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Terrors

Posted on Wed Feb 20th, 2019 @ 6:43pm by Major Karbainov Gennadiyevich Ph.D
Edited on on Wed Feb 20th, 2019 @ 6:45pm

Mission: Jarland
Location: Crew Quarters

The shift dragged on, the first one was always the hardest in a transition from day side operations to night time. Karbainov had been enjoying his time as Detachment Commander because it allowed him to largely set his own schedule around his erratic sleeping pattern. Being assinged Gamma Shift Watch Officer as acting Second Officer was going to be a large adjustment to him.

He suppressed a yawn as he stood up from the center chair of the Gladiator and walked around the bridge, checking over some of the more intresting stations to familiarize himself with their layout. He had not been on a bridge of a starship since he had resigned his commision as Captain after the Dominion War.

As the relief crew started to filter in he gave the pass on report to David and grunted at the mans jokes. He was in no real mood, it had been a hell of a week. Slowly he was able to extricate himself off of the bridge and make his way back to his quarters, having the lift drop him off a few sections away so he could walk and strech his legs a bit.

He opened the door to the large and lavish room. It was not a home yet, as it was void of any personilzation. Karbainov was still adjusting to all the space, used to a much smaller room on the various transport ships and shuttles his Special Forces unit had used over the previous two years. He yawned and prepared himself for a night sleep, setting an alarm in the middle of what would be his night so he could stop by and check on the Marine Department... he shuddered at the thought of what it would mean to the ship to leave -them- unsupervised.

After a glass of mulled wine he passed out on his bed, not dreaming of anything for the first few hours...
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"Captains Log supplimental, we have just finished unloading all non-essential personell off at the Vergas Colony, and have begun our search for the missing ships along the Cardassian Border. I am in command of a small taskforce consisting of the Centar Class starship Hades, Two Exelsior class Starships, the Borlin and Dallas, and the Akira class starship Duke of York, as well as my own ship the Liberty... so far the several systems we have surveyed have turned up negative, but I feel that we are closing in on whatever mysterious force has been preying on vessels in the region."

Karbaniov set the PADD down and rubbed his eyes. He had been non stop confrencing with the other captains for the last day trying to get a hold of their mission area. All the ships had been redeployed and none were familiar with this sector of space. It was the urgency of the missions speed that scared him. He had weathered many wars with Starfleet, and many against the Cardassians on the other side of the border. But something about this struck him as diffrent... something was elusive and more violent that the Cardassians had ever seemed to manage.

He was just about to take a break and try and get in contact with his wife when the lighting in his ready room turned dim and the alert klaxxon started to blare. He slid out from behind his desk and strode onto the bridge. He could instantly tell by the atmosphere of his officers that it wasn't good.

"Status report!" He barked as he slid into the center seat, turning to his Vulcan first officer who was moving to Tactical.

"Borlin sent a distress call, then went off the air. Jammed."

Karbainov pulled up the tactical display on the panel imbedded in the arm of his chair. "Alert the other ships, set an intercept course, maximum warp."

"Course laid in."

"Punch it!"

"Sir, we are being jammed..."

Karbainov raised an eyebrow and swiveled to face his operations officer, just as the ship violiently shook.

Several panels on the bridge exploded in showers of sparks and wires fell down onto several crew members. The russian braced himself just in time, but most of the rest of the crew was bounced around.

"Return fire! Initiate Manuver, Liberty Theta One!"

"Warp Engines off line, communications down. Sheilds at 50%."

The ship gracefully turned hard to close with its assailants, firing a full spread of torpedos and phasers as she did so. The aggressive move gave the Federation vessel a moment pause in the fighting, as the attackers expected a logical response... flight...

"Jesus Christ..." Karbainov swore. He had been in enough fights with his current command to know whatever hit them had hit them -very- hard.

"Sir, I have three large Dominon warships and several smaller attack ships in formation. The smaller ships are covering the Battlecruisers flanks."

Out gunned, unable to flee... unable to call for help or even report of the ships imminent demise... he was running out of options.

"Concentrate fire on target.... sierra one, the attack ship, hopefully we scratch him hard enough that Starfleet will have some debris of theirs to analyize." At least the mystery would be solved of the disapearance of the other ships.

The Ambassador class starship let the smaller attack ship have it. Blasting away with very percise phaser bursts untill the shields were down and then unloading another full volley of torpedos. The ship exploded, just as the larger Battlecruisers got into position and began unloading on the Liberty.

The next few minutes were hell, the ship rocked and sparked, holes being torn into her once the shields went down. The withering barrage disabling the engines almost instantly. The bridge suffered as the whole ship suffered, casualties started to pile up, systems went offline...

Karbainov wiped the blood off his face and turned as he heard the tell tale sound of a transporter beam behind him. He wasn't in the mood for visitors so he started to unload his phaser across the bridge. Dropping several off the forms before...

Blue Flash.

Darkness.


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He woke up screaming.

The muscle spasum threw him out of bed and in a tangle of covers, absolutely beside himself.

He threw up.

Laying his head down next to his bead on a portion of un vomited carpet he panted heavily. He pressed his hands to his head and pressed his face against the sheet he was tangled in. His nose, burning from the heavy distressful breathing, started to get its smell back. Pain... his arms hurt from where he had been shot... Pain was good. No pain in dreams. Dreams distorted your reality. Reality... just sucked.

He took stock of his situation. He knew the next thing in his dream would have been waking up in a sandy, cold, wet holding cell on Cardassia Prime. 'This was not that place...' he told himself over and over. 'I am home... I am with Starfleet... on a starship... on the Gladiator....' He was still shaking as he breathed in the smells of the Federation issue bedding... even the carpet got a few sniffs as he started to come back to the present.

"Computer... lights... twenty percent..." he groaned, his voice horse.... how long had he been screaming?

He slowly got up, pain and ache now setting in. His whole body must have tensed up. He wandered to the shower and hopped in. Taking a cold water shower for a good long time before getting dressed. Making a coffee he cleaned up the mess he had made near the bed and sat down. Looking out the window of his quarters. Lost in thought... for hours...


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A post dedicated to all those who have gone above and beyond in service to thier fellow man or their country and now have wounds that no one can see. Brothers and Sisters, you are not alone.

 

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