh's bridge exploding in plasma fire and rapid decompression. Chu'daQ's body erupting into spontaneous flames and corroding away in a split second, only to flash freeze and break apart into a dozen and more pieces before the channel is abruptly ended.

One can watch that and know what comes of such an explosion aboard a bridge. Or one can watch the forward viewscreen and guess as the explosion boils the Ghogh away into a memory as faded and empty as the void it leaves behind.

Poole draws in a startled breath.... she had guessed, but she hadn't anticipated it well enough... she hadn't warned the klingon vessel. "God be merciful...." she breaths out, eyes closing. More death. She's quiet a few long moments before her eyes snap open and she slams her fist into the non-consoley side of her chair. "DAMN IT!" Grrrrr. Grar. She glares at the now vacant viewscreen before she lowers her gaze again. "Ops... Contact the Antietam... tell them... what happened. As best you can.... Sciences... try.... and record what data you can. Engineering... I want a damage report on my desk in ten minutes.... Helm. Hold here... until ... we leave." Brushing a stray strand of blonde hair out of her eyes, she says, "I'll be in my ready room... Lieutenant Dakin, you have the com." And she stands. And leaves.

Dakin frowns and shakes his head as he secures tactical and taps his combadge. "Bridge to tactical beta shift... report to the bridge." He takes the captain's chair and sags in it. Not one of his or this crew's finer moments on any number of levels.

Foster nods. "Aye, sir. Contacting the Antietam." He tries to remain calm, but he even looks down and closes his eyes for a few moments before being able to carry out the assigned duty. Possibly the hardest he has ever performed. After all, how does one tell a fellow Starfleet ship what just happened?

"Lieutenant," Medes addresses Dakin, after watching Poole disappear with a heavy expression on her face. She tilts her head toward the Engineering Ensign, and, upon receiving permission, taps her combadge. "Bridge to helm beta shift... report to the bridge." Once Ensign Expendable #16 reports to the bridge and takes her seat, she gets up and... does a Classic Medes Deflection Maneuver. When confronted with emotional situations you just can't handle at the moment? ENGINEERIFY! And so she does, striding across the bridge to stand beside Lao. "Ensign. Mind a little assistance with that damage assessment? I think I know where you slipped up on that sequence, I can show you how it'd work properly while we're figuring out what /else/ has gone wrong. It's complicated and the Brilliant class is very touchy about that particular trick, don't beat yourself up over it." Pause. "Remind me to tell you about a certain shield generator on Fimdari sometime." Shaking her head, she finishes, "But not now."

Personally, Alarcon is without expression. She is no longer scowling at her displays, even if a bead of nervous sweat does roll down the planes of her cheek and jaw from somewhere around her temple. She is simply studying them dispassionately, fingers prodding methodically at her LCARS, face completely, neutrally unreadable.

Lao nods to Medes. "Any help is welcome, Lieutenant." He looks at the viewscreen while Medes starts to work, long after the explosion has passed, and then just shakes his head. Poor bastards. He walks over to a terminal. He tries to transfer Engineering control...again. Nothing happens. He kicks the terminal. It lights up. After a few minutes of routing damage control teams, he pauses. Wipes a hand across his brow. Then he reactivates the replicators, and taps his combadge. "Galley? Can I have a strawberry milkshake brought up to the bridge? I'm having a bad day."

Fittingly, the USS Antietam arrives in time for the carnage. Aptly named, is the Antietam, for one of the bloodiest battles known to Earth History. It slows to a crawl beside the Thomas Paine and opens a channel. It is little surprise to Captain Carmichael that Poole is nowhere to be seen. He says nothing. He simply stares at Dakin for a long moment before punching his manual controls to end the hail.

There will be a lot to explain to a great many people.