Part of USS Valiant: Rendezvous and Bravo Fleet: The Lost Fleet

Clipped Wings

Kanaan System
March 2401
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As the away team stepped onto the engineering deck, Lieutenant Palmer took a moment to absorb the sight before her. The Percival’s engine room, once a place of controlled chaos and efficiency, was now a twisted maze of debris and malfunctioning equipment. The team had to navigate carefully through the wreckage, mindful of potential hazards.

Palmer approached a console that still displayed flickering data, trying to gather any information she could about the status of the engines. She accessed the ship’s logs and sensor readings, hoping to find a starting point for their repair efforts.

“Captain Wright, this is Lieutenant Palmer. The damage to the engine room is extensive. It appears that multiple power conduits have been severed, causing a complete shutdown of the engines. We’ll need to reroute power and repair the conduits before we can even attempt to bring them back online,” Palmer reported, her voice filled with determination despite the daunting task ahead.

Wright’s voice came through the communicator, his tone steady. “Understood, Lieutenant. Focus on stabilizing the power grid first. We’ll need the engines up and running as soon as possible to assist with the other damaged ships.”

Palmer relayed the captain’s orders to her team, and they set to work, carefully examining the damaged conduits and rerouting power where necessary. The process was slow and meticulous, with each step requiring caution to avoid further damage.

Fires had been extinguished, but the smell of charred circuitry still lingered in the air.

Approaching Commander Thompson, the chief engineer of the Percival, Lieutenant Palmer noted the weariness etched on his face—a reflection of the unyielding pressure he had faced in his battle to keep the ship afloat.

“Commander Thompson, I’m Lieutenant Palmer from the USS Valiant,” she introduced herself, extending a hand in greeting.

Thompson’s firm handshake conveyed a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. “Lieutenant Palmer, thank you for answering our distress call. The Dominion’s weapons have taken a toll on our systems, and restoring power to the engines has become an uphill struggle.”

Surveying the devastated engine room, Palmer assessed the magnitude of the destruction. The warp core, though intact, sat offline, surrounded by charred panels and shattered components. Bringing it back online would require an immense undertaking.

A nod from Commander Thompson conveyed gratitude and a shared resolve. “I appreciate your aid, Lieutenant. Time is of the essence. Stranded here, we risk further calamity.”

What seemed like hours passed until they were finally ready to begin powering up the warp core and restoring the ship’s systems, albeit at minimal power. Chatter amongst the engineers became almost rhythmic as they worked. A backdrop of sound that Palmer found calming and helped to focus her on the task at hand.

Palmer’s attention was abruptly diverted to a far more imminent danger. Monitoring the power sequence test, her experienced eyes detected a chilling sight—the unmistakable fractal pattern etching along the Percival’s warp core, a silent harbinger of catastrophe.

The ship’s computer hadn’t reported any weakness in the core, and yet, there it was, as clear as day, cracking.

“Lieutenant Palmer to the bridge,” she urgently transmitted, her voice a pillar of unwavering composure. “We have a breach in the warp core. Repeat, the core’s integrity has been compromised.”

Palmer’s fingers danced across the control panel before she heard a response, her movements precise amidst the mounting tension. Red warning lights bathed the every area of the ship, casting an eerie glow upon the crew as they toiled to stave off impending disaster. However, the unpredictable hand of fate had other designs.

A haunting siren pierced the air, its piercing wail reverberating through the ship, an ominous symphony of impending doom. The core had breached, and it unleashed its unbridled fury—a tempest of unleashed energy, tearing through the vessel. The resulting explosion rippled outward, an unyielding shockwave ensnaring neighboring ships in its vengeful grasp, inflicting further damage in a web of collateral destruction.

Then.. silence.

Where the Percival had stood, licking its wounds, it was no more. The remains of the battlegroup had been pushed outwards from where she had been.

Aboard the Defender, Wright and those around him picked themselves back up, having been thrown to the floor as the shockwave had rocked the ship. Once on his feet again, he tapped his communicator, “Wright to Valiant, what was that?”

A trembling, quite voice replied, “It’s the Percival, sir or, at least it was the Percival.”

Wright didn’t quite grasp what the voice was getting at, although he had that sinking feeling in his stomach again. “What do you mean?”

“She’s… gone. No survivors. ”