Getting It Together ((Hefner/Caine))

[C.T. Caine 0]

Joint Log 091013 -- "Getting It Together"

LtSG Christina-T'Prinn Caine

GSgt Mike Hefner, SFMC

USS Agincourt NCC 81762

 

****

 

The ship continued to shake with each Soltan bombardment as Mike Hefner bolted through the barely-open doors of Agincourt's tertiary bridge, rounded the partition and logged on to the tactical console, shouting, "Rocky! Find Caine! Get her in here now!"

 

Smoke from the Soltan's incendiary grenades choked the corridors and the smell of singed alien and charred Federation hung in the air. Mike tapped his helmet to clear the rebreather and slung his phaser rifle to the side, within easy reach in case Gumby showed up. Caine's last reported position was deck 9. Aside from preparing for possible MVA mode, if the main bridge became compromised they would need a senior officer on either Beta or Gamma to lockout commands, override lockouts, or otherwise maintain control of the ship. As the tactical display came online Mike wondered why they would bother to board 'Court, but at this point the situation was way beyond why.

 

Initial reports in the NNC indicated incursions on decks nine, twelve, and sixteen, which meant tertiary bridge, shield generators, main engineering, and ventral docking port - everything Gumby would need to take control. Damn. After getting the Ex Oh's blessing he tapped Pete "Rocky" Petros of Snoop Recon team for backup. SSgt Valeri "Gus" Gustavson, the other third of Snoop, had stayed behind with "Will" JoNs in the NNC.

 

"Rock!" Mike shouted again, glancing at the open door. "Caine...." Before he could finish, Rocky came flying through the door with Caine in tow. Together they slid across the deck, coming to rest against the command console as the door slammed shut and bolted in emergency lock-down mode. At first sight, Mike pressed the comm to the NNC. "Will, Slick. Package is secure. Repeat. Package is secure."

 

No ping of confirmation, no response. They'd lost ship comm. Mike tapped his helmet to shift to the embedded unit coms. "Snoop 3, Report." No response. He turned to Rocky, who signaled negative as he helped Caine regain her footing. Another slam of weapons fire into the ship and the sound of internal explosives brought Mike's attention back to the tactical console. "NNC compromised. You're up, Ma'am." If JoNs was gone, Caine was next in line.

 

"Package..." Caine mumbled, shaking her head slightly to clear it as she pushed herself to her feet. She'd been all but dragged into the tertiary bridge while in pursuit of Soltan intruders on Deck 9 and her dignity had taken a bit of a hit as a result but that was hardly the greatest of her worries. She cast a quick look around, her grey eyes taking in the situation, and unconsciously wiped a bit of adrenaline-fueled sweat from her palms. The room was rocking with Soltan fire and smelled of smoke, and the relatively cramped walls of the tertiary command center seemed to close very tightly around them.

 

Focus. No time to worry about that. She puffed out a breath, blowing a stray bang out of her face, and looked at Slick Hefner; she knew the younger officer only in passing, as he had recently been doing weapons training with some of her officers as well as his own marine compatriots, but everyone was a friend under fire, if they weren't blue and pointing a gun at her.

 

NNC compromised...possibly the bridge as well... That didn't bode well for the situation of their command team. Caine muttered an oath low under her breath as Hefner's words sunk in, and she quickly straightened, shaking off and moved to his side at the TAC console. "Anything in the way of a sitrep? Weapons, shields, primary bridge status? It felt like we were taking quite a beating." She had a feeling that she wasn't going to like the answer to any of these questions.

 

"Shields are holding, Ma'am," came Mike's clipped reply as he continued to work the console, "good for everything but the full force of their subspace weapon, which I doubt they'll use. Looks like they want 'Court intact, given they've boarded." He shifted his stance to throw the internal tactical display onto Gamma's main viewscreen. "Starboard nacelle strut took quite a hit. Bridge took damage; it's intact with no signs of compromise. Intruders on decks nine, twelve, fourteen and sixteen. Internal comms are down; we're on unit coms. As for the fleet, we've lost the Australia..." As Mike initiated split-screen for an external view, a small but brilliant flash, just on the outskirts of the fray, was followed by a blip, identified as a Soltan scout, plowing through a debris field. Mike's eyes darted to the tactical console, then back to the screen. "...and the Brisbane. Cap'n Hogan, Ma'am." At that Mike and Rocky turned sharply to face the screen, came to attention, and bowed their heads in silence.

 

Caine let the silence stretch for a few seconds while she glanced at the screen and the internal sensors, confirming Hefner's picture of the situation. "Make a note, Slick," she said grimly, "that I officially recommend to Fed Council that we avoid naming anything 'Australia' again for the duration of the war. Seems the Soltans have an issue with it."

 

She turned, slapping off a proximity alarm as the sound of footsteps moved past the door; the deck nine boarding party had returned to the area. "You said you've got a few coms left working...good..." she muttered, her mind racing. Thank heaven for over-teched groundpounders. "Get one of my people into the secondary bridge if they're not already there. We need to get things locked down and fast."

 

Giving a smart nod, Mike checked his BioSign detector, held down a button and pressed the detector against the tactical console for a second, then pulled it away for a read. "Looks like Mattingly is there, Ma'am, along with Doc Vaughn in the secondary sick bay. Bulldog has unit comm, and I have acknowledgment ping." He removed his helmet and passed his unit comm to Caine.

 

Caine puffed out a breath. "Well, that's a start." She took the comm, setting it down on the console next to her and sparing about five seconds to run a hand down her face and work a quick kink out of her neck. "At least we've got a few places to work from; assuming we can hold Main Engineering, we may yet be OK. Let's start pinning down locations on those boarding parties and see if we can't put a dent in them."