The Wolf And The Fox (Part 1)

Posted on 05 Nov 2018 @ 4:04pm by Commander Rhyan & Lieutenant JG Aeryn Zal

1,755 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Empty Creche
Location: Runabout Aoraki
Timeline: ED1 1600

The runabout Aoraki was making good speed towards Earth, its direct course now well beyond the frontlines between Starfleet and the rebel Sixth Fleet. It would soon pass Andor, followed by Vulcan, and then start decelerating as it approached the Sol system in approximately two hours time. The Aoraki had made good time, with Commander Rhyan pushing the engines to their maximum; and then some.

‘Thank you Andrew Becker,’ Rhyan thought to himself as he made another modification to the geometry of the warp bubble to prevent the warp drive from overheating and automatically shutting down. His thoughts occasionally returned to the year he spent on the run from Starfleet, along with Andrew Becker and Aran Zahne, tracking the Ee Hybrid through Federation territory. Becker, a Starfleet science officer, had imparted many lessons to Rhyan on how to get the maximum efficiency out of Starfleet engines; the Cho Oyu having been pushed to the brink of destruction on many occasions as they evaded Starfleet or the Confederacy of the Underdark.

When his latest modifications came on line, Rhyan’s sensitive hearing could almost hear the Aoraki’s engines groan in response. Every so often Lieutenant Tigan would pipe up from the posterior compartment to ask if what he was doing was safe; not turning up at Earth because of a warp core breach was apparently less desirable than turning up a few minutes late. Rhyan happened to agree, but he knew what he was doing.

“I have something new to report,” Aeryn shouted from behind Rhyan. He knew immediately what that meant: he had instructed her to inform him of any changes in her physiology that could be attributed to the anti-virus she had injected herself with earlier in the day. They could not risk giving President Zal a drug that was unsafe, not with her in such a critical condition at Starfleet Medical Headquarters. Every half hour or so, Aeryn would shout out a new symptom to Rhyan, updating him on the side effects of the anti-virus. At times he found the changes in her physiology almost comical.

“What is it this time?” He asked, wondering if this new symptom was any more interesting than the last: an unfortunate itch she described in painful detail. No senior officer needed to know that much about his subordinate’s genitals; especially not Rhyan.

She shouted at him from the rear compartment as she always did. “I appear to have a new rash at the injection site. It’s macular, red and non-pruritic. I don’t think its anything to worry about.”

Rhyan sighed. He was relieved that the anti-virus was having a negligible effect on the lieutenant, but feared that at any moment Aeryn would keel over and perish from her poorly thought-out actions. And it would all be his fault for involving her in the Zal virus research in the first place. He doubted that Captain Barron would welcome him back to the Redemption if he allowed another of his science officers to die on an away mission.

Aeryn called out to Rhyan again, but softer this time as she stepped back into the runabout cockpit. He took his eyes from the helm controls long enough to see that she was holding a small vial of green liquid in her hand. “This is it,” she said, shaking the small vial in front of him. “I have combined it with an anti-histamine and synthesised enough to administer to the President.”

“Well done, Aeryn,” Rhyan said, inadvertently using the lieutenant’s given name when he responded to her.

“Thank you, commander,” she replied, keeping their usual formality intact. Her eyes still refused to meet his.

“Do you want to transmit your research to Starfleet Medical in advance of our arrival?” Rhyan was keen that, if possible, the doctors at Starfleet Medical could start synthesising their own anti-virus and administer it to Zal before they arrived. Every second counted on this particular mission after all.

“Of course,” the lieutenant said in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. They can make a head start on us…”

Aeryn had no sooner finished her statement than an unknown force rocked the Aoraki and she was thrown to the deck plating. Somewhere behind them a conduit exploded in the runabout’s cabin, flames starting to take hold within the breach. The Aoraki lurched and then Rhyan felt it drop immediately out of warp.

Something disastrous had just occurred.

“Lieutenant?” Rhyan asked, desperate for a response from Aeryn.

“I’m fine,” she said, not quite convincing Rhyan that was the truth. He caught her getting back to her feet from the corner of his eye, although his attention was solely on the status readouts on the computer in front of him. A red alert klaxon was booming all around him, although the computer still did not have answers for him. Rhyan heard a fire extinguisher being used and was relieved to know that Aeryn was now putting out the fire in their main EPS conduit.

“Did I, or did I not say that you were pushing the engines too hard, commander?” Aeryn made the comment as her fire extinguisher ran out and she threw it to the floor in frustration. The fire appeared to be tamed for now, so she joined Rhyan at the front of the cockpit and sat down at the auxiliary helm control. “What the hell happened?”

“It wasn’t the engines,” Rhyan said in reply as he inspected the warp core diagnostic he had just commenced. So many of the Aoraki’s systems were now in the red that he didn’t know where to begin with finding an answer. The first hint of an answer came when he noticed that their communications system had been completely destroyed by the primary explosion.

That was very unusual indeed.

“If not the engines…” Aeryn tried to say, but the Aoraki was hit with another violent explosion. Rhyan was thrown back into his chair while Aeryn was thrown forward into her console. When she righted herself, the Vulcan could see a thin stream of crimson snaking its way down her forehead.

“Warning,” the computer suddenly announced, this time giving them the information they were seeking. “Weapons lock detected.”

Rhyan immediately minimised the helm controls on his computer interface and brought up the tactical screen. The sensors were massively damaged, but functioning enough to tell him that an Andorian vessel had fired upon them: a very familiar looking Andorian vessel. Its elderly design belied its formidable firepower.

“It’s the Confederacy,” he said to Aeryn, keeping his composure as the realisation dawned on him that they were in real trouble. He had met this particular configuration of ship once before, in the Gamma Eras system during the Redemption’s maiden voyage. Several of the ships had nearly overpowered the Redemption; the Aoraki had no chance against one of them.

His fingers danced over the interface and he was able to raise the ship’s shields to almost eighty percent and bring the phasers on line. The torpedo turret, it seemed, was completely destroyed during the second volley from the Confederacy vessel. All attempts at sending an S.O.S. on the long-range communications system failed: they were on their own.

The Aoraki rocked again.

“We stand no chance against that ship,” Aeryn shouted. “Why haven’t they tried to contact us?”

“They don’t need to talk to us,” the Vulcan replied, coldly. He had no doubt that their mission was. “They were sent to destroy us and our research; nothing more, nothing less.” Rhyan fingers continued to dance in front of him as he brought the impulse engines online and began to pilot the Aoraki away from the attacking vessel. His efforts were rewarded by another volley of phaser fire from the Andorians and their shields dropping to twenty-seven percent.

Beside him, Aeryn used her own computer to start firing back at the Andorian ship. The first few shots made little damage to the vessel, but every volley seemed to slow down their pursuit. That gave Rhyan an opportunity to find his bearings and look for a suitable planet or moon nearby to evade and hide from the Andorians. Within a few seconds he had a destination: Wolf 359.

“Where are you taking us?” Aeryn had noticed the Aoraki’s course change and wanted to know what the plan was. Rhyan had only worked out the first part of the plan: run and hide. Their proximity to Wolf 359 meant that they could reach it at sublight speeds, with the debris field left over from the Borg incursion in 2367 making the perfect location for the Aoraki to hide in.

“Wolf 359,” Rhyan said, giving the lieutenant a look that informed her not to ask any follow-up questions.

“Ah.” Aeryn made a short gasp as something pained her. At first Rhyan thought she had recognised the gash on her forehead for the first time, but then he realised that she was pulling a curved piece of glass from the palm of her right hand. He instantly recognised it as a hypospray canister: the anti-virus. “Rhyan…”

“I can see,” he said, cutting her off. His hopes for saving Elesa Zal suddenly evaporated as he realised that, even if they survived the next few minutes against the Andorians, they now no longer had a replicated vial of anti-virus. Their survival was even more crucial given that the Aoraki’s databanks were now the only location of the replicator pattern for the anti-virus; Aeryn had not yet transmitted their research to Starfleet Medical when the Andorians commenced their attack.

Another phaser beam struck the aft shields. A few more conduits overloaded, the explosions filling the runabout cockpit with acrid smoke. Rhyan’s computer terminal was now flashing to tell him that their aft shields were now non-existent. He used all his technical knowledge to divert what little power they had left to the impulse engines, using more of Commander Becker’s tricks to get them to one hundred and fifteen percent efficiency.

Ahead of them, the orange star of Wolf 359 began to increase in size and intensity. Aeryn gasped as the first piece of debris came into view: the USS Kyushu. They then simultaneously realised they were about to play a game of cat-and-mouse in one of the largest graveyards ever known to the Federation: survival meant putting their feelings aside and doing what needed to be done.

“Lieutenant,” Rhyan said, “this is not going to be easy.”

 

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