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Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

CHAPTER 06: BATTLE OF THE HOUSES
STARDATE: 57654.06
APRIL 18, 2381
0900 HRS.


>> Artwork by Jetfreak-7

[ Captain Gorka, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Bridge | IKS Neng-ta | En-Route to Qo'noS ] Attn: All
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"Fire!" he roared from his seat on the bridge of the Neng-ta, and Gorka, son of Margon, had outwitted yet another Martok loyalist - with only ten light-years to go until they reached Qo'nos.

"The Maht-H'a is disabled," roared Gorka's weapons officer.

"Send them all to Suto'vo'qor," he grated through bared teeth, for he doubted Captain Nu'Daq would ever recognise him as Chancellor. So as a future liability, it was better to let him die in honour on the battlefield. His order given, mere moments passed before the IKS Maht-H'a disintegrated on the viewscreen, leaving the Neng-ta and nine other ships belonging to House Mo'Kai victorious as the victors in the brief skirmish.

"Who else stand in our way?" he called towards his navigator.

"Our glorious trail through the Empire has gathered nigh all the Houses here, in the sectors surrounding the First City, all whom have different stakes and loyalties between you and Martok!" The woman bared her teeth, scenting victory on Gorka's behalf. "Those directly in our path? Thirty or forty ships, Captain, depending on if they hold their trajectories as they are. Loyalties largely unknown. More ships are in circulation, and there is a skirmish on the far side of Qo'nos between Houses divided between you and Martok."

Gorka grinned for a moment, his sharp eyes on the viewscreen. "As I will speak with the High Council well before Martok might," he rumbled through his thick neck, "those Houses who doubt me will do so at their peril. To Qo'nos! Tell the other ships to follow in our wake."

That should intimidate the Houses with forces in our way to stand aside...

Briefly, he thought of the past twelve days of battle, and how despite the fighting and the rallying cry for House Mo'Kai that he'd spread far and wide, the Neng-ta had lost little speed during the voyage towards Qo'nos. Despite the strange claims that Martok was supposed to have covered sixty light-years in no time at all aboard that traitorous Theurgy starship, he would still be too late. This odd rumour, about the impossible feat, was told to him mere hours ago by D'Ghor, who reported that he'd killed his gin´tak - Rodah - since he'd threatened to invoke the ya'nara kor. Rodah had made the threat because D'Ghor had sworn himself to stand by House Mo'Kai. Gorka had hoped to hear from Eriska, of House Daa´maq, to learn if she'd taken her House by force from her brother yet. He'd told her that if she did, she could meet him at Qo'nos, so that she could make good on all her innuendos. It would serve as a fine celebration to claim her in the wake of him taking everything from Martok.

From Torg, son of Kormog, there was still no word, in regard to the Duras whelp and his mother, yet it was no immediate concern, since few knew of Drex and Jo'reh. Least of all Martok, the old petaQ, who didn't even know whom were loyal to him when selecting his two-hundred companions. Indeed, Gorka still held hope that Kopek's man would slay Martok before he even came near Qo'nos.

"Captain! A strange reading, one light-year ahead of us. I have seen nothing like it, but once it dissipated... I am now reading a Starfleet signature."

Gorka's browridge lowered over his eyes. Incredulous, he got to his feet, anticipating the words that would come out of his weapon's officer's throat next.

"It's the Theurgy! Martok has come! That's impossible!"

MEANWHILE, ON QO'NOS

[ K'Tal, son of Machi, of House K'Tal | The Great Domes of Qo'noS | The First City | Qo'noS ] Attn: All
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Pacing in the shadows of the Great Hall, K'Tal watched the members bicker and banter, challenging each claim the others made, while he remained silent. Like a fly on the wall. Ever observing. A fat glob fly, he thought with mirth, way past his prime...

K'Tal knew that they saw him, for he caught their glances in his direction. Some of them had lauded him for killing Gorka's grandfather, Neskar, and thus making Gorka next in line. Others loathed him for it, since it served the opposition against Martok's continued chancellery. The Ketaj would never bend in their support of Martok, but at least they understood how killing Neskar had not been an act to support Gorka. Not when he had shown naught but loyalty towards Martok since the Dominion War. If K'Tal could undo what he had done, he might, for Neskar had been a predictable fool that they could have dealt with far more easily. At least the High Council hadn't dared contest K'Tal's claim that Neskar dishonoured himself with an attempted assassination, but if Gorka would take Martok's place, that decision might be challenged rather quickly...

Sufficed to say, perhaps more than before, K'Tal would do all he could to prevent Gorka from making a claim for the Chancellery.

The eldest of the High Council members - Kopek, son of Nargor - stood in the middle of the boastful and loud, yet like K'Tal, he was utterly silent, also watching the others without a word spoken. K'Tal couldn't quite shake the idea... that between all those present, Kopek was the one watching the fat glob fly the most, though it was impossible to see the eyes of Kopek given the size of his prestigious ridges and age-begotten eyebrows.

Did you know what Neskar would do, I wonder? K'Tal asked himself not for the first time, pretending that he hadn't noticed Kopek's scrutiny. Did you even know he would fail, and die by my blade? It almost made sense, had it not been for how far apart Kopek and Gorka stood in some political matters, especially when it came to the Kithomer Accords.

A courier arrived, bearing news. "Gorka, son of Margon, approaches with forces of House Mo'Kai. Sensors have it he will arrive within the day, but reports of skirmishes around Qo'nos escalate in number by the hour. Houses loyal to the Chancellor are trying to keep House Mo'Kai from reaching Qo'nos, to little avail."

"pah! Send word that the High Council orders them to stand aside, and let the ships of House Mo'Kai make port. The Romulans are on the march, and we can ill afford needless losses," said Kopek, which was the first words spoken by him that morning, from what K'Tal could recall. There was wisdom in the old man's sentiment, yet in his opinion, the Empire could ill afford having a revenge-blind Targ like Gorka leading it as well. He should have claimed the Right of Vengeance years ago, over the loss of his father at the hands of Martok's ill-begotten son.

"That's not all," said the courier. "Just now, a Starfleet ship appeared between the ships of House Mo'Kai and Qo'nos. It's the Federation starship Theurgy, carrying the High Chancellor and a force nigh two-hundred strong!"

"How dare he bring Romulan defectors to the First City!" proclaimed Kopek, and now, his eyes flashed in ire beneath his brows. "He brings dishonour to our Empire!"

It couldn't be more clear whom had Kopek's loyalty between Martok and Gorka, thought K'Tal, but he was no longer stalking the shadows in the Great Hall. No, he'd immediately stepped out through a side entrance, so that he might send a message to the Theurgy. There was something the Chancellor needed to know. Something that he - as head of Imperial Intelligence - had learned in the middle of the night, by word from a reliable source.

He could but hope he wasn't too late.

ON THE USS THEURGY NX-79854

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[ USS Theurgy "Thea" NX-79854 | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: All
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In a shimmer of light, Thea used her own transporter systems to move her mobile emitter to the main bridge. There, she materialised in her black chameleon body suit - her projection built by photons and a fine latticework of force fields. Her optical sensors, a program inherent to the eyes of her digital body, took in the many officers present on her bridge, and she found that it was time to drop out of quantum slipstream. She informed the bridge crew herself when she stepped up next to Ives, whom sat in the centre chair - currently using his male form.

"Phase variance of the quantum slipstream field at 0.4178. Catastrophic failure imminent. I cannot go any farther, Captain," she said, likely stating something which O'Connell was about to do, which earned her a firm nod from his direction.

"Just shy of sixty light years this time around, likely due to the state of the benamite crystals. I would be surprised if Tiran recommends another jump before we switch them out. Drop us out of slipstream," Ives told Veradin at the helm, "maintain course at full impulse for now. I need an ETA on Qo'nos as soon as we know how fast we can go."

That wrenching feeling, again, which Thea couldn't describe beyond what her internal and external sensors told her. The blue lights were replaced by a starfield cast in red by a nearby nebula, and system readouts chirped from the consoles around her. Thea's eyes widened, and she relayed the words her intercom otherwise might. "Tactical alert. Multiple vessels detected. Closest contact, one light year."

"Cross?" Jien said, turning his head towards the tactical station when the klaxons resounded through the ship. "I need to know where they are and whom of them are loyal to Chancellor Martok. Zyrao Natauna, please confirm the findings." The El-Aurian was present on the bridge as well, given the inherent risk that they might find more Klingon ships this close to Qo'nos. Sound forethought on Cross' part to have her present, which would clearly pay off.

Thea had an idea, which she wanted to share, but she wasn't sure how ethical the suggestion would be, or rather if the timing and import was suitable. Yet looking at her own sensor readings of the situation this close to Qo'nos, she her calculation of the odds suggested that it might be a sound precautionary measure to take. "Captain, given the level of activity in the sector ahead of us, and how we don't know what to await at Qo'nos, would it not be wise to ask Doctor Nicander if he can sense any Infested among the Klingon High Council. If we are to safely bring Martok to the Great Hall, it would be advantageous to know if we may have to use the transphasic light cannon or anyonic particle emitters in self defence."

"Yes, it has been on my mind, and I believe you are right," said Jien and glanced at her with a faint but grim smile, before he pressed a button on his armrest. "Lieutenant Kingston, kindly ask Doctor Nicander to use his abilities and search for Klingon hosts, and report your findings. Commander Fisher!" Ives looked towards the Chief Intelligence Officer next to Ravenholm. "Send whatever personnel you deem fit to assist Security, and haste might be of the essence."

Turning around in his seat, Jien looked at Samantha Rutherford next, and Thea raised her eyes to the blonde woman as well when the Captain gave very specific orders. "Commander, with Natauna dedicated to the tactical situation, I need you to both inform Martok that we are almost at Qo'nos, that he should ready his companions, and also... he needs to know what you learned at Epsilon Monocerotis. It is time."

Captain Ives then turned to Cameron Henshaw next, and gave the expected order in regard to the Lone Wolves. "Ensign, inform Commander Ravon to ready the squadron for imminent launch. Send the current tactical situation to him, and keep it updated once Cross and Natauna have mapped the Klingon forces around us. The pack may have to be sent out as a forward defence line."

"Captain, incoming hail with a heavy Klingon encryption! It's from Qo'nos!" someone on the bridge said, and Ives had gestured for it to be patched through before Thea had turned her head towards the viewscreen.

"This is Captain Ives of the Federation starship Theurgy, to whom am I speaking?" asked Jien, rising to his feet and approaching the screen with his hands at his sides.

[This is K'Tal, son of Machi, of House K'Tal. Head of Imperial Intelligence. I would speak with the Chancellor,] said a corpulent Klingon on the screen.

"Chancellor Martok is readying his companions for the arrival to the First City and is currently unavailable. Is there anything we can assist with?" said Ives without missing a beat, time pressed and situation ahead likely dire given the forces in circulation in the sector.

[Bah, I suppose I might speak with you, since you are a part of the current problem. It was unwise for Martok to openly affiliate himself with you, given what the Federation media is reporting at this hour. You risk overthrowing his chance at remaining in seat by your mere presence.]

"Unfortunately, we have grown somewhat weary of the lies spread by the Federation News Network. Ravenholm, an update please?" said Jien and glanced towards the cybernetic woman at the communications station.

[That is not all. My sources speak of a saboteur aboard your ship. Someone who used to go by the name Rov, son of Pekdal.] The Klingon said naught more of this Klingon, instead focusing on the essential. [Yet he goes by another name now, a name which remains unknown. My source has confirmed that Rov was deployed to Epsilon Mynos by someone here on Qo'nos to join Martok. Your medical officers should scan for cosmetic alterations among the Klingons aboard, for he wears a new face since last he disgraced himself and the Empire.]

"Understood," said Jien gravely, and the digital memories of the Spearhead Lounge were still at the forefront of Thea's memory banks. The fate of many of the fallen remained unsettled. "Thea, please inform all available officers in Medical and Security. This close to Qo'nos, this Klingon has little more time to stop Martok's arrival, so he's likely to strike again soon."

"Aye, Captain," said Thea from where she stood farther back on the bridge, and did as instructed via her intercom, reaching numerous officers that might help finding the saboteur.

[Good luck getting through to Qo'nos, Captain Ives,] said K'Tal on the viewscreen. [My sensors here tell me House Mo'Kai are already coming for you. Protect our Chancellor at all cost, and bring him to the Great Hall, otherwise, I fear the Empire might split in two. nItebQobqaDjup 'e' chaw'be' SuvwI'. K'Tal out.]

Thea's Universal Translator rendered the words 'A warrior does not let a friend face danger alone'.

"Stark! Confirm with Tiran that we cannot make another QSD jump, and should that be the case, we need to know how hard we can press the warp engines this soon after we jumped here. We need mobility if Gorka is already coming for us."

"I am afraid K'Tal is right, Captain," said Thea. "Twenty ships inbound at maximum warp. It's House Mokai. They will reach us in two hours and thirty-nine minutes, unless Engineering can find a way to restore my warp flight sufficiently to outrun them, but internal sensors suggests that might be an impossible feat. Other Klingon ships are converging towards our coordinates as well, intents unknown."

Ives looked back at the present bridge crew, his countenance grim. "Then we have at least two and a half hours to prepare for battle. As for Martok... it is imperative that he reaches Qo'nos." Jien paused in thought, before continuing. "If we're too slow, we can still lure Gorka's fleets to us... while we send the Chancellor ahead on a shuttle. This idea does not leave this room, lest the saboteur might compromise such a plan. So, what's our fastest available option? Can we use that civilian shuttle, the Sabine, and can we make it less visible on sensors? The word is free, everyone."

Thea turned to look at the present faces, while she calculated optimal solutions as a background process.

OOC: If you have a character eligible for bridge duty, post away! Orders given in this starter can be carried out in Supplemental threads to keep this thread less cluttered, but all bridge-centred posts should be made here. :) This is also the call for Supplemental threads to be set up by writers who have no bridge officers, so here the Departmental orders and ideas for supplemental threads set before and during Chapter 06! Click: [Show/Hide]
The naming convention for one-on-one Supplemental threads that belong to Chapter 06 is: CH06: S [D0X|YYYY] Insert Title (YYYY marking the time after 0900 hrs., when the Theurgy drops out of QSD). Please be mindful about how the second QSD flight will last between 0800 hrs. and 0900 hrs. on Day 03, during which time there can be no warp fighters or shuttles leaving the Theurgy. Supplemental threads can last no longer than to 1130 hrs., at which point Gorka's forces might reach the Theurgy.

Looking forward to your posts!

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #1 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan @Swift ( @Argyros minor mention)
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The delicate wash of colors, streaks of light and glowing particles, rushing towards the onlookers of the wide-spanning viewscreen, were a piece of visual poetry in its own right. Like a symphony of moving lights and colors, concocted by a masterful artist, with skillful brushstrokes and expert sprays of vibrant hue. A tantalizing spectacle, dipping the cold glass surfaces and lifeless monoliths of metal into vivid blends of color, and an ever-changing dance between shadow and light. Turning an otherwise purely functional and dead hollow, into a temple of mercurial delights and vivacious joy. It wasn’t until you dug deeper, identifying streaks of light as ionic discharge and pools of color as energetic distortions, that you realized you were traveling at speeds exceeding the laws of physics persistent in reality, through a crack in the void of an already deadly space of vacuum and radiation. It stripped away the glamour and glory, and replaced it with the heavily weighing notion of impending doom. As such was the bane of knowledge and the quantification of all mysteries, the universe held for humanity. And any alien race for that matter, that ventured out to translate ethereal magic, into terms of pure science.

The Commander herself, trapped in the quicksand of knowledge, had to admit she felt the gravity of what ‘knowing too much’ could do to someone’s psyche. When knowledge stripped away a sentiment that, with hefty reason, was humanities biggest notion of self-preservation: Ignorance. A gentle relief she was not granted, in her position, where the feeds of information from her own department, and that of intelligence, converged, like two violent streams, turning into an overwhelming flood. A lot had transpired over the past two days, like torrential rainstorms coming down the mountainsides. You could huddle up under a makeshift roof, to evade the effects of it, but soon the water would rise to your ankles and you’d have to come to terms with the fact, that things were about to get soggy. The threat against Daa’maq, which L’Nari intercepted, and together with Lieutenant Foval had ventured out to relay. The mission to rescue the IKS Daqchov to gain another favorable voice in the high council. And last but not least, if not weighing on her the most, what had transpired after they set out to follow up on the lead for a potential heir to Martok’s claim on the high council. Potentially the straw that would tip the empire towards prosperity or a break.

Which was a lot to contemplate, really, over such a short time span. But Samantha found solace in the fact that Theurgy, and its crew, had been unwavering in their pursuit of support and succor, towards their ally, Martok. In the hopes that, by the tropes of honor and duteousness, he would repay them in kind, and put everything in motion that he could, to clear their name as well. If only within the Klingon Empire, for a start. And with that sentiment, the diplomat was drawn back to alertness within reality, by the unannounced materialization of the ship’s computer, right next to her. Prompting the blonde to shift from a comfortable stance, into a more guarded, alert posture, with her hands clasped behind her posterior and her plump lips stiffened. She didn’t trust anyone who could appear anywhere, at any given time, and did not possess the ethical restrictions of a living creature, that had been nurtured for years and years by parents and society, with the intricacies of social interaction and manners. Someone – or better something - who, on top of everything, did not possess a soul, and thus lacked the basic ingredients of what it meant to be a living, breathing thing.

Ives related some technical sentiments towards Derik at the helm, the words transpiring through invisible soundwaves, followed regardless by squinted blue eyes, as they ultimately landed on the handsome helmsman. Cheeks sucked into the space between her teeth through silent contemplation, accentuating her defined facial features. A notion that only was allowed to persist until Thea proclaimed a tactical alert at her own volition, not even letting the tactical officer in charge have the honors, after confirming her concerns. This was one indication of hubris that would not end well. The blonde thought to herself, but not letting anything transpire beyond the confines of her judgmental mind, or the vessel of her delicate body. The more prominent question that evolved from the temporary unrest on the bridge was: How no one saw this coming. The likelihood of bumping into more and more Klingon ships, as they ventured towards the center of their political power, couldn’t have been a surprise. Not if it seemed so blatantly obvious to her, a diplomat, that didn’t have the time to concern herself with the tactical appraisal of any given situation, or the foresight towards a destination, they had been traveling beyond any known natural velocities towards.

Couldn’t the giant positronic brain, that was mocking her from the center of the diplomatic council every day, like some glorified hovering soccer-ball, have predicted such an outcome? Shouldn’t the chief tactical officer have? The navigator? Their ‘Klingon Empire Liaison’? The captain? Oh well, at least he was probably counting on the foresight of his immediate subordinates, and rightfully so. He instructed to take stock of the ships on sensors, hopefully non-verbally conveying a potential of many more being obscured by cloaks. They had already taken a rest-stop in Klingon space two days prior, so their presence probably wasn’t too much of a surprise on the opposite side either. Alongside whichever tidbits had left Aldea unchecked, over Martok hitching a ride towards Quo’nos. For a fact, actually, the commander knew that rumor, was likely the hardest element in nature to contain. As was doubt. So when Thea suggested to ask Doctor Nicander to figure out whether there were infected among the high council, the diplomat pricked her head in a gentle, turning twitch. Not only was the man in the brig pretty low among her list of those to trust, nor did she think that repeatedly challenging the delicate boundary between the host and the parasite, was a smart idea.

“Captain, I would like to suggest that I additionally discuss the use of an Anyonic Phase Variance sweep, or some form of transphasic light treatment, with the chancellor, to make sure who we’re dealing with in the council. Given the circumstances of the Changeling, using Martok’s own form to undermine the Klingon high council ten years ago, I am sure he will be susceptible to the idea. As should be many of the council members, who’ve lived through the events.” the blonde raised her concerns past the AI, who had suggested the first possibility, right after Ives had betrothed her with further orders, already involving the chancellor anyways. Surely Martok would also share her sentiment, that the potential host dying, would be an honorable sacrifice, in light of the stakes. Awaiting the captain’s reply, before segueing around the back of his chair towards the turbolift with a gentle bow, the commander’s blue eyes trailed towards the intelligence booth, where she met Fisher’s concerned, sage orbs. Able to read the forming pleads on his forehead like brail, the blonde acquitted his concerns – which he had voiced to her many, many times during the final hours of their mission – with a gentle wiggle of raised brows and lips pressed thin amongst one another. He would have to trust on her judgment to make the right decision. Or at the very least, get comfortable in the sentiment of not being able to have his own sense of right and wrong validated. But there was also a sense of apology, reverberating across her non-verbal cues. Being genuinely sorry for not sharing his views on the situation … or maybe more so, that her own convictions seemed to outweigh whatever sentimental connection, she had allowed herself to take hold towards him.

Slipping into the elevator just as contemplations threatened to derail said conviction, the officer found herself as if breaching from being underwater for too long, a breath of air filling her lungs, as lips parted gently while the gas invaded her chest with a subtle pain. The doors slid shut and the silence was replaced by the gentle hum of the elevator cart being readied for departure. And with the thoughts on the mission and the Klingon politician, the persuasion returned, that what had faired her lonely existence for the past seven years so well, was her infallible instinct towards the weighing of cost versus payoff. Of one life against a potential of many. A persuasion she was sure, was well in line of what Martok would deem necessary, in order for the Empire to persist another thousand years. And so the Federation.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #2 –
[Lieutenant Commander Cross |  Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @BZ et al.

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Quantum slipstream was a wonderful innovation with one supreme irritation: for all intents and purposes, while the Theurgy raced ahead far faster than it could've managed at warp, they were blind and deaf. Sensors couldn't function, nor could communications, meaning that the Theurgy had no idea what they were sailing into. Given that their best estimates had hundreds of Klingon ships in the vicinity, many of whom were hostile, Cross was intensely worried about the danger of emerging close to a large formation of Gorka's forces. While they were in slipstream, he worked to ease his concerns, calling Zyrao Natauna up to the Bridge and configuring the phasers and shields for disruptor fire.

When the Theurgy finally emerged from slipstream, Cross's worst case scenario didn't materialise, but it wasn't far off. Thea beat him to it with her report, but Cross didn't mind, working rapidly to update the tactical situation. It was by far the most complex that he'd ever seen, with hundreds of warships on long range sensors all converging on Qo'nos.

At Captain Ives' order, it took him a moment to reply, immersed in the tactical display. "It's a mess, Captain. We need to parse the data more, but I think we beat Gorka here. There's a large formation of Klingon ships, approximately sixty warp signatures directly aft and another twenty close to starboard. Martok's forces are further out. There are a lot of ships ahead of us that are unknowns." He glanced at Zyrao, hoping that she'd clarify.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #3 –
 [Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ]Attn:  @Fife @BZ @Argyros @Swift @Auctor Lucan  
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Damn, this is going to take some getting used to, Natalie thought as she struggled to keep her face calm and collected as the ship dropped out of Slipstream, reverting to normal space, and impulse power. Her stomach twisted into a knot for a moment and then eased, as the otherness and alien sensations of the transition back to reality faded swiftly enough. When they weren't running for their lives, and trying to save the galaxy, Nat decided she would have to put her head together with Lt. Commander Tiran and see if, between the two of the, could suss out a way to smooth their exits when they left Slipstream. Something for another day, in any event.

With the revision to real space came a plethora of alarms and alerts, many of which Natalie had to address from her station at Ops. Just because she was wearing multiple duty hats did not stop her from that primary duty for which she'd shown her aptitude time and again. Wincing, she muttered under her breath, loud enough that Derik Veradin would hear, but likely no one else, "Oh damn. of course it's worse." Behind her she could hear Thea announcing multiple contacts, and that was worrying as well, but that was what Cross was for - sort them out and draw up targets. She needed to make sure they had power for things like life support and shields in the next 10 minutes. Already her fingers were flying across the console, but she did look up as the main view screen flickered to reveal a somewhat older looking male Klingon, who sounded disgruntled at having to speak to any of them. 

No surprise there, Natalie thought, having had a month to get used to being around Klingon's constantly again, a first since her time in the Dominion War. An honorable people, with little patience. But then she thought of Administer M'Kish, and the games he had played, setting himself up to come out of what was happening now shining like a rose, no matter who won, and Gorka, whom had managed to leave the Aldean system well ahead of events to rally his troops. They can be patient when it served their needs. Never, ever underestimate a Klingon, Natalie.

They had long suspected, from the moment of the detonation in the Spearhead lounge, that there was a saboteur aboard. Now they had confirmation, from the head of Klingon Imperial Intelligence, no less, that their suspicions were founded.  How far he could be trusted was something she assumed Lt. Commander Fisher would be better placed to judge than she herself, but for the moment, he sounded genuine enough. Natalie noted how Ives carefully did not inform K'Tal that the saboteur had already acted. Rov, son of Pekdal, you have much to answer for, Natalie thought, remembering a list of names of the dead and wounded, one of her Assistant Chiefs among them.

Hearing her name, Natalie gave a sharp nod. "Aye, aye sir. Will update shortly." She already knew that there was no shot that they could go to QSD again anytime soon. She had the logs from before, and had read through the after report, pouring herself into the technical details with a cup of coffee late the previous night, after the bombing had been sorted out and she;d finally retired to her quarters. As Ops Chief she needed to know. As second officer, she needed to know. And as acting First Officer, she really needed to know. And so she knew. Spending the next few minutes and brief, hushed tones, getting a sense of the damage to the engines and power systems, and what their best guess options were.

In the background of it all, Natalie tracked reports of the closing ships, and heard Lt. Commander Rutherford depart the bridge, on her way to inform Martok of the situation. It had been surreal for Natalie to interact with the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council and Dominion War hero on a one on one level, and Nat still wasn't sure how she felt about that. He was...a person. Not just some mythic figure. She was rather glad that Samantha was going off to deal with him so that she didn't have to.

Spinning in her seat she addressed Ives, giving her own update.

"Engineering confirms that the QSD is not an option. Not only will what we believe to be Gorak's fleet arrive long before it could conceivably reboot, but the benamite crystals have deteriorated too much. Commander Tiran wouldn't trust them to another jump, even a small one." It had been put to Nat a wee bit more vocally than that, but the Martian decided to edit out the expletives.  "The EPS power grid fared a bit better this time around than the last, now that we knew what to expect, but its still tight right now. I've already started scrambling repair teams and engineering is taking point. Best estimate." She glanced down at her console, as more data was fed in from across the ship. "Warp 8 tops. Can't promise it'll be sustained either. Seven would be better."

Normally at this point, Natalie would shut up, let Ives ponder the information she'd provided, and go back to monitoring and routing power distribution and providing a second set of eyes on the sensors for navigational or tactical threats. Ives would take that info, and put their heads together with some of the other bridge officers, and most likely the First Officer, and she would then contribute more information or perhaps a rebuttal, along side one of the more likely subject matter experts, such as Lt. Commander Cross or Miss Natauna.

But there was no First Officer. There was Natalie.

Which meant it was now her duty to help brainstorm. Sucking in a deep breath, spoke up again, hoping she was hiding her reluctance with providing strategy, not just statistics. 

"Lt. Conway," Natalie called quietly, summoning the junior Lieutenant that was acting as her bridge back up once again. They spoke briefly while someone else contributed a suggestion, and then Natalie turned control of OPS over to Yvette. There was nothing so pressing at that moment that the lieutenant - acting as an assistant chief until such time that Nat could get her department in order again with the loss of Nator 159 - could not handle, or that absolutely needed Nat's deft touch to oversee. She confirmed one more read out, gently clapped the woman on the shoulder, gave a nod to Derik at the Conn, then stepped in toward Ives and Thea.

"Captain," she spoke quieter than she had before - no need to shout - once she had his leave to do so. "At our best speed, we cannot get to Qo'nos before Gorka does. At best we can either force a confrontation sooner, or attempt to draw out the moment that we butt heads." She bit her lip, glancing back at the CONN. "Lt. Veradin can probably crunch the numbers better, but assuming we can hold warp 8 long enough, that would roughly double the amount of time we have to five hours. Roughly. And that assumes Gorka comes after us via whatever route we take to Qo'nos.

"Doesn't really take into account the other ships behind us though." Nat was reluctant to admit it, rubbing the back of her head in a nervous gesture, before realizing she was doing just that, and pulling her hand down, clasping one in the other behind her back. She'd seen enough XO's do the same thing. It was that, or cross her arms over her chest to keep from fidgeting and she thought this was slightly less confrontational looking.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #4 –
[Selena Ravenholm | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ]

These slipstream jumps were absolutely fascinating for Selena.  The colors swirling around the ship as they literally slipped between layers of subspace for some serious speed boosts were mesmerizing, and she had no words for the chaotic patterns that appeared when she stared into them, cycling through several EM ranges with her occular implants.  It was a good thing the ship was cut off from the galaxy at large when slipping, she wasn’t getting much done.  The internal comms were holding up just fine (the reroutes around the Spearhead Lounge managed to keep the still-damaged sections in the loop), and other than the engineering channels crammed full of rapid-fire technobabble everything was pretty quiet for now.

The familiar subdued whine of a transporter caught the cyborg’s ear and she looked over to see Thea materialize around her dark emitter core right next to Rutherford, startling the poor woman.  Selena hid a smirk at that one, it was always fun seeing how the new arrivals reacted to Thea popping in and out of existence around them.  Unfortunately, Thea didn’t come bearing good news: they needed to drop out of slipstream.  Captain Ives didn’t waste any time and seconds later the blue swirls faded into the far more familiar (and boring by comparison) starfield.  Consoles all around the Bridge started to chirp with the influx of recognizable inputs, but Thea beat everyone to the punch with the news about all the Klingons around.  Things got busy from there.

On her own end, Selena’s deft fingers already started the process to make some surreptitious links into the Imperial subspace comm network.  It was appallingly easy to do, Klingon cryptology relied far more on just brute forcing your way through some encryption algorithms based on a mixture of their archaic base-3 math system from before warp drive and the modern base-10, and Thea had a line in less than a minute.  She was relegated to the civilian channels for now of course, the military portion of the network was far better protected, but that was only a matter of time before Selena would crack that nut.  As soon as she was in she slipped an earpiece in and started listening to different broadcasts, trying to get the local picture.  That was when a directed hail came in, catching the woman off guard.  The source rose an eyebrow, and the serious levels of encryption rose the other, someone knew they were coming and didn’t want anyone else listening in.  “Captain,” she started her announcement, raising her voice over the growing din.  As soon as Ives made the “play it” gesture she linked the hail to the viewscreen.

Some old fart of a Klingon who barely fit into his armor growled for Martok at first, but thankfully relented to talk with the Captain for now.  He was clearly annoyed at the situation as it was, but what was that about Federation media?  The Captain caught the same thread and made the call for an update.  Selena gave them a quick nod and went to work.  Thanks to the decades-old alliance between the Federation and the Empire linking the two with all sorts of trade FNN was one of the main civilian channels (translated into Klingon by default of course).  A few seconds of download time was the only lag she got, and it didn’t take any time at all to find what K’Tal had to be referring to: plastered right at the very top of the main screen was a headline directly linking Martok to Theurgy.  She quickly downloaded the article and every companion piece (text, video, and audio) she could find, storing it all in a protected partition in case it had some embedded trackers (assuming they could get through her false Klingon credentials) or other little surprises from Starfleet Intelligence.  Speed reading through the main article, Selena’s hands and feet went cold.  Damn you Alton…

Before she left on the Harbinger, Selena had bumped into the man once.  He was an eager reporter, almost too eager.  He’d pushed hard to get the Harbinger assignment but failed, and he’d been pretty upset over it she remembered.  And now here he was, throwing out a story that could start a civil war.  She made a note and sent it to both Fisher and Anh-Le, she couldn’t be sure if this guy was just and eager tool, or if he got snaked.  Either way, Anderson needs to keep an eye on him.

Finally looking up from her console, Selena could see that K’Tal was gone and the Captain was looking for the options.  “Captain.”  she punched through the discussion as soon as there was enough of a break to do so without being rude.  “The situation is even worse for Martok than he realizes.  Starfleet Command is throwing their weight behind Gorka, not that the High Council would necessarily listen to them.  On top of that, the President has already tasked Command with “defensive mobilization” towards the border.  Even money says Archeron is on the way.”

A few keystrokes and the FNN feed was on the main viewscreen for everyone to see:


>> Click For Full Resolution

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #5 –
[Zyrao Natauna | Bridge Duty | Information | Maps Suck | Can I Have Some Klingon to Punch, Please?]
@Auctor Lucan @Griff




This was a fuster cluck of epic proportions.

She would much rather be in a fighter, in a Bird of Prey, in some thing else than on the Bridge staring at moving pawns on a fucking map.  This was so stupid and while she was good at her job and would much prefer this to doing nothing her body and her fist were craving the crush of bones and the feel of hot blood running between her fingers.  Still, she had a job to do, and it was one that she wasn't going to let the whole team down. 

This was important.

Cross was standing there at the tactical display beside her, she was letting him lift the most load because she was the Klingon Liaison and he was doing his job as Chief Tac.  He told the Captain that they needed more data.  There was a large formation of Klingon ships and somewhere around sixty warp signatures and twenty more than that on the other side.  Martok's forces were further out, which was true, and there were too many unknowns.

He looked over at her, as though she could somehow give more information.

And well, she could.

“Captain, looking at the names and numbers of the ships I already know that many of them are definitely dedicated to the house Martok and will fight for him loyally.  There are more ships that are loyal to Gorka and most of those are at our flank so we need to make sure that we're watching our six because no one else is.” 

She shook her head.

“But there is still hope, Captain, there is a wealth of ships out there that have neither decided on one nor the other. Those we can sway to our side will benefit us, and I think between us and Martok we could do it.  I don't know if you would prefer I, or Martok himself, as the best one tos way the Klingon to our fight, but the more we have on our side the better.  Whatever we decide Captain we need to make haste as I fear that Gorka will not stay his trigger finger long.”

===============

OOC: Sorry it's so short, I'm tired and mentally exhausted but didn't want ya'll to have to wait any longer!

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #6 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @chXinya @stardust

Fisher had made his way to the Bridge in advance of what was to be their next emergence from slipspace; it wasn’t an exact science as to when the Theurgy would need to drop out, but after the first jump he felt confident that he could ballpark it well enough. Upon his arrival, he had sequestered himself by the Intelligence console, overwatching Selena as she worked diligently and with alacrity to monitor any incoming or intercepted communications which might have proven relevant to the developing situation. It was as good a distraction as any, as he had felt himself desperately in need of one in order to distance his train of thought from the endless loop of concern which had been playing throughout it. There were just so many unanswered questions about everything pertaining to the mission, of which he was semi-responsible for finding said answers to. But worst of all, in the moment he could only focus on those which directly pertained to M’Ven, son of Drax, and what fate might befall the young boy. It had been eating at him since the dilemma had first presented itself, and even after having placed his faith in his colleagues to make the right decision in the matter, he couldn’t escape the implicit guilt which threatened to weigh so heavily upon him.

Some might have called it a failure on his part as a Starfleet Officer, but Fisher had always had trouble accepting the normalcies of other cultures, when those normalcies went so directly in opposition of what was considered moral in his own. He had never bought into the notion that all cultures were on equal footing in terms of morality and should be respected as such. Especially when it came to something as outright reprehensible as the execution of an innocent child for political gains.

But that was neither here, nor there in terms of prominence.

He needed to be focused on what was imminently at play. Turning about to face the always trans-morphing Captain as he sat in his chair at the center of the Bridge, Fisher’s peripheral vision caught sight of the blonde woman within whom he had placed his trust. He hadn’t only been caught by the brilliant manner in which the ambient blue-light of the viewscreen accentuated the hue of her azure-gaze when it peered across at him for an instant; there was also the internal conflict still raging within him, and to an extent it had been manifested by her. Nearly every instinct in his core was screaming at him to intercede further; to press on the issue of the boy’s fate, but he knew that to do so would have placed himself and everyone else aboard Theurgy in jeopardy. He understood as much, well before Sam had made an impassioned plea to him after their return from Epsilon Monocerotis; that he needed to let things happen as they might. No, he needed to focus on that which he could explicitly impact, and control around him. So, as inherent as it was for him to distrust those whom he didn’t know, he had chosen to do the exact opposite, and place his faith in Martok and Ives, hopeful that they would ensure the best possible outcome for this child.

It was the best that he could do, even though it felt like he was doing nothing at all.

With an exhale he tried to quell the considerable anxiousness which had built up within him and ease the tensioned lower-muscles in his back which had constricted even worse in reaction to the stress which this situation had induced. But when there was a flicker of light just beyond the Captain, Fisher’s felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end in anticipation of whatever might have prompted Thea to appear so abruptly, though he had an inkling as to what she was about to intimate. Leaning heavily against the stanchion just at the edge of the Intelligence Console, a place of some relative comfort for him when on the Bridge, Fisher listened intently as the AI outlined the necessity of the ship dropping out of slipspace. In accordance, he readied himself for the subtle gut-wrenching sensation which would rip through him and the rest of the crew upon their return to regular space. His gaze then shifted back to the viewscreen to observe whatever would await them. Oddly enough, for the briefest of instances he thought that maybe they would emerge to relative peace and quiet, and in fact when the blue-shift before them faded into the blackness of space, only broken up by the crimson haze of nebula, he wondered if his thought had proven to be reality.

It of course hadn’t.

Sensor readings were relayed immediately, and it became clear just how chaotic and loud everything was going to become in the very near future. A modest fleet of Klingon warships to the rear, and less modest fleet to the fore. No ability to return to slipspace in any kind of positive timetable. They were very literally stuck in the midst of what was likely going to be yet another Klingon Civil War, and after Ives had started doling out a bevy of orders, there came the announcement of an urgent encrypted subspace communication from Qo’nos. “This ought to be good.” Fisher sarcastically whispered to himself. Call it a sixth-sense, but the Chief Intelligence Officer had a knack for sensing when things were just about to take a turn for the worse, and as details were being thrown about, orders given, and the all too familiar red-alert klaxon sounding, Fisher felt his combative instincts starting to kick in. He knew in advance of the appearance of the elder Klingon on the viewscreen, that whatever information was about to be imparted would only negatively impact Theurgy and its mission.

And when K’Tal, son of Machi, of house K’Tal introduced himself, the sage-eyed spy recognized his name, and the position within the Klingon Empire he had been in charge of. It was an imperative to know the names of those across the spectrum of rival Intelligence Organizations in the Galaxy, and though the Klingons and Federation were allied, Fisher had been taught to consider any other spy as a potential opponent.

When the conversation had ended, and Ives began to field for suggestions, one such made struck in Fisher’s cortex. “Aye Sir, we’ve had discussions in Intelligence regarding the possibility of remanding the Sabine into service aboard Theurgy. Some plans have been drawn up to retrofit the ship to make it stealthier, and more serviceable to our needs.” Pressing off of his shoulder from where he had been leant, Fisher took a step closer to the Captain. “Though we have yet to officially put anything into effect, or even approach the ship’s owner about the prospect of our making use of it.” In the usual manner, Fisher had intended to put forward the proposal when he felt it was ready, running it past the Civilian owner of the ship, a Sera Vers Aldnoah, prior to bringing the matter to the Captain for his final approval; but where things were at now, it spoke to a potential immediate need. The notion was clear, and with a nod he understood he’d need to see to the issue personally, in addition to a bevy of other items which necessitated attention.

“I’ll get us the option, Sir.” Fisher said simply, as he turned back to Selena, still seated at the console.

He had a course of action to take, but at the same time new concerns raised by his colleagues had started to build within his consciousness. One more so than others and coming from what was becoming an overly familiar voice. The recommendation to make use of their Parasite deterrence methods on the Klingon High Council was troubling, but there was a logic behind Rutherford’s reasoning. However adamantly opposed both Fisher, and in fact the Captain had been about killing the hosts in order to eliminate the parasites, options were starting to run thin. Time was running even shorter. Spinning round as he heard the clatter of footsteps crossing the deck plating, he laid eyes on Sam once more, and knew that she could outwardly sense the apprehensions running through his mind. But the trust that he had placed in her on one matter, now extended further with regard to this case, as she sought to disarm his protestations before he could voice them with a look of reassurance. For his part, there was no hint at all, no movement, no clearly evident inclination that he was extending that trust, beyond the fact that he didn’t voice his concerns. It was an implicit trust, in place of an explicit one that she had picked up on, and which only troubled him, because he knew that if that trust was broken, it could likely never be rebuilt again.

Fisher wasn’t a fool. Trust wasn’t something that he extolled on others so readily, if at all. He simply couldn’t afford to be so naïve. Trust was something to be earned, through familiarity and time. But with Sam, he was giving her a sizeable modicum of it on credit.

Once she had disappeared within a turbolift, Fisher returned to the tasks at hand before him, and dismissed any lingering worries that may have persisted. He needed to get moving, and quickly so. “Fisher to all Intelligence Personnel!” he called out after slapping the Starfleet Delta adorning his left pectoral. “Report to the Central Intelligence Suite.” With that, he likewise stepped back from the Intelligence desk in advance of leaving the Bridge. “Selena, stay at your station; I need continued monitoring of any incoming communications, or signals. Do what you do best, and I’ll keep you apprised.” He instructed the cybernetic Comms specialist, knowing that her place on the Bridge was of paramount importance. The tasks before him, and the rest of the department weren’t of the sort that demanded she abandon that vital post. If anything, they were more at her mercy, than the other way around, as the interception of intelligence was where their job started.

“Captain.” He said with a simple nod as he went to the turbolift and entered.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #7 –
[ Lt. Tyreke Okafor| Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
It never ceased to amaze Tyreke to see a ship traveling at slipstream. The sheer power of it and the elegance of the movement. While Tyreke had done experimental simulations on a variant of the coaxial warp drive, slipstream itself was another beast all together. Coaxial warp fields were chaotic and violent in their movement. Slipstream was just another way of doing things... and it showed.

The sensor array detected multiple Klingon ships. Finding their shield frequencies and assisting in the harmonics would be invaluable for the science department to support, prompting Tyreke to heading to the bridge in order to assist. Taking a science station on the far side of the bridge after announcing himself to the Captain. Tyreke set upon the task of working through the sensors in order to assist.

Two Klingon fleets stood between them. Telemetry started coming in on all sides from the ships both friend and foe. Martok's banner was weakened but still strong enough to make a go of it, but it did put Theurgy in a difficult position to be between them. Hopefully this ship's luck would continue to hold out while they tried to work their way though this.

Until then, Tyreke waited for instructions from the bridge officers, and staying vigilant for what was to come.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #8 –
[ CWO1 Larrant | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

The initial slipstream jump had caused all sorts of glitches in Larrant's pod that the Medusan was hesitant about the second. In the time between jumps, Larrant had run diagnostics and believed to have isolated some of the errant codings in the prototype EMU that protected his fellow crew from the psychological trauma viewing his exposed form would cause.

This go-round via slipstream did not cause a system failure in the holographic imager as it had before, causing a system-wide reboot of the EMU. No, this time, the holographic imager entered a state of static lag. Practically frozen except for ten-second jerks, Larrant and his avatar spent the slipstream burst watching from the rear.

Moments after entering normal space, the lag stopped. The tug of massive stellar objects resumed at their normal gravities. And then, Larrant's avatar spoke all the things he tried to say while in lag time at once. An hour worth of spoken thought spewed forth in a matter of seconds. "jkainlinoionghoiaoaniohoihghointonowekeloslaigonagaeg....."

Then it stopped. "My apologies. It appears that there are a few more glitches in my containment units operation during slipstream." Larrant was afraid to ask the engineering crew to assist. The EMU was delicate tech and it was the only one he currently had. Theurgy would not be able to requisition a spare anytime soon. If this one became inoperable, Larrant would be exposed and confined to quarters to ensure crew safety.

Looking at the tactical readout for the surrounding space and listening to the crew reports, Larrant could tell that conflict was coming. He despised conflict. It was so primitive. Uncivilized. He also had a feeling he would be called upon as he was with the Ganymede 7, to navigate the depths of Klingon space in order to avoid patrols and use the gravitational forces of the region to get to Qonos faster. Had they been in Romulan space it would been easy to avoid cloaked vessels. Romulans used quantum singularity drives. To a Medusan, easy to detect. Klingon cloaking devices however operated differently. The ability to bend light around a vessel still generated a detectable gravity fluctuation, but only once that vessel was too close for comfort. And by then, it wouldn't matter, Klingons would shoot first, and not ask questions later.
CPO Sithick [Show/Hide]
CWO1 Larrant [Show/Hide]
BG Natauna
 [Show/Hide]

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #9 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford & Lt. Cmdr. Fisher | Main Bridge Turbolift | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]

Brushing her plump lips together, visage rigid, like an Egyptian bust of an ancient queen, statuesque and cold, brows raised beyond their natural ridgeline, in august conviction, the blonde officer settled into the back of the elevator cabin. Shaking her pate gently, taming bouncy curls beyond the peripheral perception of azure orbs with such swift motions, many a contemplative thought, flittered through her mind, like glistening silver commuter trains, in a busy central station. Flickering against the back of her eyes, like ripples on a disturbed pond. It almost made the entire elevator cabin appear as if the light dimmed and instead the guttering of a nightlight, cast bright dots, wandering across the walls and ceiling, as it did back home, as a child. Dipping her slender pastures into a warm bath of comfortable feelings, as her mind shifted away from the shadows weighing on the surrounding fabric of reality. The demanding putter of the ships system, requesting input, eluding her senses, as a location was not given, while the here and now became the focal point of space and time.

Then the curtains drew back, and in broke the blinding light of a new morning, drawing the woman’s senses from a vivid daydream. As if carefully touching back down on the ground of mortality, after being adrift in eternal light. Every square inch of soled feet, tuning back into the sensation of gravity. A breath drew in through gently flaring nostrils, thick and heavy, as if breathing air for the first time. Blue rings dilating around dark ponds mirroring the image of one Andrew Fisher, as the photons, bouncing off his stature, pierced the artisanal vitreous body, on their way to join a flurry of emotions and mementos, triggered by the manifestation of his familiar physiognomy. Dancing in a whirlwind of intermixing feelings and sensations, that drew a notion of anguish, from the depth of her ribcage. As a chapter - that had seemed fully written, edited and printed - revealed a few more empty pages, gleaming white with the prospect of uncertainty. As the doors closed once more, the cart almost ached, with the added weight of emotional baggage and unspoken realities. But the struts and bolts held tight.

“Deck five first then.” The diplomat relayed quietly, uncertain if the AI would be able to pick up on the subtle ring of commanding tone, if not the desperate plea for a swift relief.

Eyes cast deeply asunder in a transfixed state upon the grayish-blue carpet of the decking as he strode toward the turbolift, there had been little forethought which had passed through the mind of the Chief Intelligence Officer as to the possibility that the cabin would be occupied. In fact, he had been counting on the relative reassurance of loneness which was generally offered by those which ran down and away from the bridge. Instead, when he’d stepped inside, his gravity laden gaze snagged on the form-fitting outline of a woman’s black duty slacks, stirring him in a sudden jolt from the relative safe harbor of a quiet moment in which he could consider everything that was transpiring about him. In an instant, any chance at reflecting on the choices made over the last twenty-four hours, or those which were still to be made over the next twenty-four, was now cast aside; replaced by the conflict and turmoil of another far more personal situation as it had developed.

Still, despite all of the stray and wayward thoughts, the questions, the doubts; all of which which immediately began to rage through the far away and very near recesses of his consciousness, Fisher couldn’t deny how relieved he was at the chance to be with her, alone, if even for such short opportunity as this.

With regard to her gaze of azure which struck him like a spotlight, quickening the heartbeat within his chest as if the percussion section had been called to tempo by the wave of a conductors baton, the sage-eyed man felt his nerves fade, only to be replaced by that charismatic confidence which had served him so well in life. Their dynamic had changed so rapidly over such a short time, from that of purely professional, to far more complicated and interpersonal; yet in a way, he found himself more at ease and comfortable than he rightly probably should have. It was clear however, that to an extent, the same wasn’t necessarily true for Sam. He hadn’t known her long, but he didn’t need to in order to notice how she was likewise harangued with her own worries and doubts. It was an unfair reality which dawned on him, that she had accepted the burden of guilt on his behalf by convincing him to trust in Martok, and Ives. That she was in a way, shielding him from the sword upon which he would all too gladly hurl himself unto with reckless abandon. He could sense how she was conflicted by her own commitment to duty and the newly ignited relationship between them, and how their decisions might test the strength of that young flickering flame.

“You think Martok packs light?” he asked innocently, recognizing the desperate need for any pleasant or amusing distraction which he could muster. “With all that hair. I wonder if the Sabine will have room enough for his conditioning products, and all of the requisite Klingon weaponry.” Leaning back against the side of the turbolift as it started to move, he grinned charmingly to her. “You think he’d react poorly if I asked him to keep it to a one carry-on, one check-bag only?”
 
Andrew’s familiar, baritone voice, served like a lifeline in the torrential onset of reality, cascading back in upon Samantha like a tidal wave. A familiar notion, like a foghorn in the mist, yet instead drawing her closer to the dangerous cliffs, rather than away. So maybe a siren’s song, was the more appropriate analogy, albeit less befitting the low, manly howl, of his joyfully dancing syllables. And there were very few things that could agitate the commander anymore, after having lived the life she had, the partially Vulcan heritage and training, the growing numb to drama and torment, abstracting it into numbers and values to be weighed against one another in an ethereal scale. But somehow, within a short amount of time, the man had not only managed to snake in deep enough to elicit a feeling of comfort, care and security, but also to skillfully prod and poke into the sore crevices and sensitive cracks, to elicit an acquainted reaction of an entirely different kind.

“I beg your pardon?” the blonde marveled, slightly incredulously. Though not with the venomous ill-content she would’ve regarded anyone else with, but him, in such a moment of emotional turmoil. The disturbance as much a welcome one, as it was dreaded. Somehow a double-entendre, instantly jumped to the forefront of her mind, at the mention of Martok ‘packing’. Which did nothing to alleviate her professional tension. Blue eyes had transfixed on Fisher’s, merely jumping a few millimeters here and there, as the focal point shifted between his two sage orbs. The azure ponds demanding him to explain further, silently.

Letting out an audible huff from her petite nose, the officer readjusted her stance and diverted her gaze, at the realization of a mocking reference being the revelation to his cryptic starter. “Well, I wouldn’t start boarding preparations just yet. You haven’t even come to terms with how many goats your safe passage will set you back.” Chewing on her lips slightly, shuffling in her shoes a bit, the woman quickly attempted to repress the more annoying ramifications of there even being civilians on board, who could just decide not to be helpful.

If it had been up to her, keelhauling would’ve still been a staple in Starfleet reprimand law. This was not a pleasure cruise, that had any room for freeloading bums, who wanted a treat, for every silly trick they performed.

In a sense, Fisher could detect how his penchant for light-hearted banter in the face of mounting stress had already undermined his Diplomatic counterpart from an emotional standpoint, clearly striking on chords which were out of tune and badly in need of adjustment. The underlying issue though, was that there seemed to be a general disconnect in his mind as to whether or not he truly was the one that could bring them back into the mix of a chorus. This hadn’t been the first subtle rebuke made in his direction since their dynamic had so dramatically made a turn just two nights prior, but rather a continuation of them, and though he could fundamentally understand why there was such a conflict at work within his blonde companion’s consciousness, he couldn’t entirely escape the manner in which it had stung and felt like an outright rejection. Frustration and no small amount of annoyance began to settle in, as whatever light that had once appeared to exist between them was suddenly growing dimmer with each successive interaction, and for the most part it wasn’t he who had been so dead set in bathing their relationship in a mix of shadows and uncertainty.

Perhaps having crossed the line between professional and personal realities was a mistake, and he began to wonder in earnest for the first time if what they had felt and expressed in a moment of unrequited passion was an overreaction to the events of the bombing. Like a rubber band that had been pulled on too harshly in a lone instant only to snap back at the hand which had done the pulling. And once that tension had been released, only the sting and pang of regret would now lingered on after.

Silence permeated the small confines of the turbolift car, albeit broken up by the slight thrum of passing bulkheads as they sped through the sections and levels of the ship on route to Deck Five, where potentially he would leave it and her behind. The threat of losing whatever resplendent coexistence that had been there before tugged at the very precipice of his mind, and whereas others may have let passivity dictate action, Fisher saw only one recourse which suited him and his natural inclination for a more direct approach. “Halt!” he exclaimed with no small hint of exasperation evident in his voice, the audio-sensors of the cabin detecting the keyword which would elicit a command subroutine and bring their relatively short journey through the arteries of the Theurgy to an abrupt stop at a junction point. Taking a step away from the edge of the wall upon which he had been leant in a sign of casual relaxation, he turned more to face Sam with an obvious fixation of more serous undertones present in the way his sage-eyes fell upon her. With a slight tilt to the pate of his head, he hesitated a moment so as to appropriately rein in the storm raging within the pit of his stomach.

There was an implicit question being raised without so much as another syllable being spoken, as to whether or not he should truly continue along the route that he had embarked along, with what he had assumed to be someone at his side, rather than alone. The terms of what he meant to extoll clearly evident by how he appraised her now, with unease and uncertainty present in the twitch of his eyes as they sought to find hers. He sought not an outright and immediate declaration, but rather to gauge if there was even a glimmer or shred of anything which would demand furthering on, rather than turning back.

As the turbolift cart came to a dictated halt, as if gravity, for a moment, magnified, Samantha subconsciously placed a hand on the railing, snaking around the entirety of the cabin. Delicate fingertips, brushing past the cold metal, intent on applying counterpressure where needed, but the sentiment was not as strong. Ultimately the notion became almost rather symbolical, for her emotional wavering, as the man poised himself before her. Where he managed to touch upon the more delicate and raw spots in her soul, making it impossible to stay adamant, or even professional. Sucking in her cheeks through her teeth, biting down on the slippery flesh to gauge its pain threshold, the blonde’s chiseled facial features became only the more apparent, as she contemplated his intentions.

Her blue eyes had found his confidently, as soon as he’d injected himself into her head-on field of vision. She could read his uncertainty, not only in the subtly fidgety way the hairs on his upper lip furled, in abject contemplation. However, she did not understand what he wanted from her.

Was this about the night they shared? Was it about their professional confrontation during the mission to Epsilon Monocerotis? Her insistence on using the transphasic light, without consideration for individual fates? It only then dawned on the diplomat that there was really a lot to choose from and it was almost a wonder, that they had not come to fight over any of it yet properly.

Letting her long lashes shield dropping hues of azure, for a moment, the commander contemplated to spiritually clock out, for a moment, to turn off her infallible sense for duty and take a moment to settle this issue, that was clearly more based in the realm of privacy, than that of professionalism. Letting a deep breath pass through slightly parted lips, her gaze met his once more, almost a warm lavender hue, subduing their vigor. “Are you … alright?” was seemingly the only thing she could come up with that indicated some kind of care, if only in the vaguest sense possible. The switch was not as easy and clean as she’d hoped.

In an instant, as sage-eyes found those of azure, Fisher wondered perhaps if the implicit question he meant to run past her, was in fact more poised inward at himself. If perhaps it was his own subconscious speaking against him and challenging whether or not he was as committed to exploring this newly dawned relationship. Together they had come so far, yet at the same time not very far at all. There was so much that had been stolen from them by the crisis in which they both existed, and it had clearly added a strain to whatever this was which existed between them.

In stark realization that he had nearly acted out of impulse, and a compromised understanding of things, the spy exhaled deeply with a sense of exhaustion and tenuous nerves clearly evident in the expression upon his face. Sure, there were aspects that demanded expression, examination, and subsequent discussion; but none which was so demanding that it couldn’t wait for a more opportune moment, when he, and she were in a more amenable scenario. Especially when he could see by the manner in which her gaze regarded him, that despite the somewhat cold exterior she afforded at times, more than likely as a defensive mechanism, that there was a genuine consideration for him within her somewhere. That recognition alone was enough to stymy whatever flood of aggressive questioning, and direct confrontation may have been raging within the forefront of his mind. It softened the raging storm that had nearly breached the surface and brought out of him a sense of momentary peace.

“I don’t know.” The deftness with which he could spin a lie, and in fact almost convince himself of its truth was astounding, but rather than attempt such, he instead chose to embrace the truth of the matter. It felt wrong to lie to Sam, and so he wouldn’t. This spoke volumes to the high regard that he held for her, and maybe even answered the initial dilemma that had crossed his thoughts. Averting his gaze from her own, so as to steel himself away from how she could so easily pierce his exterior veil, and dictate from him whatever she likely wanted, Fisher searched for the right things to say next. Yet silence existed with prominence for what seemed an eternity before he finally relented and decided to move on. “Are you... alright?” he reciprocated to her, placing a stronger emphasis on the first part of the question, as he demonstrated the imperative importance with which she represented to him now.

Letting her gaunt cheeks secape from the solemn hold within her rows of teeth, the blonde officer pursed her lips, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as long lashes drew closer like clamshells, sifting the truth from the murky waters. 'I don't know.' was a sentiment born from ignorance, insecurity or misdirection. The former two not exactly applying to Andrew Fisher. The process of elimination, however, only supported a more innate conviction, she already had. Nodding slowly, acknowledging the skill, not the effort, Samantha let it be, not intent on coaxing a more truthful validation from the man, under the current circumstances. His habitual smoke and mirror game, which seemed to have established itself as some sort of trusted fallback option, already spoke volumes. But the fact that he turned the sentiment around on her, almost made mockery of the intent she’d offered, when asking him in the first place. She could at least take solace in the fact that he’d surely meant it equally sympathetically.

“Noo?!” the diplomat replied curtly, though the ‘O’ stretched on a little longer than necessary, as plump lips carried the vowel along, by shaping into a funnel. “I have slept a twisting and turning 4 hours total, in the past 3 days combined. Interspersed with a brawl in Below Deck’s, a rather eye-opening lecture by our resident parasite vessel, all while a needy Klingon kept following me around like a lapdog, then there was a quantum jump that could’ve destroyed us all, a dinner cut short by my sort-of-date running out of the room in a bout of nausea, the terrorist attack on the spearhead lounge …” the blonde’s eyes trailed off in contemplation as she counted down the ways. “… then your little side-act in sickbay, followed by a rather unexpected tête-a-tête, rivaling all aforementioned happenings in mystification, concluding with ironically the best two hours of sleep I had, out of the four. But wait …”

Holding up her slender index-finger, an incredulous chuckle leaving her rosy pillows, while blue eyes circled around to focus back on the handsome man, who so gentlemanly waited for her to finish. “Sneaking out of your quarters at four AM was specifically charming, as I shoved a whole week of research vials into an Ensign’s face, stumbling while trying to put my shoes on in the corridor. Followed by a pretty awkward and fruitless intermezzo with your communications specialist and one of my aids overhearing two Klingons talk about shooting an important ally of Martok’s out of the sky. Then I find YOU in the shuttle bay, complicating MY mission to deliver an important – if not THE most important – asset to the chancellor. Entailing twelve hours in a cramped shuttle and smelly outpost, only to be woken at four AM by two of my subordinates throwing a hissy-fit in the security suite!”

Taking a deep breath Samantha hastily continued, not intent on letting the man interject before she was done showing him off. “Then I am summoned to the bridge, to stand front row, as we jump into this hornets’ nest. And since our Klingon liaison is busy identifying birds by their shape and color ‘I’ am honored with the task of going to tell the chancellor that it will be a slightly inconvenient ride. Which would’ve been fine, if I didn’t have to deal with your infallible conscience, breathing down my neck.” she concluded, exasperated. Chewing on the inside of her lip, gauging each subtle twitch and deepening line on the handsome scruffy mug of his. “So yeah, I am not great … but sorry you don’t know how YOU feel.”

Even a blind man could have foreseen that some fashion of a retort was to be unleashed upon him from the beautiful blonde diplomat, especially when taking into consideration just how much tension had been built up over such a short period of time. Stress of course was a contributing and compounding factor to everything that was going on, and in his own right Fisher had dealt with more than his fair share of it too. He hadn’t meant to sound insincere, or obfuscating with his response to her query, instead relaying the very real confusion and conflict which was bothering him due to the potentially misperceived manner in which she had started to grow distant and despondent toward him. But as he had shifted the focus back to her, he now realized that he had evidently and inadvertently caused her eventual retort to flare up in the form of an almost full-on breakdown. He was understanding how his own odd behavior was causing a lot of the friction, even manifesting it into existence in the first place.

Now, he would receive a somewhat appropriate tongue-lashing from her, and though a part of him ached to contest and interrupt her as she went on, especially on a few points which more the merited such protestation, he instead accepted with some reticence to just cross his arms over his chest and listen until she was done.

“...side-act in sickbay.” He said simply, nodding with no small measure of annoyance evident in his voice, unappreciative of how his nearly being killed was being held against him, and as the rest of her tirade echoed on in his head, he found himself decidedly less acquiescent. The accusatory tone, the scorn, which was being unleashed, and the misdirection of anger toward him over a number of things which were well beyond his control compounded upon one another. What stung worse than anything else, was the familiarity of disdain afforded to him over his strong moral inclination, as it had been a battle he had been waging for years, and which had afforded him little more than personal anguish and frequent rebuke. Shaking his head, he turned away from her and reached out to touch against the turbolift console, allowing it to resume movement. “I guess I do know how I feel then. I’m sorry that the trust I placed in you to do the right thing, was such an unfair consideration.” He said as the turbolift came to a gradual halt, and the doors opened, thankfully to no one but an empty corridor. “A trust that maybe you knew better than I did.” He looked back over his shoulder to her for an instant.

“Something I haven’t afforded to anyone. Not even the Captain.” He remembered how Ives had challenged him during their initial conference, when Fisher had made it clear that things were never so cut and dry, and how he wouldn’t necessarily compromise who he was for the simple sake of success over failure. Not because he hadn’t ever done so in the past, but more so because he had. “Infallible conscience?” He repeated sarcastically while shaking his head. Taking a step forward, he hesitated a moment, wondering whether or not he should turn to face her once more before departing. “If you’re burdened with worry over how I might view your choices, don’t be. I doubt you’ve done a fraction of the reprehensible things I’ve done in life. But just because I have done them, doesn’t mean I can live without them eating at me. Without the memories of them consuming my own sleepless nights. Haunting my psyche.” Letting want to get the better of him, Fisher couldn’t escape turning about to indeed see her. “...and it was my fractious psyche which started this because I couldn’t see how stressful I and everyone else have been for you.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But for wanting more of you, and from you. I won’t apologize for that.”

Tilting her head to the side in a slight huff, reverberating through her body into a gentle shuffle of the foot - not quite a stomp, but a distinct patter – the blonde validated his bruised interjection with that of a child who did not want to see the grander picture but rather get hung up on a single phrase. She didn’t think she was in the midst of a high stake’s negotiation, where she had to weigh her every word against the potential perceptions, it could be construed with. But he let her finish, and she did, with a deafening moment of silence where it was hard to anticipate what the reaction would be. They were both weighed down by the ramifications of everything that had been happening and it was certainly not the healthiest environment to make any kind of personal decisions over. Which is why, no matter how right and important the moment they’d shared that night felt, logically it was just the kickoff to a series of colossal misjudgments and unprofessional interjections into the fabric of duty. Even now! But she was willing to humor him, because maybe he needed a reassurance more than she admitted needing one herself?! Or maybe he was braver to openly own up to it, than her.

Shuffling in her feet as the cart moved on, all the way until it halted seconds later - at the first destination of her journey, and the ultimate of his – Samantha struggled with the task of deciding which thread to follow. The most professional thing would’ve been to just let it go, let him go and figure things out on his end first. She felt like she was pretty sure about her feelings and about the proper way to address them, potentially part of a grander, Vulcan, delusion of grandeur. Likely making her THE WORST to deal with emotions. “Of course, I worry about you!” she spat out, calling back not on his last, but rather his penultimate statement.

“It’s why I asked you how you were … towards which you’ve been perfectly evasive.” Pulling her plump lips back in, between perfect rows of teeth, containing the growing sour aftertaste of throwing things back at him out of pure spite, the blonde recollected herself within the fraction of a second. “But you’re right, I worry over how you’ll view my decisions. Not because of your fractious psyche, or because I am unsure of my convictions, but because that’s just what you’ll have to live with, if we go down that road … the road of more.”

Pausing for a moment, the officer lowered her voice, not only because the turbolift doors were already open and someone could’ve overheard her actually offering a sentiment of mawkish emotions, before adding quietly, almost bashfully: “That you don’t even have to apologize for wanting.”

Standing just outside of the turbolift doors in the midst of the fortunately empty corridor, a red pulse of light emitting from the walls in typical fashion of a ship under full Red-Alert status, Fisher let Sam’s words absorb into him with close attentiveness. His instincts at reading others having been tested to their limit by the blonde diplomat, who could unravel the very best of his innate skills and abilities with little more than a simple look. It unnerved him to know that internally he was so compromised around her, and in fact that was one of the many things which had been bothering him about how their dynamic had been gradually shifting through the tides, much like a piece of flotsam left adrift among an unsteady sea. In her company he had been at the very peak of highs, and yet since then he found himself slipping back down the swells to a low, wondering if another wave would lift him once more, or if perhaps calm and still might come to steady things.

Soon the doors to the turbolift began to close, and with frustration clearly breaching the surface he reached out one of his strong hands to slap at the edge of one, triggering the automatic sensors which would cause it to open once more.

His hand left to lean against the door’s edge, he let her words continue to harry against and through him, perfectly willing to take whatever spiteful rebukes she dared launch his way. It felt like for an instant, that they were near to a consensus on the matter, and he steadied himself to accept the reality that perhaps this simply wasn’t meant to be. But there was still that small scream at the back of his mind, the same which prompted him into action the other night, and which was now daring him to not surrender to the easy route; rather forge on the difficult path, as the potential reward would be more than worth it in the end. And likewise, where that voice had found clemency from him at the behest of one of her actions, it would yet again be show such consideration as her own tone seemed to shift toward a more amenable one. It spoke again to the reality that this wasn’t a one-way interest on his part, but that of a genuinely mutual one that might foster something far greater if explored together.

Searching the depths of his thoughts for a moment, uncaring if anyone else might happen across the two star-crossed lovers as they were discussing the sentimental matters which he had promoted, the spy chose to adopt the rationale that she had proposed. “Despite it all. If that’s the toll of walking this road at your side; I’d gladly pay it.” With an exhale, he felt a sense of catharsis settle in as he had embraced the challenge ahead of him, knowing that it would indeed be that, but also aware of the brilliant light which awaited the two of them at the end of it if they endured. Suddenly aware of a pair of Ensigns approaching from behind him, their wayward gaze catching upon the two Department Chiefs, he knew that while he didn’t care what they saw, Sam wasn’t potentially as outwardly comfortable about it. “I suppose I should see about procuring those Goats for trade.” He teased, remembering the initial taunt that she had made in regard to remanding the Sabine into service; letting the vestiges of a wry grin beckon at the corner of his lips as he appraised her with his sage-green eyes.

Stepping back from the turbolift to clear it’s door, and allow the Ensigns to join Sam inside, Fisher nodded to each of them politely before he was due to depart, but caught himself as he turned back, once more slapping at the doors before they could close. He knew she’d likely be annoyed by what he was going to propose before the two lower-decks officers but was willing to pay that price too.

“We see it through this day of days... Dinner? My quarters. Yeah?”

Truly, it wasn’t like Samantha had intended to lay out a non-negotiable term, for their unspoken agreement, to become effective law. In reply to his confusion, over what that disagreement between them meant, she’d merely tried to relay a sense of reassurance, that her disagreement had nothing to do with her personal feelings for them man and that she held no ill-content for him by playing it professionally. But then again, her Starfleet diploma was in interspecies diplomacy, and not cross-gender bonding rituals. So maybe that part of her lyrical prowess, needed a little bit of brushing up, after seven years of falling into disrepair.

Regardless of it, however, the notion of his agreeing, felt like warm honey on the cold, dry calluses on her heart. The sentiment remained, that it was either a challenge, or a chore, for him, by the words conveyed alone. But she was more than confident that he was up for the task and had the stamina to see it through, for however long it would last, that new, fragile thing between them. More than certainly he had the experience to back up a system of quick recovery, when it came to psychological throwbacks, as was evident in the way he was able to swiftly tune back into his mother tongue of humor, picking up on a string left untouched, since the beginning of their conversation.

Nodding in agreement, with a fresh smile on her plump lips, like the first rosebuds of spring, the blonde nodded slowly, fueling each passing dip of her pate with slightly more vigor. “Just remember, the replicators are not rated for livestock.” she chuckled ushering him along a bit, as he moved back to allow the Ensigns entry into the turbolift cart. She had gladly continued on the obscure tangent that painted the two lower ranks slightly quizzical and positively embarrassed.

Happy with the note they had ended on, Samantha was content with the mechanical doors cutting their visual connection, but not what had solidified beneath the cover of words and gestures. A spiritual tether that would certainly hold over the distance of a couple of decks, if only by the manifestation of mementos in her mind that weren’t ever as easily extinguished as they flared up.

But that much didn’t come to pass right away, as the handsome man made a third attempt at injecting himself into the situation – by her count. Three pairs of eyes trained on him did nothing to quench the boldness and sass, lining every word of his offer. Raising her brows at the mere offer, the diplomat quickly started what she did best, and spun the evident surprise, into succinct mockery. “If?!” she spat out incredulously, even if he hadn’t used the exact terminology, moving forward towards the lift doors. “Of course we’ll see it through this day!” the blonde chuckled, giving the man a more acquainted look that wasn’t readily visible to the other two officers. Though, by the tone of her voice, making it seem like she wanted to give a more positive outward reassurance to the lower decks, when in reality, it was far more a term of reassurance towards the bearded man.

But no matter who felt addressed, by the suavely uttered words, they all were seemingly lulled into the sentiment so much they did not see her pushing Fisher out of the doorway, so that they could finally zip shut. A mechanical curtain call to the sight of a beautiful smile and generous wink. Before the stage moved on for more plays to be had.

FISHFORD HAS LEFT THE BRIDGE

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #10 –
[ Lieutenant JG Adam Kingston | Security Center | Deck 07/Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan

Preparing Security for combat with Klingon boarding parties, Adam was at the situation table and had been ordering teams to key areas in Theurgy when Captain Ives’ voice came over the intercom.

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”Lieutenant Kingston, kindly ask Doctor Nicander to use his abilities and search for Klingon hosts, and report your findings.”

”Aye Captain.” Adam replied as he left the situation table to go into the Brig. He had a few security officers approach and ask questions about the Klingon presence on board. Some were part of the teams assigned to keeping Klingon males away from Savi females, well secondary but keeping the two groups apart and unknown to each other was top priority so Adam listened and gave appropriate orders.

The rest were preparing for possible assault within Theurgy, Adam saw as he walked over to the Brig. Then Thea’s voice came over his combadge. She explained that the Captain wanted both Security and Medical to begin scanning the Klingons onboard for any signs of physical alterations. She said she’d proved specifics once the examination area was set up.

”Thank you Thea, I’ll get started on it.” Adam acknowledged her and continued into the Brig as it was the first order, he was sure he wasn’t the only one Thea’s relayed Captain’s orders was given to.

Inside the Brig, Adam found Nicander and approached. ”Mister Nicander, I’ve been instructed to kindly ask you to use your ability to find any Infested amongst the Klingons.” He frowned, but he glanced over at the Transphasic Light cannon. Adam didn’t know how effective it was and how many more times it could be used before the Parasite could adapt or simply make Nicander take his own life to prevent the Theurgy crew from interfering anymore.

Adam faced Nicander again. ”I will give you a few minutes to prepare yourself as I have other orders to carry out then I will return with some Medical officers to assist. Will you accept the Captain’s request?” Adam asked.


[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Chief’s Office, Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | "The Sword" Vector 02 USS Theurgy ]

Elro worked on several reports and had already ordered all Medical staff to get ready as well as all Medical facilities to be prepared. He was about to get up and return to the primary area of Main Sickbay when Thea’s voice came over his combadge. She informed him that the Captain ordered for Medical and Security to begin scanning the Klingons onboard for any signs of physical manipulation.

”Understood Thea,” Elro said and Thea added that she will supply specific information for the Medical staff to look for once set up. Elro left his office and began ordering for Nurses to set up a console that tricorders could be connected to and 3 Medical officers to grab Medical Tricorders to meet up at Security to accompany them wherever they decide to do the examinations.
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Lieutenant JG Adam Kingston, Master-at-Arms, (Vector 03 Security) Profile Clickie

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Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #11 –
[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Brig | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: All
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Seated by his fold-out table next to the bulkhead, Doctor Nicander had raised his eyes when Lieutenant Kingston made his appearance outside the forcefield. He had been reading on his stand-alone PADD, successfully pushing past visits from his mind to focus on the research revolving around transphasic light and transporter technology, and really didn't take kindly to the interruption. Much less so when being stripped of his Doctorate, and even worse, being requested to use his Farsight once again.

This time, with the sole direction of trying to find Klingon hosts.

Lucan sighed, put the PADD down, and rose to his bare feet. "Given that this order comes from the Captain, and I have to trust that the timing and import is of the essence, how could I refuse such a gracious request?" he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his pale grey eyes. He straightened the jacket of his uniform, even as it was unzipped and the collar of his teal undershirt was open. "Please just make sure to man that cannon out there once it's time."

"Lieutenant Kingston!" called the Brig Officer farther down the hallway, and Nicander turned his eyes in that general direction to hear what the woman had to say. Why was Kingston there anyway? What had come of Commander Akoni and Deputy zh'Wann? An errant thought, unimportant compared to what the Brig Officer said. "Word from the Intelligence Department. There will be officers from there that will attend the hearing with the prisoner as well."

"Ah, well..." said Lucan and chuckled, feeling very much like an animal in a cage. A spectacle to behold at a safe distance while he preformed his self-damning number for his audience. "The more the merrier..."

OOC: Wanted starters:
>> Interrogation/Farsight Scene to be continued in a new CH06 Supplemental thread , set at ca 0930 hrs. @GroundPetrel / @Pierce / @Argyros making the starter, for example?
>> Anderson Subspace Buoy Scene in a new CH06 Supplemental thread , set at ca 0930 hrs. @Swift for the starter perhaps?
>> Screening of Klingons Aboard to be continued in a new CH06 Supplemental thread , set at 1000 hrs., at which point Nicander has not found any Infested Klingon aboard. This thread will deal with the ultimate fate of Rov, Son of Pekdal. Starter by @Sqweloookle / @Nolan / @Swift / @Aharon ? Let me know who can write it!

2 HOURS LATER | 1100 HRS.

[ Sera vers Aldnoah | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: All
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Stepping down the ramp to the airlock of the Sabine, Sera vers Alndoah folded her arms underneath her chest as she watched the approaching figures in the shuttle bay. Burn me, what have I gotten myself into now?

The head honcho of the Intelligence Department aboard had come to her, sweet-talking her into agreeing to yet another suicide mission. At least she'd been asked this time around, since back in the Azure Nebula, the damn Starfleeters had thought they might steal and use her ship without her consent. This time around, they'd had an altogether different approach, with promises about a permanent position working for Intelligence, with compensation and even some kind of odd 'provisional officer' status. The human male - Andrew Fisher if she got the name right - had even jested with her, asking if she preferred Latinum or some kind of Terran livestock. She'd scoffed, of course, and been more interested in the ideas about upgrading the Sabine and making her more stealthy.

In fact, that was the very reason there was a large Gorn working on her ship right then. Chief Sithick, as he'd called himself, had been calibrating an Aldean sensor scrambler, amping it up a bit, and that might just take them to Qo'nos without anyone guessing what kind of people were aboard. No Klingon life signs, at least. Not the Chancellor himself. Blast it. Martok himself, and Captain Ives!

Indeed, she'd hardly believed it when told, but there they were. Captain Ives approached in his male form, for apparently he could look like a woman as well, and the bloody Chameloid looked like he meant business too, carrying a sheathed sword in his left hand. A curved Terran sword of some kind, and here she thought they were supposed to make friends with the Klingons? Apparently, however, Martok had said the Great Hall had been fitted with some kind of anti-nadion dampening field to protect the Council Members, preventing any use of phasers or disruptors, and she supposed that explained why the Theurgy's Commanding Officer had been armed in such an archaic way.

Martok approached the Sabine from another direction, and she'd been firmly told to not reveal to anyone that the Klingon and his personal body guard would be travelling aboard the Sabine. She'd come to understand that only General Chu'vok and the Klingon Liaison Officer - along with the Senior Staff - had been told that Martok would be leaving the Theurgy. The Chancellor looked more brooding than she'd seen him during the past couple of days aboard the ship, as if he'd been told news he didn't know what to make of. The body guard, a two metre tall Klingon that seemed equally wide, had been entrusted the protection of the Chancellor, and as grim as he looked, he seemed also equal to the task. His name? Kudesh, son of Otruk.

Burn him, I wonder if he is... proportionate? thought Sera with a lopsided smile as her yellow eyes went to the next figure that approached the Sabine. Behind Ives walked a Klingon female, 'Mickayla MacGregor' Sera's list had said, whom seemed like she wasn't sure why she'd been asked to accompany the Captain, and Sera wondered why Martok was looking at her from across the shuttle bay. Did the old bastard have the bloody hots for her? No, that look implied something else. Something more... official, Sera reckoned, but she had no idea what might be afoot there.

Next came an odd-looking Starfleeter with bionic arms and legs, and with some kind of visor. Apparently, she was supposed to be the an old Acting Chief Engineer on some Starship called 'the Harbinger', so she'd come along because of that? She wasn't sure. Moreover, the cyborg had skills in both combat and comms too, so she'd be able to keep the Sabine up to speed with what went on back on the Theurgy as well. As for the mission's picked Medical Officer... there was no meaty parts left on that one. A full on android with a white chassis clickety-clacked its way across the shuttle bay behind Ravenholm, looking at things around itself with a singular cycloptic lens mounted on its head. Was it a 'she'? Sera thought she saw some female curves on the thing, at least. V-Nine? Vi? She couldn't recall.

Lastly, there was a navigator to come along as well. A Medusan, of all things, wearing some kind of holo-body sleeve over his floating mech unit. Sera had no idea how all that worked, but if those of his ilk could find hiding places for them and use space itself to their advantage, she could see how it made sense bringing him. She didn't know Klingon space half as well as she wanted to, even if she'd traded many times on Klingon worlds.

When they all gathered, Sera remembered how she'd taken a rain check on that 'provisional officer' status, just so that she wouldn't have to adhere to some obscure Starfleet protocols. She raised her voice without any real deference towards either of the Sabine's new crew. She was the captain of the Sabine, after all.

"As soon as that Gorn and his team over there says they're finished, we're good to go, Cap. Chancellor, feel free to step aboard." she made a mock-curtsey towards the Klingons before turning to two others in the gathering. "Larrant and V-Nine? You guys don't breathe air, correct? There are only flaming six life pods under the deck, so if we're toast, you're on your own out there. Only reason I approved to have so many aboard. Life support and all."

"Oh, I see," said V-Nine and wrung her hands a bit, seemingly worried.

"My gratitude for this," said Captain Ives and inclined his head to her. "We'll have an escort of two Valravn-class warp fighters as well. Lieutenants Hale and Garcia. They are ready to launch when we are."

"Yeah, I know who 'Wraith' is. In fact, I helped having him defect and join your blasted crew of madmen back in the Azure Nebula," said Sera and chuckled.

Ives inclined his head and then turned to Ravenholm. There was tone of mock-admonition in his tone when he spoke the cyborg-woman. "You did bring the right one this time?" he asked, and while there was nothing akin to reproach in his words, there was also a bit of forgiving warmth in his mien as well. Sera had no idea of what Ives spoke, but it seemed important enough. Next, he turned to the Klingon woman. "Chief Petty Officer, Martok would have a word with you about something personal once we step aboard."

The Chancellor raised his voice standing next to his tall body guard. "Don't be alarmed," he rasped to MacGregor, his face as unreadable as Kudesh's. Next, Martok turned to Ives. "General Chu'vok sends his regards. He will aid in protecting this ship, should there be need of it, and Zyrao Natauna will work with him until the Theurgy reach Qo'nos."

Personally, Sera wondered if the Chancellor hadn't forgotten a big 'if' in that sentence, given how so many Klingon ships were converging on the Theurgy's coordinates. Ives didn't miss a beat in his answer, though. "At this speed, Gorka will reach the Theurgy in three hours, at which point we will be far from here. Commander Stark will give your brothers and sisters the chance to fight in your absence, I believe. If you would pardon me, I need to speak with her before we launch."

Sera turned her yellow eyes to look at the Captain as he stepped away for a bit, hearing how the Chameloid spoke after tapping his combadge with his free hand - the sword held at his side. "Ives to Stark. Relay my well wishes to the Senior Staff and the crew. The Chancellor his my friend, and I will stand by him the Great Hall to defend his standing and rule of the Empire. Gorka will neither get a Rite of Succession nor will he challenge Martok to combat if we leave now. Have faith in the mission, for there is naught more important. Protect the truth, for sake of justice and our freedom. Remember, courage is fear, when it has said its prayers. Ives out."

Shaking her head at the lofty words, Sera stepped inside her ship once she heard the Gorn's announcement.

OOC: Wanted starters:
>> Sabine Launching in a new CH06 Supplemental thread , set at ca 1100 hrs. @jreeves1701 , with Sithick and Larrant starting things off?

YET THREE MORE HOURS LATER | 1400 HRS.

[ USS Theurgy "Thea" NX-79854 | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: All
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When the time came, Thea materialised on the main bridge once more. This time, she needn't alert the bridge crew of what was imminent. The arrival of House Mo'kai was well expected at that point, so she folded her hands behind herself.

Commander Stark, the acting Captain, had the centre seat, yet Thea's eyes drifted towards where Ravenholm usually sat, but her dear friend had left three hours ago, having volunteered for the mission on the Sabine. Thea suspected it was likely because she still felt guilty about sending out the false Simulcast at Starbase 84, and sought to set the record straight with the Klingon High Council about what they'd seen. The disconcerting news from Rear Admiral Anderson was still at the forefront of Thea's memory banks, yet she knew not what Fisher or anyone else aboard might do about what they'd heard. With the Allegiant not being aboard the Erudite any more, they had no means to warn Commander Dewitt about what might happened on the Breen homeworld.

Instead, the focus was clearly on her own fate as a ship, and the opposition they faced out there. In a way, she felt a tad vulnerable in the sense that her own survival as a digital entity rested on the people aboard, and she was unable to protect herself. She was hard-wired to not be able to access many key systems, so she depended on her crew as much as they depended on her to carry them forth.

"General Chu'vok asked me to tell you," she said to Zyrao Natauna, whom was not far from Commander Cross at Tactical, "that he had yet to receive word from the Klingon fleets that have not declared their loyalty. He has also told the Klingons aboard that Martok is here, with Captain Ives, since we have no idea if this saboteur Rov was acting alone. The Captain's and Martok's survival still depend on House Mo'kai not knowing where they actually are. Any ships loyal to House Mo'Kai might try and intercept the Sabine."

On the viewscreen, the tactical readouts showed plainly how the clock was ticking down. In three minutes, Gorka would drop out of warp behind them, and likely open fire against her. Therefore, she turned her head to look at Stark, wondering what orders she would give to the bridge crew.

OOC: If you have a character eligible for bridge duty, post away! Scenes contemporary with this time - 1400 hrs. - can be carried out in Supplemental threads to keep this thread less cluttered, but all bridge-centred posts for the battle should be made here. :) The naming convention for one-on-one Supplemental threads that belong to Chapter 06 is: CH06: S [D0X|YYYY] Insert Title (YYYY marking the time after 0900 hrs., when the Theurgy drops out of QSD). Please be mindful about how the second QSD flight will last between 0800 hrs. and 0900 hrs. on Day 03, during which time there can be no warp fighters or shuttles leaving the Theurgy. Looking forward to your posts!

@Brutus , you're up, and I will write Gorka and the opposition through this chapter along with any of my characters that are called upon. :)

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #12 –
 [Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Auctor Lucan  
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An upset stomach had been the theme of the day, for Natalie Stark. Be it the jarring sensations whenever they dropped out of Slipstream (never when they entered, only when they left, oddly enough) or the current rebellion within her gut that threatened to spill forth the hastily consumed working lunch from a few hours prior, as she watched the countdown on the display of her left hand control panel. She itched to be sitting behind the Operations console, to be there, focusing on sensor readings, eps flows, and energy output, ready to scramble repair teams, reroute power to various sub systems, and basically enact the orders of whoever was sitting in that center seat. Christ, but I wish Ducote were here instead of me.

The thought was unworthy of the task she'd been given and she kicked it hard to the proverbial mental curb. She looked over her shoulder and watched as Thea made her way to speak with Ms. Natauna, and let her graze move onward to Cross. She met his eyes, for a brief moment, and offered him the smallest of smiles, really just a twitching of plump lips before turning back to the viewscreen. Courage is fear, when it has said its prayers. She replayed the words from the Captain, when he had departed the ship three hours prior, making his run toward Qo'nos. If all went well, her job would be to keep Gorka and his forces distracted, here, and let Ives and Martok settle matters before the would be usurper could make a prolonged fuss about it. 

Of course, accomplish that, they would need to survive the next few minutes. There was a very good chance that the next few minutes would devolve into out and out combat. She hoped she could keep that from happening. She'd been in combat before - anyone pressed into service out of the Academy during the Dominion War had seen the horrors of it, and she'd served alongside Klingons during that affair. There had been a dust up with the T'Zenkethi after war, and more recently, she'd seen plenty of fights against her fellow bothers in sisters in Starfleet. She had commanded in battle as well, against the Ausurians. It was - to borrow the phrasing she'd picked up from Lt. Commander Fishes one true love - A whole different ballgame. That drew an utterly inappropriate smile to her face, remembering hours spent in the holodeck watching an honest to God baseball game. While unintentional, the thoughts relaxed her ever so slightly, and she let her gaze sweep around the bridge noticing that some of the other officers seemed to ease up ever so slightly as well. 

Damn. Need to remember that going forward. How I look impacts them. Goody. That wasn't really anything she didn't already know, but oh well. She resisted the urge to reach up and adjust her hair. She'd pulled it into a high, secure bun, similar to what she had seen Captain Ziegler sporting a little over a month past, instead of letting her hair curl down loose, or lay over her shoulder in a tail like she usually did. Somehow it seemed smarter to have it up out of her eyes when they were about to go into battle. Two minutes until enemy contact. 

With a steadying breath, Nat looked around the bridge. She was not a speech maker, so she had no idea how it would go over. "You all know your duties. Everyone here knows just what's at stake. Whatever his intentions, Gorka is playing into the hands of our true enemy, and throwing the Klingon Empire into disarray when we most need them to be united behind Martok. It's our job to see that Martok has the time he needs to cement his power. Captain Ives has gone to do his part, and we have ours to play. Which is not to carve that fleet closing on us into scarp metal." That drew a few surprised looks. 

"If it comes to it, we'll defend ourselves. But our goal is not to eliminate Gorka's fleet. Our goal is to keep the occupied for as long as we can, and God willing convince some of them to back down. Most of those Warriors out there belive they are doing the best they can to defend the honor of the Klingon Empire. It's our job to show them that Gorka is, at best, misguided, and at worse, an honorless targ. But we cannot afford to deprive the Empire of those ships and those warriors, if we can avoid it." Time was running out. She crossed one leg tightly over the other, and drummed her fingers on the edge of the chair. 

"Helm, prepare to bring us about. Ready evasive maneuvers, try and throw off their intial shots. All power we can spare to the shields. Lt. Commander Cross, hold fire until after they've taken a stab at things. When you do have to fire, shoot to disable - weapons and engines. No kill shots if we can avoid it. All hands to battle stations," That last call was more formal, and all around her the alert klaxon's blared. Three sharp bursts, then she muted the bridge sirens. "Communications, once they drop warp, open a channel to the lead vessel and kindly invite Gorka for chat. I'm sure he'll relish the opportunity to run his mouth. Again." That was somewhat unkind of her, she supposed, but again, the man had a way with barbed words and a sense of self importance that annoyed Natalie when she'd met him back in the Aldean system.

"Ms. Natauna, please ready a list of our recent accomplishments. I'd like to air Gorka's dirty laundry out to the rest of his comrades. Remind them how honorable warriors conduct business, and draw a contrast to the bevy of sneak attacks and back stabbing actions of their would be Chancellor." It would be their best chance of swaying some of the undecided, as well as perhaps flipping Gorka's supporters. Certainly not everyone following the man would see himself as Chancelor was a crooked and two faced as scion of house Mo'Kai.

Even as she finished the words however, new  alerts sounded across the bridge, as Gorka's fleet finally closed the distance.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #13 –
[ Lieutenant JG Adam Kingston | Brig, Security Center | Deck 07/Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan

Adam didn’t want that Parasite inside Nicander active again but thankfully that they had the Transphasic Light cannon, but now Intelligence wanted to get involved and will make a bigger deal about it all. They will push for more, well Adam wouldn’t put it past those ruthless information seekers.

He smiled at Nicander after nodding at the Brig officer. ”I have to agree that it is of the utmost importance as well, do not start without me please, I have a feeling that Intelligence will push you.” Adam said as he waved over the Brig officer.

”Make sure that Intelligence doesn’t push him until I return.” Adam ordered, the Brig officer nodded and Adam gave a nod to Nicander before leaving to sort out the joint Security and Medical scanning of the Klingons.

Adam entered the Situation Room and found that the team leaders assembled, a few absent as they had important orders already. ”Ok, we should funnel all the Klingons to a holodeck or cargobay so we can assist Medical officers scan them. Perhaps have two holodecks/cargobays.”

The team leaders nodded and one suggested Holodeck 1 and 2 on Deck 8. Adam nodded and the team leaders headed off to gather up the Klingons, though Adam made his way back to the Brig. ”Kingston to Main Sickbay.” He called after tapping his combadge. ”I need a Medical officer to join me in the Brig, to monitor the Prisoner. We are also, as you may be aware, rounding up the Klingons to start physical scans for any signs of manipulation, we have picked Holodecks 1 and 2 for this. May I have a Medical team for each holodeck?”


[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | "The Sword" Vector 02 USS Theurgy ] Attn:

”This is Doctor Kobol  Lieutenant Kingston, I have 6 nurses and 2 doctors ready to assist with the Klingons, they will join you momentarily.” Elro announced back.

=/\=Oh I won’t be there the whole time, I will be tending to the Brig, who will be coming with me?=/\= Adam asked.

”I wish to assist you with the Prisoner, and while you are away I will keep things honest there, you have my word.” Elro replied as he grabbed a Medical tricorder and left the Medical teams to their tasks for he headed to the Security Center and the Brig.

=/\=Thank you sir.=/\= Adam closed the channel.
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Lieutenant JG Adam Kingston, Master-at-Arms, (Vector 03 Security) Profile Clickie

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Lieutenant/Dr Elro Kobol, Chief Medical Officer, (Vector 02 Medical) Profile Clickie

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #14 –
[Lieutenant Commander Cross |  Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @BZ @Brutus et al.

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Cross was surreptitious about watching Stark, just like the rest of the Bridge officers. Covert observation of the person in the center chair was a crucial skill for anyone in Starfleet, after all. He and Stark weren't close, but they had a decent working relationship, enough that when Stark smiled at him, he offered her a nod back. He had no idea if she got the implicit message; he trusted her and would back her all the way.

It was a sentiment that lasted all of two minutes, when Stark talked about playing nice with the Klingons. "Aye, all hands to battle stations," he answered curtly, tapping one of the largest and most prominent controls on his Tactical console. In response, alerts begin to flash all over the ship, the Bridge lighting gained a red hue and the viewscreen was modified with a tactical overlay. Nevertheless, Cross glanced first at Zyrao Natauna, his expression inscrutable, before looking at the woman in the center chair.

"Acknowledged, phasers configured for disabling fire only, torpedoes will remain inactive, auxiliary power to shields," he said, then paused. His tone shifted, just a little, softening. Cross hoped it'd be enough to not sound combative. "Commander, I have to inform you that given the tactical situation, restricting our fire increases the risk to the Theurgy. We may reach a point during the battle where we have to fire for effect if we want to avoid serious damage. If we do reach that point, these are Klingons. They understand battle and I don't think they'll hold it against us. They might even respect us for it."

Then suddenly, on the viewscreen, there they were. Dozens of Klingon warships decelerated out of warp ahead of the Theurgy, presenting a formidable line of surly green strength in a disconcertingly well organised formation. The nimble Bird-of-Preys were ahead, gathered into their own small squadrons, backed up the ancient D-7 cruisers, the more modern and powerful Vor'cha-class cruisers and, most worrying of all, the mighty Negh'var-class battleship at the center of them all.



Green disruptor fire flashed on the viewscreen and moments later, the ship shuddered slightly as the shots hit the Theurgy's shields. "No damage, shields are holding," Cross reported. He paused, noting that no more fire was coming before speaking again. "That was just their way of saying hello."

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #15 –
[Zyrao Natauna – Klingon Liaison | Sabine | Retrofitting | To Find a Plan | To Garner Support]
@Brutus




Fisher spoke up about the fact that they were contemplating making the Sabine part of the Theurgy itself, making it retrofitted and getting it up to speed so that they would be able to use the ship.  She wondered a moment if he had even talked to Sera about it, Zyrao knew Sera rather well, as well as other people on the ship that much was for certain but she did feel like she knew the woman well enough to feel her out on something if it was sought after.  She knew that Sera was protective of her ship, and neither Zyrao nor Sera felt actually at home on the Theurgy.  She wondered how many times one had to prove themselves to the Theurgy before they actually felt trusted.  Zyrao tried her very best to be part of the team and she worked hard to bridge the gap between herself and the Theurgy.  As well as the Klingon and the Federation, but that didn't mean it was easy. 

She wondered just how much talking Ives himself was going to have to do with Sera to convince her to join up with the Theurgy and give the use of her ship to it's cause.  Zyrao shook her head and wished them luck with the Firecracker and then turned back to her work of surveying the scene.

[Three Hours Later]

Zyrao stretched her neck to the left, and to the right, feeling the strain of the muscles complaining under the sheer work she had put it through hunched over the console she had been trying to determine if Klingon were going to sway one way or another.  She was monitoring their movements for anything that seemed to sway them one way or the other but as far as she could tell the map was mostly left unaltered when it came to alliances.  Which, was truly a shame because while Zyrao was very adept at Klingon and all that they entailed she didn't really fancy giving out some kind of motivating speech.  She could, and would, if it became necessary but she was really hoping that the Klingon out there in space waiting for the upcoming battle had more than a little sense.

Apparently not.

Rolling her shoulders hoping to get some of the tension out of them, wondering if she could apply some of the metallic tension of Foval's hand later pulling the soreness from her tight shoulders.  But, that was something she would have to remember later, right now, she was still very much on duty.  Thea began to speak to her, and Zyrao's grey eyes opened and took in the woman for a moment as she began to talk about what the General wanted, and that he had yet to receive word that the Klingon fleets had still not declared their loyalty.

“I was really hoping to avoid the whole rousing speech trope.” she sighed brushing a hand through her short black hair. 

Stark began to give out commands, and it seemed, that for now at least Zyrao was saved from rousing speeches in Klingon which really didn't go hand in hand in the first place.  Instead, she was asked to compile  lists of the dishonorable things that Gorka had done compared to the honor that Martok exhibited throughout most of his life. 

“Of course.” she said with a quick nod turning back to the console.  Her fingers flew, a lot of things she knew because she had been with the Klingon for so long and Gorka was not a new enemy or someone that had only just come up, no, he had been around some while and she knew that some of them while seemingly minor would definitely add up.  The Klingon prided themselves, mostly, on pride and honor.  They wanted nothing more than to have lived, fought, and died with honor.  It was something that was at the very core of their race and she found herself quite similar in her own right.  She had not always been the most honorable, some decisions had to be made for yourself at times and Zyrao had done that here and there.  But overall, she really did try. 

She had also had the time while Martok was on board to get with him, talk with him, and learn more about Gorka for him. Someone that was built for strategy meant that the more information she had about someone the better she could fight against.  Once she had finished compiling the list together, she sent it over to the Interim Captain, though Ducote's boots would be infernally hard to fill, Zyrao was hoping he would be all right, she worried for him.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #16 –
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Main Bridge | Deck 01] Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BZ @Brutus @Auctor Lucan @Griff et al.
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Cameron was silent. She had been standing at the back of the bridge, glancing over the mission ops board, earpiece in as she listened to the chatter, picking out the important information and filing it away mentally for use when it came up. The information that was truly imperative, she’d taken note of on a large PADD that was set to her right. She had followed all orders without hesitation and without a word. Her eyes had hardly looked up from her station in the hours that it had taken for the Mo’kai fleet to inch closer to the Theurgy.

Each block closer that they moved, Cam felt more anxiety build in her gut. She briefly closer her eyes and dipped her head to the left, flexing the muscle beneath as she drew in a long, deep breath. Her eyes looked up to the AI, watching her move. Using her as the anchor point for her mind. The constant that was on the bridge. Not even Jien was still there. She couldn’t rely on the Captains commanding presence as the fleet inched closer to ground her. She had to rely on herself, so she did. She muttered then, ensuring her comm was off, and muttering almost silently, “Cameron Henshaw. Ensign. Alpha 274491.” She shook her shoulders off, as if shaking the stress away, and then refocused her attention to the holographic table in front of her.

Almost in tandem with Thea, Cam looked to Stark. Waiting for an order. Cam absolutely did look uptight, and yes, she was afraid. Fear is healthy. Fear keeps you alive. She remembered the words. The lessons. She even heard him in her head for a moment. Ian. That fear grounded her in the moment and she listened intently to the acting Captain. Her console however...gave a quick chirp of incoming information, not relating to the battle and Cam’s earpiece relayed some of the information as the holodisplay gave her a readout. Cam reached into the datestream and started to piece through it, using her hands as the primary controls within the hologram. “Oh shit.” She said aloud, probably meaning to mutter it but...it came out much louder than she thought.

“Commander. I’ve received word from Lieutenant Arnold and Deputy zh’Wann...and the rest of them.” She let out a deep breath as she looked through the data, “They found three Romulan ships above Andor and received Savi assistance to mount a boarding party against the ship that has the Thalaron explosive. I don’t have the outcome yet.” She looked up from the console, and over to the Captain's chair. She took the block of data in both hands and shrunk it down, into an actual block, setting it off to the side, and focusing on the inbound fight.

She pulled up a full squadron readiness listing for the Lone Wolves, going through each bird before she looked back over to the Captain’s chair. “Commander, should we launch the Lone Wolves? I can relay the order to Razor...Commander Ravon.” She laid out all the fighters in a spot on her console, ready to go.

The moment Cross hit the alert and the red light absorbed the Bridge, Cameron felt a cold chill go up her spine. The moments leading up to a fight were always calm. They were quiet. They were surreal. The alert always made it feel real. The danger felt more tangible. It felt like she could reach out and grab it. The enemy signals began flashing on the holotable and cam swallowed, zooming out to give herself more of a display of the engagement area, as they all warped in in that formidable formation.

Cam braced her hands against the console the instant they flashed into sensor range, and for good reason. It wasn’t long before she felt the telltale shudder of weapons fire shaking the ground beneath her and she began to view the readouts as well, relaying the information to all relevant parties. She looked to Cross, and even gave him a little smirk, though it was very subtle. “Hello it is.”

“I thought Klingons loved speeches?” She said, perhaps with a bit of humor, aimed at Zyrao. She rose a brow, though quickly turned back to her console. “Maybe not though.” She knew they really liked bloodshed though. So instead she focused on her station, instead of partially nervous jabbering.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #17 –
[ Captain Gorka, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Bridge | IKS Neng-ta | En-Route to Qo'noS ] Attn: All
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After the initial fire was dealt unto the Federation starship that carried the counsellor, Gorka rose to his feet. "It has begun..."

After they had dropped out of warp, it was time to step unto House Mo'Kai's flagship. The IKC Ta'rom, their own Negh'var-class battle carrier, having left B'Moth over a week ago to join with Gorka's fleet at Qo'nos. Gorka looked to the Klingons on the bridge of the Neng-ta. "You make this House proud, and it has been an honour to have you under my command since we left the Epsilon Mynos System. T'mal! You've served as my First Officer, but now, the Neng-ta is yours. It is time to maul the withered bones of Martok against the gates of Suto'vo'qor..."

"luq!" said the short man, baring his teeth and stepping towards the command chair. Gorka tapped the button for the readied transporter protocol, and he dematerialised in a red shimmer...

[ IKC Ta'rom | Main Bridge ]

...and he reappeared on the bridge of the IKC Ta'rom. It's commanding officer, a close friend of old days to Gorka stepped up to him. Gorka grinned and clasped arms with him at last. "Aakan! You old Targ. My gratitude for heeding my call."

"Gorka!" The gaunt yet deceivingly strong friend of yore days was greyer than Gorka remembered, but there was still sharp cunning in his eye. "The time has come for our House to rise to the glory it deserves. The Ta'rom is yours! Yet I will stand by your side as your first officer while we end the Chancellery of this Targ that collude with the Romulans."

"ta'mey Dun, bommey Dun," Gorka said with meaning. Great deeds, great songs. He looked towards the bridge crew, singling out the weapons officer. "Launch the NIyma raiders! Lay all our fire against those nacelles, since we do not want Martok reaching Qo'nos ahead of us! Fire at will, and give the signal for our warbirds to engage the ship together with the raiders!"

"Do you wish to hail the enemy?" asked Aakan with a grin.

"Nay, I have naught to say." Gorka went to the centre seat, and lowered his massive frame into it. "If Martok has ought on his hearts, let him speak first. Keep an eye on the ships loyal to him, for they might try and save the Theurgy."

OOC: A Newsletter is in the making but for the time being, consider hostilities of House Mo'Kai ramped up with continued firing. The bird of preys are moving in to engage the Theurgy directly, and the Ta'rom has launched twelve of its Phantom raiders, having 24 in total. Feel free to start disabling/destroying Klingon crafts, and have Thea's shields dropping at a realistic pace. Also, it would be time to try and sway Klingon forces in the Sector that are undecided between Martok and Gorka. Anyone who needs to are free to NPC General Chu'vok aboard the Theurgy as well, whom stand ready to board enemy ships together with the Klingon soldiers aboard Thea - just needing a transport unto ships who's had their shields depeleted.

Looking forward to your posts!

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #18 –
[Lieutenant Commander Cross |  Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @BZ @Brutus et al.

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There was a brief pause after the initial opening salvo, a brief window when it seemed as if the hail might elicit a reply...but then the Theurgy shook once more, this time much more violently as an entire wing of B'Rel bird of preys made an attack run on the Theurgy. Not waiting for Stark's order, Cross replied instantly with the Theurgy's phasers, carefully aimed and calibrated, bright red beams lancing out at the onrushing Klingons.

Even configured to disable, Thea's phasers hit brutally hard. Of the six bird of preys that started the attack run, only four made it past the massive dreadnought, two of them drifting in space, disabled. That was merely the first wave, however, a probing prick of a needle, with the hammerblow of the Klingon fleet racing ahead right behind it.

"Shields are holding for now at 90%, two bird of preys disabled. They were targeting our dorsal starboard nacelle, no damage," Cross reported curtly. Lost in the moment, his rage was just a memory; weirdly, he felt more Vulcan than ever, firmly focused and...emotionless, somehow? The thought was so disquieting that he scowled, trying to banish that bizarre thought. "Sixty seconds until the rest of the fleet enters weapons range. The Ta'rom is launching fighters. Multiple incoming warp signatures to port and starboard."

By now, the Klingon plan was becoming clear as their formation had shifted while the Theurgy had engaged the skirmishing bird-of-preys. The powerful Ta'rom, a Negh'var class battleship, remained at the center, while at angles to each side were long thick lines densely filled with Klingon warships. It was as if a great mouth had opened in front of the Theurgy, with giant jaws opened wide and ready to slam shut around the lone Federation ship with a level of firepower than nothing, not even the Theurgy, could hope to withstand for long.


I'll just rehash what @Auctor Lucan has been saying, folks: we have creative freedom, so have fun with it. Each character can have an effect on the battle in any number of ways. Cameron (@BipSpoon) has the holotable to see the tactical situation better than anyone, plus talk to the Lone Wolves, while Zyrao (@BZ) has her own tricks to pull with both friendly and hostile Klingons, and so on. We're all free to write the success (or failure, as the case may be) of our characters' work. I'm planning on writing the bulk of the actual Klingon tactics and choices, just to try and include a bit of spontaneity and randomness as everyone adapts and tries to beat the Klingons (with me RPing their tactical side) rather than a scripted battle.

If you're struggling with writer's block, don't know what to write or don't know how your character can influence the battle, then feel free to ask for some advice. It could be on Discord, it could be AL, me, it could be a giant mass PM to everyone in the thread, whatever takes your fancy. We're all in this together, and the fun part about such a quality bunch of writers is that we have a lot of friendly brainpower available.

And hell, basic thing, I guess?? Let's just have fun with this. It's a giant space battle, proper DS9-style, so this should be bloody excellent.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #19 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Griff @chXinya @Argyros @Masorin @Auctor Lucan @BZ  
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Nat pursed her lips as she turned her head back in the chair to look up and over at Lt. Commander Cross, and his team of tactical officers, arrayed behind him. Her eyes flitted over to Salem Martin , and then Jonas Arisaka, standing in for T'Less, who was off ship. There was a lot of that going around at the moment - off ship. Again, Natalie's mind wandered to the Captain, speeding toward Qo'nos and their goal here of keeping Gorka away long enough for the Chancellor to arrive on the Klingon homeworld. And, selfishly, she thought of Vanya, uncountable lightyears away. But there was nothing she could do now for the android, and there was something she could do for the Captain.

"At your discretion, Lt. Commander. Just because I'm not keen on robbing the Empire of valiant if deluded warriors, I do understand that they'll see it as a thing of Glory. If it comes down to them or us, Mr. Cross. I will choose us every time." She turned to face forward, but before she could, Ens. Henshaw swore loud enough to be heard. Nat, swiveled the center chair around - greatful that it had a full 360 arc and was facing the younger woman by the time she spoke again, relaying the news. Swallowing as she felt her last meal again assert its desire to leave the way it came in, the acting XO processed the words - then set them aside. "There's naught we can do for them now, Ensign. Acknowledge the receipt of information and pass along any information they ask for; otherwise, we should trust in Lt. Arnold and his team to get the job done." This is what I get for even thinking about Vanya, she chastised herself. She added aloud, "Frank is a competent officer, as is Deputy zh'Wann. If anyone can sort out that mess, they're the ones to do it." She hoped that was more than just bluster for the bridge crew. She liked Frank Arnold, the officer having made an excellent impression, and she respected Ida zh'Wann. She'd have to put her own words into practice and compartmentalized the issue to deal with later.

And then, the ship rocked under the burst of fire from the oncoming horde of Klingon ships. Warning shot indeed. At your leisure, Mr. Cross, reply in kind. Ensign Hershaw, scramble the wolves. I trust Lt. Commander Ravon will be delighted to take the fight to his counterparts in Gorkas forces. If he could deal with a few of those smaller B'Rel's I'd be mighty obliged." And if my stomach doesn't rebel I'd be pretty damn happy too. The ship shook again, and then she watched as they answered the challenge. Theurgy reached out and touched the attacking flight of Bird of Preys, and did considerably more damage unto them than they did unto her ship. All well and good, but that was the probing assault.

"Well, now that we've exchanged pleasantries," Natalie observed, she tugged her jacket down slightly and laced her hands over her stomach. Projecting an air of calm she did not at all feel, the young officer laid out her next orders. "Ms. Natauna, if our goal is to show the unaligned forces that Gorka is as slippery as a Denebian Slime Devil, what's the best way to get that message across? Since our friend doesn't seem to want to go through the usual bravado at the start of combat." She had half an idea to hail him herself and point out that he failed to kill her once, now he had a chance to do so honorably, but she wasn't sure it would work the way she wanted. Not for the first time, she lamented that the man among the  crew who knew Gorka best was in no condition to advise her. Poor Lt. Douglas, was the only thought she could spare for the man.

Ahead of her she saw the Klingon formation begin to shift into attack wings, and sighed. There was really nothing else for it. Turning in her chair, she leaned up to look at Thea, standing next to her. She met the holograms eyes for a brief moment and then gave a small nod. "Thea, please Engage the multi-vector assault mode." She said it quietly, in a conversational tone. It wasn't that Natalie was reluctant to do so, but she lamented the necessity. Thea inclined her head with a short nod of her own, and began to speak - her voice echoing through the ship as well.

"Initiating decoupling sequence. Auto-separation in ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Separation sequence in progress." With roughly twenty seconds to go before the Klingon assault force reached range in the wake of that first probing flight, the Theurgy began to break apart in to its separated vectors. The odds weren't exactly evened, but perhaps better.

From behind her, in the Tactical section, Lt. Arisaka called out, "We are in attack formation. Each section is armed and responding to our command, ma'am." He was addressing Natalie. The vectors were at her command, controlled in tandem by the bridge officers on the Helmet and Thea.

"Very good. Lt. Veradin," she addressed the helm control, "Attack pattern Delta-2." A pincer attack that would have two of the tree vectors swoop down, and one rise above.  Next to her, Natalie heard Thea's crisp tones ask, "Specify target." The words sent a shiver down Nat's spine, but now was not the time to delay any further. She wanted to knock some sense into the Klingon's' around her, and as Lt. Commander Cross had noted, they might have to bloody their noses to get them to even consider listening. So that was that. This wasn't her first combat, not even her first in command. Now wasn't the time to dither.

"Lead ship of the first attack wing. Bearing," Natalie looked at her own command controls on the center seat, "052 mark 2." It looked like a Vor'cha screening out in front of one of the larger Negh'var's, and would be the first to close the distance. A look passed over Thea's face, something distant and far away. "Pattern and target confirmed."

"Gentlemen," she glanced back at the group of tactical officers. "Execute."

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #20 –
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Griff @Auctor Lucan @BZ @Nolan Et. Al
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Cam got to work right away. Once again she plunged her hands into the holotable, turning her wrists to the left, turning the graphics into a different mode as the battle commenced. As she did so the Theurgy itself shifted into the center of the table and ignited into a deep blue, while the Klingon ships shifted into a dark, blood red and scaled themselves relative to the center ship. When cross fired the weapons, the arrays that he fired pinged with a bright light on the ship. All impacts registered on the enemy ships as well, a perfectly programmed system on the behemoth of the ship.

“Yes Commander.” Cam gave Stark a nod. She kept the communications about the other team aside, in the corner of the holotable. Somewhere that she could see it flash if there was news but, not somewhere it would distract her. Right now, they had what was practically an Armada looking them in the face. “Cameron Henshaw. Ensign. Alpha 274491.” She whispered the mantra to herself one more time.

“Impacts registered...two disabled.” She watched the disabled Birds of Prey begin to float, dead as could be in the field of enemies. They blinked from a dark blood red to a faded white. She dipped her head to the side and muttered two herself, “Two down.” She looked over the field of ships and didn’t even bother to count. “A load to go.” She ground her teeth for a moment. As cross spoke, she saw the smaller vessels begin to pop up on her display as well. “I see them.” As she looked over the battlefield she took a moment to settle herself. She had a display of the whole thing in front of her, she could see the ships moving in real time right before her eyes. She had to remember that that table was a gift.

Cam could see the formation around them. It was obvious what they were planning but, nothing was perfect.

She looked back over the bridge towards the Captain’s chair one more time before her lips gave a slight twitch. She gave another haptic twitch of her hands and from within the Theurgy, blinking lights began to show on the hologram. Cam then spoke directly into her earpiece. “Razor, scramble the wolves. Good hunting. Focus fire on the B’rel’s I’ll provide info on soft targets.” A chill went down her spine every time she gave that order. Would they all come back? She looked over the console and saw one. He was slightly further in the formation than the others. Clearly he wasn’t exactly where he was supposed to be. “Spatial grid J-94.” She silenced herself and stopped communication. She gave another look at the table and looked for something a bit meatier that Theurgy herself might be able to take a bite out of while the acting Commander herself gave her orders.

Cam had no idea how to make nice with the Klingons. What she did know was how to read a battle map. She did, however, know that Klingons thrived on honor and glory. She had thoughts and looked for a moment as if she was ready to say something aloud, but she opted not to. She wasn’t the professional. When the command to activate the Multi Vector Assault Mode was given Cam rolled her neck and reached into the belly of the ship holo, her hand initially a fist, her fingers all splayed out. The ship sort of ‘popped’ itself apart. It remained together but the hologram prepared itself for the inevitable. Each part of the ship moved to where it was supposed to be as the vessels moved.

As each vector moved into the pincer Cam watched the Klingons reaction. Where Theurgy was perfectly aligned, they were not. “There!” She shouted, pointing at a forming hole in their line as they moved to try and match their movements. “The lead ship moves to match us, and they’re good. The rest of them though…they leave gaps. Ships are vulnerable in the line. There are holes to punch through, stragglers to chew on.” She relayed the information quickly. She tapped the chosen target by Stark and narrowed her eyes, watching their moves. Then she waited, at the slightest hint of change she stood ready to relay it. She looked up towards the rest of the bridge for a brief moment, to survey the others.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #21 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Brutus @BZ
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As if the general tension and morbid vibe aboard Theurgy hadn’t been hint enough that something sinister was afoot, now the corridors and bulkheads reverberated with the might and anger of Gorka’s forces. Like the hellhounds of Sto-vo-kor were unleashed upon them. The turbolift cart squealed with defiance, as it was pushed into its suspensions during a particularly nasty volley, in its ascend towards the bridge. Samantha had just left the shuttle bay minutes ago, now donning a PADD virtually identical to the one she had bestowed upon Fisher, both in look and contents. That was before all hell had broken loose and every ounce of hope for peaceful reconciliation went out the window into a region of space starting to fill with smoke and rays of lightning. Now she was holding on to the guardrail with her free hand, dainty fingers tightly clasped around a semblance of support, in this trying time.

The considerable silence, broken by the muffled thuds of breaches and the low hum of shield impacts, inside the turbolift cart, vanished rather violently as the doors slid open, revealing a bridge dipped in colorful flashes of light and the frenzied voices trying to contain the situation. Chief among them, and in the center of it all, second officer Natalie Stark. A woman she did not envy for her position in that moment. Where the blonde had once stated that, as war started, diplomacy ended, there now proved to be a distinct grey area, in which the cunning backhanded manipulation of politics could be wielded just as successfully as a sharpened bat’leth. But as the sheer flood of impressions upon entering Theurgy’s control center, crashed upon her like a cresting wave, the diplomat found herself temporarily stumbling, and not only by the distinct shake of the deck-plating.

But as her humanity faltered in the eye of emotional duress, her duty asserted itself in the most subconscious way imaginable. Her Vulcan part of hearing, acutely filtering out a simple order, that pertained to her sort of expertise … if not even the very reason she had made the way up into a – let’s face it – less secure part of the ship than the flag bridge. “I would not do that!” the commander spoke up firmly, positioned now between Stark and Natauna, just as the command – or question – had been relayed to the Klingon liaison. “If our intention is to discredit Gorka and not ourselves, we cannot be the ones sending this information. It would simply make us look like the dishonorable thugs half the ships out there already think we are.” Surely there was neither the time, nor need, to explain the intricacies of Klingon honor to everyone.

“I would advise to concentrate on the executive task of keeping Theurgy together and identifying undecided ships, to keep them out of harm’s way. A plan to air Gorka’s sins in a more, poetic fashion, has already been put into motion with the infiltration mission to the Ta'rom, Commander.” And as another volley hit Theurgy, making the blonde officer take a step to regain her balance, she aptly realized that now was not the time for long explanations. Unfolding the PADD from her tight grasp, she handed it over to Zyrao. “For reference, this contains all the information Intelligence and my department have gathered. Including my final report on the mission we launched to rescue Martok’s potential heir and secure further support. All of which are included in the parameters of Mission ‘Return to Sender’.” she narrated with a curt nod, clasping her hands behind her back out of sheer habit, even at the danger of stumbling again.

Turning to face Stark once more, she offered another stiff nod, one befitting the severity and urgency of the situation. "Commander." she prompted, unwaveringly. The chief diplomat had relayed her concerns, but she was not leaving until she got reassurances, that her warnings would be heeded.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #22 –
[ Captain Gorka, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Bridge | IKC Ta'rom | En-Route to Qo'noS ] Attn: All
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Seated in the centre of the Ta'rom's bridge, Captain Gorka saw the Theurgy split into three ships, and he bared his teeth at the thing. This alleged 'finest' of Starfleet ships. Their cutting edge dreadnought that was rushed ahead of production because of the Romulan Scimitar that had so rattled the Federation. The Romulans were on the warpath anew, and he knew that he had to remove the colluding Chancellor if the Empire was to stand unified against the Praetor. He certainly didn't mind that he could deal with Martok because of personal reasons, blaming him as he did for his father's death at the hands of Morjod. So, as he looked at the Theurgy splitting up, he decided to consider it a sign that the renegade Starfleet captain felt threatened.

Indeed, he scented fear, and it made him grin.

He saw a pincer attack coming, one in which one hull of the ship would swoop down, and another rise above.  The Neng-ta was the spearhead of his own fleet's attack, and he saw the Vor'cha class ship suffer the brunt of the assault - this ship he'd commanded and upon which he'd led his insurgence through Klingon space. Many Klingons have suffered his righteous call against the corrupt Chancellor, ships and crews bereft of his mercy, because he could not afford to show weakness in the eyes of his future people. It was a pity he'd had to deal with his grandfather in order to be next in line for House Mo'kai, but the old dimwit had not been a match against Martok. It was fortunate that Kopek, son of Nargor, had seen the same thing he did, and had assisted him on Qo'nos. Just like the Neng-ta ended up adrift and leaking plasma, with the fiery aftermath reflecting against the hulls of smaller ships whisking by it, Gorka was reminded about the sacrifices he had to make for the future strength and glory of the Empire.

"I see how the Theurgy is responding with warp fighters of her own," he snarled, tempted to target them immediately in order to allow the entire fleet to keep focus entirely on the three hulls of the enemy, "yet there are only five of those... and we have them outnumbered with our raiders. Keep firing on the Theurgy itself, and send the next wave!"

"Aye, Captain!" came the call from the weapons officer, while Aakan relayed his word to the other Mo'Kai ships.

"Martok would be on the top hull of that ship. Where the bridge is at..." he reasoned aloud, and rose to his feet. The flashing lights of the bridge shimmered across his shaved head and his pointed teeth. "Helm! Full impulse through the centre of their formation. Join the second attack wave, and I want torpedoes against their aft shields at the end of our sortie! Spread the word! I want the fleet's collective firepower against the same shields! In the aft is where they will be weakest, and we'll punch through."

Shifting his stance, he gave one last command for the tactic he'd picked. "I want boarding parties ready to beam aboard all three hulls of that ship the moment any shields fail to compensate for our wrath!"

"Aye! Transporters ready!" came the answer, the tactic anticipated.

"Let's pierce through... and see how fierce Federation traitors are behind those thick hulls they hide behind..." he said, fists clenched as he looked at the viewscreen, and the Ta'rom shot forth in all it's might.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #23 –
[Lieutenant Commander Cross |  Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @Brutus et al.

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The battle was well and truly joined now, phaser and disruptor fire flying indiscriminately throughout space, shields flickering at weapon impacts. Cross didn't have time for conscious thought, his hands constantly moving over the controls, designating primary targets, watching the shield readings, checking the phaser fire of his fellow tactical officers on the other vectors, a finger repeatedly tapping the important button: fire fire fire. In such a target rich environment the Theurgy's vast complement of phaser arrays were in their element, inflicting terrible damage on the numerous bird of preys that dared to get close.

Many of them were getting close, though, and separated from the other vectors, the Helmet shook ever more violently under weapons fire. Nevertheless the three disparate vectors of the Theurgy continued their attack run, and separated, the three craft were far more maneuverable and had better acceleration than when they had been united. The Klingon attempt to envelop the Theurgy proved too slow, too clumsy to catch the faster and more agile vectors. That permitted the Sword and Stallion, larger and more powerful than the Helmet, to lead a daring hit-and-run attack on the very heart of the Klingon formation, anchored by a Vor'cha-class attack cruiser surrounded by bird of preys and four ancient D7-class cruisers.

With so many of the Klingon ships dispersed in a vain attempt to surround the Theurgy, the center of their fleet was dangerously unsupported, allowing the full fury of the Theurgy to rip into them, the Sword flying in from above and the Stallion flying in from below, the Helmet firing from further behind. In seconds, the damage was done, the three vectors zipping away, leaving broken and burning hulls in their wake. The Theurgy only just raced out of the closing jaws of the Klingon fleet in time to avoid being trapped, furious long-range disruptor fire licking the vectors' shields as they went.

"Three cruisers disabled, six bird of preys disabled, one bird of prey destroyed," Cross reported sharply, bracing as a particularly heavy long-range hit slammed into the Helmet. "Helmet shields are at 75%, other vector shields holding." He took a deep breath to steady himself as the Theurgy raced out of weapons range, permitting a temporary lull in the fighting for both sides. Separated in to MVAM, the Theurgy was far more faster and more maneuverable than an entire fleet, co-ordinated or not, yet the Theurgy could outgun smaller segments of the Klingon fleet if they split up. Stark's strategy was working, and with time for think, Cross found a serious admiration for the woman's tactics.

The Klingons were no fools, though. Full of rage and bloodlust though they might be, the Klingons were every bit as clever as Stark, and the counter to her tactic didn't take long to form. Suddenly the entire Klingon fleet raced into full impulse, their disciplined formation fragmenting as every single ship, dozens and dozens of them, accelerated at breakneck speed straight at the Theurgy. It was a wild and furious charge, too fast and reckless for the Theurgy to outmaneuver or avoid this time, a brute force assault like a charging bull in its relentlessness.

Cross felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked up at the viewscreen, and then at his readouts. "Request permission to use torpedoes, Commander," he asked far more calmly then he felt.

Re: Chapter 06: Battle of the Houses [ Day 03 | 0900 hrs. ]

Reply #24 –
[ Counselor J'mpok, son of Q'thoq, of House J'mpok | Bridge | IKS Sturka (IKC-12008) | En-Route to Qo'noS ] Attn: All

Aboard the Qang-Class heavy cruiser, Sturka, Counselor J'mpok sat in his command chair stroking his massive beard as he watched the battle taking place on the main viewer.  "Report!" he ordered.

"Counselor, Gorka's fleet has engaged the Federation renegades harboring the Chancellor. The Federation ship has split into three parts and deployed fighter craft. Gorka's forces have taken losses but continue to press their advantage. Do wish for us to join them?"

"yljathQo', I will let you know my wishes directly. You need not ask. We shall remain cloaked and at a safe distance."

J'mpok had much at stake in this foray. He could not make known his support of Gorka's attempted coup to take the Chancellorship, just as much as he could not let Gorka know of his own plans to take leadership of the empire. With his own political position on the High Council at risk, J'mpok had decided to covertly supply Gorka with munitions and tactical resources while remaining unsuspiciously neutral before Martok and the rest of the Council, except for Counselor Torg, who stood next him.

"J'mpok, it is too risky for us to be out here. We should be on Qo'noS preparing for Martok's arrival." Torg, son of Kormog, head of House Torg interjected.

"What's to risk, Torg. If Gorka succeeds at softening that petaQ Martok, we will swoop in like a kraw'za taking away the kill of a ghISnar. If Gorka fails, then we arrive to aid Martok and escort him to Qo'noS." J'mpok knew that Torg's grasp of politics was weak, after all, only a fool would have taken in an honorless whelp from the House of Duras. But Torg was just that kind of fool. The kind who could be manipulated by a superior warrior like J'mpok.

"So be still your warrior jitters, we are in the exact position to benefit regardless of the outcome of this little engagement."

"I swear to you if this costs me..."

"Sir, the Federation vessels are pulling away from the fleet." interrupted the lowly bekk from one of the tactical stations.

Blasted Gorka, J'mpok thought. With so many houses supporting his cause, all wishing to end the pacifist policy approach of Martok and rekindle the fire of the Klingon spirit for conquest. Martok, like K'mpec before him, like Gorkon and Azetbur, had the Klingon Empire roll over like a domestic targ to have its belly rubbed. The Empire ceased to be a feared power in the quadrant. Every subjugated race in the empire had been emboldened by the Tezwa Affair. No the Empire needed an iron fist to bring it back to glory.

"Wait. Gorka's fleet is reforming. They are accelerating and targeting all weapons on the rear vectors of the Federation ships' shields."

"Lay in a pursuit course. Maintain safe distance at 10,000 kellicams. Remain cloaked. Prepare boarding parties." J'mpok ordered in response.

"Are we to join Gorka?" asked Torg.

"No, we are prepared to aid the victor, whoever that may be." J'mpok knew what Gorka was attempting. Punching through the Federation's shields by creating a weak spot long enough to beam in boarding parties to take the ship by force. It was a sound strategy if you knew what awaited on the other side.


[ Commander Tereth, Daughter of Kular, of House Kular | Bridge | IKS B'Tok | En-Route to Qo'noS ]

"Fire! Fire damn you! Do not let those Federation cowards get away with the Chancellor!" Tereth yelled at her crew. This battle was personal. It was about vengeance. Her father had supported the previous Chancellor Gowron over Duras and her House had benefited greatly for it. Their debts absolved, her admittance into the KDF assured, and even more boons followed while Gowron ruled. Then the Dominion War and the low caste Martok happened. She believed him to be an illegitimate Chancellor, a dishonorable thief at the helm of the Empire. Martok had not ascended through honorable combat nor had he been selected through actions of the High Council. There was no Arbiter of Succession. The cloak of the Chancellor was draped upon him by a dishonored member of the dissolved House of Mogh!

Her temper flared as she witnessed ship after ship disabled among Gorka's fleet. "Damn you Gorka! You said this would be easy! One lone renegade Federation ship against a fleet of Klingon warriors!" She spoke aloud to herself.

"Sir?" questioned a confused bekk.

"Did I tell you to stop firing!!! If we are out of torpedoes, strap on a suit, jump out an airlock, and attack them with your fists!!!"

"Commander, the Federation ships are moving outside of weapons range."

"Then speed up!!!"

"Then engines...."

"I don't care if you blow the ship up getting to them. Perhaps the blast will do what our weapons seem to be unable to do."

"As you wish."

Tereth was determined to get her vengeance on the House of Martok for taking away the largess that her house had enjoyed under Gowron.

"Sir, orders from Gorka. He wants all ships to target the aft shields of the Federation vessels and prepare to beam landing parties aboard the second an opening allows."

"Do it and, Lieutenant Purska, prepare my dragons."

"Sir?" Responded a one-armed Purska. The look of fear was clearly present on his claw-scared face.

"Do be careful not to lose your other arm. I want to make sure they are hungry for Starfleet meat."

While many Klingon shock troops were feared across the quadrant, none more so than those of the House of Kular. The circumstances that provided Kular the opportunity to acquire a pack of feral Gorn remained a mystery among those fortunate to have survived an encounter with them to acquire the knowledge that they existed. To date, that number remained low.

"GurltaH, you have the bridge. I want to be present when my darlings rip the Chancellor's head off his shoulders and play with their new chew toy."
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