Snake Eaters
23-01-2006, 22:40
As the digital face clicked to read 0630 hours, the shrill tone of an alarm clock pierced the still air in Jack Matram’s quarters, trying in vain to wake the gruff fifty-five year old captain from his slumber. It continued it’s song for almost a minute before finally coming to an end, and switching instead to the sub-space radio station he had pre-programmed into the machine when he had first purchased it on Belka. There was the slightest pause as it searched for the most appropriate frequency, before settling on one and turning itself up ever so slightly
… and the latest news from the capital is that Lord President Barbarossa has announced new reforms to the welfare state late last night, reducing the overall number of payments following last month’s scandal within the Welfare Office. In a speech to the Main Counsel, Lord Barbarossa outlined his rapid purge of those chiefly responsible for the problems, promising that they would be replaced with people who could be trusted to do the job properly. He also announced tougher punishments for those found to be guilty of benefit fraud, which is estimated to have cost the state over fifty million dollars in the past five years. Evidence suggests that it was at its height during the short reign of Damien Constantine a little over two years ago now
In related news, the now-shamed Welfare Minister Jeffery Brown also resigned his position in the Assembly. In a meeting with the rest of the Assembly just prior to Lord Barbarossa’s address…
The broadcast was cut short by the meaty palm of Matram slapping down on the ‘End’ button on the top of the clock, as if squashing a particularly annoying fly. He groaned gently in his sleep, clearly denoting a wish not to have to get out of bed. Still, the red numbers glared harshly at him in the dim light of his quarters, illuminated only through the window that faced out onto open space, the docking lights throwing long shadows even with the drapes drawn across the windows. He sat up slowly, using his elbows to support himself as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, digging his toes into the thinning carpet, making a mental note to get it replaced as soon as possible… that effectively meant, when they had the money. He rubbed his hands across his face, rubbing the sleep from his still-puffy eyes and calling out, “Lights!”
The lights flickered into life, all apart from one, the glowcube on his desk. He called out again, which didn’t work, and then fell back on the old standard, hitting the side of the light. It flickered, then died, and he swore, “Bloody thing. Works for twelve years, and dies on me the day we leave port. Fucking perfect.”
He stood and stretched his back, placing both palms in the centre and pushing gently. Despite his age, he was still pretty spruce, working out regularly to keep himself in reasonable shape. After all, it wouldn’t do for the captain to set a bad example, even if it was only a merchant ship. He walked stiffly across the cabin, heading into the adjoined bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he leaned on the imitation marble top surrounding the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair wasn’t all that long, but it couldn’t be classed as short anymore either. Previously black, it was now heavily streaked with grey, lending him a more aged appearance that wasn’t helped by the lines on his forehead and the wrinkles under his eyes. His eyes were a light brown, a nice complement to his Asian skin-tone. Whilst not unattractive, he wasn’t the sort of man women would be falling over themselves to meet. Well, all of them except Sarah, certainly. Ah, Sarah.
He’d met her soon after he got into the merchant business, serving on a small ship doing runs between the Tri-System of Belkan, Yuktobanian and Osean systems, and had fallen head-over-heels. A shy brunette, she had made a serious impression on him, and he had endeavoured for years to get to know her. Finally, after almost six years, they had married, and settled down. But trading was still in his blood, so he spent quite some time away from her travelling back and forth between the distant stars. However, whenever he got the chance, he went home to see her and their two children on Osea. Now, though, he was on the edge of the Cobrian system, docked with themain trading station (http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/SnakeEaters/Space%20Stations/Wayward.jpg), one of the Wayward-types, docked with one of the pylons whilst waiting for their cargo to arrive.
His ship, the Yangtze Kiang (http://www.trekmania.net/art/Miranda001.jpg), was one of the older Miranda-class vessels, long since retired from the Navy and replaced. However, they could still be found as independent trading vessels, thanks to their reasonable speed and cargo capacity. Matram had extensively modified this particular version over the time he had owned it. The frontal section had been left as it was, but the rear section had been completely stripped and turned into extended cargo bays, allowing the ship to carry much more than had been intended. Most of the original weaponry had been removed upon the ships official decommissioning, leaving only four of the Type-7 dual phaser banks left onboard. Although the original ship had been able to accommodate 220 people in moderate conditions, Matram’s modifications had allowed him to crew the ship with barely one hundred men and women, many of whom were working in the extensive cargo holds. A few were engineers, who serviced the co-axial warp core (http://www.memory-alpha.org/en/images/8/8f/VoyagerWarpCore.jpg) and other major systems onboard, whilst the rest held a variety of jobs. Given that the ship was now of civilian registry, it carried limited small arms onboard, used only in extreme emergencies. The primary small arms locker held three compression phaser rifles, along with a number of phaser pistols. The others, dotted around the ship, only held a few pistols. Still, it was required by Snake Eaters trade authority that all of them were trained in the weapons. The vessel also carried two shuttlepods, just in case the cargo transporters were unable to do their job. It took longer, but the shuttlepods were kept in good condition just for that reason. The ship was old, and some thought Matram should upgrade, but he refused, saying that his ship was still the best out there, with his crew agreeing with him.
Dragging the razor across his stubble-flecked cheek, Matram winced as he drew blood, the crimson liquid trickling down his cheek. He grabbed a towel, drying his face and removing the blood at the same time, before getting dressed in the casual jumpsuit he normally wore. Like him and the ship, the suit was old, patched up and barely holding together in places, but it still did what it was meant to do. The pockets seemed to always have something in them, be it a padd, a hydrospanner, a pen, or even some loose change. He smiled at his reflection, and left his quarters, heading to the bridge. The turbolift took him straight to deck one, where his second-in-command, David Burke, handed him a padd with the most recent report on it, “Our new cargo manifest.”
Matram looked at it, and raised an eyebrow, “The Icarus Institute wants us to carry this?”
“Yeah, I was as surprised as you. Still, you did sign the contract.”
“Yeah, I know… a convoy of ten ships, accompanied by two Ezekiel patrol ships of the 182nd Escort Squadron, and a number of civilians. Interesting indeed.”
“Any ideas why?”
Matram threw a condescending look in Burke’s direction, “You know the rules. We’re not really told anything. We carry their stuff, we offload it, and the money goes into our account. Simple.”
The woman at the security station laughed slightly at this. Eleanor Blackman was from a family who had been in the trading business since they had arrived in Snake Eaters. She had served in the Snake Navy, as all natives were required to do except in exceptional circumstances, but had been bounced out after her two years was up. In official reports, it had been for insubordination… technically true, as she had punched a senior officer… although that was because she found him sleeping with her bunkmate. Normally, that wasn’t a problem… except Eleanor had also been sleeping with him. Once out of the military, she had drifted for a few years, working on some of the government freighters, hauling ore from distant asteroids so it could be used. However, she had the fortune to save Matram’s life during a bar brawl, during which she impressed him with her skills in combat. He recruited her to his crew on the spot, and she rose quickly to become one of the senior ‘officers’ on the ship. Even though none of them held any rank, bar Matram, there was a simple hierarchy on this ship. When it came to weapons, and fighting, she was in charge, no questions asked, “Yeah, then we go blow it down at the nearest port!”
“Ah, the woman speaks the truth. What is the galaxy coming to?” laughed Matram, biting a chunk out of the snack bar he had brought with him.
“Better than it was before,” she retorted quickly, laughing with him and Burke…
“All ships, this is the S.E.N Achilles (http://photobucket.com/albums/a6/SnakeEaters/Common%20Naval%20Ships/?action=view¤t=PatrolCraft.jpg), of the 182nd Escort Squadron. We are ready to get underway. Move into your allocated positions.”
Captain David Rose sat in his chair aboard the Achilles, staring at the viewscreen. The new Ezekiel-class ships were a vast improvement over the old ones, as they were faster, and carried more weapons. The aesthetics had also been sorted out. Snake Eaters believed in flowing lines in their designs, which were largely license-built ships. The main fleet consisted of Federation-designs, but hanging in orbit over Snake Eater Prime was the third of the new Prodigal-class vessels, designed to replace the ageing Warfare-class. He sighed as he looked at the rag-tag fleet before him.
“Free-lance merchants…”
“You don’t like them, Captain?” came the voice of his conn officer, twenty-two year old Ensign Molly Palmer, wearing the red undershirt of command personnel.
“No, I don’t, Ms. Palmer. They go where they please, not following fixed lanes.”
“Isn’t that part of the reason the government is hiring them more and more?”
“No, it’s because more of them keep appearing every day, and left unchecked they could become a problem. Better to use them, than to risk having them be used against us. After all, they travel to many different nations.”
Molly sighed to herself, having gotten used to her commanding officer’s rants over the past few months since she had transferred onboard. Molly Palmer had grown up on the outskirts of Snake Eater space, and the main highlight for her had been the weekly visit from the naval patrol ships. Her captain, on the other hand, didn’t want to be running escort. He had been in charge of a battle group of ten ships during the civil war, remaining loyal to Constantine until the end. Barbarossa had shown his worth by letting him live, but he was traded into the escort fleets, and it had made him bitter beyond belief. Still, he did his job, however much he hated what he was doing…
In front of them, the fleet, including the Yangtze Kiang, formed up into two sticks of five, with two Goliath-class ( http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/SnakeEaters/Civilian%20ships/Goliath.jpg) escorts either side, and another [I]Ezekiel[/]I-class on the rear. The Achilles took the point position, leading the fleet out of the range of the station, stabbing towards Yuktobania. Rose didn’t know what the ships behind him were carrying, nor did he really care. All he knew was that he had been ordered by High Command to make sure these ships got to their destination.
Simple. Easy. Boring as hell.
He might not have been so complacent had he known exactly what was going to happen on this routine trip. You would have been forgiven for thinking that, after as many years of experience as he had, he would have known that space travel is never routine…
Delerion Asteroid Belt, Day Two
They’d only been travelling for a little over twenty-four hours now, and already most of the people in the convoy were bored out of their minds. It was a slow process with a convoy, as they had to travel at the speed of the slowest ship, which in this case meant Warp 3. Considering the compactness of Snake-controlled space, at Warp 7 most vessels could traverse it from border to border within a day. But, at this speed, it would take them at least a week to reach Yuktobania. Matram poured himself the fifth coffee of the morning from the steaming pot that was sitting on the ops chair next to him, inhaling the scent before drinking some, “Ah… that’s much better. I needed that. How is our cargo?”
“Doing well, Jack.”
“Good. So long as it is still intact when we reach our port, we’ll be paid well.”
David nodded at him, turning his attention back to the crossword that had appeared in the ‘The Times’ yesterday. His tongue was between his teeth as he mused over the latest clue, which had him stumped. He was a proud man, though, and wouldn’t be asking for help anytime soon. He tapped the edge of the page with his pencil, before scribbling something down, and smiling to himself.
S.E.N Achilles
Standing at the tactical position, Lieutenant Charles ‘Charlie’ Beckwith barely glanced at the sensor sweeps in front of him, more focused on leaning on the bulkhead, stretching out his legs in front of him. That was the problem with being a tactical officer on these ships… there was so little to do at times. Especially for a tactical officer. Still, he hadn’t expected much this soon. Just to be manning the position showed someone had taken notice somewhere along the line. He was only meant to be in the military another six months, before he could leave if he wanted. He’d see if they had another assignment when it was all over, and then make his mind up.
Suddenly, there was a blip on long-range sensors, and he started, moving forward to look at the display. They were close to the border, and there appeared to be something coming towards them, “Commander.”
“Yes Lieutenant?”
“I’m getting something on long-range sensors… four blips, coming straight for the convoy.”
“Any I.D. signal?”
“None that the computer recognises.”
Commander Langdon glanced at the readout now coming through his arm rest, and raised an eyebrow, “Interesting. They seem to have come from across the border.”
“I was just thinking that.”
“Better warn the fleet… these things are coming for us pretty hard.”
“Yessir!”
The young lieutenant, still slightly worried about the nature of the incoming vessels, signalled the rest of the fleet, “All vessels, this is the Achilles. We are issuing a fleet wide warning, four high-speed bogeys inbound, present vector 278 by 302, crossing the border at Cape Landers. They appear to be coming straight for us… watch yourselves, we’ll cover you.”
Captain Rose hurried onto the bridge at that point, the service jacket slung over his arm, “Report, Commander!”
“ We picked up these four vessels on an intercept course with the fleet. I’ve issued a ship- and fleet-wide alert, with all vessels now on Yellow Alert and their shields up.”
“Any communications?”
“None. We’ve attempted to hail them, but no response to those either.”
Rose seemed oddly thrilled, “We might just have ourselves a battle on our hands.”
“Sir, these vessels are designed as escorts, not front-line battleships. Also, we don’t even know if these bogeys have hostile intent yet. What if their transceiver array has been knocked out, or their navigation systems?”
Rose rubbed his chin, and then nodded, noting the change in Langdon’s attitude at that point in time. The man is built for command… I’ll have to recommend him for a promotion when we get into port, “Very well, Commander. Lieutenant, bring the weapons online and make sure they are fully charged. If this does turn into a battle, we must be ready. It’s a shame we don’t have any Marines or the new Hurricane fighters here.”
“Well, the Hurricane is still in testing, sir. The Air Force has only one squadron.”
“Yes, I know. Damn Razgriz, they always get the best. Oh well, can’t be helped. Just make sure we’re ready.”
Moments passed, the tension palpable across the entire fleet. Onboard the Yangtze Kiang, the people on all decks waited, the yellow lights flashing every so often. They had only minimal weaponry… if it came down to it, they couldn’t fight for very long. Still, the Miranda-class had served the Snake Navy for well over fifty years, so it had obviously been doing something right. Crews across the convoy found themselves praying. Be they Muslim, Christian, Buddhist or even just Church of Leviathan, all found themselves praying that this was a false alarm, that it was a false blip on the sensor scopes. Merchant crews were well known for their networking, and everyone in this convoy knew everyone else, even if it was only in passing. They passed information as they got it, and it seemed ever more likely this was for real. More and more ships were picking up the four blips, which came ever closer to them. Soon enough, they were in visual range, and Captain Rose ordered the viewscreen be trained on them.
The screen flickered into life, before showing them a chilling sight. Four Klingon Birds-of-Prey (http://www.motorpsychorealms.org.uk/spacedout/ssbirdofprey.jpg), but with no markings to speak of. There was a brief silence before anyone on the bridge of the Achilles spoke, “Commander Langdon, correct me if I’m wrong, but those are D-12 class, correct?”
“Yes, sir… looks like license-built copies as well.”
“So, they are Snake-built?”
“Yes sir.”
“Enlighten me.”
Rose was no historian, but he knew that Snake Eaters had once used such vessels in their fleets. Langdon, on the other hand, had graduated with a major in History from Belka Central University, “Snake Eaters had a better first contact with the Klingons than the rest of humanity. We managed to get on their good side, and they gave us the technology to construct such vessels. At the time, the only other real vessels we had were CR-90 Corellian Corvettes, more commonly known as blockade-runners. Still, these things are old in comparison to this ship… but still dangerous. They can take on a Galaxy-class, and do some damage.”
“Pirates, perhaps?”
“Possibility.”
Suddenly, without warning, the lead ship fired, the photon torpedoes leaving their tubes to impact on the lead merchant ship. They sailed effortlessly through the void, splashing against the shields as they went. It seemed a pointless tactic, but then they split up, and started unleashing real firepower. There had been nothing. No communication, no request for surrender… it was if they didn’t want what was onboard these ships, but wanted to destroy them instead. The weapons flashed, more weapons than anyone could remember these things being fitted with. One of them strafed across the Achilles, her weapons firing almost continuously as she flew on by. The shields flickered, holding steady, but the ship itself rocked, before firing back, hot spears of solid fire flashing out to strike the enemy craft. Onboard, sparks flew and lights dimmed as the power systems took the brunt of the enemy attack. On the bridge, Rose staggered as the deck shifted under him. He clung to the arm of his command chair, and roared, “RED ALERT!” before turning to Beckwith, “What the hell are they using?”
“Subspace weapons, sir.”
“I thought those were banned?!”
Langdon spoke loudly, “So is piracy.”
Rose swore gently, then looked at Langdon, “Touché, Commander. Now, let’s get at them.”
The Achilles turned about, looking over the convoy. Already, two of the ships were burning, one of them merely a shell of it’s former self. The underslung warp engines had been torn away by a ferecious volley of fire, and even as they watched, another volley of subspace weapons fire smashed into it, tearing into the warp core. Plasma spilled from the gaping wound in the flailing ship, streaming into the inky void, it’s brilliant blue hue a stark contrast. That ship was doomed, Rose already knew that. It’s entire crew was lost, as was the other ships. Now, he had to protect what was left of the convoy, “All support ships, open fire, focus on protecting the merchant ships. They are the priority, and also the targets of this attack.”
“Sir, the Windchaser and the Washington have been completley destroyed. No survivours.”
“No escape pods?”
“They launched some, but the attacking ships picked them off!”
“Those bastards. All right, lock onto the nearest ship and open fire!!”
The Achilles linked up with one of the other escort ships, their weapons pouring shot after shot into the rear shields of the Bird-of-Prey in front of them, biting away. There was a sudden spurt of sparks, an explosion, and the shields flickered and died, “Take that ship apart!”
“But sir…”
“NO QUESTIONS LIEUTENANT,” roared Ross, his face flushed with fury, “Destroy it. Now.”
Beckwith hesitated for a second, and then pressed the panel in front of him. The phaser banks were fully charged, their firepower unleashed in one hellish display of power. They struck again and again without mercy, blowing chunks out of the hull with every blast. The craft crumbled into dust in front of them, and the Achilles flew effortlessly through the debris field… there was almost nothing left. Suddenly, a klaxon sounded, and Beckwith sailed through the air as his console exploded in front of him. Rose darted towards him as a support strut fell from the roof overhead, clipping Langdon over the head and knocking him unconcious. Somewhere, a fire was burning, Rose could smell it. It was acidic… and there was also the distinctive smell of a plasma cooling leak. He reached out towards Langdon….
The first torpedo smashed into the port nacelle of the Achilles, tearing it from it’s housing, the highly-charged warp plasma spilling into space. The second smashed straight through the central hull, taking the bridge with it. The explosive decompression blew out five decks in a single go, killing almost a hundred men and women in one shot. The final shot seemed to come slowly to Matram as he watched with horror at what was happening in front of him. The twinkling blue orb seemed to glide through space, crashing into the now exposed main deflector dish. The raw energy pulsing through the dish, combined with the quantum torpedo, tore the ship apart. The Achilles was nothing more than a chunk of melted girders now…
The Yangtze Kiang’s bridge was momentary silent, as all aboard gazed at the destruction before them. It seemed as if they were the only ones left… and Matram was not about to let his ship be lost now, “Get us out of here. NOW!”
“Sir, the last burst of weapons fire knocked out our main navigation computer!”
“What does that mean?”
“If we go to warp, our exit vector is random… we could end up anywhere in the galaxy!”
Matram mused over this for only a second, “But we can escape?”
“Yessir!”
The ship rocked again, the lights going out once more but coming back a moment later, “Alright, do it!”
The crew went to work, trying desperately to map out a course without the aid of the navigation computer, before throwing down everything and simply hanging on for dear life as the man at the conn punched the warp engines. On the viewscreen, the stars drew themselves extended lines, the ship buckled, screaming through the open aperture to wherever they were going….
Unknown Space
The ship was adrift, the remaining engine dark and the lights unblinking. It looked like a ghost ship to anyone who saw it. The only thing that told anyone it was there was a single red light, winking on the main ops console on the bridge. Stencilled above it were the words: EMERGENCY BEACON
The beacon, imbedded in the main hull of the seemingly-dead ship, broadcast it’s message far and wide:
This is the Snake Eater merchant vessel Yangtze Kiang.
We are in need of assistance.
For various reasons, we are unable to use one or more of our major systems. Please respond to this distress call.
Please, help us
The call was broadcast on a repeating loop, sending its message pinging through space, trying to find anyone who would help them…
… and the latest news from the capital is that Lord President Barbarossa has announced new reforms to the welfare state late last night, reducing the overall number of payments following last month’s scandal within the Welfare Office. In a speech to the Main Counsel, Lord Barbarossa outlined his rapid purge of those chiefly responsible for the problems, promising that they would be replaced with people who could be trusted to do the job properly. He also announced tougher punishments for those found to be guilty of benefit fraud, which is estimated to have cost the state over fifty million dollars in the past five years. Evidence suggests that it was at its height during the short reign of Damien Constantine a little over two years ago now
In related news, the now-shamed Welfare Minister Jeffery Brown also resigned his position in the Assembly. In a meeting with the rest of the Assembly just prior to Lord Barbarossa’s address…
The broadcast was cut short by the meaty palm of Matram slapping down on the ‘End’ button on the top of the clock, as if squashing a particularly annoying fly. He groaned gently in his sleep, clearly denoting a wish not to have to get out of bed. Still, the red numbers glared harshly at him in the dim light of his quarters, illuminated only through the window that faced out onto open space, the docking lights throwing long shadows even with the drapes drawn across the windows. He sat up slowly, using his elbows to support himself as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, digging his toes into the thinning carpet, making a mental note to get it replaced as soon as possible… that effectively meant, when they had the money. He rubbed his hands across his face, rubbing the sleep from his still-puffy eyes and calling out, “Lights!”
The lights flickered into life, all apart from one, the glowcube on his desk. He called out again, which didn’t work, and then fell back on the old standard, hitting the side of the light. It flickered, then died, and he swore, “Bloody thing. Works for twelve years, and dies on me the day we leave port. Fucking perfect.”
He stood and stretched his back, placing both palms in the centre and pushing gently. Despite his age, he was still pretty spruce, working out regularly to keep himself in reasonable shape. After all, it wouldn’t do for the captain to set a bad example, even if it was only a merchant ship. He walked stiffly across the cabin, heading into the adjoined bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he leaned on the imitation marble top surrounding the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair wasn’t all that long, but it couldn’t be classed as short anymore either. Previously black, it was now heavily streaked with grey, lending him a more aged appearance that wasn’t helped by the lines on his forehead and the wrinkles under his eyes. His eyes were a light brown, a nice complement to his Asian skin-tone. Whilst not unattractive, he wasn’t the sort of man women would be falling over themselves to meet. Well, all of them except Sarah, certainly. Ah, Sarah.
He’d met her soon after he got into the merchant business, serving on a small ship doing runs between the Tri-System of Belkan, Yuktobanian and Osean systems, and had fallen head-over-heels. A shy brunette, she had made a serious impression on him, and he had endeavoured for years to get to know her. Finally, after almost six years, they had married, and settled down. But trading was still in his blood, so he spent quite some time away from her travelling back and forth between the distant stars. However, whenever he got the chance, he went home to see her and their two children on Osea. Now, though, he was on the edge of the Cobrian system, docked with themain trading station (http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/SnakeEaters/Space%20Stations/Wayward.jpg), one of the Wayward-types, docked with one of the pylons whilst waiting for their cargo to arrive.
His ship, the Yangtze Kiang (http://www.trekmania.net/art/Miranda001.jpg), was one of the older Miranda-class vessels, long since retired from the Navy and replaced. However, they could still be found as independent trading vessels, thanks to their reasonable speed and cargo capacity. Matram had extensively modified this particular version over the time he had owned it. The frontal section had been left as it was, but the rear section had been completely stripped and turned into extended cargo bays, allowing the ship to carry much more than had been intended. Most of the original weaponry had been removed upon the ships official decommissioning, leaving only four of the Type-7 dual phaser banks left onboard. Although the original ship had been able to accommodate 220 people in moderate conditions, Matram’s modifications had allowed him to crew the ship with barely one hundred men and women, many of whom were working in the extensive cargo holds. A few were engineers, who serviced the co-axial warp core (http://www.memory-alpha.org/en/images/8/8f/VoyagerWarpCore.jpg) and other major systems onboard, whilst the rest held a variety of jobs. Given that the ship was now of civilian registry, it carried limited small arms onboard, used only in extreme emergencies. The primary small arms locker held three compression phaser rifles, along with a number of phaser pistols. The others, dotted around the ship, only held a few pistols. Still, it was required by Snake Eaters trade authority that all of them were trained in the weapons. The vessel also carried two shuttlepods, just in case the cargo transporters were unable to do their job. It took longer, but the shuttlepods were kept in good condition just for that reason. The ship was old, and some thought Matram should upgrade, but he refused, saying that his ship was still the best out there, with his crew agreeing with him.
Dragging the razor across his stubble-flecked cheek, Matram winced as he drew blood, the crimson liquid trickling down his cheek. He grabbed a towel, drying his face and removing the blood at the same time, before getting dressed in the casual jumpsuit he normally wore. Like him and the ship, the suit was old, patched up and barely holding together in places, but it still did what it was meant to do. The pockets seemed to always have something in them, be it a padd, a hydrospanner, a pen, or even some loose change. He smiled at his reflection, and left his quarters, heading to the bridge. The turbolift took him straight to deck one, where his second-in-command, David Burke, handed him a padd with the most recent report on it, “Our new cargo manifest.”
Matram looked at it, and raised an eyebrow, “The Icarus Institute wants us to carry this?”
“Yeah, I was as surprised as you. Still, you did sign the contract.”
“Yeah, I know… a convoy of ten ships, accompanied by two Ezekiel patrol ships of the 182nd Escort Squadron, and a number of civilians. Interesting indeed.”
“Any ideas why?”
Matram threw a condescending look in Burke’s direction, “You know the rules. We’re not really told anything. We carry their stuff, we offload it, and the money goes into our account. Simple.”
The woman at the security station laughed slightly at this. Eleanor Blackman was from a family who had been in the trading business since they had arrived in Snake Eaters. She had served in the Snake Navy, as all natives were required to do except in exceptional circumstances, but had been bounced out after her two years was up. In official reports, it had been for insubordination… technically true, as she had punched a senior officer… although that was because she found him sleeping with her bunkmate. Normally, that wasn’t a problem… except Eleanor had also been sleeping with him. Once out of the military, she had drifted for a few years, working on some of the government freighters, hauling ore from distant asteroids so it could be used. However, she had the fortune to save Matram’s life during a bar brawl, during which she impressed him with her skills in combat. He recruited her to his crew on the spot, and she rose quickly to become one of the senior ‘officers’ on the ship. Even though none of them held any rank, bar Matram, there was a simple hierarchy on this ship. When it came to weapons, and fighting, she was in charge, no questions asked, “Yeah, then we go blow it down at the nearest port!”
“Ah, the woman speaks the truth. What is the galaxy coming to?” laughed Matram, biting a chunk out of the snack bar he had brought with him.
“Better than it was before,” she retorted quickly, laughing with him and Burke…
“All ships, this is the S.E.N Achilles (http://photobucket.com/albums/a6/SnakeEaters/Common%20Naval%20Ships/?action=view¤t=PatrolCraft.jpg), of the 182nd Escort Squadron. We are ready to get underway. Move into your allocated positions.”
Captain David Rose sat in his chair aboard the Achilles, staring at the viewscreen. The new Ezekiel-class ships were a vast improvement over the old ones, as they were faster, and carried more weapons. The aesthetics had also been sorted out. Snake Eaters believed in flowing lines in their designs, which were largely license-built ships. The main fleet consisted of Federation-designs, but hanging in orbit over Snake Eater Prime was the third of the new Prodigal-class vessels, designed to replace the ageing Warfare-class. He sighed as he looked at the rag-tag fleet before him.
“Free-lance merchants…”
“You don’t like them, Captain?” came the voice of his conn officer, twenty-two year old Ensign Molly Palmer, wearing the red undershirt of command personnel.
“No, I don’t, Ms. Palmer. They go where they please, not following fixed lanes.”
“Isn’t that part of the reason the government is hiring them more and more?”
“No, it’s because more of them keep appearing every day, and left unchecked they could become a problem. Better to use them, than to risk having them be used against us. After all, they travel to many different nations.”
Molly sighed to herself, having gotten used to her commanding officer’s rants over the past few months since she had transferred onboard. Molly Palmer had grown up on the outskirts of Snake Eater space, and the main highlight for her had been the weekly visit from the naval patrol ships. Her captain, on the other hand, didn’t want to be running escort. He had been in charge of a battle group of ten ships during the civil war, remaining loyal to Constantine until the end. Barbarossa had shown his worth by letting him live, but he was traded into the escort fleets, and it had made him bitter beyond belief. Still, he did his job, however much he hated what he was doing…
In front of them, the fleet, including the Yangtze Kiang, formed up into two sticks of five, with two Goliath-class ( http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/SnakeEaters/Civilian%20ships/Goliath.jpg) escorts either side, and another [I]Ezekiel[/]I-class on the rear. The Achilles took the point position, leading the fleet out of the range of the station, stabbing towards Yuktobania. Rose didn’t know what the ships behind him were carrying, nor did he really care. All he knew was that he had been ordered by High Command to make sure these ships got to their destination.
Simple. Easy. Boring as hell.
He might not have been so complacent had he known exactly what was going to happen on this routine trip. You would have been forgiven for thinking that, after as many years of experience as he had, he would have known that space travel is never routine…
Delerion Asteroid Belt, Day Two
They’d only been travelling for a little over twenty-four hours now, and already most of the people in the convoy were bored out of their minds. It was a slow process with a convoy, as they had to travel at the speed of the slowest ship, which in this case meant Warp 3. Considering the compactness of Snake-controlled space, at Warp 7 most vessels could traverse it from border to border within a day. But, at this speed, it would take them at least a week to reach Yuktobania. Matram poured himself the fifth coffee of the morning from the steaming pot that was sitting on the ops chair next to him, inhaling the scent before drinking some, “Ah… that’s much better. I needed that. How is our cargo?”
“Doing well, Jack.”
“Good. So long as it is still intact when we reach our port, we’ll be paid well.”
David nodded at him, turning his attention back to the crossword that had appeared in the ‘The Times’ yesterday. His tongue was between his teeth as he mused over the latest clue, which had him stumped. He was a proud man, though, and wouldn’t be asking for help anytime soon. He tapped the edge of the page with his pencil, before scribbling something down, and smiling to himself.
S.E.N Achilles
Standing at the tactical position, Lieutenant Charles ‘Charlie’ Beckwith barely glanced at the sensor sweeps in front of him, more focused on leaning on the bulkhead, stretching out his legs in front of him. That was the problem with being a tactical officer on these ships… there was so little to do at times. Especially for a tactical officer. Still, he hadn’t expected much this soon. Just to be manning the position showed someone had taken notice somewhere along the line. He was only meant to be in the military another six months, before he could leave if he wanted. He’d see if they had another assignment when it was all over, and then make his mind up.
Suddenly, there was a blip on long-range sensors, and he started, moving forward to look at the display. They were close to the border, and there appeared to be something coming towards them, “Commander.”
“Yes Lieutenant?”
“I’m getting something on long-range sensors… four blips, coming straight for the convoy.”
“Any I.D. signal?”
“None that the computer recognises.”
Commander Langdon glanced at the readout now coming through his arm rest, and raised an eyebrow, “Interesting. They seem to have come from across the border.”
“I was just thinking that.”
“Better warn the fleet… these things are coming for us pretty hard.”
“Yessir!”
The young lieutenant, still slightly worried about the nature of the incoming vessels, signalled the rest of the fleet, “All vessels, this is the Achilles. We are issuing a fleet wide warning, four high-speed bogeys inbound, present vector 278 by 302, crossing the border at Cape Landers. They appear to be coming straight for us… watch yourselves, we’ll cover you.”
Captain Rose hurried onto the bridge at that point, the service jacket slung over his arm, “Report, Commander!”
“ We picked up these four vessels on an intercept course with the fleet. I’ve issued a ship- and fleet-wide alert, with all vessels now on Yellow Alert and their shields up.”
“Any communications?”
“None. We’ve attempted to hail them, but no response to those either.”
Rose seemed oddly thrilled, “We might just have ourselves a battle on our hands.”
“Sir, these vessels are designed as escorts, not front-line battleships. Also, we don’t even know if these bogeys have hostile intent yet. What if their transceiver array has been knocked out, or their navigation systems?”
Rose rubbed his chin, and then nodded, noting the change in Langdon’s attitude at that point in time. The man is built for command… I’ll have to recommend him for a promotion when we get into port, “Very well, Commander. Lieutenant, bring the weapons online and make sure they are fully charged. If this does turn into a battle, we must be ready. It’s a shame we don’t have any Marines or the new Hurricane fighters here.”
“Well, the Hurricane is still in testing, sir. The Air Force has only one squadron.”
“Yes, I know. Damn Razgriz, they always get the best. Oh well, can’t be helped. Just make sure we’re ready.”
Moments passed, the tension palpable across the entire fleet. Onboard the Yangtze Kiang, the people on all decks waited, the yellow lights flashing every so often. They had only minimal weaponry… if it came down to it, they couldn’t fight for very long. Still, the Miranda-class had served the Snake Navy for well over fifty years, so it had obviously been doing something right. Crews across the convoy found themselves praying. Be they Muslim, Christian, Buddhist or even just Church of Leviathan, all found themselves praying that this was a false alarm, that it was a false blip on the sensor scopes. Merchant crews were well known for their networking, and everyone in this convoy knew everyone else, even if it was only in passing. They passed information as they got it, and it seemed ever more likely this was for real. More and more ships were picking up the four blips, which came ever closer to them. Soon enough, they were in visual range, and Captain Rose ordered the viewscreen be trained on them.
The screen flickered into life, before showing them a chilling sight. Four Klingon Birds-of-Prey (http://www.motorpsychorealms.org.uk/spacedout/ssbirdofprey.jpg), but with no markings to speak of. There was a brief silence before anyone on the bridge of the Achilles spoke, “Commander Langdon, correct me if I’m wrong, but those are D-12 class, correct?”
“Yes, sir… looks like license-built copies as well.”
“So, they are Snake-built?”
“Yes sir.”
“Enlighten me.”
Rose was no historian, but he knew that Snake Eaters had once used such vessels in their fleets. Langdon, on the other hand, had graduated with a major in History from Belka Central University, “Snake Eaters had a better first contact with the Klingons than the rest of humanity. We managed to get on their good side, and they gave us the technology to construct such vessels. At the time, the only other real vessels we had were CR-90 Corellian Corvettes, more commonly known as blockade-runners. Still, these things are old in comparison to this ship… but still dangerous. They can take on a Galaxy-class, and do some damage.”
“Pirates, perhaps?”
“Possibility.”
Suddenly, without warning, the lead ship fired, the photon torpedoes leaving their tubes to impact on the lead merchant ship. They sailed effortlessly through the void, splashing against the shields as they went. It seemed a pointless tactic, but then they split up, and started unleashing real firepower. There had been nothing. No communication, no request for surrender… it was if they didn’t want what was onboard these ships, but wanted to destroy them instead. The weapons flashed, more weapons than anyone could remember these things being fitted with. One of them strafed across the Achilles, her weapons firing almost continuously as she flew on by. The shields flickered, holding steady, but the ship itself rocked, before firing back, hot spears of solid fire flashing out to strike the enemy craft. Onboard, sparks flew and lights dimmed as the power systems took the brunt of the enemy attack. On the bridge, Rose staggered as the deck shifted under him. He clung to the arm of his command chair, and roared, “RED ALERT!” before turning to Beckwith, “What the hell are they using?”
“Subspace weapons, sir.”
“I thought those were banned?!”
Langdon spoke loudly, “So is piracy.”
Rose swore gently, then looked at Langdon, “Touché, Commander. Now, let’s get at them.”
The Achilles turned about, looking over the convoy. Already, two of the ships were burning, one of them merely a shell of it’s former self. The underslung warp engines had been torn away by a ferecious volley of fire, and even as they watched, another volley of subspace weapons fire smashed into it, tearing into the warp core. Plasma spilled from the gaping wound in the flailing ship, streaming into the inky void, it’s brilliant blue hue a stark contrast. That ship was doomed, Rose already knew that. It’s entire crew was lost, as was the other ships. Now, he had to protect what was left of the convoy, “All support ships, open fire, focus on protecting the merchant ships. They are the priority, and also the targets of this attack.”
“Sir, the Windchaser and the Washington have been completley destroyed. No survivours.”
“No escape pods?”
“They launched some, but the attacking ships picked them off!”
“Those bastards. All right, lock onto the nearest ship and open fire!!”
The Achilles linked up with one of the other escort ships, their weapons pouring shot after shot into the rear shields of the Bird-of-Prey in front of them, biting away. There was a sudden spurt of sparks, an explosion, and the shields flickered and died, “Take that ship apart!”
“But sir…”
“NO QUESTIONS LIEUTENANT,” roared Ross, his face flushed with fury, “Destroy it. Now.”
Beckwith hesitated for a second, and then pressed the panel in front of him. The phaser banks were fully charged, their firepower unleashed in one hellish display of power. They struck again and again without mercy, blowing chunks out of the hull with every blast. The craft crumbled into dust in front of them, and the Achilles flew effortlessly through the debris field… there was almost nothing left. Suddenly, a klaxon sounded, and Beckwith sailed through the air as his console exploded in front of him. Rose darted towards him as a support strut fell from the roof overhead, clipping Langdon over the head and knocking him unconcious. Somewhere, a fire was burning, Rose could smell it. It was acidic… and there was also the distinctive smell of a plasma cooling leak. He reached out towards Langdon….
The first torpedo smashed into the port nacelle of the Achilles, tearing it from it’s housing, the highly-charged warp plasma spilling into space. The second smashed straight through the central hull, taking the bridge with it. The explosive decompression blew out five decks in a single go, killing almost a hundred men and women in one shot. The final shot seemed to come slowly to Matram as he watched with horror at what was happening in front of him. The twinkling blue orb seemed to glide through space, crashing into the now exposed main deflector dish. The raw energy pulsing through the dish, combined with the quantum torpedo, tore the ship apart. The Achilles was nothing more than a chunk of melted girders now…
The Yangtze Kiang’s bridge was momentary silent, as all aboard gazed at the destruction before them. It seemed as if they were the only ones left… and Matram was not about to let his ship be lost now, “Get us out of here. NOW!”
“Sir, the last burst of weapons fire knocked out our main navigation computer!”
“What does that mean?”
“If we go to warp, our exit vector is random… we could end up anywhere in the galaxy!”
Matram mused over this for only a second, “But we can escape?”
“Yessir!”
The ship rocked again, the lights going out once more but coming back a moment later, “Alright, do it!”
The crew went to work, trying desperately to map out a course without the aid of the navigation computer, before throwing down everything and simply hanging on for dear life as the man at the conn punched the warp engines. On the viewscreen, the stars drew themselves extended lines, the ship buckled, screaming through the open aperture to wherever they were going….
Unknown Space
The ship was adrift, the remaining engine dark and the lights unblinking. It looked like a ghost ship to anyone who saw it. The only thing that told anyone it was there was a single red light, winking on the main ops console on the bridge. Stencilled above it were the words: EMERGENCY BEACON
The beacon, imbedded in the main hull of the seemingly-dead ship, broadcast it’s message far and wide:
This is the Snake Eater merchant vessel Yangtze Kiang.
We are in need of assistance.
For various reasons, we are unable to use one or more of our major systems. Please respond to this distress call.
Please, help us
The call was broadcast on a repeating loop, sending its message pinging through space, trying to find anyone who would help them…