"A Final Act Of Defiance."

[FredM 0]

"A Final Act Of Defiance."

Mission Related Log - Stardate 0706.05

 

 

“Mr. Peterson! Course zero seven six mark zero zero three! All she’s got,” he barked. There was no reply; there was no need for one. The fires on the bridge had made it almost impossible to see what was going on. The heat was becoming unbearable; life support systems were struggling to filter the smoke and slowly loosing the battle. They were not alone.

 

At this point, by most estimates and analysis, approximately one half of the ship’s primary systems were fused or destroyed. The ability of his remaining engineering crews to keep propulsion online would eventually result in many being awarded the Starfleet Distinguished Service Star posthumously. All of their efforts had come down to a final moment; one which they all knew was not exactly the best choice but the only one they had left. Of a crew of seventy-eight, fifty were dead. Twenty had been able to evacuate earlier. Now, seven had volunteered to remain with their commander for one final attempt to prevent the day’s events from being for nothing.

 

The Nova Class science vessel streamed at full impulse towards its target. Forward sections of the hull were now essentially gone, destroyed by an armada of weapons fire over the last twenty hours. The ship itself seemed to expose more superstructure than anything else, a testament to the no win scenario they had been facing since their attempts to request assistance by subspace had been met with static. Weapons were essentially gone, though occasionally the six remaining engineers found power to launch a torpedo. How was anyone’s guess.

 

Captain Dylan Foster stood behind his Tellarite helmsman and looked at the gaping hole that had once been his forward viewer. Now nothing but a force field with a magnificent view of space itself, it was their guide for what was to come. They're encounter with a starship, apparently Starfleet but clearly not, had been an initial mystery for the science cruiser. It had turned into much more very quickly.

 

The Tellarite coughed, pointing to the flash of light coming from his own ship. “Saying the computer isn't lying, that was our last torpedo,” he yelled over the background noise. Foster simply patted him on the shoulder and smiled, “Still glad you stayed Ako?” The response was a laugh that even a Klingon would be jealous of. Entering in another series of commands he looked back, “I just hope they spell my name right!”

 

More impacts, more shaking and even more alarms. The ability of the computer to continue to announce damage verbally was amazing since Foster had assumed most of the speakers had been destroyed. A squawk could be faintly heard which interrupted his thoughts, “Engineering to bridge! We’ve got three minutes at most!” The Captain sighed and shook his head, “Matt, time to get out there! See you on the flip side.” It was a statement both knew might be fantasy. About that time, another torpedo made an impact somewhere on Deck 8. It didn’t exactly matter at this point, not many people would be using the forward lounge anymore. As the ship shuttered slightly, Ako ran his fingers thru the controls again. “They're away….,” he declared.

 

Foster nodded and smiled, “Then let’s not keep our guests waiting my friend….” The Tellarite again laughed and using his index finger brought the ship about one hundred and eighty degrees. Ahead, their maneuvering had paid off…placing the Yosemite directly under their attackers. “Auto guidance is thinking….,” Ako stated as he tried to get the computer to cooperate. With sensors so damaged, and power so limited, the task was not as easy as one might think. Finally, as the other ship continued to grow larger, a familiar voice calmly acknowledged “Auto navigation system engaged.” With a snort, the panel was locked. The two were up and moving.

 

Arriving on Deck 2, they were surprised to find the computer still verbally declaring warnings about the status of the warp core. It wasn't in good shape. What was? As the last two living beings aboard the U.S.S. Yosemite departed, the dying ship maintained its course and adjusted ever so slightly as their attacker tried to move away. As planned, the safeguards engineering crews had worked hours to put in place to keep the vessel from exploding started to disengage. By the time proximity alerts started to blare to an empty bridge, the unstoppable forces of nature were already at work.

 

The ship glided, plasma venting and secondary explosions from weapons fire erupting, to the edge of their attacker’s shields. Simple mechanics and force gave the Nova Class starship the ability to push past them. Yet the Yosemite computer never arrived at its destination, helm never able to achieve its ultimate goal. Warp core containment was breached zero point nine seconds after the ship hit the shields. The effect is what one might expect.

 

The large vessel, nearly the size of a Miranda Class cruiser, was literally split in two as the Yosemite erupted into a shockwave. Systems and subsystems quickly failed, releasing containment of storage units and starting a chain reaction event. Within a period of fifteen seconds, the entire area was engulfed in a massive explosion.

 

For those with ringside seats, the end never came. Two months later, officially only nineteen survivors were declared of the U.S.S. Yosemite. Their attacker was never officially identified. The cause was never officially solved. To the public, it remained another example of the pearls of deep space exploration. To insiders, it was much more.

 

From a political standpoint, the incident was classified by officials as an aggressive act from an unknown race against the United Federation of Planets. Of course, what else would officials say? One can never truly understand an answer unless they have honestly asked a question and listened to the reply.

 

That was the official story.

 

Until Mr. Berian Oak.