Chapter Text
Repulse's bridge buzzed with an underlying tension; the silent, scarlet pulsing of the alert status indicator appeared to be the only movement within the compartment's dim illumination. The sudden sound of the lift doors opening and uniform boots clicking against the deck snapped heads around to attention.
"Captain on the bridge!" Kesshek's voice sliced through the quiet hum.
Keller strode in, the lingering weight of his twenty-minute absence below decks evident in the set of his shoulders. "Status report," he demanded, eyes darting to each crew member.
T'Rel, ever-efficient, responded with calm and measured words, "Captain. The Gorn vessels are shadowing our warp trail, hovering closely and scanning our atmospheric traces. Their formation suggests they're not relinquishing their offensive stance."
Keller's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "XO, they know they're in a game against the best." There was unmistakable pride in his voice, tinged with challenge. Striding forward, he activated the intership communication system. "Engineering, what's the timer on our shields?"
O'Brien's voice replied, "Roughly eight to ten minutes, probably closer to eight than ten."
Keller's brow furrowed. "Can't you be more precise?" To T'Rel, he stated simply, "I have the conn."
"Captain has the conn," T'Rel intoned. She took up her standing position to his right, once more.
"Y'see that storm out there, sir? The clouds of vaporized metals are moving according to the magnetic field distortions, which are pretty unpredictable in terms of how they interact with our shields," explained O'Brien, in a tone that bordered on condescension. "Sometimes, we have a good minute followed by two bad ones. It drains the shields at different rates."
Understanding - though not necessarily appreciating - Keller nodded, "Notify me with three minutes remaining." He ended the communication, then addressed his crew, voice dripping with authority, "Attention, all."
Those last two words, as everyone aboard Repulse had come to know, acted as his code phrase to drop what you're doing and give the captain nothing less than your full attention. Every member of the crew swiveled around in their chairs and did so, immediately.
"In roughly eight to ten minutes," Keller began in a mocking tone, expressing his displeasure with the imprecision in O'Brien's report, "this ship will begin combat operations. Our goal is to disable or destroy the three Gorn hunters that have been tracking us since leaving their territory. We've managed to elude them enough to force them into a search pattern, meaning that they do not have a fix on our precise location, thanks to the magnetic soup out there.
"Mister Kesshek, I want to know the moment those three are in visual range."
Kesshek nodded and turned back around to get that information. "Sir! They are crossing into visual range now, on a flight path that will take them out of range in twenty minutes."
"Excellent, plenty of time. When they get to their closest point, fire the probe."
"That will be in… five minutes, forty-seven seconds, sir."
"Good. Mister Thalix, one minute before then, you'll invert the ship so that the main tractor emitter is facing the enemy ships. When they pass overhead, lock on to the rear guard ship and then pull them down with us at full impulse power." Keller laid out, using his hands to gesture how he felt the maneuver should be performed.
Thalix replied, "Aye, sir."
"Once that rear ship is down, Mister Kesshek, you will disable or destroy their sublight capability," the captain continued confidently. "I'll take two to one over three to one odds any day."
As Kesshek raised his voice to affirm the order, T'Rel pulled her PADD up and began tapping in the sequence of events for her own edification; perhaps even a detailed log entry should they survive the complex tactic.
"Two minutes to intercept, sir," Kesshek reported. Without waiting, he continued his report, "The Gorn flotilla is approaching in a vee formation, though the aft ships are closer to the stratosphere than the lead hunter."
Keller nodded. "They're correctly assuming we'll pop up below them. That formation will bring their weapons to optimal bearing. Mister Thalix, begin your roll."
"Beginning my roll, aye, sir," Thalix called out. The screen view flipped, showing the 'horizon' of space now below them instead of above. "Roll complete, captain."
"Adequate," was Keller's only reply. "Give me ten degrees nose down, and put the time to intercept on main viewer."
Repulse's view showed more of the stars than before, while the countdown overlaid itself in the upper right corner of the main viewscreen. When it hit thirty seconds, Keller ordered, "Deploy the probe."
When the probe showed itself on the on the viewer and sped away, Kesshek reported, "Probe away, sir!"
As the probe pulled itself on a straightaway up and away from the clouds, taking minimal damage due to its tiny profile compared to an Excelsior-class starship. The probe began actively announcing its position and flew at full impulse power in lower orbit.
"The lead ship is advancing on the probe," Kesshek started, though it was obvious when the hunter ship spun itself and began firing.
"Tractor the closest vessel, Vara, make sure you got a good lock! Then give me a quick Hammerhead, and then just snap-pitch us so we're facing the stars again," Keller said in rapid-fire. "Really swung that bastard around, Thalix!"
Commander Vara and Lieutenant Thalix worked together to execute the orders quickly. Vara announced, "I got 'em, sir!"
"Beginning my maneuver," Thalix called. Repulse swung hard downward toward the surface of the planet with the hunter vessel trapped in its tractor beam.
Keller slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. "Open fire!"
The unmistakable orangish phaser beams lanced out and made a direct hit against the Gorn hunter, striking the rear-facing engines. Kesshek continued the firing pattern until they sliced through the hull and made contract with the propulsion unit. However, the damaged armor gave the metallic clouds an entry into the ship's interior.
"Release tractor beam, now," Keller said. "And put us behind the other two ships. Kesshek, once we're clear of the atmosphere, fire everything you got. Time on target!"
Repulse continued the Hammerhead climb quickly, shooting up out of the atmosphere like a whale swanning from a dive. But instead of crashing back down on its back, Thalix brought the ship, still inverted, so that all of her formidable forward weapons bore on the lower rear quarter of the remaining Gorn hunters still chasing the probe.
Kesshek announced, "Firing all weapons time on target,, aye, sir." Phasers and torpedoes worked in concert with one another. Twenty torpedoes on individual parabolic trajectories to their targets impacted against the shielded hulls just moments after the phaser beams struck. The beams' timing managed to cause a widespread energy fluctuation to allow the kinetic weapons to punch through easily. Within moments, the flotilla was no more, just debris now caught in a decaying orbit of the planet below.
Everyone on the bridge, except T'Rel, cheered or breathed a sigh of relief. The Vulcan exec continued to take her notes until she caught up to the action and ceased her writing.
Thalix turned around and asked, "How did you know that would w-work, sir?"
Keller's eyes bore into her momentarily, then softened with a hint of amusement. "S'ran and Kesshek, you may answer, if you so desire."
S'ran exchanged glances with Kesshek, the latter of whom deferred to the senior officer. The Andorian chief of sciences explained, "The tactic made use of the Gorn shielding system. Unlike ours, which are powered in six separate arcs, the Gorn utilize a cluster of shield generators to power multiple layers of contiguous shielding."
At S'ran's nod, Kesshek continued. "The phaser beam was modulated for the upper electromagnetic band, in the hopes that it would cause a lag in failover between the generators."
"It was a guess?" asked Thalix, her eyes widened.
Keller shifted in his seat, unabashedly preening at his subordinates' review. "I prefer the phrase 'provable hypothesis.'"
Seeing that Thalix and Vara faced forward with their own versions of incredulous expressions, T'Rel stepped forward. "Had the tactic been unsuccessful, the captain had other options open to him."
"Of course I did!" snapped Keller loudly, throwing his ire at T'Rel. However, seeing that it had no impact upon her other than a raised eyebrow, he relented. "All right. All's forgiven. Let's chalk it up to a tense situation."
T'Rel merely inclined her head toward him in a capitulating manner, with her eyes closed. She knew full well that it was what he expected of her, and it cost her nothing to maintain what little harmony on the bridge existed since Keller assumed command the previous year.
With a deep breath through his nose, Keller spoke sharply. "Take us out of the system, Mister Thalix, plot a course for a return to Gorn space at warp five." As Thalix repeated the order, the captain keyed open the intercom and called out, "Engineering, this is the bridge. We're securing from combat operations, so feel free to begin repairs underway."
O'Brien chuckled over the speakers. "Oh, thank you, sir. How magnanimous of you. O'Brien, out."
Keller managed a staccato chortle as the ship made the interfold transition back to subspace. "All right, enough jokes, everyone. Settle down. Maintain the watch and set condition yellow."
T'Rel repeated the order, "Set condition yellow throughout the ship, aye, sir."
The captain steepled his hands against his chin as he leaned forward in his seat. "Let's find our next target."
* * *
NCC-3109 (USS Reykjavík)
Davula entered the ready room to find Trujillo bleary-eyed, deep into a seventy-year-old treatise on the Federation’s diplomatic history with the Gorn Hegemony.
“Any luck, sir?”
Trujillo deactivated her desktop monitor, taking a moment to rub her eyes and stretch. “Not much, I’m afraid. All our diplomats that interacted with the Gorn in the 50’s and 60’s are long retired if not deceased by now. It appears that all our treaties with the hegemony were conducted via subspace, something about the Gorn refusing to negotiate in person with ‘prey.’” She blew out a sigh. “It’s slow going.”
Davula held up a data-slate. “I’ve got something that might be of value, if you have a moment, sir?”
Trujillo waved her tiredly towards a chair. “By all means, Commander.”
The XO sat, passing the data-slate across the tabletop. “Lieutenant Garrett and I have compiled everything we have in our databanks on the Gorn biologically. They’re actually quite fascinating, from a scientific perspective. Tissue samples gathered from Cestus III and other locations over the last century indicate the Gorn possess a very dense, intricately folded DNA structure, similar to that of the Xindi. It suggests that that the various stages of Gorn maturation are almost akin to their metamorphosing into an entirely different species, not just once, but twice.”
“That three-stage maturation process of theirs?” Trujillo asked.
“Exactly. At each stage, a Gorn undergoes a molting process that’s more like a Terran butterfly’s chrysalis, accompanied by a deep hibernation, lasting weeks to months. They emerge from these periods significantly changed, both physically and neurologically.”
Trujillo appeared more alert now, brought to full wakefulness by Davula’s discourse.
“So, we really are dealing with three separate species in a sense?”
“I certainly appears that way, sir. From a negotiations standpoint, that might be of some help.”
“It is, thank you.”
Davula touched a finger to her data-slate, transferring the files to Trujillo’s desktop queue.
“My appreciation to Mister Garrett as well, Commander.”
“I will convey that, sir.” Davula paused. “A question, if I may, Commodore?”
“Certainly.”
“Have you considered asking to send Gol into Gorn territory, with a Gorn escort, to track down and make contact with Repulse, sir?”
“I’ve given that idea quite a bit of thought, actually,” Trujillo confessed. “However, I don’t trust the Gorn not to attack Repulse on sight, and I don’t want to put Commander Glal and his crew in the position of having to watch their comrades destroyed while they do nothing, or risk igniting a larger conflict by jumping in to assist Repulse. Additionally, I’m not sure if the Gorn get into a killing frenzy that they wouldn’t destroy Gol right alongside Repulse if it comes to a fight with Captain Keller.”
Davula digested that in silence.
“If Repulse makes it’s back to our side of the border, we have greater control over the situation, and neither Gol nor any of our other starships are placed in harm's way needlessly.
“So, Keller and his people are on their own, sir?”
Trujillo nodded once, emphatically. “Correct. They got themselves into this mess, and they’ll have to get themselves out of it, only to face potential courts-martial if they make it back to our territory.”
“I understand, sir. Thank you for the explanation.”
“Any time, Commander. Speaking of Repulse, I’ve composed a recall order to broadcast over encrypted channels to hopefully draw her back here. She’s not responded to anything Starfleet’s sent over the past few days, so I’m not holding out much hope.”
Trujillo reached out and toggled a control on her desktop interface. The commodore’s voice issued forth.
“This message is a Priority-One Communique, and is being broadcast on an encrypted and secured Starfleet frequency. This is Commodore Nandi Trujillo, commanding USS Reykjavík and Rapid Response Detachment Delta.
“Any Starfleet personnel receiving this message who are associated with USS Repulse, NCC-2544, you are directed and required to return immediately to Federation space and submit yourself for inspection and investigation into the events surrounding your actions within the recognized territory of the Gorn Hegemony.
“There has been no declaration of hostilities between our two governments, and your actions have pushed the Federation and the Gorn Hegemony to the brink of war without explanation or known provocation.
“Failure to comply with these orders will constitute willful insubordination, in addition to potential charges of Conduct Unbecoming for initiating hostilities with a foreign power without authorization.
“Captain Keller, you and your crew are hereby officially recalled. The clock is ticking.”
Trujillo met Davula’s eyes across her desktop. “Let’s hope for the best. Please transmit that over the emergency channels, highest possible gain on our transceiver.”
* * *