To Catch a Thief
Posted on Fri Apr 5th, 2024 @ 7:46pm by Lieutenant JG William Verhoeven & Fleet Captain Maxwell Culver & Commander Lorut Vila & Lieutenant Dovenice Nyx & Lieutenant JG Scott Jones & Lieutenant JG Aurora House of Kor
3,486 words; about a 17 minute read
Mission:
Home Sweet Home
Location: USS Intrepid: McCall class Fighters
Timeline: MD4: 0900 hours
“Attention all fighter pilots to your craft! Shuttlebays one and two are prepared for your departure,” the calm voice sounded across the decks of the Intrepid.
Max sat forward in his chair on the bridge. “Helm set heading zero nine zero mark two three two. Back through the nebula,” Max ordered, pausing at the profundity of recent revelations. “Back into unknown space.”
Having just finished his preflight inspection of all attack shuttles, Scott took only seconds to get into his own that he had spent hours trying to customize to his liking. There were various settings he liked to tweak to have them just right for his controls. Having what few pilots that had arrived onboard, he reported in that his department was ready to go. As soon as they arrived, he planned to launch and begin a patrol group of the ship immediately.
"Captain? May I offer my services? The cetaceans have been seen to and I kinda feel a bit useless just standing around," Aurora asked softly.
Aurora'd come up to the Bridge because she was curious to see what was going on...her curiosity was gonna get her into trouble someday!
“We’re launching fighters, Lieutenant Aurora. Any chance you’ve got to upgrade your flight hours on a live mission?” Max asked, if that was what Aurora was offering.
"Heck yeah! Er...ahem...I mean, yes, Sir, I want to upgrade my flight hours," Aurora mentally chided herself for being as silly as a baby Zimaltadpole!
“Better be off to catch up with Lieutenant Jones. You’ll probably want a SpecOps guy to partner with weapons on,” Max suggested. He wasn’t sure how well Aurora could fly and fire at the same time.
“And it’s a fighter operation only. Intrepid isn’t meant to be sitting in on this game of cat and mouse,” he reminded her.
"Aye, Captain. No cat and mouse antics, promise! [Yes!]" Aurora mentally pumped her fist excitedly as she scurried to find Lieutenant Jones.
Scott was climbing into his fighter having just finished a short pep talk with the pilots he had, the four of them were a mixed bag of experience, however all were cleared for solo flight and commanding all aspects of their craft on their own. It was at this moment he heard steps coming up behind him and spun around.
"Lieutenant Jones? I'm Lieutenant JG Aurora House of Kor. Usually I'm Chief of the Cetacean's but I'm also a pilot, and the Captain said I could fly with you," Aurora grinned, holding out her hand.
Taking the hand in his usual professional firm grip, Scott smiled warmly, welcome for anyone wanting to take a shot in a fighter, "Glad to have you, follow me as we get set up. What's your pilot or fighter experience? Just so I know if I need to get a 'gunner' in for you for this mission." He started to lead towards the readying fighters.
"Yes, Sir! It's been a hobby, but I've stayed up to date on my piolt's license and have been practicing in the Holodeck off and on to stay limber. A gunner would be useful though as I've not been as good at keeping up my target practice...Father'll be pretty angry once he hears about this," Aurora huffed softly as she scampered after the Lt.
⌘Shuttlebay One⌘
In the shuttlebay, Nyx worked on installing a new interface control panel on the Intel ship. Two weeks was an impossible timeline for the project as outlined but she was willing to tackle it one system at a time. She listened to an audiobook through an earpiece while she connected lines, pulling one cable at a time. She was in her zone.
Her book paused, interrupted by a call from the Bridge. She rubbed her head where she smacked it in surprise. "Nyx to bridge," she said into the comm line that she opened. "Engines are on standby. I need, minimum, ten minutes to prime them to ready." While she ran out of the shuttle bay towards main Engineering others ran toward the bay. She felt like a fish swimming upstream to spawn and managed to move to the wall where the rapids were less likely to carry her into the bay again.
⌘
“Understood, Lieutenant Nyx. We’ll be moving at impulse back into the nebula. That should give you plenty of time to prime the engines to ready,” Max responded. The skeleton crew were all lower decks and trying their damnedest to keep up.
“Glad to have you aboard, Dove. It’s you and me against the newbs.”
⌘Main Engineering⌘
When Nyx entered Main Engineering, the small team of Engineers, indeed, were all ranked Ensign or lower. But that didn't concern her. They were all very well trained. The impulse engines were ready and the warp drive was on its way to being ready. On such short notice, it spoke volumes about her staff's abilities. She checked the boards then updated the bridge with a systems go report.
⌘
Vila kept watch from her console on the activities in the airspace around them. She was glad to see it was clear-as it should be, of course. With any luck, the fighters would be off on practice flights, her shift would end, and she could turn the reins over to Max. Somehow, she felt like there was going to be a kink in her plan, though, so she stayed put for the moment. She had two hours left, anyway. Twelves were a terrible idea.
As the USS Intrepid slipped back into the deep blues and bright yellows of the nebula, Max sat silently on the bridge. The viewscreen faltered on occasion, filling with static as the nebula interfered.
“Initialize the new science probes and launch when ready,” Max ordered.
“Um, probes initialized and launched, Captain. They’re moving into position before beginning their circumferential movement patterns around the ship. Widening to furthest distance for best performance in the nebula.”
Max wasn’t sure who the ensign at Tactical was, but she was young and nervous. He hoped the fighters could do the work and catch the thieves who had stolen from the El-Aurians for months now.
“How far into the nebula are we now?” Max asked. It was strange being the only command officer on duty and surrounded by lower decks kids, by his estimate.
“Fifteen thousand kilometers from the Katosian edge of the nebula, sir,” came the response from Will Verhoeven.
Max was glad he had his primary helmsman, even if he wasn’t chief of the department. For a moment, he wondered why they hadn’t just promoted him to the position permanently. “Hold position, Will.”
Opening a channel to the main and secondary shuttle bays, Max announced, “Lieutenant Jones, launch fighters on your command. Be aware, we’ve deployed the new probes but they shouldn’t interrupt your flight paths. Acknowledge.”
"Acknowledged," replied Scott, his usual cheery, jovial demeanour melting away into a more serious and focused personality. "All fighters report in status and a go no go for launch. We are launching in a low power, recon mode only. Dim all cabin lighting, weapons on hot standby and drift in as much as possible."
Wara touched multiple controls in her small cockpit. She wasn’t technically a fighter pilot, but she needed the hours to keep her certification. Besides, there was only so much shore leave a Bolian could take, even if Brix was a fun friend to hang around with. “Acknowledged, pack leader, recon mode, low lights and weapons at full.” She almost recommended that they activate the masking of their ion trails, but recon mode and the nebula would do that for them.
[This is so much cooler/scarier in a real battle!] Aurora felt a shiver race down her spine.
"Go for launch. Flight control, keep the bays open for us. Captain, proceeding low power mode, sensors to full," Scott said looking out at the readings of his own ship and the readings he was getting from this wing. Each fighter raised up from its moorings and began drifting towards the open shuttle bay hatch. One by one each fighter was washed over with the blue glow of the forcefield that was keeping atmospheric pressure inside while they looked out into the void beyond.
"Now, this is your first flight with me, I like formations tight, call out what you see, if you need help, a quiet pilot is no good to anyone out here." Scott was inputting his final adjustments to his fighter. "I repeat that we go into this recon mostly. Don't fire unless fired upon. The smallest blip on your sensors, call it out. We aren't aiming for kill shots today, so ease up on those trigger fingers. Target to disable only. Questions, comments, let's get them out now before we clear the Intrepid's airspace."
“Call names, Lieutenant? I’m known as Blue Flame. Aurora?” Wara asked. Most pilots had call signs. It was an old tradition, really.”
"That's cool! Hm...give me a second," Aurora thought for a moment.
"Call me, Shock Force," Aurora grinned, wondering why she'd never picked a Nickname before!
"In usual tradition, callsigns are earned not claimed," Scott replied back over the comms, "For this mission, we can stick to usual surnames and can discuss this after should anything come up. Happy for you to go with those names after that. And before you ask, mine is Heartbreaker. Now, questions about the mission? Formations of two, sensor sweeps looking for anything unusual. We are looking for pirate craft out here. Transponders won't be registering, engine trails are next to impossible to pick up in current conditions of the nebula. So I want you to be looking out for odd power fluctuations, movements of any debris in an odd manner as if from a deflector and nothing beats a good old visual scan. The probes will do their best to relay information to us, but nothing beats someone out in the field."
"Yes, Sir...er, Heartbreaker," Aurora hunched her shoulders, grateful he couldn't see her.
“Blue Flame is earned, Heartbreaker,” Wara emphasized his ridiculous callsign. “Though, I will prefer to call you Lieutenant Jones…I’m Lieutenant Tête. In human, my surname means ‘head’. Don’t lose yours, sir.” She was also known for her attitude, surely he had learned this. If not before, he knew it now.
“And launch!” Wara called before muting her side of the channel. “Ass,” she said to no one but the cockpit. “He should change his name to Headacher.”
Mentally rolling his eyes Scott thought to himself, 'Two days, I've been here two days and never had as much confrontation in my life. He used the computer to check the status of all comm channels, knowing a familiar click after the end of a particular attitude and further used the computer to send a written message to Wara instructing her to turn her comms back on in case of emergency. He also instructed the computer to send her a message when they returned to the ship to meet him in the pilot's meeting room. This was a conversation that needed having, but having that play on someone's mind wasnt conducive to safe flying and a successful mission in Scott's mind.
Wara adjusted her channel open, but remained quiet, listening to the sound of her own breathing, the hum of the impulse engines and the occasional cascade of button pressing as she adjusted course.
Some time would pass before anything showed up on sensors, Scott called out, "All fighters turn to heading 212 mark 16 and direct your sensors there. I'm picking up some odd readings." His readout was showing him multiple blips of different power signatures from different ships all on one spot. Federation, Romulan, Cardassian, Klingon...all in the slightest little blip. It was certainly worth investigating and he positioned his ship to move in. If everyone was directing their sensors to do the same, they would be as well.
From her position, Wara was doing the same sensor sweep. She found it too coincidental that all of those power signatures would be in one place. “This seems like a decoy, a misdirect to send us looking here instead of somewhere else, Lieutenant Jones,” she said over open coms while remaining as passive as possible.
"If it is confirmed, it is worth investigating, myself, wingman, and Lieutenant Wara will be on me as we check this out. Lieutenant Aurora, you and your wingman will keep on patrol and scanning. Report anything you see suspicious. I feel a good old mark one eyeball scan is going to come in handy here."
“Acknowledged,” Wara responded, glad to be doing something besides chasing sensor glitches.
"Um, Acknowledged. [What the what!?]" Aurora scratched her head, at the last part of his orders...thankfully understanding that she was to be on patrol.
As the fighters approached the signal, the gasses of the nebula began to clear away into what appeared initially as a small cluster of different ships, but it wasn't. A closer inspection showed the pieces were merged into some kind of craft that was a considerably large runabout. It had the cockpit of a Danube class runabout, the body of a Klingon fighter, the disruptor tips of a Romulan craft, the engine signature of a Cardassian ship, and a few other sections that were coming up as inconclusive. But there, stuck under what could only be described as the maw of the ship where Federation and Klingon technologies met was a small El-Aurian craft, the type they had been looking for.
Scott's hand instantly flicked to the comms, "Unknown vessel, unknown vessel, you have in possession a ship protected by Federation authorities. Release your tractor lock."
A returned message revealed a typical enemy in the amalgamated vessel. “I am Ru of the Pakleds. We are strong. We will take the supplies. We are strong.”
Scott raised an eyebrow very skeptically, "Ru of Packleds, there will be no taking of supplies. Once again, release your tractor lock. This is your last warning." Flipping his comms to the fighters only, "All fighters, all fighters, report to my coordinates. We have a Packled ship holding a shuttle. I have a feeling this is going to get dicey quickly," he switched comms back to the ship, "Jones to Intrepid, I don't know if you can monitor this from here, we have a Packled ship holding a shuttle hostage. There is only what I can guess is an aggressive tone around their message about taking supplies and being strong. Please advise. We are sitting weapons ready to disable if need be."
Max was waiting for the call from Lieutenant Jones. He had Wara open the channel. “Understood, Lieutenant. Recommend firing on and disabling their weapons first, then target their shields and weapons to make our point.
“If necessary, take out their weapons, but I would prefer they ran home with a story that this place is protected. I’ll send the information you’ve accumulated to the Kaitos Defense Force directly.”
“Good job, Lieutenant,” Max added before closing the channel.
[This just got interesting!] Aurora thought as the hair rose on the nape of her neck.
"Acknowledged,” Scott replied to the ship before turning his attention to the rest of the fighters, "Alright you heard the Captain. As thought, we are going in to disable only. Weapons and shields. We need to give them one last chance to comply."
Flipping the comms to the Packled ship, Scott began targeting weapon subsystems and the tractor beam itself and relayed these scans back to the other ships. While he was sure the computer had picked out most of the weapon hard points, he couldn't be sure with the mishmash of the vessel. "Ru of Packled. This is your final warning, release tractor lock of the ship. They are under Federation protection and will be defended accordingly," his voice was cold and pointed to drive the message home.
“The Federation is weak. You make words but no action. Pakled is strong because the Federation moved us from the place we made go boom. We have learned how to make ships stronger. We want these supplies, so we are taking them.” Ru closed the channel and ordered the crew to speed up the theft.
Wara rolled her eyes. More of this Pakled nonsense? She had thought the Federation was keeping a wary eye on the not-so-bright species that had vied for dominance almost twenty years ago.
Then again, with the reintroduction of synthetic people, the pull back from the Romulan Neutral Zone after Hobus went nova and the creation of a new but permanent transwarp hub that was monitored by the Borg, effectively, and the final attack by the…other Borg, the bad ones. The Federation had their hands full. She had also heard rumors of a small terraforming device, called Genesis, being used on Ihhuein ei'krih, from which Intrepid had officially been launched.
It felt like half the galaxy had gone mad, and it was the wrong half! She targeted the Pakleds and prepared to fire. They were nothing if not stupidly stubborn.
"Then you leave us no choice," Scott replied and turned comms to the fighters only, "Open fire on dedicated targeted subsystems only. Remember, we are disabling only. Not on full power. Weapons and shields only." His brow furrowed as the interior lighting almost instinctually went from a pale blue to red as more tactical information filled the HUD. Pulling one of the controls closer to him Scott began spooling up the phaser cannons in a lower powered mode. Making sure he had targeted the tractor beam emitter Scott began a strafing run to fire upon it. Each shot hitting the target with deadeye precision. Anyone around would see now why he got to the position he was in, he was a damned good shot and never that boastful about it. Hit after hit after hit found its mark as the emitter struggled to keep power.
[So awesome!] Aurora could hear what was going on over the comms, but since she was in a scouting position, she couldn't see what was going on.
Wara’s own fighter cockpit went from blue to red and her HUD displayed their second targets. Her fighter roared into the battle, keeping track of friendly versus enemy targets, she damn near slid over the Pakled vessel and ran her own strafing pattern on the primary shield system. Weakening, but not disabling it entirely.
She effectively flipped her fighter upside down in a motion that, without inertial dampers, would have made her go unconscious. Even with them straining, Wara took a second volley of shots. Her second attack taking out their primary shields.
“If someone would like to focus on weapons for a moment?” Wara suggested while catching her breath and letting her brain recover from the intense g-force of the maneuver she had just pulled.
The attitude was getting a little annoying and Scott was doing his best to ignore it and add it to his list of the conversation that had to happen later. "There are plenty of fighters here who are doing just that," he looked over at his own wingman who was targeting what looked like a disruptor cannon, "You are more than welcome to switch targets now we are achieving our objectives."
Scott then turned his attention to the free shuttle, encouraging them to head towards the Intrepid.
Max leaned forward in his seat. “Helm, move to shield the Kaitosian vessel. Put us between them and that Pakled monstrosity,” he ordered.
Opening a channel, he addressed the supply ship. “Kaitosian supply ship EL-2, do you require assistance?”
“Negative, Intrepid, you and your team did a marvelous job of discovering our thieves and allowing us to protect our own ships now that we know what to look for. Thank you, EL-2 out.”
Max closed the channel and flipped open to the fighters. “Go ahead and mop up there, squad leader,” he ordered. “Disable everything but their engines and deflectors. Let them tuck tail and run. Then get yourselves back to the barn, if you don’t mind. It’s bad enough I’ve called you away from leave already.
“But we had a duty to perform and you’ve excelled. I’ll make a grand report of it, to be sure…once I get your action reports afterward. “Intrepid out.”
"Acknowledged Intrepid. All fighter, all fighters. Finish up on current target and head home. Job well done," Scott replied. In his mind it could have gone better, but that will come with time, training and additional fighter pilots.
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