Ansolon Season 02 / Episode 09
by Alan Tripp

2412

U.S.S. Mythos
“The Straits,” Malstrom Expanse

“I tell you there is a ship out there,” Jinesleis said.

“An intact ship, the Orion science officer emphasized, “that is in better shape … hull wise than this one.”

Shraz crossed and then uncrossed his arms, waiting his turn.

“You know everything is limited but did manage to cut through that soup with the tactical sensors enough to confirm what Jines is seeing,” the Caitian noted.

“And the silhouette match’s that of a Duderstadt-class,” he added.

“So likely the Sparhawk,” Shallana said.

“Couldn’t get anything beyond location and silhouette … and thankfully Duderstadt are unique in ship’s profile,” Shraz confirmed.

“So most likely U.S.S. Sparhawk… And structurally in better shape than we are at that,” he continued.

At last … hope.

“And I understand you already have the workings of a plan on how to reach her?” the captain asked.

Jenesleis laid her larger workpad in front of her captain.

On the screen was as much of a map as sensors had allowed.

The Orion tapped its surface.

“We’ve determined this current should sweep us from where we are straight to her.”

“And how do we get into said current?” Shallana asked.

“Blow the shuttlebay doors followed immediately by blowing the main ventral airlock,” Shraz explained.

“The expulsion of air from shuttlebay should be enough to give us the needed thrust and the blown hatch the course correction to reach the current,” the Orion continued.

“And once in the current, it will do the rest,” added the Caitian.

“This is where it gets tricky,” he continued, looking back over to the science officer.

“We are gonna have to be ready to abandon ship as soon as we are within range of the Sparhawk or we’ll be going down with the ship.”

“Meaning Crazy Horse is gonna rip herself apart … BUT,” Shraz added.

“But, she should last just long enough under the sheer and gravemtric forces to get us there AND we should have just enough juice left the batteries to power the transporters for one last set of transports to get us there.”

“Will we be able to breath once we get there?” Shallana asked.

Both shrugged, but it was the Orion who made the suggestion.

“I’d say either have the crew put on environmental suits or be prepared to hold their breath,” she said.
“Just in case,” she added.

Shallana didn’t even have to think about it as time was against them.

“Do it.”

Twenty minutes later, Crazy Horse was riding the waves of the streaming current, following its course through the region her crew had dubbed “The Straits.”

And with each passing minute, the groans of an already overtaxed hull grew louder … echoing throughout the small ship.

Hold together, Love. Hold together,” Shallana whispered to her ship.

Engines had been gone.

Reserves and the batteries were all that was left as they Okinawa-class destroyer surfed along.

If not for the simple fact that most consoles surrounding the bridge were already dark, Shallana imagined there would have been more sparks and explosions.

But everything they had was being pumped into navigational sensors and structural integrity.

Soon to be shunted over to the transporter systems.

Speaking of which …

“Make sure they are maintaining constant transporter locks on all crew,” she ordered.

“We haven’t lost anyone yet, and I will be damned if we lose someone with this next stunt.”

Shraz nodded and gave an affirmative.

The ride was reaching a point her teeth were vibrating in her head.

Then three things happened at once.

First, they reached their destination with the Crazy Horse slipping into the same bubble that housed a near dark Duderstadt-class.

Second, the alarms sounded but were drowned out by the sounds of the hull beginning to crack like a smacked eggshell.

Shallana could already hear the sounds of air seaping through cracks as the protective dome of the bridge module itself was compromised with decompression eminent.

And third, the transporters kicked in with Shallana’s hand automatically going to her medicine bundle with her sacred Pipe that was attached to her environmental suit.

In her mind, she could hear the death cry of the Crazy Horse even as she and her people were whisked from the jaws of death and into the unknown of the U.S.S. Sparhawk.

The ship’s whose destress call had brought them here was now the next leg in their journey.

“Give me a headcount,” Shallana ordered through her environmental suit’s comm unit.

“I want to make sure everyone made it,” she continued.

It only took a couple of minutes for the numbers to come back and for the time being at least … all of her crew continued to survive.

“Ok … Remember your assignments,” Shallana ordered.

“I want to know what happened here,” she continued. “Spread out and learn what you can learn.”

As for her and her small team, they made made climb upwards to the bridge as turbolifts … of course … were out.
An hour later, they knew enough to say …

  • The crew had been forced to eject the core.
  • Sparhawk was operating on heavily depleted battery reserves.
  • Impulse engines had been damaged in their cruise through the Straits and then burned out completely while attempting to hold station above the closest (one too close) blackhole.
  • Sensors had detected a network of superstructures or stations or arrays surrounding that blackhole.
  • Said blackhole was slowly pulling the Sparhawk backwards. At least until …
  • Said blackhole suddenly vanished … disappeared … was now gone from their reality.
  • In the absence of interference of said black hole, sensors had found something else.

And it was that something else that Shallana and her science officer were sifting through at the moment.

“I’ve seen this before,” Shallana told the Orion suddenly. “Or at least something similar.”

Jinesleis seemed skeptical, raising an eyebrow in an almost Vulcan … or actually … more Romulan manner.

“It’s a stargate,” Shallana answered.

“Stargate?” Jinesleis asked, scanning back through the data and slowing starting to see the edges of what the Captain might be talking about.

After a moment, she locked eyes with her superior.

“Stargate = gateway,” Jinesleis noted. “WHERE does this gateway lead?”

“THAT … is the question,” Shallana said. “And I’m betting THIS is what the Sparhawk’s captain was talking about.”

Although they had found the captain’s log entries, they had been corrupted and only portions recoverable.

In one of those recovered segments they’d learned the ship and crew had gone somewhere … else.

But nothing recoverable pointed the way.

At least until now.

“We’ve no idea what’s on the other side except wherever it is, this ship’s crew felt able to abandon ship for better refuge elsewhere,” Jinesleis said.

“And that ‘elsewhere’ is where we need to go,” Shallana said.

“All we have to do is find someway to gain forward momentum to get us back through that gateway before that blackhole comes back,” she continued.

“You sure it’s coming back?”

“I’d bet my life on it.”

Respectfully,

Capt. Shallana Ironwolf
Acting Commanding Officer
U.S.S. Sparhawk, NCC-71301

—-Out of Story—-

We know now that at least they WERE alive.