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Description
Task Force Epsilon. Six starships led by the Cairo.

“We're on approach, Captain. Planet ten in the system proper.” Eric reported from his duty station on the Bridge of the USS Cairo. “Captain Billy Yates and the USS Kent are 10,000 kilometers ahead of as ordered.” He paused in that moment to glance back at his girlfriend.

“I can't believe you actually pulled rank with Quint on board the Argus. Nobody's been able to do that since he got promoted ten years ago. Or so the stories say.”

'I've dealt with Class F systems before of this type, Commander. Quint was a glorified paper pusher back at Fleet Headquarters. He has no idea what kind of crap these gamma storms of this type are capable of—especially since we had to push through the outer layers with that old triple shield formula used by Enterprise-Alpha.”

“Tweaked by Yours Truly, my lady.” Eric said with a bit of flourish on his part. “But not as good as say a possible metaphasic shield formula that Doctor Kelly has been working on back at Jupiter Station for the last six years now?”

“Still not field tested or sanctioned by Starfleet Command.” Gloria muttered mostly to herself. Then she patted his empty chair next to her.

“Why don't you come and sit next to me for the next forty minutes while we fly through all this stuff?”

“I thought you wanted some time alone for a change—since our last lunch break together?”

“I changed my mind. I haven't been very good to you lately. I'd like to make up for that shortcoming.”

The man nodded to himself—sliding out of his assigned seat and heading down the large flight of stairs and joining his captain and girlfriend once more.

“You do know I can see most of this on my display screens back at Science Three—right?”

Gloria shrugged innocently. “The view is much better from here. Especially the way the colors dance and flow across the ship's primary hull like a small river. You can't get that with your state of the art sensors, Eric. Sometimes, a visual is much better than algorithms and endless data streams.”

The man nodded slowly. “You're right. It does look better from here.” He said in quiet agreement. Looking around, he saw only a few people manning their stations, but nobody was occupying the third command seat next to them.

The good doctor had retired to his quarters after the last shift and now gamma shift had taken over—for the most part—with some systems automated for the first time in Fleet history: A new design upgrade for the Boramae-class starship.

But nobody was looking at the time Eric took that moment to reach out and kiss his captain softly on the mouth.

“So do you, Gloria. I can't say that enough these days.” He confessed after breaking things off a minute or so later.

The woman blushed a bit at his endearing praise and truly selfless love for her.

“You're just saying that so I can make you apple crumble from scratch.”

“Is it working?”

Gloria Cantwell smiled. “I might need a second opinion, Commander.” She invited then—just before open space broke before them and a Klingon battle cruiser happened to de-cloak right in their immediate flight path.

The view screen blossomed into a few incoming torpedoes after that and the Cairo sustained some ugly hits as a result—interrupting the pair's intimate moment and causing all kinds of bedlam and chaos.

“Jesus...!” Eric yelled as he was thrown out of his seat in a split-second while his girlfriend called the ship and crew to battle stations.

Another Klingon cruiser decloaked off to their starboard port side and started firing on them as well—right before the USS Belarus jumped in to lend a much needed assist—giving the other starship a chance to fight, flee, or recover.

Captain Cantwell hung on for dear life as the ship pitched, rolled, and skewed sharply down to its smallest perigee possible and banked to port to avoid more incoming fire from yet another Klingon battle wagon.

“Crap!” The woman thundered in absolute fear. “Are we outnumbered?!?”

Having picked himself up off the deck and scrambling to one of the aft stations—Eric plugged himself in and started running hot sensor scans of the immediate situation.

“No way to tell, Captain! There's still too much interference from the natural sensor blind the gamma storms of this type are giving off! We have to clear the threshold in another eight minutes at best—before I can get a more accurate picture!”

The Cairo shook and shuddered from repeated hits to its taxed shield grid—even as more of its systems struggled to stay online and fight for basic survival.

“We'll be space dust by that time...!” Gloria called out. “Helm: 60 degree vector at course 171 Mark 3. Full impulse!”

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.

Description
Task Force Epsilon. Six starships led by the Cairo.

“We're on approach, Captain. Planet ten in the system proper.” Eric reported from his duty station on the Bridge of the USS Cairo. “Captain Billy Yates and the USS Kent are 10,000 kilometers ahead of as ordered.” He paused in that moment to glance back at his girlfriend.

“I can't believe you actually pulled rank with Quint on board the Argus. Nobody's been able to do that since he got promoted ten years ago. Or so the stories say.”

'I've dealt with Class F systems before of this type, Commander. Quint was a glorified paper pusher back at Fleet Headquarters. He has no idea what kind of crap these gamma storms of this type are capable of—especially since we had to push through the outer layers with that old triple shield formula used by Enterprise-Alpha.”

“Tweaked by Yours Truly, my lady.” Eric said with a bit of flourish on his part. “But not as good as say a possible metaphasic shield formula that Doctor Kelly has been working on back at Jupiter Station for the last six years now?”

“Still not field tested or sanctioned by Starfleet Command.” Gloria muttered mostly to herself. Then she patted his empty chair next to her.

“Why don't you come and sit next to me for the next forty minutes while we fly through all this stuff?”

“I thought you wanted some time alone for a change—since our last lunch break together?”

“I changed my mind. I haven't been very good to you lately. I'd like to make up for that shortcoming.”

The man nodded to himself—sliding out of his assigned seat and heading down the large flight of stairs and joining his captain and girlfriend once more.

“You do know I can see most of this on my display screens back at Science Three—right?”

Gloria shrugged innocently. “The view is much better from here. Especially the way the colors dance and flow across the ship's primary hull like a small river. You can't get that with your state of the art sensors, Eric. Sometimes, a visual is much better than algorithms and endless data streams.”

The man nodded slowly. “You're right. It does look better from here.” He said in quiet agreement. Looking around, he saw only a few people manning their stations, but nobody was occupying the third command seat next to them.

The good doctor had retired to his quarters after the last shift and now gamma shift had taken over—for the most part—with some systems automated for the first time in Fleet history: A new design upgrade for the Boramae-class starship.

But nobody was looking at the time Eric took that moment to reach out and kiss his captain softly on the mouth.

“So do you, Gloria. I can't say that enough these days.” He confessed after breaking things off a minute or so later.

The woman blushed a bit at his endearing praise and truly selfless love for her.

“You're just saying that so I can make you apple crumble from scratch.”

“Is it working?”

Gloria Cantwell smiled. “I might need a second opinion, Commander.” She invited then—just before open space broke before them and a Klingon battle cruiser happened to de-cloak right in their immediate flight path.

The view screen blossomed into a few incoming torpedoes after that and the Cairo sustained some ugly hits as a result—interrupting the pair's intimate moment and causing all kinds of bedlam and chaos.

“Jesus...!” Eric yelled as he was thrown out of his seat in a split-second while his girlfriend called the ship and crew to battle stations.

Another Klingon cruiser decloaked off to their starboard port side and started firing on them as well—right before the USS Belarus jumped in to lend a much needed assist—giving the other starship a chance to fight, flee, or recover.

Captain Cantwell hung on for dear life as the ship pitched, rolled, and skewed sharply down to its smallest perigee possible and banked to port to avoid more incoming fire from yet another Klingon battle wagon.

“Crap!” The woman thundered in absolute fear. “Are we outnumbered?!?”

Having picked himself up off the deck and scrambling to one of the aft stations—Eric plugged himself in and started running hot sensor scans of the immediate situation.

“No way to tell, Captain! There's still too much interference from the natural sensor blind the gamma storms of this type are giving off! We have to clear the threshold in another eight minutes at best—before I can get a more accurate picture!”

The Cairo shook and shuddered from repeated hits to its taxed shield grid—even as more of its systems struggled to stay online and fight for basic survival.

“We'll be space dust by that time...!” Gloria called out. “Helm: 60 degree vector at course 171 Mark 3. Full impulse!”

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.