The End of the Beginning Day 1

Posted on Sun Jan 2nd, 2022 @ 4:58pm by Game Master
Edited on on Fri Jul 5th, 2024 @ 4:16pm

1,804 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Interdimensional Archives
Location: Federation Space (hostile territory)
Timeline: Day 1

Captain Talrian Bran gritted his teeth as he pulled himself forward with his elbows, his foot slipping on the blood stained deck. A sheen of sweat covered his face as he threw his arms forward and attempted to drag himself further along. His mangled left leg throbbed in a steady nova of pain that threatened to overwhelm his psyche. The edges of his vision grayed and even his determination was beginning to give out. He looked up and saw he still had more than fifteen or twenty feet until he made it to the stairs. Escape to their shrike attack class vessel was much further along than that. Looking back he saw just how little progress he made.

The Federation soldier lay dead only about eight feet away and the trail of smeared blood from Talrian’s leg stretched barely six. He wanted to slump to the ground; wanted to give up. There was too much and he knew with his leg’s injuries, even if he did manage to make it back to the shrike and the rest of his team, his career was done. The state of medical innovation in the Systems Alliance was decent but nowhere near what he was used to from Starfleet. He had no idea what he could do with the rest of his life but if he wasn’t able to get off this station in time, it wouldn’t matter any longer. The rest of his life was measured in just the time it took for the team to make it to the shrike and make it to a safe distance. Then the station would be destroyed and Talrian along with it.

He took a breath then dragged himself forward, covering another half foot and then another half. The weight of the pack and armor weighed him down further but he refused to give them up. Just as he refused to give up the rifle that he dragged with him. A refusal in which he was glad he made as he heard booted feet running toward him. With another grimace and small, strangled cry of pain he flopped onto his back and brought the rifle to bear. The pain threatened to overwhelm him; making his vision blur but he thought he recognized the shape and pattern of the armor. But the voice calling to him made him lower the rifle.

“Captain!” Sergeant Jeremy Corvus exclaimed, the young enlisted man shocked by what he saw before him. His CO on the ground, his leg obviously mangled and useless but the captain still trying to make good his escape. A litter of bodies surrounded the area, all but one Federation troopers. “We gotta get out of here.”

“No,” Talrian said, waving the younger man off as he squatted and tried to hook Talrian’s arm over his shoulders to help him stand. “Get out of here, get to the ship. Complete the mission.”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Corvus said, keeping a firm grip on his CO and then heaving to his feet, dragging Talrian up and onto his good leg. Sergeant Corvus was the de facto team medic, a position he was thrown into when they were thrust into this strange anomaly of a universe where everything seemed upside down. Now, six years on, he was probably better as a medic then he’d ever been as a combat soldier. “Follow my lead and put your weight on me.” Corvus didn’t wait for an answer but started moving forward, his rifle swinging before him as he worked to move himself and Talrian quickly through the corridors and back to the escape hatch that would get them onto the shrike.

“Where’s Braxion?” Talrian asked, grinding his teeth together to keep from crying out as he was manhandled down the stairs, the broken bones grinding and blood seeping.

He felt the young sergeant’s body stiffen and heard the determined silence coming from him. The intel they received about this station was scant and most of it wrong. It was supposed to be lightly manned but it held a full complement of Federation troops. It was a firefight almost from the first part of their insertion onto the station. The four of them split into two teams in order to place the explosive charges in the areas they needed to ensure the destruction of this station. He and his teammate, Sergeant Nolan Woods, managed to fight their way to the lower power cores.

Woods just finished placing the charges when a squad of Federation troops came upon them. Woods was gunned down defending the charges, knowing as well as his three teammates that this station was more than just a ‘listening post and refueling station’ as the Federation claimed. It was a staging area capable of launching attacks on six Alliance sectors, endangering billions of innocent civilians. It was almost fully operational and. According to the data Talrian was able to obtain, it was also ready to launch its first strike.

Worse yet - this wasn’t the only station of its kind. Woods knew that as well and determined his life was worth that of billions of others. At least in the balance of things. Talrian hoped Woods would be the only life given in the cause today. It appears he was wrong.

And, of the crew of the Atlantic, he and Corvus appeared to be the only ones left. He could say it was true of the squad that was left behind by the Atlantic six years prior.

Corvus stopped, dropping Talrian to the corridor, his back to a wall. Then he crouched, taking up a lower shooting position. They were in a short corridor and the sound of approaching troops was unmistakable. Neither Talrian or Corvus hesitated the moment they saw the enemy forces coming around the corridor. The Andorian squad leader was the first to fall. Others took up position but appeared too impatient to wait Corvus and Talrian out. They were cut down because the two Alliance soldiers had nothing to lose. Talrian tied their lifesigns into the detonator that would set off the charges.

Corvus didn’t waste time. Instead of helping his captain to hobble along down the corridor, he threw Talrian over his shoulders and barged ahead. The hatch to the shrike wasn’t far and Talrian protested Corvus carrying him. The sergeant was young and strong, but they’d already had firefights and were fleeing for their lives. The sergeant’s endurance had to be almost spent. Again, though, Corvus - almost out of character for the younger man - refused to follow Talrian’s orders. Until they came to the hatch. Then he put Talrian down, gently setting him on his good foot.

It took only a few moments for Corvus to help Talrian through the hatch and onto their shrike class attack craft. Talrian pulled himself, hobbling every step of the way, to the cockpit. He dropped heavily into the co-pilot’s seat, the one that allowed him room to keep his left leg held straight and out of the way. The controls to pilot the craft were equal from either position so it didn’t put him at a disadvantage in operating the shrike. Corvus took up the navigator’s position.

“Sensors indicate they’re preparing to launch attack craft,” Corvus said as Talrian finished bringing the shrike to operational power.

“Noted,” Talrian said, his voice unsteady to his own ears, weakening. His vision was grayed to a tunnel which made his work more difficult but he managed to get the engines up and the hatch closed. He blew the ship from the underside of the station and started heading out. “Have they launched?”

“Bay doors opening now,” Corvus said, his voice calm and steady but Talrian knew the young man well enough to hear the note of panic and fear in his voice. He knew that they would never be able to make it to escape distance in time if they had to engage in a pitched dogfight. Not if they wanted to accomplish their mission.

“Begin loading the data into the communications array,” Talrian ordered. The data on the stations, their capabilities and locations, as well as engineering data had to get to the Alliance. They were able to get more information than just that, but if their four lives were to be the cost, then the Alliance had to know about the stations. Corvus acknowledged the order while Talrian turned the ship away from the station.

As he said, they didn’t have time to make escape distance before the Federation attack craft would be upon them. But there was an option. He set course for Alliance space and prepared to execute the command to go to warp but first…

The shrike rocked under directed energy fire from the first two attack craft. “Evasive measures,” Talrian stated as he executed the commands. “Corvus,” he said, his body flagging and his reactions slowing, “blow the charges.”

Corvus looked over his shoulder for just a second. “Aye, Captain,” he said as he entered the commands. As soon as he saw the flash from the first explosive charge, Talrian hit the command to go to warp.

It wasn’t quick enough. He was never sure what hit them: enemy fire, an enemy craft or just the concussive force from being too close to the station but whatever it was threw them off kilter just as the warp engines engaged. They were thrown to warp in an uncontrolled spin. Talrian was thrown up against the control panel, his mangled leg smashed hard against the rock hard panel. He thought he would pass out from pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced before but he didn’t. He threw himself into the seat again and did what he could to stabilize the craft.

It only happened when the warp engine gave out, dropping the craft out of warp more than thirty light years from Alliance space. System warnings lit up the control panel. Warp and sub-light engines were out, leaving them to limp along on impulse power only. Fortunately long range sensors, communications and life support were still working. Unfortunately, however, their fuel tanks were shattered and the ship was left on their small, emergency reserve tank.

“Sending data packet,” Corvus muttered.

“Belay that!” Talrian ordered. “If you send that, the Federation can trace our location. It’ll give us away.”

“Aye sir,” Corvus said, sitting back in his chair, putting his hands at his side. “Captain, what are we going to do?”

Talrian stared out the plasteel screen ahead of him, staring into the vast, cold eternity of space. “I don’t know yet,” he answered.

 

RSS Feed