The Wolf and the Fox (Part 2)

Posted on 10 Nov 2018 @ 12:03pm by Commander Rhyan

2,418 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Empty Creche
Location: Runabout Aoraki
Timeline: ED1 1630

Rhyan’s fingers danced over the control interface in front of him, every new command entered registered by the runabout Aoraki as a course correction, and a shift in vector. The Aoraki’s shields were all but extinguished, leaving them defenceless against the Confederacy vessel to their aft; the distance between them only increasingly slightly as Rhyan implemented dangerous modifications to the impulse engines. Unfortunately he could already feel the Aoraki fighting back against him, the runabout just not designed to handle these sublight speeds.

His attention quickly shifted from what was behind them to what was ahead: the starship graveyard left over from the Battle of Wolf-359, a terrifying close encounter between the Borg and the complete assimilation of Earth. Thirty-nine ships were destroyed in 2366, with the loss of nearly eleven thousand lives, most of them Starfleet officers. Despite Rhyan only being a child at the time of the battle, Starfleet had made the incident required reading at the Academy: the Battle of Wolf-359 remained one of the most chilling chapters in Federation history, alongside the Battle of the Binary Stars and the Dominion War.

Rhyan did not enjoy the thought of using such a hallowed place in his game of cat-and-mouse with the Andorians, but they had left him with no other choice.

“What is the plan, commander,” Aeryn Tigan called out from Rhyan’s left hand side. He could see that her attention was still with the tactical readouts in front of her, their phaser emitters periodically sending shots towards their attackers. There was no doubt in Rhyan’s mind that the Trill could handle herself in a crisis: she would make an excellent assistant chief science officer if they made it out of this situation alive.

The Vulcan took his eyes off the helm controls and looked out of the cockpit, eyeing up the hulking mass that was the remnants of the USS Kyushu; identifiable as it was the only New Orleans-class vessel involved in the Battle of Wolf-359. From a distance the ship could have been confused with the Galaxy-class vessels, but in close proximity Rhyan could see that it was smaller and less ergonomic than what he would have expected from a Galaxy. When the Aoraki rounded the forward saucer, the orange light from the Wolf star illuminated the hull markings to confirm his suspicion: USS Kyushu NCC-65491.

Another barrage of Confederacy torpedoes rocked the runabout, destroying their shield emitters and knocking out the impulse engines. All they had left were thrusters, one phaser emitter and transporters. Not a lot to survive on.

Rhyan responded to his junior colleague, all the while trying to furiously come up with a plan that would in the next few seconds save them from imminent death. He started to see one forming in the back of his mind, but did not have time to think it through completely before issuing orders. “I need you to get into an EV suit and start downloading your research on to a tricorder.”

“What?” Aeryn said, finally daring to redirect her gaze from the non-functioning tactical controls in front of her and look directly at Rhyan. Her face said it all: disbelief that they were about to abandon the runabout. The Vulcan shared her concerns, but there was nothing more they could do: they had to get off the Aoraki before the Andorian’s destroyed it.

“I don’t have time for you to question me, lieutenant,” Rhyan said with unexpected authority in his voice. Up until now he had taken a relaxed attitude with Aeryn, but now was not the time for the chain of command to be broken: she would have to accept his orders and follow them without question. If he was correct, and there was no evidence to doubt that he wasn’t, the Aoraki would have two or three minutes before the Andorians caught up to them; then it would be game over for Aeryn and Rhyan.

Aeryn leapt from her seat and sprinted into the aft compartment, taking Rhyan’s advice and not questioning his orders further. In the meantime he continued to snake the runabout around the Kyushu, doing his best to keep it between the Aoraki and the Andorians. He knew that the manoeuvring would not work forever, but it would buy them the time they needed to survive what was coming next.

Rhyan set the Aoraki to autopilot, instructing the ship to continue evading the Confederacy vessel for as long as it could. Through the cockpit window he could see the Kyushu only meters away, the computer choosing to encircle the derelict as close as possible to offer them the greatest protection. It would work for as long as the Andorians had patience; eventually they would consider opening fire on the Kyushu, obliterating it to get to the Aoraki. At least, that is what Rhyan would do in their position.

Following Aeryn into the aft compartment, Rhyan was pleased to see that she was almost fully encased in the Starfleet-standard EV suit. By the time he reached the lieutenant he had unzipped his grey and black uniform tunic, throwing it on to the floor beside her. He furiously kicked off his boots and opened the locker next to Aeryn, dragging a second EV suit out of it. The suit was a snug fit on Rhyan, but that did not stop the Vulcan from pulling it on in record time; he was almost done at the same time as the Trill.

“Lieutenant,” he said firmly, reminding Aeryn that she still needed to download the mission-critical files before they left the runabout. He didn’t need to say anything more as once her EV suit helmet was locked in place, and the suit’s A.I. confirmed pressurisation, she ran over to the equipment locker and pulled out a tricorder. Within seconds she had it linked to the ship’s computer, downloading their mission-critical files.

Then there was a violent explosion and a sudden flow of air through the cabin.

“Hull breach,” the Aoraki’s computer announced as atmosphere began to vent from the aft compartment through to the cockpit and out into the vacuum of space. Violent reverberations had sent Aeryn to the floor once again, the tricorder in her hand clattering across the deck plating and out of eyesight. Rhyan was struggling for breath as the atmosphere quickly thinned in the cabin; his lungs started to burn and he could feel the cold chill of vacuum starting to set in. He grabbed the helmet to his EV suit and latched it on just before consciousness ebbed away from him.

“Commander,” Tigan shouted as she clambered back to her feet and watched Rhyan fall to his knees. He was glad when the EV suit started to pump gas into the helmet and he could feel full consciousness returning. A few deep breaths later, precious oxygen filling his frozen lungs, Rhyan was back on his feet with Aeryn’s help. All around them computer terminals were flickering, power failing throughout the runabout. A fire was visible beyond the transporter in the cockpit, or what remained of it. If Rhyan were going to enact his plan, he would likely only have a few more seconds to do so before the Andorian’s finished the job that they had started.

“I’m okay,” Rhyan said, lying. His chest burned with more pain than he had ever before experienced in his life.

“Rhyan.” Another voice, not Aeryn’s this time, started to speak to the Vulcan through the communications system; the non-functioning communications system, which meant that the transmission had to be coming from nearby. He struggled to recognise the voice that was speaking directly to him, but chose to ignore it as he directed Aeryn towards the runabout’s emergency transporter system. Rhyan caught the lieutenant attempting to locate the lost tricorder out of the corner of his eye, but he gestured to her to get on to the transporter pad instead.

Their time was running out, quickly.

“I just wanted you to know,” the feminine voice over the open comm channel continued to day. Her voice was eerily familiar to the Vulcan but he didn’t allow it to distract him as he approached the torpedo control console. His thick, gloved fingers struggled to enter the desired commands into the interface, but with some perseverance he managed to succeed. Now their time really was limited.

The disembodied voice continued to echo throughout his suits helmet: the runabout was now completely devoid of atmosphere to carry any sound from the computers. “…That it was me who brought your miserable existence to an end.”

Rhyan recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite assign it to an identity. He continued to ponder the question as he stepped clumsily towards Aeryn and joined her on the emergency transporter pad. The pad was only big enough for the two of them to stand with their backs to the bulkhead, forcing them to face each other directly. It was one of the few times that Aeryn locked eyes with Rhyan; her expression appearing to show equal amounts of fear and confusion. He wished he had time to explain his plan to her, but there just wasn’t enough time.

“Say goodbye to your precious Federation,” the Confederacy voice continued, at no point ever wanting to hear a response from the Vulcan. Rhyan felt that her identity was just on the tip of his tongue when she uttered the words that would reveal her identity: “This is for Tarran.”

‘Shrell,” he thought, finally recognising who it was that was speaking to him. Shrell was a high-ranking member of the Confederacy of the Underdark, but more importantly to Rhyan, she was also the assassin that murdered President G’ath nearly two years ago. On the Redemption’s maiden voyage Rhyan had managed to stop Tarran from taking over the ship, but he was never able to apprehend Shrell; she escaped the Redemption after killing more than one of his fellow senior officers. Her escape had been on his greatest failures, even if Captain Ashcart hadn’t seen it that way.

The Vulcan knew that he and Shrell would face off against one another again some day; he just never expected it to be today. They had unfinished business with one another, he knew. Shrell wanted to make Rhyan pay for killing Tarran, and Rhyan wanted justice for what she had done to R’rreiakh, Thor and G’ath. What the Federation needed now, more than ever, was for G’ath’s assassin to finally be apprehended and punished for her actions. He did not doubt that she would face the seldom-used death penalty. Under normal circumstances Rhyan objected to the medieval law, but for Shrell he would make an exception.

“Rhyan,” Aeryn said, knocking on the Vulcan’s helmet and breaking him out of his inward trance.

He looked into her deep brown eyes, which were still full of fear. She knew how close they were to death. “Not yet,” he mouthed, knowing that timing would mean everything to their chances of survival. To simply transport of the Aoraki now would alert their escape to the Andorians; he and Aeryn had to be smarter than that.

The commander looked down to the small user-interface on the left wrist of his EV suit. At the same time he had accessed the torpedo control systems, Rhyan had activated a timer on the EV suit that was slowly counting down to zero. The readout was currently siting at twelve seconds, too early for them to begin their transport. If Shrell were honest about her intentions, then they would be cutting their escape very fine indeed. He showed his wrist to Aeryn, now displaying ten seconds, to illustrate his point.

“Seriously?” The junior science officer said, fear threatening to overwhelm her.

“Do you trust me?” Rhyan asked, staring deeper into her eyes than he had ever done before. Keisha’s words once again reverberated in the back of his mind as he studied the young woman in front of him.

“Yes,” she said, not elaborating any further. Her features began to soften slightly as he gazed deep into her soul and asked for his trust.

Rhyan and Aeryn continued to huddle, crammed together like sardines in a can, within the emergency transport pad. Three. Another explosion rocked the Aoraki, threatening to tear the runabout apart; but somehow it did not. Two. The computer systems appeared to fail simultaneously; Rhyan hoped that the independent power supply to the transporter system would continue to function. One. In those final seconds Rhyan finally caught a glimpse of the tricorder that would save Zal’s life; it had been dragged into the forward cockpit during the rapid decompression of the runabout. There was no more time to retrieve it. Zero. If he ever made it out of this alive, Rhyan now owed Starfleet two runabouts.

The Aoraki broke apart around them in a violent explosion…

*

Shrell sat in the command chair of the Confederacy vessel Tallas. The Andorian had tired of Rhyan’s game of cat and mouse around the charred remains of a Starfleet vessel; she now ached to end his miserable existence and exact revenge for the death of Tarran. The commander had waited nearly two years for the opportunity to kill Rhyan, and immediately jumped at the chance when Thalek had ordered her to follow his runabout to Earth. Her heart thumped in her chest as she soon realised that not only was she going to rid the Confederacy of Rhyan, but that the only cure for the virus they had infected Elesa Zal with would also be destroyed along with the runabout Aoraki.

‘Today is a momentous day for the Confederacy,’ she thought as her finger hovered over the touchscreen controls of her command chair. One torpedo would do the job, she knew. On the viewscreen the runabout was dead and lifeless, the forward cockpit blown apart by a previous volley of weapons fire from the Tallas. This next torpedo was aimed directly at the ship’s antimatter storage containers, the ship’s lifeblood and the most volatile substance known in the universe.

Without another seconds thought, her finger dropped down to the console and a single, bright blue light left the Tallas and collided with the Aoraki. It was destroyed within seconds, nothing remaining but a cloud of dust and atoms.

Tarran had been avenged.

 

RSS Feed