The Enemy of My Enemy is Still My Enemy

[Caelan Fletcher 0]

The Enemy of My Enemy is Still My Enemy

A Joint Log by Midshipman Duroz and Lt. Caelan Fletcher

- Also thanks to Scott Coleridge for a consult <3

 

Shuffling down the corridor with his trademark swagger™, Fletcher made his way to the shuttlebay. He hadn't bothered to change out of his singed uniform, which sported a series of burn marks on the right sleeve. Instead, he'd carry his battle wound with the dignity of a warrior, albeit, a rather cocky one. It was a mindset his coworker ought to understand, being a Klingon and all, though the chances of Caelan seeing to eye to eye on any other subject with Midshipman Duroz was rather unlikely given their previous discussions, and the obvious height difference between the two engineers. Whether they agreed or not, the investigation of the alien craft had to continue - further stalling at this point would be treasonous, if hilarious.

 

Spotting the Klingon on the bay floor making googly-eyes with the alien craft, Fletcher took a stand nearby, folding his arms as he approached his colleague. ‘So…when are two going to get married?’

Duroz sighed hard and tried to ignore the lieutenant's brash introduction. Normally he would have bitten his tongue to keep from lashing a quick remark back at his superior, but right now the alien vessel was his only concern. The 'Athra' were a warrior race, and their technology reflected that trait. That was something the Klingon admired about them. Finally he brought his attention toward the Lieutenant. "Sir, if we are to beat these 'Athra' we still have much to learn of their tactics and their technology. They are formidable to say the least. And they are not our only enemy now, 'Time' has become our adversary as well."

Eying the ship irreligiously with a moment's glance, Caelan instead kept his eyes mostly on Duroz. He grunted noncommittally to the Klingon's statement, conceding the point though he didn't necessarily share it. ‘Well, like I told Scott. We're going to need a bigger gun.’

"For once Lieutenant... I agree with you. However, refitting the weapons we already have should be our first priority." Duroz sighed heavily, he knew that even with the vast array of weaponry the Station had, it would be a shot in the dark vacuum of space who would be the victor in the coming battle. He could only hope that improving the current systems would give them a tactical edge of unpredictability the 'Athra' had not yet seen. The alien ship that lay before them was the true key, whatever answers they sought, were there.

Joining his hands, Fletcher cracked his knuckles in a get-down-to-business fashion. ‘Let's review what we already know then. These 'Ath-rac' folks keep all their shield power up front, since they're not expecting to leave anything behind that can nab'em in their proverbial asses.’ He cocked his head to the left, taking a closer look at the rear of the vessel, ‘If I had to guess, they don't fortify the hull so much in the rear either...trying to cut down on ship mass to keep the things speedy.’ No one likes to draw attention to their hind-quarters.

 

"That would be a fair assumption... I have reviewed the sensor logs from the Station's previous encounter with the enemy, judging from their combat maneuvers I have surmised that the 'Athra' use attack patterns that leave their enemy with little chance to get a shot off to their less shielded sections. Their strategy is simple, overwhelm the enemy and let them see only the fire from your weapons. As this Station is... 'stationary'... Our chances of a clean shot begin to fall from slim... to none."

‘Mmhmm...’ Fletcher couldn't help but admire it too. It reminded him of his strategy with the ladies. Come out guns blazing and hope for the best - and considering how beefed up these ships were, they, like Caelan, probably stayed pretty optimistic. ‘So how do we hit'em in the rear?’

 

"That is the question isn't it sir... How to get them to turn their backs to us." Duroz paused, his eyes sharpened like the blade of a Mek'leth as a sense of victory suddenly crept over him. "If we can use the defense grid surrounding the asteroid belt we could do just that. Focusing the attacks of the weapon's arrays on the lead squadrons would force them to break their lines. The grid was not active when they last attacked, odds are they have not planned for it. They would have no choice but to return fire at which point their ability to adapt will be known. In their moment of confusion we would get the opportunity we seek." It was to be a glorious battle, and Duroz would be right there to see it unfold. For a Klingon there was no greater honor.

 

Twisting until his neck let out a satisfying crack, Caelan mulled the idea over, 'Probably, if we program the platforms to act that way, they'll be able to coordinate a plan like that.'

It was a good plan... a solid plan. But would they take the bait? "Yes, but the 'Athra' have already proven their prowess in battle, and if what Dr. Belar says is true... who's to know the extent of their telepathic abilities. They could see our plan coming." Duroz fell silent for a moment in recognition of his own words. Then he spoke once more. "We will need a second plan, Sir."

 

Shrugging, Fletcher offered, 'We‘ve already got fighter pilots. Nothing we engineer is going to be more maneuverable than those people. We tell those kids what to aim for, and they’ll bring’em down. 'Arth-rocks' won't stand a chance.’

The Klingon let a hint of pride show on his face. The taste of victory was yet again on his lips so close he could almost bite at its heart. He knew now why the Lieutenant was given his post on Aegis. He was not quite as 'useless' as Duroz had thought. "Indeed Lieutenant... let us hope your confidence in our pilots is not misplaced."

 

‘Talk to Scott about the defense platforms – they’re his babies. And if you’ve still got ants in your pants, you can talk to the fighter pilots about tightening up their phaser arrays – increase the penetration depth of their weapons in case they do gotta take’em head on.’ Yawn. ‘Sound like a plan?’

Duroz straitened and turned to the Lieutenant. "Yes sir..." he said with a nod.

‘Nifty. S’my shift soon in engineering, so I oughta split. But first…’ The Lieutenant tapped his burned arm lightly, ‘I’ve got to milk this thing before it completely heals over. I’m sure there’s someone young and sweet who’d be willing to show me her…’ Caelan waggled his eyebrows, ‘…sympathy.’

 

Duroz said nothing, he knew his words would be of little consequence. He merely snarled slightly at the Lieutenant's complete disregard of Klingon Pride.

 

Fletcher smirked, nodding once to the midshipman before limping out of the shuttlebay.