It's Quiet Uptown
Posted on Fri Mar 6th, 2020 @ 1:19pm by Captain Dyllon McMahon
The Saga Begins
Location: Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth
Dyllon woke up on the floor of the bridge, his head pounding. He slowly reached up to the right side of his head, where he could no longer open his eye. As he touched it, it seared with red hot pain.
He stumbled to his feet, and looked around the bridge. The emergency lights were on; half of the LCARS panels were burnt out or flickering. Through the cracked viewscreen, a Dominion fleet loomed large.
"Commander!", shouted Lt Rutledge again. She was standing at the ops station, dried green blood staining her gold tank top. Sitting on the floor next to her was Ensign Solek, whose leg was currently tied in a tourniquet using Rutledge's overtunic.
Dyllon shook his head, attempting to focus, "Status report!"
Rutledge looked over what was left of her readout, "We're in bad shape. What's left of the privateer fleet is giving us cover for the moment. Torpedoes are depleted. Phaser caps are burnt out. Shields are toast. We have hull breeches on decks 5, 4.."
Dyllon spat back, "Save us some time and tell me what we actually have working"
"Well.. hull integrity's at 23 percent... and somehow we still have impulse."
He shook his head, and stumbled over to the helm station. In the seat sat Ensign Kranat, a Bolian male, slumped over the console. Dyllon checked his pulse, confirming that he was dead. He pulled him gently out his chair, and sat him on the floor.
As Dyllon sat at the helm station, he began plotting a course. "Any remaining power, push it to engines and structural integrity. Then get to the escape pods."
"But.. Commander..." Rutledge began.
"That's an order. Signal Abandon Ship!" Dyllon shouted. The abandon ship klaxons began sounding as Dyllon locked in the final coordinates.
Rutledge helped Solek to his feet, and began helping him to the escape pod. As the console notified Dyllon of the escape pods undocking, he locked in the course, and initiated a ramming run on the lead warship.
"Rakash!" [Xenexian: "to the hilt!"]
The small Saber class starship barreled forward at full speed, cutting through the line of civilian vessels that had joined them in a last ditch effort to liberate Betazed.
'This... this is a good death..." he whispered to himself, as he closed in on his target. He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.
Then he heard it. The unmistakable whine of a Starfleet transporter...
Dyllon stumbled awake, and his eyes fell on a young Caitian female, in cadet uniform. Instinctively, he reached up to his right eye, and felt his scar. He began to shake off his dream, and come back to reality.
"Sir, the exam is over. We're waiting to be dismissed," Cadet P'Reia expectantly.
Dyllon stood up, tugging at his gold academy uniform.
"Uh... I'll have your exams graded over the weekend. Final grades will be available some time next week. Thank you for attending Principles of Subspace Theory, I hope not to see you again next semester". Dyllon forced a disarming smile, "Class dismissed."
As the class shuffled out, Dyllon reached under his desk and pulled out a small flask with shaky hands. He opened it and took a quick shot, just to calm the nerves, and put it away.
At that moment, a young humanoid woman shimmered into reality. It was his virtual assistant, Alyx.
"Sorry, Commander, I did not wish to disturb your class."
"What's going on?" Dyllon responded.
"I've received a calendar invite from Admiral Bennington concerning your application to the Luna project."
"That's funny. They usually send the rejection letters over the wire. It will be a refreshing change of pace to be rejected face to face" Dyllon joked.
Being only a virtual assistant, Alyx wasn't programmed to understand humor. "The meeting is set for 1300 hours, tomorrow. Shall I send a response?"
"Yes. I'll be there. Thank you, Alyx." Dyllon smiled.
"One is happy to be of service," Alyx responded, before shimmering into nothingness.