10-04-2025, 01:40 AM
[Security, Crewman Halvorsen. Jem’Hadar down in corridor near enlisted quarters. Deck strip reads Deck Five, Section J–One-Two, Frame Six-One-Three-Eight. No other contacts sighted or heard. Standing by for orders.]
One of the newer officers; Art had sent them off to patrol with a more senior office. It was a classic pairing; young was quicker, older was wiser. Tapping her commbadge, the instruction she gave was very un-Klingon-like. “Try to dispatch them from behind,” she said, “Then—” Enemy fire cut through the Yeager’s hull like a warm knife through butter, sending conduits exploding throughout the corridors. The hull of the ship collapsed in astonishing fashion all around them, and the speed at which their propulsion dropped almost threw Art to the floor. When she looked back at the corridor she was in, she blinked at it, as it had changed again.
It was her ship again.
Art sent up a thank you to whatever gods presided over this corner of the galaxy, and didn’t bother to check herself to make sure she was mostly Klingon again. She tapped her commbadge again. “Security Chief to all department officers. Start making your way back, but assist anyone you see along the way towards Sickbay.” Whoever was in Sickbay today, Art had a feeling she owed them a drink. This had to be the third time in as many hours she had told her people to dump whoever the found on the doctors’ doorstep. She resisted the urge to contact the Bridge, and again ask them what the hell was going on. They clearly hadn’t anticipated that last stunt, and this entire race had been a series of surprises. Artemis hated surprises.
Heading back to Main Security, Art now had one thing on her mind: how much longer was this race?
==Just trying to get us on the same timeline as the Bridge==
One of the newer officers; Art had sent them off to patrol with a more senior office. It was a classic pairing; young was quicker, older was wiser. Tapping her commbadge, the instruction she gave was very un-Klingon-like. “Try to dispatch them from behind,” she said, “Then—” Enemy fire cut through the Yeager’s hull like a warm knife through butter, sending conduits exploding throughout the corridors. The hull of the ship collapsed in astonishing fashion all around them, and the speed at which their propulsion dropped almost threw Art to the floor. When she looked back at the corridor she was in, she blinked at it, as it had changed again.
It was her ship again.
Art sent up a thank you to whatever gods presided over this corner of the galaxy, and didn’t bother to check herself to make sure she was mostly Klingon again. She tapped her commbadge again. “Security Chief to all department officers. Start making your way back, but assist anyone you see along the way towards Sickbay.” Whoever was in Sickbay today, Art had a feeling she owed them a drink. This had to be the third time in as many hours she had told her people to dump whoever the found on the doctors’ doorstep. She resisted the urge to contact the Bridge, and again ask them what the hell was going on. They clearly hadn’t anticipated that last stunt, and this entire race had been a series of surprises. Artemis hated surprises.
Heading back to Main Security, Art now had one thing on her mind: how much longer was this race?
==Just trying to get us on the same timeline as the Bridge==