06-26-2025, 05:37 PM
“I'm going to try to increase or distance from the comet.” Flint called out over the increasing sounds of alarms as they blared from almost every station.
"Cut the impulse drive, we'll coast out on momentum.” Called back the Captain over the din. “Use visual sensors to navigate if we still have them, otherwise, we keep going straight on."
As this happened, a tingling sensation began to flow over the helm controls. Slight at first, but it quickly began to hum, and then buzz as Chertstone felt it surging through his finger tips.
“What the...” He began to say as he turned slightly to see if the same thing was happening to everyone else. There was a feint green glow that covered most surfaces. He hadn't a clue what it was, but he recalled something. St Elmo's Fire?
He heard a number of yelps as people were getting minor belts from the electrical phenomenon. He didn't have a clue what was happening. All he could do was persevere. The Capitan had said to use visual sensors. In other words; Look out the window.
This was when he concluded that what they were no experiencing might not be related to the comet as he'd first thought.
The viewscreen which would normally give the bridge crew the ability to zoom in and supply tactical overlays was now nothing more than just a big transparent aluminium window now.
Tools are the subtlest of traps. We come reliant upon them, and in their absence we are vulnerable, weak, and defenceless.
So many Starfleet pilots were taught to rely on computer controlled systems to fly by. But Flint in his time had flown many different craft. And had, when able, even flown his own manually controlled mini racer. Which had been left in storage at DS9. This was not going to be a problem to someone as him.
The static discharge however had a different idea it seemed. The strength of the field made it incredibly hard for him to push his fingers against the control surfaces making the tendons on his fingers and wrists ache and reduced his reactions as it pushed him back.
On the screen... In the, window. He could just make out a small point of light. The other Wairaran, thousands of kilometres ahead of them. And he hoped that people with bigger brains than his were already working out how to got them back up and running.
"Cut the impulse drive, we'll coast out on momentum.” Called back the Captain over the din. “Use visual sensors to navigate if we still have them, otherwise, we keep going straight on."
As this happened, a tingling sensation began to flow over the helm controls. Slight at first, but it quickly began to hum, and then buzz as Chertstone felt it surging through his finger tips.
“What the...” He began to say as he turned slightly to see if the same thing was happening to everyone else. There was a feint green glow that covered most surfaces. He hadn't a clue what it was, but he recalled something. St Elmo's Fire?
He heard a number of yelps as people were getting minor belts from the electrical phenomenon. He didn't have a clue what was happening. All he could do was persevere. The Capitan had said to use visual sensors. In other words; Look out the window.
This was when he concluded that what they were no experiencing might not be related to the comet as he'd first thought.
The viewscreen which would normally give the bridge crew the ability to zoom in and supply tactical overlays was now nothing more than just a big transparent aluminium window now.
Tools are the subtlest of traps. We come reliant upon them, and in their absence we are vulnerable, weak, and defenceless.
So many Starfleet pilots were taught to rely on computer controlled systems to fly by. But Flint in his time had flown many different craft. And had, when able, even flown his own manually controlled mini racer. Which had been left in storage at DS9. This was not going to be a problem to someone as him.
The static discharge however had a different idea it seemed. The strength of the field made it incredibly hard for him to push his fingers against the control surfaces making the tendons on his fingers and wrists ache and reduced his reactions as it pushed him back.
On the screen... In the, window. He could just make out a small point of light. The other Wairaran, thousands of kilometres ahead of them. And he hoped that people with bigger brains than his were already working out how to got them back up and running.