Star Trek: Mayweather
Stardate: 2381.79
USS Mayweather in Deep Space
“Captain, we are approaching long range sensor range of Deep Space 15,” Ensign Ford reported from his station at Ops.
“Give me a full scan.”
“Aye, sir.”
Ford turned to his station and began the scan. Captain O’Sullivan sighed internally. This was it. He’d had a week to brood about his brother’s death and it had brought him no closer to solace. Now there was no more holo-suite to build, no more endless warping through space to give him an excuse to ignore his duties. Now there was a mission at hand. He addressed Lieutenant M’Tel at the helm.
“Drop us out of warp. Slow to impulse.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Ensign?”
“Captain, I show three vessels orbiting Deep Space 15. One reads as the USS Hood. The other two are USS McCoy and USS Pasteur. The station itself appears to be heavily damaged. I am showing multiple hull breaches.”
“Very well. Hail the station, Ensign.”
“Channel open, sir.”
“Deep Space 15, this is Captain O’Sullivan of the USS Mayweather.”
“Mayweather, this is Commander Franklin. Good to see you.”
“Sorry we are late to the party, Commander.”
“Nonsense, Captain. You are right on time.”
“Anything we can do for you, Commander?”
“Starfleet Command says you are to take tactical command of the situation. Hood is coordinating repairs, while McCoy is taking care of our personnel.”
“Very well. We’ll stand guard. Let us know if you need anything further.”
“Will do, Captain. Thank you. 15 out.”
“M’Tel, put us in orbit. Commander Sulkhan, put us at Yellow Alert.”
“Aye, Sir.”
O’Sullivan turned to his first officer. “Commander, coordinate with Hood and McCoy. If we can lend assistance, see that we do so. I don’t intend our crew to twiddle their thumbs even if we have to.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“I’ll be in my ready room. You have the bridge, Commander.”
*****
It was less than a few hours later that all hell broke loose. O’Sullivan was reading status reports from Deep Space 15, when his tactical officer’s voice sounded through the comm.
“RED ALERT. Captain to the bridge!”
He lurched from his seat and ran the few feet to the bridge.
“Report!”
Lt. Commander Sulkhan called out. “Sir, three Gorn warships have dropped out of warp. They are closing on the station. They have armed weapons.”
“Onscreen!” O’Sullivan yelled. “Hail them!”
“No response, Captain.” Commander Zal.
“Sir, they’ve opened fire!” Suddenly the bridge rocked, as did the rest of the ship.
O’Sullivan: “Return fire. Keep us between them and the station.”
Red phaser fire lanced out from several emitters on the hull and struck targets on the Gorn ships. Small explosions leaped into space. Static from shields flared briefly.
Sulkhan: “Hood has joined the fight. They’ve taken heavy damage to their port nacelle.”
Zal: “The flanking warship is targeting DS15.”
O’Sullivan: “Come about. Ready quantum torpedoes. Target their warp core.”
Sulkhan: “Ready, sir!”
O’Sullivan: “Fire!!”
A spread of green points of light leaped from underneath the starship. The torpedoes impacted the rear of the Gorn ship.
Sulkhan: “Direct hit! They are withdrawing.”
To hell with that, thought O’Sullivan. “Target them again. Fire when ready.”
Sulkhan: “Aye, sir.”
Zal: “Captain? They’re out of the fight…”
O’Sullivan ignored her. “You heard the order, Lt. Commander.”
Sulkhan: “Aye, Sir. Firing.”
Another lethal payload leapt from the Mayweather. Seconds later the floundering Gorn ship exploded spectacularly.
Zal: “Sir, the other two ships are breaking off. They’ve gone to warp.”
O’Sullivan: “Stand down Red Alert. Report.”
Ford: “Sir, the Pasteur is heavily damaged. They have emergency power only. McCoy is crippled. Hood reports functional, but they’ve lost their engines. We’ve sustained moderate damage, but we’ll live. Repair crews are responding. Medical reports 10 wounded. Reports are still coming in from the fleet.”
“I got it, Ensign.”
Popping up a display on his chair arm, O’Sullivan read through the reports. In the back of his mind, something was screaming. His brother was a week dead, and now this attack. Deep Space 15 hadnt been hit, but half the Pasteur’s crew was dead or wounded and the USS McCoy’s captain was in a coma. Only Hood reported minor casualties. It apparently helped being a ship of line and not a medical frigate when attacked, it seemed. What did the Gorn want? Why attack?
Commander Zal spoke up.
“Why the attack, sir?”
“I don’t know. Contact Starfleet Command. Inform them of the situation. Send out a distress call. We can’t deal with this ourselves.”
“Aye, sir.”
A tense hour passed. No one was sure the Gorn wouldn’t return. It was somewhat a miracle that they didn’t. The attack was as surprising as their lack of reprisal. The whole situation was mystifying. In the meantime, Mayweather licked it’s wounds. Now instead of one station being damaged, one station and three starships were down.
Ford: “Sir, three Vulcan ships and two Andorian battle cruisers have dropped out of warp. They are asking what they can do to help.”
“Have the Vulcans coordinate with Doctor Paloma to treat the wounded. Tell the Andorians to form a defensive perimeter.”
Zal: “Starfleet Command is coming through.”
O’Sullivan: “Onscreen.”
The image shifted from that of smoking starships to the grim face of Admiral Janeway.
“Rough day, Captain?”
“You could say that, Admiral.”
“We are dispatching what help we can. In the meantime, I want you to move into Gorn space. Contact the Gorn Hegemony and ascertain why we were attacked.”
“With all due respect, Admiral, we have enough to deal with here without going looking to pick a fight.”
“A fight is precisely what you shouldn’t pick. Starfleet considers this a prelude to war. Make sure that it doesn’t become a declaration of one. After fighting the Dominion, we are hardly in a position to fight the Gorn.”
“Admiral…”
“You have your orders, Captain.”
Damn. I’d rather launch an all out assault than play diplomat. The bastards attacked us while we were wounded! O’Sullivan thought. But all he said was “Yes, Admiral.”
With a nod, Janeway ended her transmission.
“Commander, recall Doctor Paloma and our damage control teams from DS15. Have the Hood take over here. We have some Gorn to find.”
“Aye, sir.”
A few minutes later Ford reported in. “All sections report ready. Everyone is back aboard.”
“Lieutenant M’Tel, set a course for Gorn space. Warp 7.”
“Aye, sir.”
The USS Mayweather warped out of one situation and into another.
THE USS MAYWEATHER WILL RETURN IN “The Gorn” COMING SOON!
a simple man 