The pirate collapsed.
Aaen gasped in relief, then leaned his full weight against his computer stations, trying to find relief for the buzzing, tingling pain in his shoulder that was making holding the rifle difficult. The tingling was gradually shooting to his fingertips. The strategy worked. He gasped in relief and was just barely able to maintain his grip on the particle rifle. The feeling gradually dissipated. He tried to move his shoulder around a few times to check for lingering sensation. The pirate's shot wasn't a direct hit, he grinned, noting the only sound was the reverberating alert gradually rolling right and left through the bridge. He stood behind his station around to find a few heads were gradually peering over the other side of the bridge with looks on their faces comparable to his. He looked to Lieutenant Harrison and pointed, "Lieutenant," he was still catching his breath as he pulled himself into his chair, "Contact Sickbay. As fast as you can. Tell them we've got wounded up here!" He paused for a breath, "Tell the CMO to get up here, on the double!" he commanded directly, throwing his weight into his seat.
Harrison nodded and acknowledged. "Aye!"
Aaen snapped, stood up and looked around and did a head count . . . roughly one-quarter of the bridge was unconscious from particle bolt stuns—Dang it! "And tell security to get some people up here!" He wanted to check to make sure the pirates were still stunned. He thought going to the firing range twice times per week—mostly for fun—would have made him a better shot, be better able to defend himself and the bridge in general in these types of situations. No matter, now, he told himself, assuringly. Things at least seemed to be stable for the moment. The intruders were each down for the next five minutes. For some reason—Aaen couldn't quite mentally finger it—the fact intruders made it to the bridge registered in his mind as being very, personal. The thought—the very notion that intruders made it to the bridge—caused him to renew his grip on the particle rifle, and he felt the urge to walk back to the pirate he had just stunned and give it a piece of where is his mind was at the moment . . . but on a higher setting. . . He took aim. The intruder's still down, he grinned.
"Is everyone alright?" Aaen asked authoritatively through the bridge, walking towards the Admiral's computer. He found her on the floor, unconscious from the pirate's stun shot. The Captain was on the middle level where she had been before and was recovering more quickly.
"Harrison, where's that medical team?" he asked directly.
"En-route! Security's pushing back the intruders on that deck!"
"Roger that! Keep me updated!" the response was a nod.
Aaen lifted the Captain back on her feet. She threw her weight on her chair bluntly and acted dazed; she leaned on her elbows and covered her face with her palms. Aaen reasoned she was feeling dizzy and was trying to take her mind off some sense of some sense of motion sickness. He returned to his station while directly and emphatically eyeing the main viewscreen.
There were no words at the moment as he eyed the bright, dense cloud of metallic debris that seemed to be lingering around the Station. The eerie, seemingly distant sound of struggling bulkheads was just as concerning. The source of the debris gradually came into view—the entire outer ring looked like jagged, wrecked, burning metal. He also noted bright spotty plasma fires. The secondary hull was visible, and high-voltage electrical wiring—still very live, Aaen observed—was hanging loosely from the secondary hull. His mind started flooding with curiosity and the worry over whether or not some portion of the Station's assigned population was floating around out there. Please, no, he silently pleaded. Worse, the Station was venting atmosphere from the more severely damaged areas of the visible hull.
He felt like he had an elephant sitting on his chest as the visual sensor panned down, and then gradually left—the knot in Aaen's stomach doubled as he spotted some holes in the hull big enough for a freakin' shuttle to fly through! He could eve see sections of the inner corridors! Granted, the view wasn't perfect, thank goodness! He reminded himself, watching as the sensor continue slowly panning left. From what was visible, the lights were flickering erratically and getting darker.
"Lieutenant Malcolm, what is the Station's population?"
"Sir?—"
He looked left, repeating himself directly. "How many people are on the Station?"
"One-thousand-three-hundred-twenty,"
—The pressure in Aaen's chest disappeared quickly at the good news, more-so as he observed Lieutenant Hammond resuming his station.
"Commander, there are about ten pirate ships still out there, and their systems are fully powered. They don't seem to have taken any damage. Three of our supports are disabled. But we've still got the Lightshield."
"Medical team's on their way! They're being escorted by security! They've pushed back the intruders! The intruders are being taken to the brig!"
Aaen nodded acknowledgment, catching his breath as he eyed the readings on his computer screens. This isn't over, he reminded himself. Until the intruders are safely in the brig, this Station's not outta the woods. . . Not immediately, at least, and then there's the pirate reinforcements. He redirected his attention to the front of the bridge. "Someone keep an eye on these pirates! And—"
"Commander! The Ranger's returning to the Station." Lieutenant Hammond announced.
Aaen stood behind Hammond. "What about the rest of the pirates?"
"They're maintaining their original course! They're flying right past the Station!"
Oh, shoot! "On-screen!"
And they were. Their flight path, speed, and pattern were casual, almost worry-free—which suggested they weren't worried about whether or not Magellan was still detecting them or not. "What's their heading?" Do we still have a weapons lock on any of them? Aaen wondered.
"Scanning. . ." he read out the new coordinate readings on his screen, and then looked up over his right shoulder with a concerned look bordering on desperation. Aaen couldn't help but look straight at sensor readings, gradually clenching his jaws.
Anxiously, Aaen gave his next order, "Sorenson! Tell me we have weapons lock on those ships," he had a nervous gut feeling about what he was about to hear, particularly while recognizing the Station was still drifting a little, and the amount of debris had darn-near doubled. The Station's falling apart around us, Aaen reasoned. He guessed the structural integrity field generators were struggling. . . Hold on, Magellan, he thought silently.
"Primary targeting sensors are offline, manual controls are sketchy, Commander. We have about a hundred torpedoes left, one-third of our cannon arrays are offline from external structural damage."
In other words: Magellan's badly damaged, and according to his readings, the Station's still drifting. Attitude-control thrusters must've taken a hit. Aaen wondered how much fight Magellan still had. He was able to stabilize their relative position, but those pirate ships were getting away!. . .
"They still have weapons lock on us, Commander!" Sorenson declared. Another alarm flooded the bridge.
"Four of those ships are changing course!" Hammond announced. "They're circling back around! The other six are continuing to go past the Station!"
"Do we have anything left?" Aaen asked, watching as the medical team arrived on the bridge, just as the Admiral was starting to regain consciousness, Aaen observed in relief.
The CMO rushed the medical team first to the Admiral and then gestured for the rest of the medical team to help the rest of the downed crew members. Aaen pointed out their general location on the bridge. The security escorts quickly snapped and surrounded the pirates, who were also waking up, Aaen cautiously noted.
"Maybe, Commander!" Malcolm quickly responded.
"That'll be helpful, Lieutenant! Because we're showing more pirate ships approaching!" Hammond quipped.
You've gotta be freaking KIDDING ME! Aaen silently exclaimed in shock.
"They're heading right for us!"
Aaen noted the Admiral was quick to get back on her feet after a little help from the CMO. She gasped before asking, "Report?"
Station status updates were offered from different parts of the bridge. She combed her fingers through her hair. What options were still immediately available didn't inspire confidence for the immediate future. Based on the number of new sensor contacts . . .
"—Admiral! We still have one more option!" Sorenson declared. The captain came to and looked to Admiral Jensen.
"What?"
"Our primary weapons array is basically down. But we still have the CRM-115,"
"—Pirates' will be in weapons range real soon!"
"Admiral! Whatever we're going to do, we need to do it. Fast!" Captain Williams reminded her.
Admiral Jensen combed her fingers through her hair.
If the order to activate the CRM-115 is given—and that thing's activated . . . Aaen almost wanted to laugh in panic for the Orions. Or was it pity? Given the level of damage to the Station, he had doubts as to whether or not that thing would still be working . . . for some reason, he felt like grinning from a sudden sensation of confidence and determination, considering what the CRM-115 was designed to do. Once activated, Aaen recalled, it would turn every-single-computer on the bridge into a fully-armed weapons platform. Each computer would be given access to a small compliment of high-yield torpedo warheads and a cannon bank. The power draw on the Station's reactor was said to be incredible. And for good reason. But that was nothing compared to the THX-1140. The only people on the entire Station who knew how—or had the authority to give the order—to activate the CRM-115 was the Admiral and the Captain. Activating that thing required a special process, including both command-level authorization codes.
"Is that our only option?"
"It's all we've got left!"
"Confirmed! The Station's taken a lot of damage! The primary weapons array is offline!"
"—They're almost here!"
If the Orions take the Station, Aaen reasoned, they could use it—even in its current condition. He noticed Captain Williams was sharing the look he was giving her, which told him she was thinking the same thing.
The Admiral snapped, "Lieutenant Harrison! Patch me through to all decks!"
He nodded, and then announced, "You're patched through!" What came next even echoed through the bridge.
"All decks! This is Admiral Jensen. The Station is badly damaged, and we have another wave of Orion pirate ships on their way in, fast. They are going to attack. All crew members are to lock down where you're at and standby for further instructions!" Lieutenant Mars waved her down. After reading the information on her screen, she returned to her chair. "New intelligence says the Orions are working with the Rotelans and are working for them and are going to use the Vortex data to attack the Federation. We will-not-allow that to happen and will use every remaining means at our disposal to stop them. Good luck. Bridge. Out."
The line beeped thrice closed. Anxious anticipation were the only emotions on the bridge.
Admiral Jensen snapped as she looked at Lieutenant Malcolm. "Lieutenant. Activate the CRM-115!"
*****
Steve H. told Jordan Foutin, "You are the next Tom Clancy. You really are a gifted writer."
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