Lit Challenge 25: First Mission

[This was an unofficial one, about our character's first day on the job... which struck me as a bit of a non-starter at first, because we already know what their first day was like, it was the introductory tutorial mission for the game....

Unless, of course, you happened to have a character available with a non-standard backstory.]

Personal log: Veronika "Ronnie" Grau, officer commanding USS Goshawk, NX-265

"I have command," I say, formally, saluting the heavy-set man before me.

"You have command, sir," Martin Hudson confirms with an equally formal salute. My new exec is a big man, with dark hair turning a little salt-and-pepper at the temples. Older than me... that'll take some management. "If you want to make a speech, sir, the podium's set up in the mess hall."

"Oh, hell, no," I say. "I haven't got time for all that malarkey. Just let me get to the bridge and meet my senior officers, will you?" There will be time to get to know my crew, and boring them all into insensibility with an I-am-conscious-of-this-honour-and-responsibility speech is so not my style. I think I can feel a wave of disapproval crashing over me from Commander Hudson, though, as he leads me to the turbolift. Not that I need to be led, I know my way round an NX-class starship by now.

"Why do they still call them NX?" I wonder aloud. "We've built more than two hundred and fifty of them, they've got to stop being experimental at some point. I should've asked Admiral Reed about it at that reception last night...." But Reed was busy nattering with a bunch of our Vulcan and Andorian allies, and anyway he doesn't need the opinions of the likes of me. Hudson says nothing. I start to worry a little. I don't really want an executive officer I can't get on with - having been a lousy exec myself, I know how much it makes a captain's job harder. Hudson is showing early signs of being a bad exec - maybe a different kind of bad exec from me, but still a bad exec. He has a definite passed-over-in-favour-of-this-young-hotshot look about him, and that's not good.

"Captain on the bridge!" And a whole bunch of people in blue coveralls stand up and salute. So I salute back, and say, "Stand easy, everyone. I'm Ronnie Grau, I'm in charge of this shebang, so let's get to know each other, shall we?"

Hudson makes the introductions. "Lieutenant Commander Nansen, head of engineering." A tall, solid, grey-haired man, Nansen looks dependable. That's a good thing in a chief engineer. "Subcommander Sunod, sciences." A slender Vulcan, wearing Vulcan diplomatic robes instead of Starfleet uniform, face frozen solid like any good Vulcan's. "Dr. Cholt." Round, smiling, Denobulan face, I can get along with Denobulans, this isn't so bad. "Lieutenant Hall, armory officer." She is plump, dark-haired, rather prim in appearance. Hope she's good. "Ensign Koslov, communications." Small, dark-haired, a little excitable-looking. He looks all right, though. "Ensign Lewes, helm and navigation." She has jet-black hair maybe one shade darker than her skin, and her eyes are brown, steady and level; she projects an air of competence. Let's hope it's justified.

"OK," I say. "We're going to have plenty of time to find out more about each other - first job we've got lined up is taking us out past 61 Cygni, our Tellarite buddies have some problem they want Starfleet to look into." I plump myself down in the command chair. It feels surprisingly comfortable.

"Details, sir?" asks Sunod.

"Don't have 'em, yet. Our first step will be to check in with the Tellarites and get the gen from them. After that, it'll be command conference time, and we'll work out a plan of action. OK, then. Let's open this baby up, point her in the direction of Tellar, and see what she can do." Enthusiastic grin from Koslov, slight smiles from Nansen and Lewes. Engineering and helm both want to show me their stuff, this is good. Hudson's face is blanker than the Vulcan's. Not so good.

"Sending departure clearance request to space traffic control," says Koslov. Oh, right, I knew I was forgetting something. I got into too many bad habits during the Romulan war.

"Thrusters ahead full," Lewes reports. "Impulse engines on standby... clearance received... we're good to go, sir."

"OK," I say. "Ahead full impulse. Stand ready for warp drive as soon as we reach system limits." I've warped out from low Earth orbit before, granted, but it rattles your teeth.

The docking cradle dwindles in the reverse angle viewer. I hear tell they have plans, somewhere, for an enclosed spacedock, a massive orbital structure that'll house dozens of ships. Sounds ambitious, and maybe impractical. I check the readouts on the command chair's armrests - all this built-in instrumentation, I'll grant you, is a good idea.

"Proceeding on departure vector," says Lewes.

"Sensors are clear," says Sunod, then, "Wait. I have a contact at extreme range."

Now that's interesting. There's a fair amount of traffic in Sol system anyway, granted, but space is big - there's no reason for anything out there to be getting in our way. I sit forward a little bit. "Get me a read on it."

"Configuration and power levels suggest... a warship. Close match for an Andorian design," says Sunod.

"Confirm that, sir," says Koslov. "I'm getting a transponder ID... IGV Charal. Sir, they're hailing us."

"OK, let's see what they've got to say. On screen." I lean back again.

A blue face forms in the main viewer, a fierce face, topped with twitching antennae. "I am Commander Ythav th'Shal of the Imperial Guard," he announces himself.

"Pleased to meet you," I say. "Captain Veronika Grau of the USS Goshawk. What the heck, call me Ronnie, everyone does. So what can we do for the Imperial Guard?"

Th'Shal leans forward, so that his face fills my screen. "You can die, Grau. By clan-honour and clan-right, I invoke justice upon you. Commend your soul to whatever gods you serve, Grau, for your life ends today."

The screen goes blank. "Sir," says Sunod, "the Charal has powered weapons and is moving on an intercept vector."

Aw, cripes. "OK," I say, "let's not panic. Let's go max evasive, and power up weapons, and oh, yeah, red alert. Koslov, can you get a priority message through to Starfleet Command?"

"Trying, sir," says Koslov, "but the Charal seems to be jamming on all frequencies." Oh, well, no surprise there. I try to remember what I know about the Charal. Variant on the Kumari design, I think, with a chunkier fuselage and more of a tech and operations bent... but with the same nasty weapons mix as the Kumari. I do not want to be in that ship's forward firing arc, it will be bad for my health.

What the hell did I do to offend the Andorians? Though that guy th'Shal did look vaguely familiar.

"Charal will be in effective weapons range in three minutes," Sunod warns me.

"Right," I say, "so let's try and keep him ineffective. Run evasion pattern Theta, try to get on his flanks, stay out of the firing solution for his forward cannons."

"Do we return fire?" asks Lieutenant Hall.

"If fired upon - oh, hell, yes."

"The Andorians are our allies, sir," says Hudson.

"Tell him that," I say. "Actually, that's a thought. Koslov, transmit the Articles of Federation at him on every channel you can manage. It might remind him of his treaty obligations, or bore him into a coma. Either would be good." I swear I can see the Andorian ship on the main screen, now, a dot of light zooming across the starscape. "Lewes, start that evasion pattern, now."

Time is on my side. Every minute I can stay alive is a minute in which Earth forces can spot what's going on, can scramble more ships to intercept, can help me. The Andorians are our allies, I don't want to kill that ship if I can possibly help it. Something is very wrong here, though. I key the intercom. "Attention all crew," I say, "this is Captain Grau. We are under attack by an Andorian ship, claiming clan-honour as a pretext. If anyone here might have offended an Andorian clan in any way, let me know now. I'm not suggesting handing anyone over to them, but if we can find out what's causing this, it might give us some way to negotiate. Lines are open. In the meantime, stand ready at battle stations, people, this could get rough."

"Charal is firing, sir," says Sunod. At extreme range: little blue-white flashes of hot Andorian phaser light stippling the starfield. "Impacts registering. Minimal damage, taking hits from their turrets only." Lewes is flinging the ship around in a random-walk evasion pattern, staying out of the deadly cone of fire from the Charal's main cannons. So far -

A bluish light comes probing towards us. "Polarize the hull plating!" I snap.

"Sir," says Hudson, "we have shields now."

"Polarize the hull anyway. Let's make assurance doubly sure, and besides, he's trying for us with a tractor beam." Everything seems unnaturally peaceful. The inertial dampeners are compensating smoothly for Lewes's manoeuvres, and the light hits from the Andorian's turrets aren't shaking us at all....

"Polarizing hull," says Nansen. "Ah, right. The graviton potentials cancel out, a tractor beam can't lock on a polarized hull." I don't know where I remembered that bit of information from, but I'm damned glad I did.

"Something is wrong," says Koslov. "Standard Andorian honour challenges follow a set stylistic pattern -"

"Not now, Ensign," says Hudson.

The screen flares as the Charal's tractor beam gropes ineffectually over us. The Andorian is close enough to see, now; stubby bullet-shaped hull and wide wings, like some fighter plane out of Earth's past. But this is now, and the Charal is no little atmospheric fighter, but a starship - a fully armed, and very nimble starship, as she shows by slewing round in a tight turn -

"Hard to port!"

Goshawk twists and turns, just - just - eluding the sudden barrage of phaser fire from the Charal's forward cannons. Lewes is cursing under her breath. Th'Shal is smart, and his ship is fast and agile. We are not going to be able to keep out of his arc of fire for long.

My arc of fire is wider; I check. Hall is returning fire with the phase cannons, but if they're having any impact on the Andorian ship, I'm sure as heck not seeing it.

We need an edge, somehow, somewhere, and we need it now. "Steer three one seven mark two zero," I say. Turning wider, to buy us a little more space, a little more time. "Lewes. Flirt with him."

"Sir?"

"Try and stay just outside the arc of his cannons. Make him think he can hit us if he tries hard enough."

"He might very well be right, sir," says Lewes. "That guy's good."

"Don't I know it. The psycho-smurfs always were.... What the hell did I do to get this guy mad at me?"

"Do you recall anything?" asks Sunod.

"No. Though I'm sure I've seen him before. But I don't know where." Blue-white phaser bolts spatter across the sky again. A warning light flashes on my readouts. Shield strength is falling.

"Flirting, sir," says Lewes. "But that was no love-tap."

"OK," I say. "Flirt some more... then, next time he lets go with a barrage, fake a cripple. Make him think he's winged us. After which -" I sketch out a path on the tactical repeater. "I want this."

"Can do, sir," says Lewes. "Assuming he doesn't cripple us for real."

"Nansen. Full power to shields, everything you can spare for RCS thrusters. Never mind the phase cannons, they're not hurting him any." And I don't know why that is, either. "Hall, leave weapons systems for the moment... concentrate on one thing. The grappler."

"Charal is coming around!" yells Lewes. "Cannons building - firing now!"

"Do it!" I yell.

Goshawk slews and tumbles in space. The starfield swirls vertiginously in the viewscreen. The lethal shape of the Andorian looms up, suddenly closing for the kill. I pray that Lewes has swung us on to the right vector, that Nansen has pumped enough reserve power into the RCS arrays -

"Now!"

My ship steadies and leaps forward, Andorian phaser fire blazing harmlessly over her as we duck beneath the oncoming Charal and move in a tight, tight turn.

"Grappler now!"

"Grappler away." A slight shudder, as the grappling hook shoots out of our hull. "Running," says Hall, "running... impact... and locked. We're locked to the Charal's rear engine assembly."

"Awright," I say with satisfaction. "Lewes, keep the tension on the line. Hall, now's time for the phase cannons. Take out those rear-mounted turrets."

And we'll be safe, at least for long enough. With Goshawk grappled tightly to his rear quadrant, th'Shal can't turn his ship tight enough to bring that lethal forward armament to bear. And he can polarize his hull till the cows come home, it'll make no difference to the claw of the grappler. We've bought ourselves time, and time was always on our side.

Damage lights wink at me. "Hall," I say irritably, "take those turrets out." Fire from the Andorian is still weakening our forward screen.

"I hit them," says Hall. "I'm sure I hit them... setting up for another barrage, sir."

"Hold on," I say. Something is wrong here... and, all of a sudden, I think I know what is wrong.

"Koslov," I say. "You were saying something about the Andorian honour challenge?"

"Uh, yes, sir," says Koslov. "They have - they are always specific, sir. About the cause of the offence, whatever it might be - they always state it, sir, explicitly, so there can be no argument."

Click, click, click, goes the row of dominoes falling inside my head. "Still registering hits from their weapons," I say. "Lieutenant Hall. Put a stop to that, please. Target their engine section, all phase cannons, maximum fire."

Hall's head snaps round towards me. As does every other head on the bridge. "I know what I'm doing," I say. "You have your orders. Fire."

I'll give her credit, she doesn't hesitate. Hudson looks like he'd like to say something, though. "Opening fire," says Hall. "Target's shields dropping... registering damage.... Sir, the Charal is... is destroyed. Warp core breach."

I smile, then. "Mr. Koslov," I say. "Hail the Charal."

"We just destroyed the Charal!," says Hudson.

"Did we?" There's a couple of things that prove I'm right; I name the most obvious one. "Then what's our grapple still locked on to?"

"Hailing," says Koslov. He looks utterly bewildered. "Sir, I'm... I'm getting a response."

"On screen."

Ythav th'Shal looks as though he's sucking lemons. "Nicely done, Captain Grau," he says. A beast, but a just beast.

"Thanks," I say. "Can we have the computer codes, now, to bring our weapons out of simulation mode? And give my regards to Admiral Reed, will you? I guess you cooked up this little tactical exercise at the reception last night?" I knew I'd seen him before.

"I did tell him," th'Shal grumbles, "that the simulation wouldn't be good enough to fool an experienced combat commander. We had a little bet, even - he thought you would trust your instruments too much, that you would not notice the lack of impact from our bolts, the absence of transient EM surges in your power grid. Well, I have won that bet, I should thank you for that, at least...."

"Good," I say. "And for whatever it's worth, Commander, I'm damned glad it was a simulation, because I for sure do not want to be up against your ship for real."

Th'Shal laughs. "It is best if we're on the same side," he says. "I won't trouble you further, Captain Grau. Good luck on your voyage to Tellar."

"Thanks. OK, folks, release grapple, stand down from red alert, check those computer codes... and let's be on our merry way." I sink back into the command chair. "Whatever the Tellarites throw at us, I'm damned sure it can't be anything worse than Admiral Reed's little surprises...."