The Third Ship
Posted on Wed Mar 19th, 2025 @ 3:36am by Lieutenant Mark Valleroy & Captain Calypso Skyie & Senior Chief Petty Officer Jadizon Enor & Petty Officer 1st Class Kael Draven
Mission: Doing What We Do Best
Aboard the Third Warship – Cargo Bay 3
The team rematerialized in a dimly lit cargo bay, the air thick with the scent of scorched metal and recycled oxygen. The hum of barely functioning power conduits vibrated through the deck plating, a low rhythmic pulse that spoke of a ship barely holding itself together.
Enor immediately raised his tricorder, scanning for life signs and environmental hazards. “Atmosphere’s stable but stale. Power distribution is patchy—life support’s running on fumes.”
Draven gave a mock sniff of the air. “Yeah, and the fragrance of Eau de ‘Who The Hell Knows’ is just fantastic.”
Ignoring him, Enor gestured to the team. “We split into pairs, clear deck by deck. Standard search patterns—no unnecessary risks. Call out anything suspicious.”
Teams formed quickly, two-man units moving out into the corridors. Enor and Draven took point toward what looked like an access corridor leading deeper into the ship, while the others branched off toward engineering, living quarters, and the bridge.
Moving cautiously, Enor kept his tricorder in one hand, phaser holstered but ready. Draven, on the other hand, had his rifle in a relaxed but ready grip, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow. The corridor ahead flickered under dim, faltering lights, throwing eerie movements along the walls.
Then, just around the next bend, something shifted. A tall, spindly figure emerged from a side access hatch, moving with an almost unnatural grace. The being’s skin was a mottled shade of deep blues and purples, its elongated head adorned with a set of facial tentacles that twitched slightly as it noticed them.
Enor’s grip tightened on his phaser, but he didn’t draw it just yet. The figure’s wide, dark eyes locked onto him, and for a moment, there was only silence.
Draven exhaled slowly. “Well… that’s new.”
Before either of them could speak, more figures appeared—some armed, their body language tense, while others carried tools, clearly members of a repair team just trying to keep the ship from falling apart.
The real question was: Were they going to fight or talk?
Enor took a slow step forward, keeping his stance firm but non-threatening.
"Starfleet," he said evenly. "We're not here to pick a fight unless you give us a reason to."
The response came, not in words, but in the slow, deliberate raising of weapons from the armed ones.
Draven clicked his tongue. "Yeah, I was hoping for 'Welcome aboard' too."
Enor didn't hesitate. "Cover!" he barked, diving behind the nearest bulkhead as the first shots rang out.
Phaser blasts sizzled through the air, illuminating the dim corridor with bursts of blue and orange energy. Enor pressed his back against a bulkhead, his phaser still holstered as he assessed the situation. Draven, however, had already dropped into a crouch, rifle up, returning controlled bursts of fire.
Then, in classic Draven fashion, he slapped his combadge with unnecessary force, voice erupting through the comms with exaggerated urgency.
"OH GODS, THEY’RE SHOOTING! THEY’RE SHOOTING! LOCALS ARE HOSTILE! EVERYONE STAY FROSTY! I REPEAT, STAY FROSTY—FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, THEY’RE TRYING TO KILL US!"
His voice echoed through the ship and likely half the ship’s comm network, accompanied by the distinct ZAP-ZAP of his rifle fire.
Enor, still calm despite the barrage of phaser bolts streaking past, exhaled through his nose before tapping his own commbadge in a much more measured manner.
"Enor to Chimera. Captain, we've engaged hostile resistance from the locals. No casualties, but they’re not interested in a friendly chat. Holding position for now. Orders?"
As he spoke, another shot struck just above his head, sending a shower of sparks down on him. He merely blinked through them and glanced over at Draven, who was now peeking out just long enough to squeeze off a few more shots.
Draven glanced back at him with an exaggerated deadpan expression. “You know, Chief, I gotta say, your calm and collected approach really doesn’t match our current situation.”
Enor smirked, still crouched behind cover. “One of us has to keep their cool.”
Draven snorted, ducking another bolt. “Yeah, well, let me know how that works out for you when they try and eat us or whatever those face tentacles are for.”
Another volley of fire hit their position, forcing them both lower.
Enor sighed. "Chimera, awaiting your call. But sooner would be better."
"Chief, if you can't push through, fall back. Sending another team over behind where you were. What's your evaluation of taking the ship?" Cally's voice was even and had no inflection to it, just someone looking for information.
The warning signs came too late. A plasma bolt streaked through the dimly lit corridor, hitting Enor square in the shoulder. A sharp, searing pain exploded through him as the force sent him stumbling back against the bulkhead. His vision blurred for half a second, the acrid smell of scorched uniform filling his nose.
"Chief down!" Draven half-shouted, already snapping his rifle up and unleashing a precise volley of return fire. The hostile figures ducked back into the shadows, momentarily suppressed. Without missing a beat, Draven grabbed Enor’s good arm and hauled him behind a support beam.
“Alright, let’s assess the damage,” Draven quipped, eyes flicking to the wound. “Yep. Shoulder’s still attached. That’s a win.”
Enor gritted his teeth, rolling his arm with a wince. “Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.” He exhaled sharply. “Mostly.”
Draven smirked, keeping his rifle trained ahead. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause if you died, I’d have to write the report, and I hate paperwork.”
Another bolt sizzled past, lighting up the corridor. Enor tapped his combadge. "Captain, we’re cut off and taking fire. Pushing through isn’t looking great—if you’re sending reinforcements, they need to come in armed or maybe just park a shuttle through their hull."
Draven fired another shot and groaned. “Yes, let’s politely knock on the door with a shuttle. That’s diplomacy.”
Enor smirked despite the pain. “You got a better plan?”
Draven peeked around the corner, scanning their surroundings. “Yeah, see that power junction? If we take it, we might knock out whatever coordination they’ve got going on.”
Enor nodded and tapped his combadge again. "Captain, we’re holding, but we need that second team sooner rather than later. Otherwise, we’ll be improvising."
A plasma bolt hit uncomfortably close, showering them with sparks. Draven sighed, ducking back. “They’re definitely not looking to talk.”
Enor adjusted his grip on his phaser. “Then we don’t give them the chance.”
Draven glanced down at his belt, then grinned as he pulled something free—a compact, cylindrical device with a glowing indicator. He held it up between two fingers.
Enor’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what I think it is?”
Draven’s grin widened. “Yup. Phaser grenade.” He tossed it lightly in one hand before stowing it again. “And it’s the only one we got, Chief.”
Enor exhaled through his nose. “Great. We’ll save that for when things really go sideways.”
Draven nodded. “Oh yeah. That’s called foreshadowing.”
They exchanged a look before pressing forward, weapons ready, moving for the junction and whatever waited beyond it.
"Thirty seconds until reinforcements are there, Chief." Cally's voice stated clearly, then a voice from behind her that was garbled, "Boots are on the ground and moving. Recommend you catch back up to Valleroy. We're going to take a shot away from you, try to redirect some of their people. Hold tight." Her voice was somewhat sing-songy, reminiscent of her time as a shuttle pilot on fire support duty.
Enor barely had time to acknowledge before another voice chimed in, garbled but clear enough: "Boots are on the ground. Catch up to Valleroy if you can. We’re pulling fire off you."
“Copy that,” Enor responded, nodding to Petty Officer Draven. “Time to move.”
Kael smirked. “Was wondering when you’d say that.”
They broke from cover, sprinting for the power junction as phaser fire erupted behind them. Enor’s tricorder beeped—Valleroy’s team was moving the other way.
“Alternate route?” Kael asked between shots.
“Alternate route,” Enor confirmed.
A burst of enemy fire struck a power conduit just as they passed. Enor barely had time to react—he turned, shoving Kael aside as the conduit exploded.
Electricity arced out, searing across his arm and face. The force slammed him against the deck.
Kael hit the floor hard but scrambled up, coughing through the smoke. “Chief?”
No response.
He was at Enor’s side in an instant. Burns scorched his uniform, his breathing shallow. Kael’s usual humor vanished as he tapped his combadge.
“Draven to Chimera! Enor is down—I need an emergency beam-out! Transporter Room 1, medical team standing by!”
The response came quickly, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
"Transporter Room 1 here—slight interference, I can’t get a clean lock. You’ll need to reposition."
Kael clenched his jaw, glancing down at Enor before scanning their surroundings. They had to move.
“Well, Chief, looks like I’m carrying your ass after all.”
He slung his rifle, bracing himself to drag Enor toward safer ground.
Kael pressed down on his combadge, voice tight with urgency. “Draven to Chimera! Enor is down—I need an emergency beam-out! Transporter Room 1, medical team standing by!”
The reply crackled through the interference. “Transporter Room 1 here. There’s interference—your signal’s bouncing. I can get you out, but you need to reposition five meters east, away from the power conduits.”
Kael gritted his teeth. “Fantastic. Let me just drag my unconscious friend while under fire.” He slung his rifle and adjusted his grip under Enor’s arms. “Hold tight, Chief. You’re getting out of here, one way or another.”
As he started moving, he risked a glance behind them—and his stomach dropped. The enemy was moving. Fast.
Figures emerged from the shadows, their tentacled faces twitching as they advanced. Some carried weapons, while others seemed to be watching, assessing.
This wasn’t just pursuit. This was a full-blown attempt to stop them from leaving.
Kael heaved Enor up and staggered toward the clearer section of the corridor. “Transporter Room, we’re moving. Get that lock ready!”
“Understood. Stand by—energizing in three… two…”
The familiar hum of the transporter surrounded them, light engulfing his vision as the beam took hold. But just as the shimmering energy began to disassemble them, something went wrong.
The transporter field flickered, glitched—the hum warped into a dissonant screech. Kael’s body felt like it was pulling in two directions at once. Something was hijacking the beam.
“What the hell?! Transporter Room, we’re not—”
Before he could finish, the beam snapped completely apart—Kael and Enor were suddenly back on the freighter, but they weren’t alone.
The enemy had hacked the signal.
A dozen of the tentacled hostiles shimmered into existence on the Chimera’s transporter pads.
Alarms blared across the ship.
The Transporter Chief’s voice came through Kael’s combadge, panicked. “Draven! They hijacked the signal—boarding parties have beamed onto the Chimera! You have to—”
The message cut out in static.
Kael’s stomach dropped as he looked down at Enor, unconscious and burned.
“Aw, hell…” he muttered.
Now they had two problems.
Kael barely had time to process what had just happened. They’d been ripped out of the transporter beam. And worse, the enemy had used it to board the Chimera.
His instincts kicked in. He smacked his combadge. “Draven to Transporter Room 2! Transporter Room 1 has been compromised! I need an emergency beam-out for two—now!”
A brief pause. Then, “Acknowledged, Petty Officer. Locking on—stand by.”
Kael didn’t stand by. He braced himself over Enor’s unconscious form, gripping his phaser tightly, ready to fight if the enemy got any closer.
“Energizing.”
The familiar hum washed over him, and this time, it held. The freighter dissolved around them, replaced by the steady, clean interior of Transporter Room 2 on the Chimera.
The moment his boots hit the pad, Kael shot to his feet, tapping his combadge.
““INTRUDER ALERT! BOARDING PARTIES ARE ON THE CHIMERA!...... Draven to Bridge! Captain, the enemy hijacked Transporter Room 1—we have boarding parties on the Chimera!”
Red alert klaxons blared as the ship reacted to the security breach.
Kael turned to the transporter chief. “Lock this room down! Arm yourself—we’re not letting them get a foothold here.”
The chief swallowed hard but nodded, reaching for the emergency phaser under the console before sealing the doors.
Kael glanced down at Enor, still unconscious. “Medical team to Transporter Room 2. We need immediate assistance.”**
He tightened his grip on his own phaser, exhaling sharply.
“Alright, Chief,” he muttered, crouching beside him. “You took a hit, but you’re not out yet.”
Now, all they could do was hold position—and wait for the Chimera to fight back.
Aboard the Third Warship – Corridor near bridge
Mark was just beginning to think that things were going well when there was a clanking just down the corridor, almost as if metal doors were shutting. It was confirmed a moment later when Crewman Peterson, checking his tricorder, said, "Lieutenant, doors down the corridor have just shut. If you don't know how to open them, they're going to be a beast to cut through. Now what?"
Mark was just about to comment when he got a message from his comm badge. "Rala to Valleroy. Captain wants you lot back here as soon as practical; we’ve been boarded.”
Mark tapped his comm badge. "Acknowledged," he said, wondering how that had happened and signaling for everyone to gather together. "We're about as close together as we can get. Initiate transport ASAP."
