Eppur Si Muove

[Sorehl 0]

This log takes place in the scant seconds after the cliffhanger of last week's sim...

 

He was not a starship commander.

 

Granted, he was a captain. He could not deny that experience in the complexities of starbase operations lent itself well to the multi-tasking needed to manage a bridge during a crisis. But the circumstances were different.

 

In short, a starship moved.

 

At a starbase, problems were often endemic to a region or arrived unsolicited. With a starship, as Captain Halloway often remarked, one could kick in the warp drive and move on. Those same engines could also drive one headlong into danger.

 

As it was now.

 

Excalibur was moments from overtaking the errant Scorpiad fighter. The Admiral was onhand, but had left the center chair curiously vacant, opting to let Sorehl steer the action of his crew.

 

They had performed admirably.

 

Lieutenant Craven had restricted the fighter’s probable path and managed to lock onto a signal emanating from the craft. Gravimetric charges were loaded in the forward tubes. Ensign Ramson was standing by in the modified fighter, ready to launch in aid of the intercept. Lieutenant Laarell was guiding Excalibur in for a sweeping pass of the now-stationary target. Unfortunately, the science team had been unable to provide biological samples from the damaged lab, which might have proven useful in the coming encounter.

 

There were only moments to go.

 

It was not clear why the Scorpiad fighter had emerged from subspace before reaching the wormhole. Perhaps it had scanned their pursuit, concerned about bringing an unknown toward their fleet position.

 

It had increased their chance of recovering the missing crewmen. Had the Scorpiad craft continued on its previous course, Sorehl would have advised that they break off. With the dispassion of logic, it was clear they should not risk the ship for four officers, however valuable. Their resources in the Gamma Quadrant were now too limited to waste in a vain demonstration of loyalty.

 

Emotions aside, dedicated officers would understand being left to their fate.

 

But it would not come to that.

 

The question now was how to disable or destroy the Scorpiad craft without killing their own people. Basically the same problem he’d been wrestling for three weeks. The answer had taken on a new urgency.

 

“Shields up,” he ordered, without inflection. Whether the Scorpiad intended it or not, they were about to see just what one ship’s moving could do.