Starfleet Mission Reports: Hunter and Prey

[Matrix Dragon]

No man, that's an Armitage-class. Says so right on the side Although you are slightly right, just not at this point in the story. 
The Jeff Wayne as seen here is the Thunderchild-class, shown in the game as the Heavy Escort Refit, the Commander level escort refit. Hunter and Prey is set in early to middle 2409, not that long after the Romulan Republic is recognised by the Federation and Klingon Empire, so the crazy technological discoveries and modifications of the late game have yet to be implemented and installed. That said, the Jeff Wayne ended up being Priss's actual command (indeed, my mind insists that that was the only ship she captained on a permanent basis, with others being occasional things for whatever reason), so when I hit 50, I had to get it back. Lacking access to a fleet with the resources for the fleet version or Retrofit, I ended up going with the Heavy Escort Carrier found on the C-store. The story explanation is that the Jeff Wayne took some damage, and was refitted and upgraded, leading to a mix between the two ship classes, as shown here.

She's still listed on the paperwork as a Thunderchild-class, because the Thunderchild is freaking awesome and deserves to be respected and included in any War of the Worlds remake.

[Matrix Dragon]

***

As the turbolift began moving, Megan Rossum leaned forward, studying her reflection in the polished door. “Hmph,” she muttered, tilting her head to the side and inspecting her injuries closer. She opened and closed her mouth, resisting the urge to wince at the stab of pain, making certain that the purple mass of bruises and cuts weren't going to do anything troublesome.

Relatively satisfied with the inspection, she straightened up, waited for the lift to come to a halt, and stepped out on to the bridge, finding her Captain currently standing in front of the viewscreen and talking to an Andorian she assumed was the Frozen Summers captain. "I'd prefer to get you out of the area sooner rather than later," the Orion was saying. "And while the Jeff Wayne may not be able to meet up and help you, we still have options-" she glanced over in Rossums direction as the Engineer approached, staying out of view of the viewscreen camera, and was unable to contain a surprised squeak. "What happened to you?" she asked, shifting conversations mid-sentence.

Failing to completely suppress an amused smirk at catching her Captain off-guard, Rossum stepped into the camera's field of view. "Got knocked around by the turbulence earlier," she answered with a shrug. "It happens. Aside from hurting like hell, it’s fine.” Recognizing her Captain wasn’t really buying that claim, she quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, you wanted to see me ma’am? Or should I let you finish?”

Shaking her head, Priss gestured towards the viewscreen. “Captain Shral, this is Senior Chief Rossum, my head of engineering.” He nodded in polite greeting. “Chief, the Captain and his crew are doing what they can, but it seems the damage to the Frozen Summer’s warp drive was a bit more extensive than first thought.”

“We don’t have much in the way of spare parts, and some of what those torpedoes broke, our replicators can’t manage,” Shral replied. “Not with the kind of precision we need to get a proper warp field.” A scowl formed as he shrugged. “And my own chief engineer is worried that there’s still damage we haven’t found, as if there wasn’t already enough to keep us occupied.”

“Constructive paranoia is something of an occupational hazard for engineers Captain,” Rossum commented with what she hoped looked like a friendly and reassuring smile, before glancing at Captain Hanagawa. “Load up a shuttle with a damage control party, quality replicator and parts?” she mused. That got a confirming nod from the redhead, and she looked back towards the viewscreen. "Sir, if your chief engineer could provide us with a basic list of confirmed damage, it should help us get a head start on replicating parts."

Dropping back into his chair, Shral gave the woman an amused look. “I should warn you Chief, when I ask Lucas for that, he’s almost certain to start finding things these… Hirogen, wasn’t it? He’ll find things the Hirogen didn’t break and try and add those to the list.”

Her smile widened into a rather painful grin, and it clearly wasn’t pleasant to look at, given the way Shral twitched, but Rossum couldn’t help it. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it Captain. My people have been doing this for a while. I’ll tell them to try and find the right balance of generous and realistic when making repairs.” Her optimism had the desired effect, as the Andorian on the screen visibly relaxed, and she turned towards her Captain. “I’ll get started on arranging that now ma’am.”

Priss nodded. “Stay on the bridge if you can,” she replied. “We need to discuss a few things once I finish with Captain Shral.”

Nodding in reply, the engineer moved towards the back of the bridge, letting her Captain return to the conversation. She noticed that the Exec was already calling to have a shuttle prepped for launch, so she focused on the people she was sending. Once she was far enough away from the viewscreens microphones, she tapped her commbadge. "Rossum to Gugus. Let M'ven's team finish on the generator. I want your team down in the shuttlebay in ten minutes. Away mission, repairing a damaged Sled-class Andorian freighter. You should have a preliminary list of damage by the time you launch. Oh, try and be a little generous with replicating parts, could you?" she added.

"Sure thing Chief. Mind if I poach Webber?" a male voice replied.

"Only if he's finished that inventory," she answered. "Rossum out." Pausing by the comm station, she leaned over Aunlez’s shoulder. “When the Frozen Summer sends us their list of damage, forward a copy to Lieutenant Gugus.”

“You got it Chief,” the younger woman assured her. Satisfied, the engineer stepped back, taking a datapad out and quickly skimming through the latest updates from her damage control teams. That only took her a few moments, but when she looked up, she saw the viewscreen shifting to the default view of the local starscape, and the Captain turning away from it to look at her.

Guessing the question in the Orions gaze, Megan quickly nodded. “Got a team on the way to the shuttlebay now,” she assured her.

Commander Aniri looked up from her own work. “The Delta will be ready by the time they get down there,” she added.

Priss didn’t reply right away, her expression thoughtful as she looked over Rossum. “If you’d like skipper,” the engineer continued, mildly confused, “I’ve got a damage report ready for you.”

“Good, but while you do that…” Walking over towards the turbolift, Priss retrieved the medical kit mounted on the wall before turning back towards Megan. “Be honest,” she continued with a tone of amused patience, “you haven’t gone anywhere near the Infirmary or a medic yet, have you?”

Scratching the back of her head with one hand, Rossum winced. “Well, no. I mean, it’s only some bruising, and I’m pretty durable…” her attempt at justifications trailed off as the Captain simply looked at her, amusement clearly fading.

Opening the kit, Priss gestured at a vacant seat. “Sit down and let me have a look at you,” she ordered. The older woman quickly obeyed, while the Captain flipped open the medical tricorder. “Now then, your report?”

Suppressing a sigh, and admitting to herself that she’d known all along she wasn’t going to just leave without the Captain either checking her personally or ordering her to the Infirmary, Rossum collected her thoughts and began. “I got confirmation on the way up that all crew members have been located,” she said, going for the hardest part first. “Current count is eleven dead. I know T’Paar’s got several in emergency surgery right now, but I don’t have the numbers there.” She pretended to ignore the pained expression that flickered over her Captains face, as the unwritten rules of the service dictated. Instead, she moved on with her report, keeping both of them distracted.

“Damage on the port side isn’t too bad. Hull breaches have already been found and sealed off. We’re replacing the physical armor now, and it looks like the phaser arrays core elements are fine. Those torpedoes made a mess of a lot of the EPS conduits and the beam emitters themselves, but we can replace those out of spare parts. Current estimate is that we can run startup tests in about thirty minutes, and if that works out, you’ll have portside weapons back at full strength within the hour.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Priss took a hypospray from the medical kit, slotted a drug ampule into it, and pressed it against Megans neck. “That’ll help with the pain and swelling,” she said. “What about the starboard side? And our warp drive?”

Rubbing at her neck where she’d been injected, the engineer sighed. “That’s the problematic part. We’ve identified most of the hull breaches and are sealing them off, we’ll be replacing the armor after that. The primary shield generator on that side is completely gone. That boarding party planted at least one bomb inside the generator itself, and that took out the entire room and the one below it. Also caused some minor damage to the power systems in the area, got Molly tracking them down.” Working her jaw for a moment, she noted with some satisfaction that the pain was indeed fading. “No question about it, we’ve got to replace the whole damn thing. Hell, we’re going to have to build a new floor. Now, we’ve got some spare parts in storage, but most of it’s going to have to be replicated, and it’s finicky enough that it’s gonna take a while… Could be six, seven hours at least before we can try powering up. Maybe more, if we run into more problems.”

Expression darkening at that one, Priss ran the tricorder over the womans face one last time. “Understood. I’ll have our other shields expanded if needed, but if there’s more trouble lurking out under that jamming field, I might be calling you about shortcuts.” Rossum didn’t quite keep the annoyance from her face, but the green-skinned woman diplomatically ignored it. “And warp?”

“Not as bad as shields,” she replied in relief. “For the most part, it’s replacing burnt out warp coils, draining, patching and repressurizing the EPS conduits in the area, checking the software and recalibrating the warp fields. Nothing disastrous, and I’ve got some extra people down there helping. We won’t look pretty, but the last estimate that I got was a little under three hours.” She twitched her shoulders in a faint shrug. “Aside from that, the rest of it is relatively cosmetic.”

Smirking slightly, Priss snapped the tricorder closed. “And I could say the same about you,” she replied. “Despite the mess you made of yourself, your skull is fine. Implants appear to be undamaged as well, although frankly, I’m not as familiar with them as I’d like. You’re fine for the moment… although I am going to have T’Paar schedule you for a proper checkup once the critical cases down there are dealt with.”

Ignoring her subordinates dismay at being dragged into the infirmary, Priss stepped over to the sensor officers station, gesturing for the other woman to follow her. “We’ve been running heavy scans on the Hunter Escort since the shooting stopped,” she explained. “I’d like your opinion on what we’ve found.”

Leaning past Lieutenant Siysye, Chief Rossum studied the display for a moment, opened her mouth, reconsidered, looked at the displays again, then decided to go with her initial assessment anyway. “They’re screwed Skipper,” she said bluntly. The Captain raised one eyebrow, and the engineer matched it with an amused smile. “No amount of shielding, inertial dampening or structural integrity fields is going to hold that thing together if they try even a single grav of acceleration. Hell, the stress marks on the nacelle pylons alone suggest they’ll rip clean off, assuming they don’t vortex the moment they put power into them again.” She rapped a knuckle against the power readings scrolling down a side window. “That’s emergency battery power, no bet, and it’s dropping pretty damn fast. Twenty minutes, twenty-five if they turn off everything else, and they’re gonna lose their environmental shielding. That looks like a hanger bay here-” She tapped a section towards the aft of the ship, “But its doors are wide and open and depressurized. It’s big enough for three shuttles if they’re all wedged in tight, but I can’t imagine they’ve got the EV suits to get everyone left aboard.”

Considering that, Priss glanced at Siysye. “See if you can get a surveillance drone in near that hanger, could you Lieutenant? Best to know if they do try and make an exit.”

“Aye ma’am.”

Letting him work, Priss looked up at Rossum again. “We’ve tried hailing them, but so far, no response. Commanders Aniri and Shinko are planning a boarding action at the moment, but I’d prefer we give them one last chance to surrender before we go in shooting. Any suggestions on how we can get through to them?”

Frowning thoughtfully, Megan looked over the sensor scans again. External communications would likely have been destroyed when the ship was crippled, and she’d put her own money on the internal comm systems being at least severely damaged as well. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing if the Hirogen regularly carried independent comm devices, so they couldn’t just send a signal booster over and hijack those to issue the Captains demands. Although, they had captured the boarding party that had blown up the shield generator. Surely their equipment would work.

A thought occured to her, and she leaned past Siysye to rotate the map, considering the materials the Escort was made of. With shields and jamming fields offline, beaming through monotanium with Starfleet-grade transporters was doable. Taking a moment to think it through, Megan smiled, noting to herself that it was indeed less painful then earlier, then looked towards her Captain. “I think I’ve got a way.”

***

[Matrix Dragon]

***

Something in the vents was burning. Smoke was gathering on the bridge, bringing with it the smell of melted insulation, along with something far worse. Sitting on the edge of what remained of his command podium, Kran watched the smoke drift above his head, slowing moving towards the jagged holes where the viewscreen had once been.

Most of his crew were too shocked by the recent turn of events to notice and understand that detail, but the Alpha found it nearly impossible to ignore. The atmospheric shielding over the hull breaches wasn't working properly, slowly but steadily losing strength. Soon it would likely fail completely, exposing everyone inside to the vacuum beyond.

He had no idea how many of his crew were still alive. Internal communications were supposedly online, but he had yet to hear from anyone that wasn't on the bridge. He'd sent a team down to check on Engineering, but none had returned with news yet. And Kran wasn't entirely sure if it was a possible concussion interfering with his perceptions, but he had the oddest sensation that he was lighter then he should be. If that was true, then the ships gravity was starting to fail as well.

As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he simply could not deny the truth. His ship was dead. Despite his confidence in his crews skill and the power of Hirogen technology, the Jeff Wayne, a single ship, had crippled and destroyed every single vessel his Pack commanded. His legacy, all the stories of his Hunt, wiped away in minutes.

Soon, the survivors around him would realize this, and in their fear and anger, there would be only one possible response. Careful to make certain no one was looking at him, Kran reached down and checked that his sidearm was still in its holster, charged and ready. His index finger slid along the power selector along the side, shifting it to maximum power, enough to destroy even Hirogen body armor.

"Something’s happening with Starfleet ship!" The cry came from the young man operating what was left of the external sensors, and Kran quickly pulled his hand away from his sidearm. Stepping over to the mans station, he watched as the youth adjusted the remaining cameras, zooming in as far as he could. A small shuttle, smooth and sleek, its nacelles part of the vehicles hull despite the usual Starfleet style, emerged from the escorts hanger bay, quickly pulling away from its mothership.

“A boarding party,” muttered one of the other men that had come over to investigate the welcome distraction. It took Kran a moment to put a name to the face. Malec, one of the youths gifted to him a year ago by the Novera Pack. Aggressive, always testing the limits his betters set, and perceptive. And right now, with Hakket off the ship and out of contact, he was likely the biggest threat to Kran out of the surviving crew. "We must have damaged their transporters,” the youth mused with a thoughtful frown. "I wonder how close they'll have to get for that tiny thing to cut through our inhibitors? If we can get a beam array online-"

Kran interrupted him before he could complete the thought. “They would detect it and destroy us with a single broadside. A swift death with nothing gained for it. There are better ways to exploit such an opportunity.” Pausing for a moment, he considered the shuttle. “Although, in this case, I very much doubt that we are their target.” His subordinates expression made it clear he disagreed, but before he could speak, the shuttle accelerated to warp and vanished. “They’re going to the freighter,” Kran explained, in response to the other mans confused look. “Starfleet has a philosophy built around the protection of those that lack the will to fight themselves. It’s common in many Prey species, especially in this region of the galaxy. Pitiful, really.”

Turning away from the sensor station, the younger Hirogen met his Alphas confident expression with an angry glare. “Pitiful?” he growled, the aggression in his voice undeniable. Everyone else on the bridge stopped what they were doing, turning towards the pair. Malec stepped towards Kran, his eyes meeting the Alphas in clear challenge. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention, Alpha,” he continued, placing impressive mockery into Krans title, “but that Prey you’re so quick to call pitiful destroyed one of our ships, and crippled the rest of us!”

Forcing himself to keep his muscles relaxed, Kran met that glare with a smile. “Yes, she did. This Captain Hanagawa has a skill and instinct we’ve never seen in any of the Starfleet ships we’ve hunted before. Even knowing her record, even with her boast and challenge, I never truly believed it.” His admission caught Malec off guard, and Kran continued on before he could recover. “And she exploited it brilliantly. She destroyed the Crippling Blade. The Silent Watcher is crippled. And then, there is us. Well…” Waving a hand towards the viewscreen, he let the damage speak for itself. “And yet, here we are. Instead of boarding us, instead of pressing their advantage, they hesitate. Aliens can be strange sometimes.”

“Then we attack!” Malec shot back. “We end this Hunt, one way or another!”

In the blink of an eye, Krans hand was wrapped around the younger mans throat. Malec gasped in shock as he was lifted up off the deck. “And in so doing, you end our Pack!” the Alpha roared, his formerly pleasant nature gone as if it never existed. “The stories of our Hunt will go unheard and forgotten in pointless death!” His grip on the younger mans throat tightened, drawing a pained gasp from him, before the Alpha forced himself to relax slightly, dropping Malec back to the deck. He gave the man time to catch his breath, then continued, his voice almost unnaturally calm. “Too many of our kin have died today, because I underestimated Hanagawa. I will not make that mistake again. And I will not allow you to do so either.”

Growling, Malec pulled himself up to a crouch, and for a moment, it seemed he was preparing to attack the Alpha. But before he could do so, a new voice entered the conversation. High, feminine, almost musical, it grabbed the attention of every Hirogen on the bridge instantly. “My, my, my. Should I come back later?” Captain Hanagawa asked from where she was standing next to the command podium, hands on her hips, a playful smirk on her face. For several seconds, everyone else on the bridge stared at her in disbelief. She ignored the crew, her gaze focused on Kran. Disbelief faded from his face, replaced first by curiosity, and then amused understanding.

There was no curiosity or amusement on Malec’s face however. Presented with his enemy only a few meters away, he responded in the only way he understood. Snarling a challenge, he sprang to his feet and charged, drawing a large blade from his belt as he closed in. Hanagawa glanced at him for a moment, then ignoring him, returning her attention to Kran. Her reasons became obvious a second later, when the young hunters blade met nothing but air and photons. Thrown off balance by the lack of resistance, Malec kept moving through the hologram, before tripping over the projector that had been quietly beamed over from the Jeff Wayne, and landing on the deck with a cry of mixed surprise and pain. Hanagawa smirked slightly as Kran managed to suppress his laughter. The coughing from certain corners of the bridge indicated that not all of the witnesses were able to do the same.

Stepping towards the Orion woman, Kran considered her thoughtfully. By Hirogen standards, she was impossibly tiny, barely five feet even in heels. Despite that, she still seemed to have the soft curves that so many lesser species seemed to prize in their females, and the black and red uniform she wore seemed designed to point that out to anyone that looked. When he’d first seen her on his viewscreen, he’d dismissed it as another sign of a weak Prey species, a body built for pleasure. But after what she’d done to his ships, he made himself dismiss that and look again.

Under the curves, there was muscle. The uniform was tailored to look appealing, but also allow her a good deal of movement. Her stance was rather casual, but that was because she had no immediate threat to fear. But most of all, he found himself considering her eyes. There was a steel in them he’d failed to recognize earlier, a fire that reminded him of some of the most dangerous Hirogen he’d hunted with over the years.

Now, perhaps far too late, he recognized the scale of his mistake. He’d believed he was hunting a Mistcat, only to see the Hexapuma he’d angered once it was too late. “Captain Hanagawa,” he said, keeping his voice level, polite. “A clever solution to our communications problem.”

While he had been studying her, Hanagawa had clearly been doing the same in return, although he could only imagine what she saw. “Alpha Kran. I believe I owe you an apology.” Her tone of voice was far more formal than when she’d revealed her pseudo-presence. “You proved me wrong today. You and your Pack truly are Hirogen.”

“And you and your crew are no mere Prey,” he replied, before taking a breath. He knew now what he had to do, if he and his people were to survive. “Today, you were the Hunter. I underestimated you. I misjudged you. I led my Pack into the shadows… and I made us your Prey.” Those words, spoken with quiet formality, sent an audible wave of shock through his surviving Pack. It was not just an admission of defeat, but of surrender. But at the same time, he made it clear to all that witnessed this that the dishonor was his, and his alone.

While Kran dared not look away from the woman in front of him, out of the corner of his eye, he could see several of his Pack, their expressions a heartbreaking mixture of horror and respect as they understood. Even if he lived, this was where his legacy would end, in failure and shame. If Hanagawa understood the context of what he had just done, she gave no sign. Instead, she held a hand out in front of her, palm up. Before he could wonder why, another hologram appeared above it. A wireframe schematic of a ship, this ship. Kran studied it for a moment, then failed to suppress a wince as he realised it was even worse than he feared. “She will never hunt again,” Hanagawa said quietly, her own eyes on the schematic. “Even trying to move her would likely break her in half. My chief engineer estimates that you have less than twenty minutes before you lose even emergency power, at which point the hull breaches will kill you all.” She closed her hand into a fist, and the schematic vanished. Looking back up, Hanagawa met his eyes again. “You and your men don’t deserve that end,” she said. “But you know what it will require of you.”

Nodding slightly, Kran managed to keep the despair from his face and voice. “My surrender. You can hardly rescue us from the Void if we’re doing our best to kill you, after all,” he added, managing a faint smile. The Starfleet Captain returned his nod, and Kran took a breath before pressing a button on his wrist comm. “Laurent.”

“Alpha,” came the reply. “We have been delayed by damage, but are almost to engineering-”

“Return to the bridge,” the Alpha interrupted, before switching the transmission to all decks. “This is the Alpha. The Starfleet ship has contacted us. There is no doubt now that we have been defeated. Our ship is dying, and for the survival of my people, I am surrendering to Captain Hanagawa.” For a long moment, there was silence, both on the bridge and several decks below. “All other options kill all of you, for no reason or gain, and I have killed enough of you today. This is my final order as your Alpha, and I expect it to be obeyed.”

For an impossibly long moment, the Hirogens entire world was focused on the silence, as the men several decks below tried to process this new development. “Your Will be done, Alpha,” Laurent replied at last, his voice quiet but accepting. “We are returning now.”

Closing the channel, Kran turned his attention back to Hanagawa. “It is done,” he said, shoulders slumping visibly. “Our ship is yours Captain.”

She didn’t reply immediately, instead turning to look across the bridge and the men that stood there, watching the conversation. “They’re a fine crew,” she said, turning back to Kran. “You should be proud of them.”

Removing his pistol from its holster, Kran thumbed the safety on, then placed it on the command podiums twisted railing. “I always have been. They deserved a better fate then the one I’ve given them today.”

“A wise man once said, where there is life, hope remains.” Hanagawas smile was softer now, almost friendly. “They’ll have a future, as will you. We’ll speak again soon,” she said, before her image began to fade, leaving Kran looking across the now empty space to a disbelieving Malec.

Before the younger Hirogen could speak however, there was a new noise that filled the utterly silent bridge. The humming of transporters. Everyone turned to see a dozen well armed figures in Starfleet uniforms appear across the bridge, carefully positioned to cover the majority of the rooms inhabitants. As the light show faded, Kran held back a smile. Even now, Captain Hanagawas cunning was impressive. The holoprojector had let her speak to him and accept his surrender, but also let her people survey the bridge and determine their exact beam-in locations, and then distracted his people to further reduce the odds that any of them would try something foolish.

Even as the boarding party covered his crew, Kran felt the churning guilt in his stomach diminish slightly. Perhaps Hanagawa was right again. Perhaps there was a future.

One of the officers, a stocky, square jawed human woman with a wide-beam phaser rifle in her hands, stepped forward. “Alpha Kran? Lieutenant Commander Shinko, USS Thunderchild. I have orders to take your people into custody and evacuate them from this ship,” she stated, her voice and body language making it clear that, surrender or no, she was more than happy to use force.

Raising his hands into the air, Kran met her glare with a polite smile. “Well then Lieutenant Commander, we are at your disposal.”

***