LtCmdr Kettick: DDoS

[Alora DeVeau]

Kettick is my favouretest Remmilian in the whole universe!

 

((Maintenance Crawlspace, Deck 9B3/4, USS Eagle))

The Remmilian did not say a word as he locked his console, pulled out his sidearm, and started to open the power cell compartment.

Kettick: Plasma, shrapnel or concussion? I don't have the materials for gas, smoke or incendiary on me. The combat engineer harnesses are only available in the Armory, alas.

Kendrick: The Armory is one deck up. ::checks his phaser:: Which means we have to get creative.

Quite. And that was precisely the unofficial motto of the Corps of Engineers: Find a way, or make one.

Zevash: Response

Doctor Harford was watching him as if he had suddenly grown a smock and a top-hat and started tap-dancing.

Harford: Lt. Commander Kettick, as the umm... officer responsible for keeping you all alive, I'd prefer shrapnel be our last resort option, of the three. ::addressing both superior officers:: If it's all the same to you, Sirs.

The Remmilian nodded. Preference duly noted. But while Kettick agreed with Starfleet values when they professed violence was seldom the answer, he also believed that in the rare case when it was, it was best to answer very thoroughly.

Zevash: Response

Kettick looked up towards the S&T officer.

Kettick: I have a Security qualification, but I do not fancy our chances against two commandos. On the other hand, I believe an improvised explosive in a corridor, such as an overloading phaser cell, to be a very efficient means of pursuit determent, especially if we can use a blast door or forcefield to direct the shockwave towards the pursuers.

Kendrick: I like your thinking, Kettick.

Zevash: Response

As the Remmilian walked towards the nearest hatch door that separated them from the possible hostiles and started preparing their trap, several things happened at once. There was a soft thud behind him, some concerned words by Kendrick... but all of this was drowned by the onslaught of images and sensations that assailed his senses. While some of the creatures were rather cute, the barrage overwhelmed him. His brain was filled with static, incapable of processing anything else.

 

At least, one of his brains was. The rest of his network of neural ganglia, distributed across his organism and completely devoid of any interest about sensory information, kept churning, and executing previous orders. Without any sensory feedback, there was a bit more fumbling involved than a Kettick at nominal capacity might want to be caught dead commiting, but the work was done, and the Remmilian's body took a lurching step backwards, then reached the end of the list of tasks assigned by the central brain and just... stood there, looking like he did not have a care in the world, face impassible as ever and posture uncharacteristically slack.

 

Slack enough that his fingers released the spehere of duct tape, that bounced quietly and happily forward down the corridor, adding the smidgen of kinetic energy the reaction inside needed for the very unstable power cell at its core to go fully critical.

 

The Engineer could only hope that whatever had short-circuited his senses had also affected his sympathic system. Because in a few seconds, when the blast wave from the makeshift plasma grenade would meet a backstop that, instead of a forcefield, consisted in a Remmilian standing in the middle of the corridor and hoping to shield the rest of his team from the wave that would scour the hallway in both directions?

 

That was going to smart like the grand-Queen of all Tuesdays.

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant-Commander Kettick

 

Chief of Engineering

Denali Station

 

G239107LR0

 

Your Engineering department kindly reminds you that you are supposed to read the flakking manual.