Not Today.
Stardate 102035.6
Onboard Federation Passenger Shuttle Epsilon-7, en route to Earth from DS13 .. the hum of the shuttle’s impulse engines was a steady, low throb beneath Ruke Warner’s boots .. vibrating up through the deck plates like the pulse of a distant heart.
The air in the cabin carried the recycled tang of too many people in too small a space .. faint sweat, replicated coffee gone stale .. and the underlying metallic bite of the environmental scrubbers working overtime. Seventy two souls aboard, mostly off-duty Starfleet personnel and civilians heading home for leave or reassignment.
The viewport beside his seat framed the star streaked void, a hypnotic blur of warp distorted light that he’d stared at for hours .. a half-finished letter to Nathes glowing on the PADD in his lap. He wouldn’t have time to continue the letter as the shuttle lurched violently, the warp field collapsing with a sickening wrench that twisted his stomach.
Inertial dampers whined in protest, compensating too late .. coffee cups tumbled from trays, splashing hot liquid across laps with a sharp, bitter scent. Alarms blared .. shrill, insistent klaxons piercing the cabin like needles through eardrums.
Red emergency lights snapped on, bathing everything in a bloody crimson glow that made the passengers’ faces look gaunt and shadowed. Warner was on his feet before the first scream ripped through the air, the PADD clattering to the deck as he moved forward with the automatic precision of muscle memory. The deck plates shuddered under his boots, the shuttle’s frame groaning like old bones under stress. He braced against a bulkhead panel, the cool duranium vibrating against his palm as he pushed toward the cockpit.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, edged with panic .. " Unknown vessel decloaking off the port bow. Orion signatures .. they’re locking tractor beam! Brace for .. " The shuttle bucked like a wild animal, the tractor beam clamping on with a resonant clang that echoed through the hull, metal grinding against metal in a teeth-jarring screech. Warner reached the cockpit door, slamming the access panel with his fist. It hissed open, revealing the pilot and co-pilot strapped in, hands flying across flickering consoles that smelled of overheating circuits .. acrid ozone filling the tight space. " Status. " Warner demanded, voice level despite the adrenaline spiking through his veins like ice water. The co-pilot glanced back, face pale and slick with sweat. " They’ve got us. No weapons on this tub—just the old navigation lasers for asteroids. Distress call’s out, but we’re in the black. Nearest help is hours away. "
Warner’s jaw tightened. Orions. Pirates. Slavers. The cruiser filled the forward viewport now .. a hulking, angular beast of mismatched plates and glowing green disruptor banks, twice the shuttle’s size, the air around it shimmering with residual cloak distortion. " Get me manual control on those lasers. " He said. The pilot blinked. " Sir, they’re for rocks. Not even rated for .. Do it. " He interrupted. Fingers danced across the board. Warner slid into the auxiliary seat, the console warm under his palms .. the hum of the old systems vibrating up his arms.
The lasers were ancient low-yield beams meant to vaporize small debris, the kind that smelled like burnt metal when they fired in atmosphere. Useless against shields. But Orions were arrogant. Their tractor was locked, pulling the shuttle in belly-first. Warner targeted the emitter array on the cruiser’s ventral hull.. the glowing nodes pulsing with the beam’s energy. He overrode the safeties, dumping auxiliary power into the lasers until the console sparked and the air filled with the sharp crackle of straining capacitors. " Firing. " He said. The beams lanced out .. thin, white-hot threads that sliced across the void. They hit the tractor emitter deadon, the Orion shields flaring blue as they absorbed the initial hit.
But Warner held the beam, pouring every joule the shuttle had until the emitters overheated, the console smoking with the acrid stench of fried wiring. The Orion shields buckled just enough .. the beam punched through, melting a section of the array in a spray of molten duranium that glittered like dying stars. The tractor stuttered, weakened. The shuttle lurched free for a precious second, engines whining as the pilot slammed them to full impulse. But it wasn’t enough.
Disruptor fire grazed the hull .. the deck bucked, sparks exploding from overhead panels with the sharp pop of bursting conduits, the air filling with the bitter stink of electrical fire. Then the boarding tubes clamped on, ringing impacts that vibrated through the ships bones like hammer blows. Orions poured through the breach. Ten of them, armored in mismatched plates that reeked of grease and unwashed leather .. disruptors humming. The leader .. a massive green-skinned brute with a scar twisting his left eye into a perpetual squint .. grinned, yellow teeth flashing in the red light. " Federation worm. " He growled. " Drop your toys. " Warner stepped forward, hands open but eyes locked on the leader’s trigger finger. " This is a civilian transport. No valuables. "
The leader laughed, a wet, phlegmy sound. " You’ll be the value then, Starfleet. A Commander? You’ll fetch a nice ransom—or better, join up. Skills like yours? " Warner’s voice was flat. " Warner, Ruke. Commander. USS Dragon. Serial HT-809-3155. " The leader’s grin faded. " Take him." They rushed. Warner caught the first Orion’s wrist mid-swing, twisted hard—bone snapped with a wet crack. The disruptor clattered free; he snatched it mid-fall, stunned the second guard point-blank, the green bolt sizzling through armor with the acrid reek of charred flesh. The third came in low—Warner drove a knee into his face, cartilage crunching under the impact, blood spraying hot and coppery across his knuckles. The fourth tackled him from behind, slamming him into the bulkhead with a thud that jarred his teeth and filled his mouth with the metallic tang of blood. Rifle butt to the temple .. stars exploded behind his eyes, darkness crashing in like a wave.
Orion Cruiser Bloodfang – Brig Corridor
He woke to the cold bite of restraints digging into his wrists, the air thick with the oily stench of unwashed bodies and overheated plasma coils. His head throbbed and blood was crusted on his temple, the copper taste filling his mouth. The interrogation room was dim, lit by flickering green panels that cast sickly shadows across the scarred metal walls. The captain—wiry, with a gold tooth that glinted like a predator’s eye .. leaned against the console, arms crossed. " Warner. Tactical whiz. Survived Retribution. Impressive resume. Sure you don’t want to join us? Your skills? Bouncing back and forth between posts .. you already seem like a loner. " Warner straightened as much as the chains allowed, ignoring the fire in his ribs. " Warner, Ruke. Commander. USS Dragon. Serial HT-809-3155. "
The captain’s smile was thin. " Stubborn. Good. Makes breaking you fun. " The first punch landed like a sledgehammer to the gut, driving the air from his lungs in a whoosh that tasted like bile. The second cracked against his jaw, stars exploding behind his eyes, blood flooding his mouth. Then the neural probe .. a slim rod pressed to his temple that lit every nerve like fire ants under his skin, agony racing through veins like molten lead. He bit down on a scream, tasting more blood, repeating the mantra. " Warner, Ruke. Commander. USS Dragon. Serial HT-809-3155. " The captain leaned in, breath hot and foul with stale kanar.
" Last chance. " He held the vibro-knife to Warner’s right eye, the blade humming with vibration, the tip cold against his eyelid. It pressed in—skin parted with a wet sting, blood welling hot and sticky down his cheek, vision blurring red as the edge nicked the cornea. Warner spat blood. " Warner .. Ruke .. Commander .. " The captain snarled—then ship-wide alarms blared, klaxons wailing like wounded beasts through the hull. Warner moved. Headbutt to the nose—crunch of cartilage, hot blood spraying across his face. Knee to the groin—the captain folded with a wheeze. The knife clattered .. Warner snatched it mid-fall, sliced the chains with a grinding rasp of metal on metal. Two guards rushed in, boots thundering on the grating.
He drove the blade into the first’s thigh .. a wet tear of flesh, hot blood gushing over his hand as the Orion screamed. The second swung a disruptor .. Warner ducked, the bolt sizzling past his ear with the acrid stink of ionized air, and drove the knife hilt into the guard’s temple with a dull crack. The body hit the deck like a sack of wet sand. Disruptor in hand, the grip slick with blood. He fought through corridors .. stunned three with green bolts that filled the air with the ozone crackle of energy discharge, killed one who wouldn’t drop .. the disruptor barking hot against his palm, the body crumpling with the wet thud of finality. Blood slicked his hands, his ruined eye throbbing like a heartbeat, half his vision a red haze of pain and blur.
Engineering was a chaos of humming conduits and glowing panels, the air thick with the sharp tang of coolant and the low rumble of the warp core. He kicked the hatch shut with a metallic clang, jammed a loose panel against it, set the disruptor to overload and wedged it against the weld—sparks flew, the air filling with the bitter stink of melting plasteel. Sabotage. Fingers flew across consoles slick with his own blood, rerouting plasma flow until the conduits groaned and overheated with a rising whine. Shields fried with a shower of sparks that stung his arms like hot needles. Then the comm panel .. distress signal punched in, the keys sticky under his fingers. " This is Commander Ruke Warner. Orion pirate cruiser Bloodfang. Coordinates attached. Under attack. Send help. " The door sparked .. cutting torches hissing like angry serpents, the air filling with the acrid reek of superheated metal.Warner backed into the corner, disruptor raised, blood dripping from his eye like hot tears .. pooling sticky on the deck. The hatch buckled inward, molten edges glowing cherry-red. Then the ship lurched sideways .. tractor beam clamp, the hull groaning like tortured metal. A familiar voice crackled over the open channel, cutting through the alarms. " USS Trident to pirate vessel. Stand down. " Warner’s breath caught, ragged and wet.
Trident.
His first ship. Galaxy-class. The Orions panicked .. shouts echoing down the corridor, boots scrambling on grating. He held the door until the first phaser whine pierced the air, the sharp ozone crackle of Starfleet weapons. Boarding teams beamed in, boots thundering, voices calling " Clear! " through the haze. A familiar voice, closer now .. " Warner? This is Captain Hale. Hold position .. we’ve got them. " He lowered the disruptor, slid down the wall, back slick against the bulkhead, blood pooling around him, the metallic tang filling his nose. " Warner, Ruke .. Commander .. Serial HT-809-3155. " The medics found him there—tricorders beeping shrill through the ringing in his ears, hyposprays hissing cold against his neck, the sharp sting of dermal regenerators knitting flesh. He smiled faintly through the blood, the pain fading to a dull roar.
Not today.