PNPC Ensign Dunamis - Bravado Misplaced

[Alora DeVeau]

I personally have a hard time figuring out what to do in a ship battle.  @Kaijin445 writes up an introduction that certainly allows more insight.  I always appreciate the way you set up and narrate a scene.  Welcome back!

IC:

 

((Bridge, USS Rahuba))

 

A tactical officer's job was sometimes (sorry, usually) unpleasant in principle. Wherever you fired upon the other ship you risked killing someone, or someones, another few people who wouldn't be going back to their families this time around, or ever, really. Not a nice thought indeed. That being said there was something a little satisfying every time you actually hit your target, like zapping a fly, which was odd. Ish. 

 

Sadly (or maybe not so sadly) that wasn't what Dunamis was doing today. That job fell to his department head; today he was covering at the Engineering station working phaser banks while co-ordinating repairs on the side. Imagine handling and firing deadly weapons while being budget receptionist slash co-ordinator to a multitude of calls about where to go and why coming in every few seconds while clinging on while the giant metal cocoon around you jackknifed its way through the air. That was exactly what the experience was like (sorry, was) for him; he took it in stride, but by whichever higher power existed was it hard. 

 

 

Dal/Zel/Y'zyr: ?

 

 

Maxwell: Here's another for you lad.

 

 

Another phaser blast across the hull and one "miss" near the bridge. 

 

Dal/Zel/Y'zyr: ?

 

 

He'd only just glanced up when a torpedo streaked between the vessels, smashing into hull plating and knocking the coolant remixer of Obsen's ship out of alignment. Or at least that was what his console said. That was good. That meant that his power levels were going to plunge even further and give them a little more time to get him (or get himself to, he supposed) where they wanted him to go. Stamina was the name of the game here and Obsen's was running out. 

 

Maxwell: Oops, was that me?

 

 

Dal/Zel/Y'zyr: ?

 

Ha ha. Funny. At least his department head had some sense of humor, which was appreciated. 

 

Dune: Yes, sir. 

 

His scrawny fingers deftly manipulated and pressed down on the firing controls, and watched with satisfaction as the beams of brilliant orange punctured a small hole in the coolant pipes and a greenish cloud began to billow from the ship. Now not only was the coolant getting dirtier by the second, it was leaking out into the emptiness of space, too. It wouldn't be long before their goal was reached. 

 

Dune: ::glancing down at his console:: Osben's coolant systems are leaking, sirs, I estimate about ten minutes before his warp drive systems fail from overheating. 

 

Dal/Zel/Y'zyr/Maxwell: ? 

 

Though of course knowing their adversary that wouldn't necessarily rattle him too hard. At prima facie he judged Trampis Osben to be an incredibly prideful man who placed himself on a pedestal, who bullied weaker others with his likely ill-earned title and had gotten away with it so often that he was convinced that everyone would cave the same way. The fact that he poured so much power to weapons and offensive systems in lieu of, you know, using it to keep his ship together, said much the same. 

 

The other vessel fired yet again. Dunamis was shaken by the impact, clinging to the edge of the engineering console. 

 

Dune: ::glancing down:: Shields holding at 94%. Hull breach on deck nine, emergency force fields have erected and sealed it for the time being. 

 

Dal/Zel/Y'zyr/Maxwell: ? 

 

No time to waste. Dunamis' palm slapped down on the engineering console, opening a communications channel:

 

Dune: =/\= Damage control teams, this is the bridge. Please proceed to deck nine and effect repairs to the wall located at bulkhead 7A. =/\= 

 

Engineer: =/\= Copy, we'll be there, over. =/\= 

 

That was the easy bit. The need to coordinate repairs was an ongoing one and more would come soon enough and he knew that a little too well. 

 

Dune: Engineering is dispatching a team to the location of the breach, Commander. 

 

The comms rang once more, likely the slimy 'general' with all his bravado demanding their surrender. Persistent, wasn't he, he thought with a sliver of irritation. Some people simply didn't learn the first time round. Oh, well. This was a job for the higher-ups on bridge, not he. Not for a while at least. 

 

Dal/Zel/Y'zyr/Maxwell: ? 

 

Ensign Dunamis
Tactical Officer
Starbase 118 - USS Narendra
0239706DM0