Under Attack

Posted on Tue Feb 15th, 2022 @ 10:06pm by Captain Ivan Petrov

Mission: S1 Episode 1: Caretaker, Part I
Location: The Tomahawk
Timeline: MD 34, 1745 Hours
453 words - 0.9 OF Standard Post Measure

"This Oatmeal tastes like shit, Carl." Came the gruff voice of the man sitting at the end of the table. The dark blue bowl in front of him was half full with the watery mixture. Laughter from several of the others gathered around the table abounded, as they were also eating the oatmeal.

"Then eat shit, Danny." came the response from Carl, tightening his jaw and spooning some of the slop into his own mouth with a slight grimace. "I try to give us a break from that replicated trash and this is the thanks I get?"

"I think you hurt his feelings, Dan." came the voice of a female sitting close by. Her smile signaled her amusement.

"Serves him right for hurting my stomach." Danny responded, not carrying.

This ragtag group of Terrans were dirty and looked like they were in bad need of a vacation. How far their people had fallen since the Alliance had swept in and put them in chains. Democracy: the moronic scheme that made it all possible. Danny Ichay cursed Spock every day for destroying humanity with his reforms. Letting aliens lead got you decay and ruin; that was clear.

Danny was talented enough the be a senior officer of the Imperial Starfleet Academy of the fledgling Empire, but instead he was stuck on this garbage scow as the weapons officer. The Tomahawk was a small rebellion ship, comprising of three decks with phaser banks and torpedo tubes taped on. What could they do out here against the Alliance, even if there were newer ships fighting on their side? How long until he was dead and his name was forgotten?

He took another bite of the terrible mixture and, as he did, a loud alert sounded which made everyone at the table jump to their feet. Following Danny, they surged out the door and onto the metal-grated bridge. The Captain sat in the center chair, his blonde hair matted and tangled. They were close to Trill and dropped from warp for minor repairs to this rust bucket.

"Two Alliance Galor-class ships just dropped out of warp!" came the voice of the woman from the table. "They're on approach."

"Can we go to warp yet?" asked the Captain, looking back at the woman.

She shook her head.

"No...fuck! We're no match for two Cardassian ships!"

The Captain looked at the viewscreen, the image of two ships streaming toward them looming larger and larger.

"We're going to have to be." he said with a frown.

Danny felt his heart pounding in his chest as sweat began to bead on his brow. He ran his hands along the rough console and then called out.

"Weapons online. Here goes nothing!"