[Galaxy] War Stories: Garroway, Connors, Hawke, Killburn

[Robert]

[ Near "Jupiter's Ghost" nebula, Gamma Group, Endeavor, Bridge ]

"The ratio is good," Stone called from the Armory station.  "One in six 
is a victory by anyone's standards."

"We're not done yet, Commander, "Garroway said, and turned to comms, 
"What's the word, Lieutenant?"

"The remaining Klingons are gathering into formations," he called. 
"They're starting to concentrate fire.  They... Admiral, we just lost 
Soyuz and Hornet."

"Send in Apollo, Garuda and Revere," Garroway replied quickly.  "Three 
Sols for two Neptunes isn't a great trade, but Alpha is losing too many 
ships to complain.  What's the status on Challenger?"

"Klingons are boarding. Security teams are responding.  Most personnel 
are in escape pods but they haven't started abandoning ship yet."

"Beta?"

"Constitution reports green.  Meridian is red.  Still only two ships lost."

Garroway did the math as the viewscreen veered away from the Jupiter's 
Ghost nebula to take in the scale of the battle.  Stone's ratio may be 
good, but the odds were shifting.  Any moment and Endeavor with her two 
remaining escorts would move in.  They'd lose the strategic overview, 
but needed the tactical support.  The Klingons were starting to organize 
and Starfleet was losing the initiative.  "Where is Delta?"


----------


[ Naussicaan Coordinates, Delta Group, Intrepid, Astrometrics Lab ]

Lowe had pulled up a schematic of Intrepid on one of the larger 
monitors, indicating damage reports in red on the image with the text of 
the report scrolling down the side.  They were taking hits as fast as 
they could give them, but Intrepid's damage control teams turned red 
areas yellow, then green just as fast as something else came up.

"I don't envy those engineers right now," Connors said with a shake of 
his head.

"But God bless them," Lowe said in awe.

Intrepid rocked just as the door to Astrometrics opened, and Urbanek and 
Gordon stumbled in.  Urbanek was the first to regain his composure 
enough to speak.  "Are we winning?"

Connors looked at Everett who was still seated at the navigational 
console.  A comms earpiece was held in one ear as the man's eyes 
searched for something not confusing.  He looked at Connors, "I can't 
make out anything.  This isn't a comms station and I'm not a comms 
officer.  All I can tell you is that we're not dead yet."

"That's comforting," Connors replied with a sigh.  "You two," he pointed 
at Urbanek and Gordon, "find a chair before we get hit again and you 
crack your heads open on the deck."

Everett put the earpiece back in and closed his eyes to concentrate. 
Lowe's eyes were fixed to the damage reports.  Urbanek found a seat next 
to Lowe and started asking what "all those red areas" meant.  Gordon, 
noting the lack of additional seating with dismay, made his way to 
Connors and steadied himself on a nearby console.  "Well, Bill," Connors 
said, "this is a little harrier than when the Orions decided they didn't 
like us."

Gordon raised his eyebrows and said sternly, "That /wasn't/ my fault."

"It's alright.  I blame you for /this/, too," Connors said with a wink.

"Hey... Hey!" Everett called, "Shenandoah is listing, she may be out. 
Raiders incoming."

The other men fell silent.  "She's recovering, Yorktown is assisting."

The ship bucked and an ominous chirp from Lowe's monitor got him very 
interested.  "We're losing power," he said confused.  "That last hit 
didn't get us anywhere we..."  He tapped the monitor over the engine 
section of the schematic, and brought up the details in the engine room. 
  "Why are..." The entire wireframe image of the ship on his monitor 
turned red.  "What the...?"

"Did that last hit knock something loose?" Urbanek asked.  "Something 
the DC teams missed, or maybe something they couldn't get to?"

"I don't know," Lowe said as he frantically studied the monitor, "but 
whatever it was, it was one helluva lucky shot!"

"We're reporting the power failure to Shenandoah," Everett called with 
his hand covering the earpiece.  "No... we're sending a mayday!"

"Mayday?" Connors repeated.  The concern in his voice was etched on the 
faces of other men.

"It's cascading!" Lowe called.  "Systems are going down!  Comms, 
impulse... our plating is depolarizing!"

Intrepid bucked again, and a groan welled up from under their feet.

"What's happening?" Connors said.  His officer training kicked in and he 
tried to remain calm and clear.

Everett pulled the earpiece from his hear and let it drop to the floor 
as he moved to look at Lowe's monitor.  Gordon was pointing to several 
red sections now blinking.  One was a nacelle.

The intercom, full of buzzes and static, broke a frantic voice into the 
Astrometrics Lab.  "Containment breach!" the woman yelled.  "If you can 
hear this, run for the escape-"  A burst of static cut her off, then the 
intercom was silent.

"I thought we had failsafes for that!" Urbanek blurted out.  The 
temperature began to rise.

"None of it is working!" Everett yelled back.  The Astrometrics Lab was 
sweltering.

Connors was silent, calm.  As the other men yelled at each other in 
confusion, he had already assessed the situation.  The heat, now 
unbearable in the lab, was the radiation from the exposed warp core 
flooding through the ship.  The engineer on the intercom, as much as she 
was trying to help, could say or do nothing to save anyone.  No one 
would be able to make it to the escape pods, or if they did they would 
be dead from radiation poisoning or burns before they could be picked 
up.  The yelling men stopped yelling and began gasping as the air in the 
lab became superheated.  Connors last thought was of his ex-wife.


----------


[ Naussicaan Coordinates, Delta Group, Shenandoah, Bridge ]

The last of the incoming raiders exploded into random debris as Hawke 
turned to his armory officer.

"We're in the clear," armory said, "Recommend course one-five-nine mark 
two-seven to support Intrepid."

"Helm, you heard him," Hawke said, then turned to comms.  "What's the 
word on Intrepid's mayday?" he asked.

"Her comms are down, Sir," the officer reported.  "Republic has already 
responded."

"And?" Hawke snapped.  He scanned the viewscreen ahead as the rest of 
the battle came back into view.

"Republic reports Intrepid is dead in the water."  The reply was 
professional, but slowed with a solemn tone. "No life signs."

Hawke's head snapped to the comms officer.  He glanced back to the 
viewscreen as the remaining ships continued fighting -- jockeying and 
firing for all they were worth.  "Send a message to Yorktown and 
Republic," he said.  "Tighten up and concentrate fire.  If the 
Naussicaans don't turn tail in the next few minutes, we'll open up 
whatever we were reserving for the main battle.  This ends now."


----------


[ Near "Jupiter's Ghost" nebula, Beta Group, Mir, Bridge ]

"Divert power from life support," Killburn called.  "One way or another, 
this battle won't last much longer."

"Target is headed for the nebula," Helm called.

"Break off," Killburn ordered.  "If he wants to run and hide, let ‘em. 
Find me a target that still wants to shoot at our people."

"Klingon battlecruiser incoming!" Sciences called.

"That's more like it," Killburn nodded.  "Match their intercept.  Soften 
their shields with our forward cannons, but I want our last three 
torpedoes to kiss their captain."

"Aye, Sir.  Targeting the Bridge."

Killburn lowered his voice.  "Try this on for size you crab-headed son 
of a-"

Mir rumbled and shuddered.   Sciences called, "ventral plating is down!"

"Helm" Killburn called, "roll one-eighty.  Let the other ship chew on 
our dorsal plating a while, but hold course."

Torpedoes from the battlecruiser flew a near miss, but Mir rumbled and 
shuddered again from the second ship still incoming, now from overhead. 
  "Firing torpedoes," armory called.

Mir bucked hard.  "Dorsal plating is down!"

The head of the Klingon battlecruiser exploded and Mir shot through the 
fire and debris.  "Contact the Constitution. Tell Kurisawa we're forming 
up on him.  I-"

Killburn was slammed into his chair as a console behind him blew. 
"Sir," Armory called, "Romulan warbird aft."

"That's what I figured," Killburn mumbled.  "Comms," he said louder, 
"request aid from any available ship.  Engineering, I need speed and I 
need it now.  Pull power from weapons if you have to."

"Sir?" armory blurted.

"We're not going to make it to the Constitution," Killburn said flatly. 
  "But we're not going to be an easy target, either."


-----

RAdm Garroway, Thomas R.
Starfleet Commander
FCL-03, ESS Endeavor-A

Lt Simon Connors
Science Officer
NX-07, ESS Intrepid

FCapt Horatio Hawke
Commanding Officer
ECL-02, ESS Shanendoah

Capt Bob Killburn
Commanding Officer
NCL-04, ESS Mir