Birds of a Feather
Location: Bridge, USS Vashon
Timeline: Hours before Part 1
Angus yawned again as he sat in the 8th and final hour of his watch cycle. It had been several hours since he had taken a break mid watch. View screen filled with the starfield profile of warp wasn’t helping. Still 2 days from the start of their patrol route, there wasn’t much to do but enjoy the ride. Yawning again and rubbing his eyes he looked over to the tactical station, manned by Crewman Bird.
“Bird?” Angus enquired, “Can you nip down to the mess, grab a pot of coffee for us. I’ll watch the screen.”
“Sure skip,” the crewman replied, looking over to the Helm, “Bright?”
“Cheers”, Petty Officer 3rd Class Brighton replied, indicated he’d enjoy a cup of coffee too.
Angus got up and stretched his legs before sitting at the Tactical station. There wasn’t anything on long- or short-range sensors that he could make out, but Tactical wasn’t his area of expertise. “So Bright, I’m not going to loose you to these new Aquarius class crews am I?”
“It’s tempting Skip, but I’m mid tour. Would still appreciate a good word in if a spot does come up.” The helmsman replied.
“Of course, I doubt we’ll all be seeing the end of tour anyway. Those new craft are far more capable, can stay out longer than we can. No doubt I’ll be having to brush up and dust off the old resume myself.” Angus replied, a small blip flashed out the corner of his eye.
“Skip, you see that?” Brighton said, reviewing his own long-range logs.
“Hang on,” Angus replied reviewing the console, “Computer Analysis.”
~Anomaly consistent with background radiation flairs~ The cold voice of the computer crackled.
“Third this hour,” Brighton noted.
“Yeah, and for all we know it’s a bit of outer hull flapping in the wind.” Angus chuckled.
Crewman Bird re-entered the Bridge, holding three cups and a pot of coffee.
“Perfect,” Angus said, getting up and taking two of the empty cups which Bird filled. Taking a sip of one Angus passed the other to the Helmsman.
“Another blip,” Brighton said, acknowledging the cup as he took a sip.
“Third this hour,” Bird replied taking her own cup and leaving the pot of coffee on the table in the aft of the Bridge. Heading over to the Operations Console she brought up the data on the latest blip. It looked like an intense background radiation but there was nothing detected in the Tachyon defense perimeter which as all intact in that sector.
Suddenly the ship shuddered and the power dimmed, “I’m loosing Warp.” “There’s nothing on sensors!” Came the calls from the two stations on the bridge as the ship was trust from subspace.
“Yellow Alert, Swain, XO to the Bridge.” Angus called, looking to his Tactical Crewman for an answer. The klaxon and yellow lighting in the background of the ship.
“There’s nothing, Sir,” Bird replied in a defeated tone.
“Warp?” Angus enquired, slight panic in his voice looking to the Helm, but Brighton just shook his head. Sighing Angus instructed, “Best speed to the nearest system and get me home port on subspace.”
“Aye aye, sir,” The two on the bridge responded as the stricken ship’s impulse engines whirled to life.