Through the Rift

Posted on Mon Mar 22nd, 2021 @ 12:17am by Administrator LordeEmp

Mission: Heroes of the Hov'hurgh
Location: I.K.S Hov'HurgH, Temporal anomoly
Timeline: In between 2383 and 2409

I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones,
Enough to make my systems blow.
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age.
~Radioactive, Imagine Dragons

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktvTqknDobU



“A-a-a-a-b-b-o-o-o-r-r-r-t-t-t,” HoD VaQ’taj ordered, the sound of her voice stretching unnaturally just as the behemoth of a ship shuddered and groaned. Bridge crew raced around the darkened bridge, reddish-orange lighting giving an odd, fiery tinge to the sudden crisscrossing images of that trailed behind them in a blur of movement. As everything began to fade to white, eyes locked to the view screen, at the sight of a myriad of pin-pricked light patterns that flared among the stars.

It seemed that their enemy was already tracking them, seeking them out in an to attempt to end the joint project that issued a loud threat. A partnership that screamed into the void that not all sentients sat back quietly waiting to become food for their twisted race. That there were those in the galaxy that were willing to die if it meant an end to them.

There was no chance to react, even if it seemed like everything around them was moving at blinding speeds, a dangerously small rift opened in front of the ship and dragged the mighty Hov’HurgH, rather unceremoniously, into a maw that led to the unknown. Bright, multicolored streamers of light exploded across the screen, leaving them blind as to what was going on outside the ship, “F-i-r-e T-e-a-m-s t-o E-n-g-i-n-e-e-r-i-n-g!” the red-braided Colonel ordered as her panel fed her information from the drive decks, her face contorting with frustration as she almost seemed to struggle to force the words from her lips.

At the Science station, Daj’Ral’s face was already buried in a scanner. Speaking more rapidly, but carefully enunciating, he responded, “Pow-er sys-tems o-ver-load-ed! Rec-co-mend par-tial di-ver-sion to surge struc-tur-al in-te-gri-ty field foll-owed by hard-drive-shut-down!”

Sparks fell from battered supports above the bridge, raining down electrically charged, flaming bits of grated metal as the bridge crew fought to regain control over the wayward experiment, “S-h-u-t t-h-a-t d-r-i-v-e d-o-w-n, N-O-W!” the HoD’s voice dragged out in the chaos. Along with the reports being shouted from other stations, and the reverberating thrumming of the Time Dilation Drive, it was threatening to shake the short-statured Klingon woman apart to her very bones.

It was like taking a step through the rabbit hole. The First Officer’s station began to light up with minor damage reports from almost every area of the ship. The warning lights on his console trailed and pulsated intermittently. Enough so that at times a filament light trail showed through the button. Some things blurred while others took on an odd clarity. At times he looked at each picture frame of the bridge crew for what seemed like an eternity and at other times things jumped forward just a bit like skipping forward scene by scene in an old holo-vid.

Looking around the bridge the white haired Klingon waved his hand in front of his face watching as it blurred and skipped. The effect made him wonder if this would be how he and his crew mates made it to the dark bowels of Gre’thor.

The constant movement and swirl of duplicates created a brightness that was truly surreal. Pilots strapped in and connected to fighters that dangled from the top of the hangar bays watched as the chaos played out around them. Marines stood at the ready, some of them glancing at each other with wide eyes as the unfamiliar sensations struck them, and the animals in the live pens of the cargo holds as well as the trained targs, shrieked in panic, giving their handlers a fight to calm them.

Sitting at his bridge console, the Flight Commander, Joh’qIj watched as displayed images flashed across the screens in front of him. He observed, as a chroniton wave passed through the launch bays, that it appeared as if the wave affected each person and object slightly differently. Some of the Klingons moved in slow motion, others flashed from one side of the bay to the other in but a moment.

An alert sprang to life on one of his displays, drawing his eyes away from the scene in the fighter bays.

**System Malfunction**
**Alert!**
**Alert!**
**Launch Mechanism not responding!**

Simultaneously the screen displayed an image of the offending mechanism. The Klingon watched in shocked amazement as one of the rotation control units seemed to age and decay before his very eyes in a span of only three or four seconds.

Harried, worried and frustrated, Nahlet fought to force his hands to do his bidding. This was not going according to plan, and he could already feel the HoD’s ire drilling into the back of his skull. He could just imagine the fit; if they managed to survive. As the alarms went off his focus shifted, and he redirected his efforts to trying to engage a secondary tractor system to keep the rotational unit from slipping from the tall launch bay and scattering, or crushing, the small, warp capable, heavily armed ships, and pilots, that it held in place.

For her part, Mack had actually expected something to go horribly wrong with this very ambitious attempt. It was why she called her sister Murphy, the rather petite red-headed Klingon was always fighting the odds, and though she did come out on top for the most part, if anything could go wrong, they frequently did. Besides, even though her Klingon was flawless after so many years living with them, the names were still a mouthful!

Before the jump she had gone through her kitchen with a fine toothed comb, ensuring everything was secured better than a ship's galley on rough seas before heading to the cargo bay where the livestock was kept. At first the animals seemed to deal well with everything that was happening, looking to her and leaning on her calm. But as the panic of the others on the ship seeped past Mack's mental guards she could tell that the larger beasts were getting restless.

Her grandfather's phaser had been one of the few things she'd managed to recover from the wreckage when she'd lost per parents. It was old, and the people she'd gotten to work on it hadn't been able to restore it's full capacity so it didn't make much of a weapon. But the one thing it did do well was stun unruly Targ who were trying to break free of their pens. The broad beam filled the small pen, dazing the rather simple minded beasts, though to anything with higher intelligence it would only cause a mild headache.

The other creatures in her care were both more delicate, and a little smarter so she had to use other methods to calm them. For some she had dosed them with calming herbs, and others she'd given sleeping pills, making note of everything she administered so she could ensure that they had all processed out of their system before she served them anything.

As she walked from cage to cage and pen to pen, monitoring all the animals, a tiny creature followed at her heals, it's black hooves clicking on the metal floor. "It's okay mon petit chou," Mckenna crooned in French to her pet. The tea cup pot bellied Targ had been a gift from her favorite Targ breeder, a hybrid they had developed together by crossing earth's pot bellied pig with the Klingon suidae and then breeding them down in size until they weighed no more than 15 lbs.

With their brown and black stripes and tiny curling tusks, the creatures were adorable, and much to Mack's dismay, delicious. Many now thought them a delicacy, prized for their extremely tender meat that had to be cooked very carefully. But to her, Chou was a beloved pet and Mack refused to serve them, though oddly enough she had no problem killing, butchering and serving his larger cousins.

Dipping down she picked up the small creature and together they watched as one of the small purple eggs that one of her birds had laid opened to reveal a wet chick who's feathers instantly turned to gray fluff before folding back down into the pale purple shell again.

TBC