Surefoot 84: Duel

"Scanning," the Brikari responded, "No cloaked vessels, no Dallas- Sir! The Surefoot is approaching!"

Weynik straightened up, not expecting that. "Are you sure? Scan again! See if you can raise them!"

Interminable heartbeats passed, before Mori, sitting beside Weynik, reported, "Subspace communications are still disrupted, passive sensors still working... their energy signature, their profile- all match the Surefoot!"

"Onscreen."

The viewscreen shifted, producing an image of a Sabre-class vessel like themselves, with the red pawprint symbol, a designation denoting their former role as an ambulance during the War, on its dorsal side.

Mori looked at Weynik, looking pleasantly surprised. "Commodore Hrelle must have sent Captain T'Varik to support us!"

Weynik didn't answer. Instead he stared at the approaching ship.

*

"The Mask is holding," Traxin reported, his anxiety manifesting through the staccato taps of his blue Bolian fingers on the console. "Holographic projectors fully operational, energy signature skin and transponder code attuned in case they can scan for it."

Kazan allowed himself a slight smile; at least this functioned, and functioned well. And the choice of disguise was ideal, given what he had learned about the ships under Hrelle's authority. "Keep us at a steady pace as we draw closer, Vargas, nothing alarming, nothing unusual; we're all one big happy Fleet out to help each other. Tactical: do not lock weapons, they might detect it. Wait 'til we get close enough... and then hit them with everything we have."

"A ship has launched from the Katana," Danetha advised him, assisting at the Ops station now that the cloak had been abandoned for the time being. "Just as you predicted, it's proceeding towards the Thunderbird One."

Kazan made a sound, though he had expected a standard Starfleet shuttlecraft. He glanced at the readings from his chair: a small flyer, definitely not Starfleet, almost certainly armed. Its wings and colours reminded him of the red kites he once saw in the Siberian steppes, elegant birds of prey that could spot field mice, swoop down and grab as easily as they could breathe. They were fast, efficient raptors.

But even predators can have predators of their own. "Time to awaken Mickey. Have him ready to launch."

He felt the reactions of those around them, only Danetha daring to ask, "Captain, are you certain you wish to unleash that... thing? Perhaps one of your shuttles would be more likely to fulfil their part of your plan? What will keep it from just flying away?"

"That flyer would easily take out one of our shuttles. Mickey will not not be so easily defeated... and the thorium bomb attached to its transport sled will make Mickey think twice about deserting." A slight curl lifted one corner of his thick lips. "Besides, why should it leave, when we're giving it an opportunity to sate its cybernetic bloodlust right here, right now?"

*

Weynik rose to his feet, still staring ahead. "Mr Grel, guide us on a slow, easy curve, ensuring our aft ends up facing the approaching vessel, without making it look like that's what you're doing."

"Sir?" the Tellarite asked, but still complying with the orders, working the manual steering column with both hooves.

The Captain turned sideways, looking behind him. "Mr Jor-Dakk, don't lock weapons on the vessel, but be ready to fire."

Mori rose to his feet now, his tail twitching. "What's going on, Sir? The Surefoot-"

"-Reported being delayed before we received the Commodore's alert, did they not?"

The Caitian's expression changed and grew with the reminder. "Yes, they did, a last-minute delay no one else would know about... they couldn't possibly have gotten here in time to join us!"

"And even if it were them, they wouldn't be coming to us, they'd be under the same Security Directives as we are, to stop the other vessel at all costs." He faced forward again, feeling the tension rise around him as he watched the approaching craft. A wolf in sheep's clothing, or so the Terran expression goes... assuming he wasn't wrong.

But if he was wrong, he could end up firing on a sister ship, filled with people he knew and respected... "Mr Mori, access the Starfleet Security Registry, find the prefix code to the Dallas. Transmit orders to shut down their weapons and propulsion."

"Transmit how, Sir? The subspace interference-"

"Real space EM communications still function, and are practical at this distance. Hurry! Before they get within firing range!" He kept staring at it, his doubts pushed aside, hoping that the present operators of that vessel never thought to change the prefix code. "Everyone, be ready..."

*

"Everyone," Kazan murmured. "Be ready... Be ready..."

An alert from Ops prompted Traxin to report, "Captain! We're receiving an EM transmission from the Katana! A coded security beam-"

"A prefix override attempt," Kazan declared instantly, rising to his feet as he ground his teeth. He had the foresight to change the prefix codes long ago, but it meant their ruse had failed. Your reputation is justified, Captain Weynik. But it still won't save you. "Drop the Mask! Launch Mickey to deal with that flyer! We'll take care of the Katana, once and for all!"

As the holographic skin around the Molotok dropped, revealing the angry powerhouse beneath, from its dorsal side, the shuttlebay doors parted, allowing a small black object the size of an industrial work bee to drop out, as if in free fall, before the transport sled it was mounted onto came to life, the impulse engines glowing bright as the object swung about and went in pursuit of the Tailless.

*

"They've launched something!" Mori snapped anxiously. "At Sasha's flyer!"

"She can handle herself," Weynik reminded him sharply. "Focus on keeping us alive! Launch Volley One!"

From the aft, half a dozen torpedoes emerged, moving in a swarm towards the Molotok... which fired a volley of its own, a collection of phaser pulses, catching most of the torpedoes and detonating them, even as the Defiant-class ship flew through the explosion.

Weynik watched, expecting that reaction, knowing it would momentarily blind their opponent's short-range sensors. "Launch the decoys! Evasive Pattern Gamma One!"

The Katana banked sharply upwards, as a dozen sensor decoys, training modules for when Flight Ops and Tactical cadets practised tracking manoeuvres, the decoys moving in all directions.

*

Vargas cursed. "I'm detecting multiple Katanas!"

"The targeting sensors are getting confused!" Hope added.

"As is his intention," Kazan reminded them, more loudly shouting, "Rely on your eyes as much as the sensors, fools!" Oh, how I wish we could have met in person, Captain, and drained a keg or two of beer with you before I slit your throat-

Wait, what is he doing?

*

The Katana drew up into a tight loop, spun onto its ventral side and dropped down onto the dorsal forward side of the Molotok, slamming hard over the Warhead nose and making the other ship spin away, even as the Katana went in another direction, albeit with more control.

On the Katana's Bridge, Weynik's stomach threatened to expel his lunch. He ignored it to order, "Report!"

"Damage reported on Decks 4 and 5, including the Shuttlebay!" Mori responded, clutching the arms of his chair. "But otherwise major systems are still online... and I think we were successful, Sir!"

Weynik, grunted, still feeling his stomach curse him. It was his first experience employing the Surefoot Pounce, a manoeuvre he only half-believed was real when described by Esek and Sasha. Fine, it's real, now let's never do that again, okay people? My teeth are still rattling... "Well done, Mr Grel, but now let's move onto the next part of the plan, and offer the enemy another opportunity to blow us to bits again..."

*

Ben leapt onto the cockpit console to get closer to the viewscreen. "What is that? Is it one of the Bel-Zon's ships?"

Fantomax stared at the approaching red-winged ship, as Parker responded, "No, it came from the Katana. It must be a new Starfleet design; it's small but fast and heavily-armed - very heavily-armed - and its weapons are trained on us. There's weapons onboard I can't identify!"

Something, something about it, the way it moved, like it was definitely not pissing about now, made her shout, "Shut down our shields and engines, Parker! See if we can get a signal to them from this distance, tell them we surrender! Hurry!"

"I'm-" An uncharacteristic sound of perplexity came from the computer. "Milady, there's another signal coming in, breaking through the interference, but it's not from that ship, or the others!"

She clutched the arms of her chair. "Let's hear it."

Then her breath caught and her heart stopped at the grating, screeching electronic declaration, one she had heard once before, during the last gathering of the Bel-Zon at Elba II: from the murderous automation from Minos, nicknamed Metal Mickey, and the battle cry it made when demonstrating its formidable killing skills to Max Zorin.

"INCINERATE! INCINERATE!"

*

"INCINERATE! INCINERATE!"

Sasha heard the transmission too, just as her ship's sensors picked up the tiny object on rapid approach. What the Seven Hells - it was too big for a torpedo, too small for a shuttle or fighter-

A heavy plasma beam struck her shields, making the Tailless lurch sharply under the assault.

*

"Our shields!" Traxin shouted. "Our shields are failing! When the Katana physically struck, they must have damaged the shield relay hub mounted over the Warhead!"

Of course they did, Kazan thought with grudging admiration. That was the intention all along. "Reroute through secondary systems; our ablative armour will protect us until then. Attack Pattern September!"

*

Sasha launched microtorpedoes towards her attacker, watching it fire and detonate the weapons before they could get too close. It had to be automated, she surmised. Which suited her fine, setting aside any concerns about killing anyone as she turned and fired disruptors. Kiss this...

It kissed back with more plasma beams, bringing down her shields and sending feedback through her primary systems, almost sending her out of her chair. SHIT! What the frick was this thing? It seemed to be adapting, like a Borg, only more quickly!

*

Orlok returned to the cockpit as the ship lurched again. "What is happening? I assumed your computer would be able to pilot us to Elba II without incident, but clearly I was mistaken."

"You can always consume some of your own biotoxins," Parker snapped.

Fantomax clung to the arms of her chair, as the Rat Pack scurried around, their collective anxiety over the current situation overriding their collective mind. "Your input is not appreciated at this time, Doctor. We are currently attempting to escape a firefight that seems determined to keep us at its centre, and not upset the destabilised space as well."

"Milady!" the computer retorted, his snark dialled up to 11, before announcing, "I'm receiving a transmission from that robot attacking the flyer. It- It- It-"

Static filled the rest of the air.

"Parker?" Fantomax asked, confused. She moved over the controls; something was accessing, taking over everything! Parker's neural net was being overwritten! God, no, she was losing him! "PARKER!"

A voice returned. It wasn't Parker's.

"PREPARE FOR INCINERATION!"

*

"Tell me the Beam is ready," Weynik ordered.

"It is, Sir," Mori responded curtly.

"And you have full power available?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"And you can keep the beam sustained for at least ten seconds, even if the target area moves?"

"I don't know, Sir!"

The Roylan nodded, unoffended by the sharpness of the young Caitian. "Fair enough. Take us in, Mr Grel, before they restore their shields. I know all our weapons are in the aft section, so we're gonna have to rely on our own shields, and blind luck, to keep us alive long enough for this to work."

"Aye, Sir!"

The Katana turned sharply and drove forward towards the Molotok.

*

"They're coming in for another attack!" Traxin announced.

"Enough of this," Kazan growled. "Face them! All weapons, fire!"

The Molotok turned sharply and charged at her opponent, torpedoes launched.

The torpedoes struck the Katana's shields, flaring loudly.

Unnoticed, the Katana's blue oval deflector dish, normally active only when the starship was in flight to push aside dust and debris ahead of it, was glowing with a fierce white fire, as an invisible beam shot forth from it to hit the Molotok.

And pass through it.

*

The Katana shook, but held her course and continued her charge, even as the Molotok's torpedoes were joined by the phaser pulses. Stations blew and debris fell around them, smoke mingled with the klaxons and the cries of reports around the Bridge.

"KEEP GOING!" Weynik cried out, wondering if he was even being heard. He glanced to his right, seeing Mori fixed on his console, counting the seconds through gritted teeth. Three seconds... Four... Five...

*

"They're not firing anything back?" Hope asked.

"Yes, they are!" Crosby countered. "A neutrino beam! But neutrinos are harmless! They pass through solid matter, passing through us right now! Why would they do that?"

Kazan felt his stomach twist. Yes, why would Weynik do that?

*

Sasha prepared to launch another attack on the drone, when the drone suddenly swooped around the Tailless, moved towards the Thunderbird One... and slammed into it, making both ships blossom with energy and debris.

Whoa... she scanned the area, finding no other vessels, not transporter beams or cloaks. Talk about ruthless...

Sasha stopped contemplating, turning around and joining her ship in the fight.

*

The Molotok's assault continued. He stared at the viewscreen, even though it was all white from the energy barrage. The seconds moved like snails on sedatives. Shields at 15%... 10%... Come on, come on-

"DONE!" Mori screamed over the noise.

"EVASIVE!" Weynik screamed back.

The Katana dipped, the phaser pulses from the Molotok pouring over the dorsal side of the Sabre-class starship, its shields failing entirely.

The lights died.

The ceiling ripped open, exposing the Bridge to space.

With a deafening roar, the pressure within sought to equilibrate with the vacuum outside by blowing the air out of the Bridge.

Crew cried out in the darkness, grabbing at their chairs or each other, as PADDs and debris were blown out of the hole above.

Weynik clutched his chair, his strength and experience preparing him, even as he waited for the emergency system to kick in and erect a force field.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Holtzmann get ripped out of her chair at Science and head for the hole, without any air left to even scream.

Then Mori left his own secure post to intercept her, his Caitian strength and dexterity letting him twist them both around and fling her at Weynik.

The Captain reached out instinctively and caught her, even as he tried, somehow, to try and grab onto Mori as well... but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

He watched Mori continue upwards. Where were the Goddamn force fields?

Mori hurled into space... just as the force field finally erected above them, people and debris stopped flying around, and the atmosphere began pumping back into the Bridge. It remained dark, but lights began appearing around them, like stars.

Weynik wasn't thinking of stars, though. Just one brave young officer lost among them. "Get the sensors back online! Track Lt Mori's combadge! Beam him back!"

"We can't do either!" Jor-Dakk responded, "The interference!"

*

Kazan rose back to his feet. "Stop the attack! Veer off!"

"Why?" Hope asked. "We have them on the ropes!"

"I said VEER OFF! Scan the interior! Weynik wouldn't have just fired a neutrino beam at us because he could! There has to be something behind it-"

"Sir!" Crosby looked up from Engineering. "The intermix chamber of the warp core! The neutrinos have caused a malfunction in the chamber! The plasma pressure's building up rapidly!"

The Siberian's pulse triphammered, remembering all the horror stories about the dangers of intermix chamber malfunctions. "Vent the plasma!"

The young man pounded his console in frustration. "We can't! We can't even eject the core!"

"If we go to warp and leave," Vargas suggested. "We could relieve the pressure until we repair the damage caused!"

"Subspace remains too volatile!" Danetha reminded them sharply. "If we try to warp out we'll be ripped to pieces!"

"And if we don't try, we'll blow up!" Kazan countered, turning back to stand behind Vargas at the Helm. "Take us to warp! Now!"

As the woman turned and dutifully complied, Kazan reached into his jacket. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

He prepared for the worst.

*

Sasha watched with horror the attack on the Katana, saw the other ship swept over the top of her ship, still firing.

As the ship formerly known as the Dallas kept moving away, she saw the scars on the Katana... and the breach in the top of the Bridge. God, no...

Memories flooded back to her, to the Battle of Khavak, when the remains of a Jem'Hadar Scarab ship slammed into the doors of the Surefoot's Shuttlebay, when it was filled with the wounded that they had been collecting from the battlefield. She remembered being in a shuttle outside, watching helplessly as bodies were blown out into the void, and the systems on the Surefoot had been too damaged to compensate, before she took desperate action.

She raced back to the Katana, wondering why history had to be so shitty to have to repeat itself. "Tailless to Katana! Answer! Answer, Goddammit!"

*

"Trying to establish a warp field!" Vargas cried, as the Molotok began twisting and grinding in on itself, the gravimetric protests too great. "Imbalance- Wormhole Effect- Collapse-"

This was it, Kazan thought. His first real ship command since Starfleet, and he was about to lose it.

He reached out, grabbed Vargas by the arm, yanked her out of her chair and pulled her into an embrace, as they and everything around them erupted.

*

Weynik ignored the exposed portion of the Bridge ceiling and the invisible force field now protecting them, to rush up to Ops, where Jor-Dakk and Engineering Crewman Zetee were frantically working the controls. "Get him back!"

Zetee, a salmon-pink Saurian male with big black eyes, his nostril flaps fluttering to the point of near-hyperventilation, never looked up. "The transporters are offline, Captain! And the subspatial contortions are still strong-"

An alert on Tactical made Jor-Dakk report, "The Dallas has just imploded, Sir."