Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, main bridge - 0313

Thomas Ames was enjoying a rare moment in the big chair; bridge shifts of any sort for him had been rare enough of late as it was, but chances for the junior officer to have the conn were about as common as deep Klingon discussions about their feelings. With that being said, he found himself a little less sharp than usual, no doubt owing to the fact that on a normal day, he would be asleep right now. Ames stretched, stifled a yawn, and ran fingers through his close-cropped hair.

Once the initial novelty wears off, he mused, sitting here is actually a little... boring. Ames studiously focused on the slow movement of the stars on the viewscreen, looking for any sort of distraction.

The tedium of the graveyard shift was interrupted as the deck suddenly pitched wildly, throwing quite a few crewmen from all over the ship to the ground. Indeed, Ames himself barely managed to avoid landing on his face - and he had the luxury of a sturdy chair to hold on to. As less fortunate members of the bridge crew tried to regain their footing, the lieutenant reacted quickly.

"Ensign Martin, what the hell was that?" he demanded.

The young operations officer frowned initially, but then, her expression quickly changed to one more closely associated with nausea as she examined the console. "Damage reports are rolling in, sir..." she began in a shaky voice, "looks like something hit us, and hard. Multiple decks affected, structural integrity concerns on decks twenty through twenty-four."

Lieutenant Ames' mouth went dry as the adrenaline kicked in. "Any idea what caused it?" he queried.

"None, sir," Martin answered. "There's nothing on the sensors. No indication of any obstructions we could have struck."

Now, an icy blade of fear pierced Ames' gut. An attack, he mused. Has to be. From a cloaked opponent, most likely. "Shields up!" he barked at the tactical Ensign on the rim. "Red alert."

"Shields up," Enign Soileau cofirmed. Immediately, the alarm klaxons began sounding and the red lights started their steady strobe.

"Martin, give me full scans of the immediate vicinity, "Ames ordered. "Something has to be out there."

Suddenly, the deck violently pitched again.


************************************************

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, main bridge - 0316
The turbolift doors hissed open to admit a fully dressed Captain Blair. "Mister Ames, report!" he demanded. "What have you done to my ship?"

Ames wilted slightly, despite fully knowing that he had done no wrong. "Situation unknown, sir. We appear to have taken two direct hits from an unidentified assailant." As he reported, he vacated the captain's chair. "Shields are up, and we are scanning the area, but have been unable to locate any sign yet as to who or what is causing this."

How did he get out of bed, get dressed, and get here so quickly? Ames wondered. Does the man never sleep?

Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery - Deck 2; Lt MacTavish’s quarters – 0313
The scuttlebutt, this week, had been that “Mac’s so cranky because he missed being home with Chantelle for their first anniversary,” and, in truth, that might’ve been part of it…

Serene’ll be wantin’ ta gob on ta no end aboot tha’, Jack MacTavish grumbled inwardly as he stared at the ceiling, Damn fool o’ me, anyway, fer no’ takin’ th’ leave an’ shootlin’ off ‘ome fer a bit!
… The greater part of it, though – and Jack wasn’t convinced that he’d been any ‘crankier’ than usual, lately – the greater part of it was more likely given over to the Discovery’s proximity to The Neutral Zone. Given, the Discovery’s planned course for this routine warp drive calibration and maintenance run kept the ship well on the supposed “safe side” of the NZ, Mac trusted Romulans about as far as he was likely to throw Commander Avanti in heavy Gs. In the Tactical Chief’s mind, he was more over-cautious than over-cranky…

BOOM!!!
“Bloody ‘ell?!?!” Mac’s view of the darkened ceiling was suddenly and violently replaced by an up close and personal look at the deck beside his bunk. “Och! Fer th’ luv o’ heather an’ haggis,” he growled, pushing himself to his feet and reaching for his uniform in the same motion, “Ef tha’s no’ a bloody Warbaird, I’ll fargin’ throttle th’ helmsman tha’ hit a fargin’ ast’roid like tha’!”

He was still grumbling (although, now in Gaelic and, for the most part, under his breath) as he stomped out into the corridor, shrugging into his tunic just enough to reach his comm-badge. His fingers tapped angrily on the Starfleet logo and turned to fastening his tunic. “MacTavish to Soileau,” he growled, knowing it would be his D-1 Tac Officer on the bridge…

BOOOMM!!
…The deck heaved beneath his feet, again, and Lt MacTavish found himself clinging to the bulkhead to remain on his feet. “Wha’ th’ bloody hell’s goin’ on up there, Roni,” he barked, continuing his communication with the duty TAC, “Why’s me boat taken no’ one but two fargin’ hits en less’n three bloody minnits?!!”

=/\\=Unknown, sir,=/\\= Soileau replied, =/\\=We’ve got absolute zilch on scans and nothing on weapon type…=/\\=

“Wha’s our position?”

=/\\=Well outside your specified parameters, boss. If it’s Romulans, they’re more than in violation…=/\\=

USS Discovery - Bridge – 0317
“Ye dinnae need ta preach me chapt’r an’ vairse, Ensign,” Lt MacTavish replied, stepping out of the turbolift even before the door could fully open and striding toward the Tactical Rim, “I’ve been doin’ this a wee bit longer’n ye’ve been breathin’.”

“Aye, sir,” Soileau responded, relinquishing her place at TAC 1 and moving to the Auxiliary.

The Scot’s stern glare took in the forward display, made a quick sweep of the remaining duty stations on the bridge, and then fell to his own console. “Mester Soileau, get Lt Llafet on deck. Tell ‘er I want th’ Intel rips fer this sector fer th’ pas’ month, an’ I wan’ ‘em three days ago!”

“Already done, boss,” Soileau answered.

“Co’rdinate wi’ Engineerin’…”

“…have all available power shunted to the defensive systems,” the young TAC ensign interrupted, almost absently, “Alert Security to be on stand-by with counter-boarding protocols. Battle crews on the torpedo decks. Yes, sir. All covered, sir.”

“Tha’s good wairk, Soileau,” Mac grunted, his eyes lifting, now, from the TAC displays at his fingertips and ticking to Captain Blair.

“We’ve go’ no’ a bloody theng on th’ scanners, sair,” he grudgingly admitted, “Et’s as ef Dicov’ry’s been tairpedoed oota nothin’. I recommend tha’ we retreat ta a distance outside o’ known taripedo range ‘til I c’n get wi’ Sensors an’ ‘ave some tinkerin’ done, sair. Per’aps these sneaky buggers’ll give a bit o’ a chase an’ we’ll catch a wink o’ their energy signature ef naught else… Give us somethen’ ta point at, aye?”


((Just a little "let's go" fodder, I suppose... ))

Stardate: 2368.07.08
Uss Discovery, Lt. Jesse Graham’s Quarters – 0312
It was the same nightmare. Jesse was back on the USS Liberator during the Battle of Wolf 359. The hellish memories replayed in his dream: seeing starship after starship wiped from existence by the Borg, seeing fellow Starfleet officers spinning through space after being thrown from their ships with no protection, their corpses bouncing off the hulls of other ships in the fray. Again, he felt the frustration and anger as he raced from station to station on the bridge, trying to get any of them to respond to commands. Again, he felt despair to his core as he dragged the captain’s lifeless body from under the pile of fiery rubble, knowing that it was too late but determined to make sure the man’s wife had something to bury. Again, he saw the thunderous explosion as a weapon blast hit the hull and felt the weightlessness of being thrown across the deck, and looking up in horror as the entire upper deck area collapsed on top of him, the blinding flash of pain, and--
Jesse awoke violently as he was thrown from his bunk to the deck. Hellfire and damnation, he thought, this one ain’t a dream, I’m there again, I’m dyin’!
As he shook off the fog of sleep and realized where he was, aboard the Discovery, he felt a sharp pain in his hand and looked down to see that he had crushed his empty shot glass with his hand when he landed next to the bunk. Thankful that he hadn’t overdone it before bed, he took stock: the hand was bleeding profusely and tiny bits of glass were embedded in it. Aw, hell, he thought, couldn’t even have been the fake one, now could it?
Having fallen asleep in his duty uniform, Jesse boosted himself to a standing position with his other hand, the cybernetic one, grabbed an undershirt lying nearby and, wrapping it quickly around his injured hand, ran for the bridge as the Red Alert klaxon began sounding.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
Uss Discovery, Bridge – 0318
Jesse ran out of the turbolift as soon as the doors hissed open onto the bridge, again using his cybernetic hand to massage his shoulder where he’d been thrown against the turbolift wall when the second impact occurred. He briefly chuckled inwardly as he considered how he looked: hair and thick handlebar moustache still frazzled from sleep, one hand wrapped in an undershirt with blood seeping through it, rubbing an injured shoulder…Reckon I ain’t the purtiest girl at the dance right now…
With well-honed instincts, Jesse took in his surroundings as he headed down the ramp to the Ops console: He exchanged a glance and a brief nod with Jack MacTavish, who seemed busy enough manning the Tac station and grumbling at Soileau. Jesse didn’t know Mac that well yet, other than by reputation, but they had shared a few shots of whiskey, and exchanged a modicum of conversation over said drinks and at department head meetings. Jesse knew without doubt that there was no one else he’d rather have at Tac in a fight than the tough Scotsman. Jesse took in the sight of Martin, looking a bit shaken, trotting past him back up the ramp. He saw Ames at Ops, delivering a report on the situation that was sounding way too vague for what a captain in combat wanted to hear. He’d have to speak to Ames about that later. And he took note of Captain Blair, the calm in the eye of the storm, taking in the reports directed at him from various stations and issuing orders in rapid succession.

Jesse smoothly slid into the Ops couch as Ames got up to make way for him. He hoped the captain’s stare of disapproval at his appearance didn’t bore a hole through the back of his head before he could make a report. His fingers danced across the console as he took in the situation, then began his report in rapid-fire fashion, sending out instructions, commands and taking control of needed ship’s systems.

“Damage reports from multiple locations, Captain. Damage control teams are responding. We’ve got Structural Integrity Field fluctuations on Decks 20 through 24. Initiating crew evacuations from crew quarters on Deck 20. Rerouting power to structural integrity on those decks. Force fields activated around impulse engine access on Deck 24. Multiple casualties; I have medical teams responding. We have crewmen on affected decks unaccounted for: search and rescue teams responding. Rerouting…Captain! Hull breach imminent on Deck 24, impulse engine access area! Emergency force field activated! Ops to Transporter Room 3, beam anyone on Deck 24 near impulse engine access to the cargo bay! NOW!”

As he turned in his seat to get further orders from Blair, Jesse couldn’t help thinking, We sure got us a turd in the punch bowl here…

Stardate: 2368.05.11
USS Discovery, Deck 11, Chaplain’s Quarters - 2015
Yolan Tenalain, Chaplain aboard the USS Discovery, was putting away his sash after tonight’s service; folding it methodically before putting it away in a small wooden box and closing the lid. It had been a good service, he had many attendees tonight, more so than usual which he was glad to see. Often with so much going on people didn’t find time to attend, but recently some new people had come aboard and a few new faces were in attendance this service. He found it refreshing and fulfilling to administer to the crew and civilians aboard; it was a small congregation but no matter they were all welcome. He had appealed to the Captain on several occasions for him to mention the services to the crew to help inspire them to attend. Captain Blair had made it clear that while he sympathized with the Chaplain he couldn’t order people to attend but he would make sure to mention special occasions at his briefings for his Senior Officers to pass down to their departments.

=/\\\\= Beep Beep =/\\\\=

Yolan stepped out of the back room, having changed out of his cassock and into a more relaxed outfit, he looks towards the door at the chime. He glanced at the door for a moment and then smiled to himself; he had known this moment was coming soon.

“Enter”, he said and the door opened on command.

A beautiful middle aged woman stepped into the room, she smiled at Yolan and inclined her head in greeting as the door closed behind her.

“I hope I am not interrupting,” Serene asked as she glanced around at his sparsely furnished quarters.

“Not at all” he replied as he crossed the room to the sitting area. He turned to her and gestured for her to join him.

She walked over and lowered herself onto the plush couch there while he sat in an adjacent chair.

“It has been awhile,” he said to her, “so you are still hiding your true nature from everyone I see.”

“I find it best,” She shrugged and smiled slightly, “and I see you are still administering to their various religions.”

“Yes,” Yolan began, “I know you never approved of this … but it is what I chosen as my mission.”

“I never said I disapproved of your choice,” Serene said as she inclined her head slightly, “I don’t understand this obsession with the Human’s Religions. Our people are more advanced and gave up the whole concept of deities millennia ago.”

“Perhaps if you came to one of my sermons,” Yolan said with a growing smile.

Serene chuckled at his suggestion; he knew that would not happen but he enjoyed the look on her face when he suggested it.

“So if you haven’t come to try and convert me,” he asked, “why have you come to see me?”

“I know that you are open about who you are,“ she said meeting his gaze, “but no one in Starfleet knows about me, or my mission, so I would like to ask…”

“You know that I would never jeopardize your mission Serene,” he interrupted her, “we have known each other long enough that you shouldn’t have to ask.”

“I know,” she said as she stood up, “but I wanted to ask as a courtesy since this was your ship first. But now it is also mine.”

He rose when she did and bowed to her answer.

“Welcome aboard Counselor,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you!” She said returning his smile.

She stepped up to him and they each reached out grasping each other’s shoulder, they tilted their heads until their foreheads touched briefly.

She turned and left then. After the door closed behind her, Yolan turned and sat back down in the chair, he picked up a data pad and began to read.

*********************************

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Deck 10, Counselor’s Quarters - 0313
Serene was rudely awakened when the ship suddenly tipped and the silken nightgown she wore atop the silk sheets only hastened her trip to the deck.

“Wait.. What?” She said as she sat up on the floor. It took her a moment to realize that she had fallen out of bed; she tried to figure out why. The Red Alert Klaxon went off and she jumped to her feet only to feel the deck pitch again sharply and send her back to the deck again.

“Gracious!” she exclaimed as she grabbed on to the bed and got to her feet holding on waiting to see if the deck heaved again.

She stood there a moment and after seeing it wasn’t going to toss her on her rear end again, she moved to her closet and drug out her uniform and quickly began to get dressed. She knew that she wasn’t a vital officer during combat, if that was what was going on, but who knew when she might be able to assist her new Captain in a time of need.

*********************************

USS Discovery, Main Bridge - 0318
The turbo lift doors opened yet again, and LT. Serene Markus stepped out and paused to take in the scene to see if she could determine what was going on. She looked to the view screen, then to the Captain. All the time she was listening to what was going on around her, maybe she could overhear something that would shed some light on what had disturbed this night.

She moved to her position, making sure to stay out of the way of anyone she considered to be more important in this type of emergency. She only spoke when she got to her chair, she sat and turned to the Captain.

“Lt. Markus reporting for duty sir,” She said softly so as to be heard but not to interrupt anything of importance.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Lt. Leiran’s Quarters – 0246
Rena could not sleep. Sleep this 'night' was just a comfortable elusive blanket hiding in the closet, in some box, covered with dust, hidden inside more boxes, and underneath a piano. Her knees ached, and her shoulder kept shocking her awake with short sharp bursts of pain. Phantom pain. It was getting worse lately, but then, that was something she was used to. She knew it was like this every month, give or take. She knew just as well that she would not be sleeping any time soon.

Well, if we're awake, we can work. The more done, the less to do later. Rena thought as she sat up, before catching herself, I can work.
"Computer, lights on please."

A few metallic thunks were heard as Rena wandered to her dresser, pulling out her uniform, adjusting her pants and adding the padding between her metal feet and her shoes. Rena added the padding to her right arm, before encasing it in a shoulder-length glove, and wearing a matching, though shorter glove on her left hand. Finally, she put on the blue uniform jacket, attached her headband, and nodded to herself in the mirror with confidence.

Rena still had science to do...

USS Discovery, Lt. Leiran’s Lab – 0310
=/\\= ... I thought it would also be a good idea to advise you to take the opportunity to sleep rather than work. You are busy as our department head already after all. =/\\=

"I'm well aware of the time, Aqinna." Rena replied, "But I had a brainwave, and wanted to explore it while it was fresh in my mind." She lied, placing the petri dish in her hands on her workstation.

=/\\= Wouldn't the more logical thing have been to note it for purusal during your waking hours? =/\\= Selaria asked.

"Yes, but as you know, I'm Human, and can be illogical." Rena chuckled as her visor lowered, obsuring her face and magnifying her vision to look at the cell culture.

=/\\= Well, next time do consider it. As you say, you are Human, not Vulcan, so you can not afford to push your body to the same degree. =/\\= Selaria replied, a bit of concern in her voice.

"Thanks for looking out for me, and for answering my questions." Rena replied sincerely, "I've been following cell growth for a while, and it's always good to have a second opinion."

=/\\= Not a problem, Lt. Aqinna out. =/\\=

"Now, let's see what we have here... this batch seemed promis-"

BOOM!!
Rena felt herself slammed into the floor. She groaned as her right shoulder and knees ached from the impact, having hit the floor with her right elbow first, her left hand going to her right shoulder to rub it. It was perhaps a good thing that she just stayed still a minute to recover.

BOOM!!
No flying this time, Rena felt herself hit the side of the workbench, but it wasn't nearly as bad an impact. Taking the opportunity, she quickly got to her feet, bracing herself in case of another.

"Did we hit an ast-"

The words stopped in her throat as she looked down. The petri dish was gone. A quick surveying of the floor revealed her worst fear. The dish was broken, the culture within already contaminated just by open air. Rena gritted her teeth, but took a breath. There was always more science to do, one way or another.

She tapped the comm badge. "Leiran to Zohm. What's going on up there?"

=/\\= We haven't the foggiest. Two hits by... something, nothing showing up on sensors though. =/\\= Zohm replied from his post at the bridge.

"I'm on my way. Ensign, you get down to the labs and help the others. Make sure everything's intact." Rena said, quickly picking up and disposing of the petri dish.

=/\\= Roger. =/\\=

Rena tapped her comm again as she walked out of her lab, "Leiran to Uzuki."

=/\\= Shion here, what's going on? =/\\=

"Not sure, get a simulation module started as soon as you can. I'll get more information to you as it comes." Rena added as she strode to the turbolift, "Get in touch with Lt. Foreman and Ensign Ridley too. I'm heading to the bridge."

=/\\= Got it. Uzuki out. =/\\=

USS Discovery, Main Bridge - 0319
Following closely behind Serene, Rena quickly took up her place at the now-vacant science console, catching just the last bit of Mac's suggestion.

"Per’aps these sneaky buggers’ll give a bit o’ a chase an’ we’ll catch a wink o’ their energy signature ef naught else… Give us somethen’ ta point at, aye?”

"Even if they don't move, the increased range might allow us to get a better scan of their weapon's emissions, perhaps help get something to identify what we're dealing with." Leiran added, her visor retracting as she surveyed the console displays. "No readings." She confirmed.

Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery - Deck 4; Shuttle Bay One – 0313
Removing the panel beneath the flight controls of the Type-8 personnel shuttlecraft, Lieutenant Raphael Zavaleta maneuvered himself to gain access at the circuitry. Over the past few weeks of fine-tuning the craft he had become certain that there was an unacceptable delay in the control response.

The computer diagnosis had stated everything was operating efficiently, within the marginal error expected for the craft. Unsatisfied with this, and seeking to ensure the craft was in top performance, Raphael had been performing mechanical diagnostics for the past several nights. He had already double-checked the RCS thruster intakes, re-calibrated the impulse engines and monitored the navigation sensor responses.It was an ingrained series of tests, just the way he had done with his father back on Utopia when he had leave from the fleet yard.

Analyzing the flight control connections of the craft for any disruptions was the next step in the testing, and should, as far as Raphael could determine, be the final adjustment needed to make her fly-worthy.

Prone on his back, with his shoulders up within the opening, Raphael reached for his tools as he repositioned the wires. He just needed to access the central board to ensure all the signals were going where they were supposed to....

BOOM!
With the sudden pitching of the starship, Raphael had no time to tell anything was amiss before his head bashed against the frame of the console. Instinctively grabbing his head in pain, Raphael hurriedly tried to relocate himself outside of the confined space...

BOOOMM!
Despite his efforts, Raphael wasn't quick enough to escape the successive impact. The secondary pitch of the starship knocked him back, slamming his head against the floor. As the Red Alert Klaxon began to sound the Chief Flight Control Officer slipped into unconsciousness...

Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery - Deck 12; Holosuite Three– 0245-0313
The whistling of the phasers grazing past the fighter snapped Evelynn Scofield back into awareness.

"Shi..".

She'd been getting cocky; the three remaining attack drones were adapting to her motions, predicting her decisions perhaps as quickly as she had been herself. It was time to fix that.

Pitching the vessel into a sudden downward arc into the nearby asteroid belt, she narrowly avoided a direct hit to her engines. Countering her decent with a sharp turn, she began to plot a serpentine path through the asteroids.

With the defensive tactics working, it was time to modify her course for the offensive. Releasing countermeasures to take care of the drones chasing her, Scofield turned about to find only two of the drones headed her way. Firing phasers, as he nursed the craft in and around the drifting space rocks, she could do nothing but grin as her radar read all clear.

Until she looked at the time.

Compared to Zavaleta, her time was pathetic, and it frustrated her. Scofield had seen more action working aboard border-patrol crafts than Zavaleta had ever encountered, and yet even under combat simulations she couldn't keep pace.

She ran the simulation again, with the standard randomization code; having the drones enter in the same place at the same time was too predictable - she needed to hone her response time.

"For frac..."

A phaser beam seemed to dance across the wing of her fighter as she rounded an asteroid. She closed her eyes in anger and missed the visual flicker as the holosuite system took in the first actual impact upon the Discovery. Her craft shook in response to the simulated hit, but it seemed more than what the simulation was programmed for.

Scofield kept flying, unaware until the next impact. She saw the hologram shimmer and jut of of place.

What's wrong with this damn thing?
"Computer. End Program."

As the simulated star space faded away the Red Alert Klaxon sounded; things were worse than she thought.


Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery - Bridge– 0318
Ensign Tobias Thorn was sweating bullets at the conn. He was trying to keep the ship stable, but couldn't account for the timing of the impacts; the real situation was nothing like the simulations. It didn't help that he had no idea what was shooting at him, or from where. He took a deep breath at tried to stay calm; his senior officer would certainly chew him out if he let his judgement get overridden by adrenaline again.

The turbo-lift doors slid open behind him and Thorn heard the voice of the Captain assessing the situation, grateful the demand for an explanation was aimed at Arnes. Shortly thereafter the surly second officer was present, giving his own assessment.

Amid the alerts and the in-rush of officers Thorn focused on the matter at hand. He had to be ready to take the appropriate measures for whatever course of action was decided. However try as he might there was another thought nagging at him

Where was the Flight Chief...?
Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery - Deck 4; Shuttle Bay One – 0313-0318
After recovering from the initial shock of the sudden impacts, Trenton Kampf was out of Flight Ops and organizing the maintenance crews on shift. The Red Alert only confirmed the Chief Hanger Officer's concern that something was amiss, and he could sense the growing anxiety of his staff.

"It is important to remain calm," He raised his voice higher than he expected, causing him to pause momentarily; he usually didn't show stress. "Begin standard emergency procedure."

Kampf could tell by a quick glance that the crewmen on shift were fine, but something else bothered him.

Lieutenant Zavaleta had signed in to work on shuttle maintenance. As far as Kampf could tell, the procedure was connected to some kind of fond memories for the Chief FCO, as he did it fairly regularly when he couldn't sleep. The Red Alert meant that he should have proceeded to the bridge, but Kampf did not recall seeing Zavaleta pass Flight Ops to leave. Knowing well which shuttle Zavaleta was working on, Kampf, proceeded to ensure he was gone.

Rounding the corner of the shuttle in question, Kampf found the door ajar, and the unconscious form of the Lieutenant inside.

"Contact Sickbay; We've an officer down!" This was not what he had been hoping to find..."And someone contact Lieutenant Scofield!" Zavaleta's assistant chief would have to step up in this crisis.

Taking a deep breath, Kampf activated his combadge. =/\\=Shuttle Bay One to Bridge...=/\\=

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Ten Forward - 0300

Night and day were mostly an artificial construct when you were abroad a space ship. No matter when you looked out the window, it seemed like night time. The time of day was an accepted constant that was agreed upon by Federation regulations so that most ships were following the same schedules.

So it was that at this time in the “morning”, Ten-Forward was mostly empty. A few tables were occupied by those races that did not work on long stretches of sleep, and the few late-nighters who were young enough to handle less than optimal sleep time.

Lt. Steward Tier was sitting across the table from Lt. “Bob” N’Doog. Steward was dressed in a security officer uniform and although not necessary when off shift, he worn two phasers on his belt, one on each side. Bob - a yellow skin, blue hair Catullan, had the engineering uniform and wore no weapons, but carried a PADD on him that he typed into often despite talking to his companion.

“You’re gokk-bonking joking.” Steward said in shock.

“No bonking, no gokking and no joking dude.” Bob replied in his rhythmic patter, “I’m just not into violence. I don’t just give peace a chance, I ask it to dance.”

“Gokk-bonking hell! So you are one of those cowardly objectors?” Steward asked.

“Whoa. Dude. Conscientious Objector. The mouth engaged warp while the brain was in impulse. I don’t shiv Stewie.” Bob retorted but the smile remained on his face. “You are one with the gun and I am one with the fun. Way I see it, Universe be a lot better if we all took the time and made it all rhyme, dig?”

“No. I don’t gokk-bonking dig. How can you be in Starfleet and not be willing to fight? What if a Gokk-bonker was about to kill me? You’d let him?”

“Whoa! Major bummer dude. All the whatif and whenthis and whatabouts don’t do anything but clog the karma. You gotta be one with the spirit in the sky dude.” Bob looked over at the bartender across the way and held up two fingers to signal for another round. “Besides, there are non-violent ways to deal with things.”

Steward snorted derisively, “Gokk-bonk me to hell and back. Oh yeah!” he made a flexing finger move with his right hand.”You can do the vulcan pinch thing!”

"Not the same though results are similar. Still not what I meant."

"Can you show me how?"

"Stick to the ray guns, Stewie." Bob looked up as the waiter brought over their two drinks.

"That's another Shin Fitz for Lt. Tier and another fruit smoothie for the Bob dude."

Bob smile broadened, "Thanks Issac dude." and looked around. Over at the far end of the lounge sat Commander Avanti, alone, reading. "See the big commanderdude? He gets it. More in tune than attitude if you get my tune. "

"I've seen Avanti fight. The man is a gokk-bonking force to be reckoned with, let me tell you. The man ripped a gokk-bonking captain's chair out of its gokk-bonking mooring with a gokk-bonking ambassador still in the gokk bonking chair! "

"Steward?"

"Yeah?"

"When you were a little dude, did your mom ever wash your mouth out with soap?"

"All the gokk-bonking time. Didn't do a gokk-bonking thing."

Bob laughed loudly, "Dude, you are an original. Oh hey, I got something for you."

"Yeah? What?"

Bob touched his PADD and a small memory card slipped out of the unit. he passed it to Tier with a flourish, " None other than the holodeck game of nest year - Zombies in Chicago II."

"Gokk-bonk me with a stick! How did you get that? It isn't due out for another gokk-bonking month or two?"

"Yeah well I know a dude who knows a dude who is sleeping with a dudette who knows another dude."

"Thanks. I will ....

Suddenly the deck pitched wildly. Tier fell to the floor, rolled and came up with a phaser in both hands. Bob managed to stay in his chair barely but both of them knew at this was trouble. Avanti was already charging through the doorway probably to the bridge when the second one was hit.

"What in gokk-bonking hell?"

Bob grabbed his PADD and typed something so fast that his fingers seen to blurr. "Sheila! Sitc? Warp it." His eyes moved rapidly as cope flowed across his screen. "Wow dude. This is bad, very bad. Damage reports coming in. Sheila needs me. I gotta fly."

Tier followed as his friend ran out the doorway and headed down the corridor all the while typing into the PADD and dodging people. "Lifts are gonna be full dude. I'm gonna surf the jefferies. Stay frosty dude."

Tier nodded and ran off in the other direction while tapping his comm. =/\\\\= Lt. John Reid. this is Lt. Teir reporting near ten -forward. Are we gokk-bonking under attack? If there is trouble I can be there on the double. =/\\\\=

Did I just gokk-bonking rhyme? I'm hanging out with N'doog too much

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Ten Forward Lounge – 0300
Avanti sipped his drink and read the spec on a prototype ship that an associate had sent him for his thoughts and critique. The ship was designed for deep space exploration and was about to be presented to Starfleet for consideration before the end of the year. If approved, and Avanti had heard there was some interest in DS exploration on the council, it would be at least 5 years before it would be made. If he was an ambitious man, that would fit well into a plan to be its captain but the commander didn’t think in those terms. When he joined Starfleet, he would have been happy as an engineer for the rest of his career. But life had a way of changing plans and he found himself in command positions time and time again and here he was – first officer of a galaxy class starship.

There were obvious design flaws in the warp drive of this plan that only a seasoned engineer would spot and Avanti quickly noted them all. He also wrote a “short note” (7 pages) on the importance of harmonic resonance in the entire ship and not just the warp core. Too many engineers design the engines and then the ship and never think on how the two should work together. Balance was key, and he added another short note on the flow and ebbs of warp travel and the wear and tear on the engines. However he was very pleased with many of the other aspects of the design. It was a sleek ship, with nice lines and long legs and that red hair that came down to her ...

He shook his head and took another drink. He was thinking about Ensign Natasha Keebler again. He berated himself silently for letting her get back on his mind. Avanti had been in a relationship before that didn’t work out as he had wanted. Besides, as first officer he had a duty to the ship first and that fact that she was an ensign only complicated things. But still here he was thinking about her again.

Suddenly, Avanti was on the floor. The deck had pitched wildly and everyone in the room had been thrown asunder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lt. Teir on his feet with phasers out and Lt. N’Doog using his PADD to no doubt connect with the ship’s computer.

Shock was no a feeling that Avanti was used to felling. His sensitivity to harmonics always gave him a clue when there was something bad happening. But this time, her was completed unprepared. That stuck him to his soul but he didn’t have time for self-doubt and wonder right now. He got up and ran for the exit and the nearest turbo lift.

“Bridge!” he said as the doors closed. If it was an attack, why did I not feel something?

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Personnel Quarters (deck 20)- 0300

Natasha has just laid down after fiddling with a Teraphasic
Coil trying to adjust the fuel aspiration to the flux intake. She wasn’t supposed to have it in her personal quarters, but she liked having stuff to tinker with.

BOOM!!

Not quite asleep or awake and nearly falling out of bed, confused Natasha slid the rest of the way out of bed. Scrambling into her ensigns uniform her pants half about her knees.

BOOM!!

She fell to the floor jarring her elbow on her cluttered work table tossing parts and tools in disarray about her cursing as the holographic locket fell beside her open and the picture of her mother and sisters flitter to light in front of her. She bit back a sob out of frustration but mostly out of the now familiar pang of loss she felt. She cursed louder picking up the locked and pulling on the rest of her uniform placing the locked back on the table, the rest she could pick up later. She couldn’t help but panic, when over the red alert Klaxon the automated ship alert’s voice stated that all personnel were to immediately evacuate the deck. Tasha quickly pocketed the locket as she ran from her room. She wasn’t looking forward to the chewing out Chief Engineer Pantanko was sure to give her for not immediately heading to the engineering bay, but her elbow pained her to the point that she cradled it to her chest with gritted teeth. So she headed to the sick bay, as she noted many of the crew were bruised and disorientated milling about. Someone was sure to catch an earful an she just hopped that she wouldn’t be one of them.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Deck 2; Lana’s Quarters - 0300
Lana sighs as she throws a book onto her bed as she stood up, the nagging feeling of having forgot something did nothing to ease the tension within the woman. Sighing again she pulls on her uniform, and after making sure everything was fine within her own room Lana heads to her office.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Deck 12; Sickbay; Lana’s Office, 0305-0320
Lana sat at her desk and began reading over the records on the screen infront of her. She tapped her fingers on her desk in a random rhythm as she makes a mental note of who has and hasn’t been to see her. Grumbling under her breath about the absent mindedness of the crew.

Lana lurched forward suddenly as the floor shook under her chair. What was that? Standing up quickly she turned to walk towards her door to see if her staff was okay. Sighing softly to herself as she reached the door,

Lana lurched forward again and caught her shoulder against the door frame. Cursing to herself she rotated her shoulder to see if anything was seriously injured, everything seems fine. Probably will get a bruise though. Pausing Lana sighed once again, realizing that she’d done a lot of that in the span of the fifteen minutes since leaving her personal quarters, as the Red Alert Klaxon began. Grabbing a hold of one nurses passing by,

“Start getting triage ready Mira. We’re in Red Alert anyone could be coming through our doors injured.” She commanded somewhat harshly.

Mira nodded, “Ma’am.” Then the nurse swiftly and turned to begin getting everything ready that they would need to treat the wounded. Lana shook her head and began making sure everything was just right. Just when things were peaceful and I had time to sort through everything again.
Lana curses as she turns to a nearby doctor, “It seems that I’m needed elsewhere, handle things here. And have a bed open on standby we might need it for our helmsman.” She did not wait for response as she fled the sickbay hoping that the doctor she left in her stead would do things the proper way and not have to redo anything.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Deck 4; Shuttle Bay One – 0325
Lana walked into the shuttle bay, “What happened?”

((OOC: I'm assuming that she was infact already contacted by the flight chief's assissant and that they had only told her that she was needed. If that's not the case I'll change it if needed ))

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, main bridge - 0319
Captain Blair focused intently on the viewscreen as chaos whirled around the bridge. As senior officers appeared and relieved the night watch personnel, orders were relayed. Neither the tactical or operations chiefs had sought his input or okay to handle the imminent emergencies under their direct areas of responsibilty - which was exactly how the Captain wanted it.

MacTavish voiced his suggestion. "I recommend tha’ we retreat ta a distance outside o’ known taripedo range ‘til I c’n get wi’ Sensors an’ ‘ave some tinkerin’ done, sair. Per’aps these sneaky buggers’ll give a bit o’ a chase an’ we’ll catch a wink o' their energy signature ef naught else... Give us somethen’ ta point at, aye?"

As always, the Scotsman had a sound plan - and it echoed what the Captain had himself been thinking. "Agreed, Lieutenant," he answered. Fixing his gaze on the young man at the helm - the Deck Officer had notified the bridge of Lieutenant Zavaleta's accident, but the aCFCO had yet to make it onto the bridge - Blair gave specific orders.

"Ensign, evasive manuevers immediately. Take us in the opposite direction of the damage, then come about to face this general position." That would put the Discovery in optimal firing position.

The Discovery lept into motion, and for a moment, it seemed that the plan would work. An energy signature appeared on the sensor readouts; a slight shimmer appeared to denote the position of a craft, but it disappeared within an instant. Suddenly, the deck violently pitched again - the worst such incident yet - and this time, the fallout was much more serious. Warning indicators lit up on terminals all across the bridge. The situation was truly dire, as the computer itself chimed in.

=/\\=WARNING!=/\\= it intoned in a pleasant, but serious, female voice. =/\\=Hull breach detected on decks twenty and twenty-four.=/\\=
If possible, things got even worse from there. As the deflector shields appeared to "flicker" for a moment, then yet another warning indicator popped up - this time, on the tactical console.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, main bridge – 0319
"Agreed, Lieutenant," Captain Blair answered, validating Mac’s suggested course of action, and set orders to the helm; "Ensign, evasive maneuvers immediately. Take us in the opposite direction of the damage, then come about to face this general position."

Discovery’s CTO nodded with a grim satisfaction as Flight Control (and all other Bridge stations) responded to those orders accordingly. His own grey eyes dipped to the console in front of him and his fingers danced across the display to send ‘ready’ orders to the aftward torpedo bay and relegated power to the aft phaser banks, as well. His finger hovered over the send icon and his gaze shifted to the sensor displays just as they pinged back some sort of energy signature… Lt MacTavish sent the order, captured what he could of the fleeting flicker of a target, and turned his attentions to the weapons-systems displays when the third strike rocked the Discovery. Mac clung to the tactical rim as the deck heaved beneath them and came down, more or less on his feet when the helmsman righted them again.
Warning indicators lit up on terminals all across the bridge. The situation was truly dire, as the computer itself chimed in.

=/\\=WARNING!=/\\= it intoned in a pleasant, but serious, female voice. =/\\=Hull breach detected on decks twenty and twenty-four.=/\\=

Jayzus!
“A’right, lads,” the Scot grumbled, his jaw clenched tight but his fingers dancing fluidly across the console, “Now I’m begennin’ ta get a wee bit fluster’d. Tha’s bloody three times these shaggers’ve peeked up our kilt! They’ve more’n airned a shiner…”

Wha’ en th’ name o’ Bonny Prince Charlie?!?! His scowl twisted into an expression that might have been confusion.

“Cap’n,” he said, tearing his grey-eyes from the LCARS panel at his fingertips momentarily, “Th’ sensors captured more’n a wee bit o’ inf’rmation on our attacker, sair. But.. Et’s gotta be bollocks… We be getting’ readin’s tha’ waft o’ Romulan, Klingon, an’ Borg technology…”

He flicked a glance at Lt Leiran; “I’ll be needin’ yer lads en sensors ta’ opt’mize us fer pickin’ oot melded cloak sign’tures, Lieutenant. Sooner better’n later… Please.”

((OOC: Anything from either the Captain or Lieran here…))

“…I’m afraid th’ wind is’nae blowin’ any sweeter fer us, Cap’n Blair, sair,” Mac continued as his console flashed again. “Th’ sheilds’re nae gonna stand up ta’ more’n one er two more poundin’s like tha’, sair. We’ve dropped sixty percent er better wi’ th’ three, aye?

There also be a decent amount o’ fairce tha’s somehow pen’tratin’ th’ shields; causin’ d’rect an’ tightly targ’ted damage ta th’ shi, sair... Reckon we c’n have Engineerin’ figger us a shield freq’ncy rotation sim’lar ta wha’s typical agin th’ Borg. Til then, sair, I’ve impl’mented those vera prot’cols.”

((OOC: Anything?))

Mac’s eyes dipped to the console, again, and the display evoked a deep scowl that might have been tinged with shock. “Cap’n,” he snarled, his hand already moving across the console, “we go’ entruders on deck ‘leven, sair!”

((OOC: Up to you, boss, if the following comes before or *after* an order from Blair.))

His hand fell irritably on the display then and invoked the comm.

=/\\=MacTavish ta’ Lt Reid. We’ll be needin’ boardin’ suppression teams on deck ‘leven, and escorts fer any civilians, aye?=/\\=

((Soft toss: Ody))

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sair,” Mac said, tapping the closed and regarding the Captain, again, “Might I be ammendin’ me previous plan ta one o’ suggestin’ we get the bloody hell oota here, sair?”

((Enough from Mac for now, I suppose… Room for interjections, edits, whatever…))

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, main bridge – 0320
"What did you say? Romulan, Klingon, and Borg?"

Rena almost looked stupified, but that look lasted only a second before her eyes widened. "Of course! Now we get it!"

Rena tapped her comm badge, "Leiran to Foreman, talk to me. Romulan cloaking device emissions. Klingon cloaking device emissions."

=/\\= Well, one could be detected perhaps by gravitic sensors. Yes, yes that would do it, maybe. A sweep of metaphasic frequencies, perhaps oh, or yes, yes, maybe tachyon- =/\\=

Rena quickly began furiously typing at the console, "Thank you. Leiran to Ridley, get some probes outfitted with tachyon sensor technology ready for launch as soon as possible. In the meantime, we're going to be adjusting our sensor relays."

Not caring if the connection was still open or not, Rena seemed to talk animatedly to herself. Her brain was on overdrive, and she could feel it. Maybe it was adrenaline, or maybe it was the surge of the scientist grasping at the unknown and grabbing on to something.

"... - alternation of sweeps. We need to consider - ... - yes. Assimilated - ... - maybe not. -...- hybridization of the comp-"

Taking in a breath, Rena looked over her progress, and actually spoke to acknowledge there were other people on the bridge, "Captain, I'm working by the assumption this thing is a hybrid and it alternates its cloaking types by adaptation. Randomizing sensor sweeps and focusing on known anti-cloaking tactics."

Taking a hand off the console but keeping the other at the railing in case of another impact, Rena tapped her com yet again, "Leiran to Uzuki, simulation module, try hybridizing known Borg, Klingon and Romulan technologies. Stealth and general fighters in particular."

=/\\= Uh, okay, right away ma'am. =/\\=

"Let's see if we can't figure out this thing." Rena muttered.

Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery - Deck 2; Lt Reid’s quarters – 0313
Boom
The sudden violent roll of the ship woke John from a sound sleep and nearly pitched from his bunk. The blurr of sleep evaporated as the lieutenant used the motion to drive himself on out of bed. He glanced at his clock as he pull on his duty uniform, 0313. This could not be good.

Slipping into his boots a second pitching nearly tossed him to the floor.

Boom
As John gain his balance and head to the door as Ensine Soileau’s voice came over the comm..

=/\\\\= Security, we taken unknown impact, damage to decks 20 through 24, possible boarding breach. =/\\\\=

John quickly assessed the decks the Ensine called out.

Deck 20: Living Quarters
Deck 21: Power Distribution
Deck 22: Engineering Support Labs
Deck 23: Main Impulse Engines
Deck 24: Life Support

John stepped to his comm console and responded to the bridge report, “Affirmative bridge”.

Switching the comm to the Duty Watch,
=/\\\\= Watch Commander deploy teams to decks 21 and 22. Special support on 23 and 24; potential boarding breach. Get a team to 20 for evac control of personnel. Button down the Impulse and Life support so Engineering can keep us moving and breathing.
Battle Stations for the rest; I need full status report by the time I reach the bridge.
Ensign Raditz take deck 21 and deck 22, Ensign Kato deck 23 and deck 24. Ensine LaRue to Deck 20. Assess and report. =/\\\\=

Switching off the comm. John stepped to the door, as he passed the stand by the door he reached out and rubbed the crystal ball that housed the silver cylinder shaped heirloom. He heading into passage where crewmen were scrambling to stations. Commandeering a turbo lift he head to the bridge.

Stardate: 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, main bridge – 0319
The turbo lift shook as a third inpack resounded.

BOOM
As the doors wooshed open he heard Mac’s voice in the room and on his comm,” MacTavish ta’ Lt Reid. We’ll be needin’ boardin’ suppression teams on deck ‘leven, and escorts fer any civilians, aye?”
John acknowledged the Captain as he entered the bridge “Sir” and strode to his station. As he crossed the bridge he thought to himself, Don’t get your hagus in an uproar, Mac.. Addressing Lt. MacTavish, “Sir, Teams deployed on 23,24,21 and 22, evac team on 20. Full report coming.”

(Edited Officer Assignments)

Stardate 2368.07.08
USS Discovery, Bridge - 0319
Captain Blair issued orders for the evasive maneuver. Having served on starships for years, Jesse could feel the sluggishness of one of the impulse engines. His fears were confirmed when he brought up power readouts and saw that one of the engines was only putting out about a third of its intended power. A quick glance at the helmsman’s frustration with the sluggish engine further confirmed it. Suddenly, another hit violently rocked the ship. Jesse Graham let out an involuntary “Sumbitch!” as his injured and bleeding hand collided with the side of the Ops console. Damn, but that hurt worse than gettin’ horse-kicked! Jesse quickly righted himself and took stock of his areas of responsibility as orders and acknowledgements flew around the bridge. He took a second look at the strange sensor readings that had flooded the sensor bandwidth and then quickly disappeared. That ain’t possible, he thought. Klingon, Romulan, Borg, and who th’ hell knows what else there? He was sure his eyes were deceiving him until he heard MacTavish calling out the same information. He hoped fervently that the sensor analysis team would be able to make heads or tails of this. Jesse then began calling up status reports from around the ship---

=/\\=WARNING! Hull breach detected on decks twenty and twenty-four.=/\\=
Damn! Jesse instantly called up readouts for the affected areas. “Captain! The hull breach on Deck 20 was crew quarters, sir! Emergency containment fields are up, but…sir, we have fatalities! Transporter rooms are beaming out crewmen outside containment areas! Emergency med teams are responding!” He stared in horror as he took in the information on the other hull breach. “Captain, the other hull breach was an impulse engine! Fusion chambers are ruptured! Radiation spikes all over the area! Sir, I recommend we shut it down, NOW, or we may lose half the ship!”

Suddenly Jesse experienced an all-new fresh hell as he read the same thing Tac was seeing and Mac was calling out: intruders on Deck 11. The he saw where they were headed. As soon as Mac had announced the unauthorized presence, Jesse chimed in, “Captain, whoever they are, they’re headed directly for Life Support! Attempting to raise internal containment fields to stop them!”

(OOC: Lemme know if said attempt has any effect in next post, t_catt)

He was about to turn back to Blair for further instructions, when his eye caught a horrible sight. Just drifting into viewscreen range were the freezing corpses of the poor souls caught in the blast on Deck 20, tumbling helplessly through space. Remembering the same sights from the Battle of Wolf 359, Jesse shuddered, and his soul cried out in helpless rage as he even saw that some of them were still moving, flailing desperately as their bodies froze and death took them. His eyes took on a hellish glint as he vowed silently to himself ,

Whoever did this is gonna pay the hangman.