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Cmdr. Tal Tel-ar - Hit them with your best shot...

Selene Faranfey

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((In a shuttle in space attacking a Borg cube))
:: Tal adjusted his flight path. As he had expected the Borg had not fired on him so their seemed to be little point in his continuing to tax the shuttles maneuvering systems when the enemy seemed to be ignoring him. ::
:: Tal doubled checked the distance from him to the shield that was protecting the Borg cube. Soon… very soon in fact at the speed he was travelling so he reached over, tapped a couple controls and brought up the next song. Just hearing it brought back memories of that beach front tavern that Jason had always been dragging him to back at the Academy. After every beach volleyball game they would relax with a few drinks and enjoy the ancient music that the tavern was famous for. In all honesty it had been the only reason Tal had always joined Jason there afterwards. ::
:: Good memories. Maybe his last if this stunt failed. He aimed the shuttle right at the center of the Borg shield, waited a few moments and then pressed the firing button for the shuttles phasor, holding it down as he felt a big smile appear on his face. Sometimes the universe did have a sense of humour he thought as he listened to the music. ::
Music (Pat Benatar): =/\= Hit me with your best shot and fire away…… =/\=
:: Tal held the firing button down, a continuous stream of energy leaping forward from the phasor emitter to strike the center of the massive Borg shield. Nothing happened! ::
:: Time seemed to slow down as his shuttle continued to hurtle towards certain doom. As it did Tal had the absurd thought that in a few moments the 2 female Marine pilots would get a very graphic demonstration of just what happens when a bug hits a windshield. ::
:: For a moment he almost pulled up, but he ignored the momentary twinge of illogical nerves. Even when the red light started to flash warning him that the phasor was about to malfunction. This had to work and if not then the USS Apollo was doomed. It had about as much chance of surviving an attack by 2 Borg cubes as it did of flying through the heart of a star. ::
:: A loud annoying beeping sound started as the red light went from flashing to solid. The phasor beam fluttered in and out, then died as Tal glanced down at the console in front of him to see what the scanners were detecting. Borg shield was down to 9% but the power level was starting to climb back up as…. ::
KER, BLOOWEY, CRASH, !!!!!!!!!!!!
:: The shuttle slammed into the Borg shield doing warp 6, the Borg cube was traveling at warp 8.5. As expected the Borg shield won the match, but not by much. The shuttle broke through but the front half was totally destroyed, the metal compacted, twisted, smashed beyond repair. ::
:: It’s speed was greatly reduced, a large portion of its left warp nacelle was gone, ripped off in the impact and it’s limited atmosphere was vented out into space from multiple holes, fractures and through the shattered forward viewport. ::
:: What was left of the right nacelle was barely producing any propulsion and that was giving it the credit of the doubt. For the most part the shuttle just drifted towards the Borg cube, moving more and more towards the one side as it did so. ::
:: Bells were ringing, weird flippant bells that were giving Tal a massive headache. He tried to open his eyes, something did not feel right. Where was he? ::
:: Somehow Tal managed to force his left eye open, he was face down on what he thought was the floor, something tugged at his waist and left leg, slowly growing weaker as it did so. He pushed, feeling weak, his arms did not want to respond. It made no sense but he knew he had to move… why??? ::
:: Forget why just do it he thought, pushing, feeling a massive wave of nausea sweep over him. One that had him puking in seconds. His head pounded, it was hard to think and for some reason the puke stayed floating in front of his face. ::
:: He managed to roll onto his side, his vision blocked, blurred by the puke. Why was he wearing a helmet? He had to remember, it was important. He tried to shake his head to clear his mind but that only made it worse. He felt weightless, was he in space? ::
:: He reached up to wipe his face, his hand stopped by the visor, visor? He was wearing a helmet. Why was he wearing a helmet? Nothing made any sense. He needed to see, he fumbled for the lock device at his neck, his hands clumsy, lacking control, feeling his way by memory more than anything else. ::
:: He heard the click, the release and started to pull the helmet off. The puke, air, everything in the helmet was violently sucked out replaced by a cold so deep, so frigid that it instantly made his teeth chatter. It was like dunking his head in the arctic ocean, even the moisture in his eyes started to freeze. Without thinking he pulled the helmet back on, flipping the lock, wondering why he had been taking off his helmet in the first place. ::
:: As the helmet refilled with oxygen his mind cleared enough for him to remember. He was in a shuttle; he had collided with the Borg shield. Somehow he had survived. Was he inside or outside of that shield? He had to find out and he had to do so now. As he thought about it he realized that he had to be inside the shield. At the angle he had been approaching if he had not been able to punch through the shield the entire shuttle would have been destroyed. As it was it must have been a close thing. ::
:: Still he had to be inside the Borg shields and he still had a mission to complete so Tal tried twisting around until he was able to see that the shuttle was a complete write off. The [...]pit and all the controls were destroyed and there were numerous holes in what remained of the shuttles outer hull. His left leg partially lodged into one of the bigger holes. He was on the ceiling, rammed right up against the anti-matter warheads which were no longer so safely secured in place. ::
:: Obviously the trigger mechanism was destroyed, so was the transporter. It was beginning to look like this whole mission was a complete bust, failure. ::
:: He forced himself to sit up. Having to wriggle and squirm as he did so as he had very little space in which to move. It also revealed the fact that his suit had become damaged. Tal reached down to his waist, pulled off the repair kit, removed the small container and pressed it against the damaged section of the suit. It took about half of the sealant but he thought he had fixed the problem. ::
:: He hoped so. Now that he was thinking better he needed to assess his chances. See if there was any way he could possibly salvage this mission. Problem was he could not see anything from where he was and what little he could see was destroyed and useless. He had to get outside the shuttle, see what he could see. ::
:: Looking around he could see that there was no opening big enough for him to get out. He reached to his waist feeling for his phasor pistol but it was gone. A quick glance around showed that he had no idea where it was. ::
:: Now what? He doubted that he had the strength to force an opening in the metal. Not the way he was feeling and he seriously doubted that he could have even if he had been in perfect shape. So how was he going to get out? ::
:: Everywhere he looked he saw destruction, everything from the front half of the shuttle was completely destroyed. How he had survived was a puzzle. As far as he could figure the fact that he had removed the backrest from the pilot’s seat had probably saved his life. Other than that…. It was a mystery. However that did not solve his problem. ::
:: A sudden wave of nausea washed over him and he had to fight to prevent vomiting again. His mind was not working right, fading in and out. He had to have some internal injuries. It was the only thing that made any sense. He closed his eyes, tried to relax, to slow his breathing, his pulse. ::
:: After a few moments he opened his eyes. He still felt like crap but his mind was clearer. Hopefully that would help. It took a few moments for him to realize what he was looking at. There just in front of him was the buckled, shattered, destroyed side hatch, or at least what there was left of it. That was not what had caught his attention. What had were the activation controls for the emergency hatch release. Basically a set of tiny explosive charges designed to blow the hatch off in an emergency. ::
:: He reached forward, groping for the activation switch with 2 fingers, reaching, pushing, wriggling his fingers trying to activate, to hit the button. ::
:: A sudden explosion blew shrapnel in and out of the shuttle. It also created a massive jagged hole, one that he might be able to fit through if he got lucky. Unfortunately a glancing blow had damaged his visor. Now not only did it have puke residue it was cracked with a fine network tiny spider lines. ::
:: Something else was wrong. He glanced down to see a large chunk of metal stickling out of his left leg. His blood was already starting to leak out and float off in tiny little bubbles. ::
:: Tal grabbed the chunk of metal but forced himself to stop before he pulled it out. That was a sure fire way to bleed to death. He spotted the canister of repair sealant floating nearby. It looked damaged, probably in the explosion as it had been working perfectly just a while ago. ::
:: Tal managed to reach it, pull it closer and inspect it. Pain was starting to flair our from his leg. He had to do this and do it now before he passed out so Tal yanked the metal out and activated the canister. Nothing happened, so he smashed the jagged piece of metal covered in his blood against the top of the device, again and again. Suddenly the top broke off and the contents started to come out under pressure. ::
:: Tal stuffed the end into the rip in the suit and felt a hot flash of intense pain as the chemicals in the sealant, sealed off both the wound and the hole in the suit. In reflex to the pain he crushed the canister in his fist, forcing the last of the goo out onto his leg. ::
:: Tal had to fight to get his breath back as the waves of pain threatened to wash over him, drowning him in a flood of agony and nerve shattering delirium. Slowly it passed but even before it had Tal started to move, to pull himself forward, swimming through the weightless interior of the craft until he had managed to wriggle out through the hole. ::
:: Now he could see. He was close. The towering shape of the Borg cube took up almost all of his vision until he turned to look around. In the distance he could see the USS Apollo, still fighting but even from this distance he could see that it was badly damaged. ::
:: This distance…. There should have been no way for him to see the USS Apollo. Not just by looking. They were getting closer. This cube was going to the aid of the other one. The Apollo must be winning. Now more than ever he had to trigger the anti-matter. There was no way the Apollo could survive the attack of the 2nd cube. ::
:: Looking around Tal spotted the photon torpedo attached to the rear of the shuttle. It had not deployed as it should have, probably because the impact destroyed the controls before they could activate the release. It looked damaged but maybe it still worked. ::
:: He forced himself to crawl over the exterior of the shuttle, hand by hand. As he did he could tell the cracks in his visor were getting worse. The residue from him puking was flowing across the interior of the visor to collect along the thin spider web of lines. He had to hurry. No telling how much longer he had and a quick glance up showed they were getting closer to the main battle. He could now see tiny bits of detail on the Apollo. He had to hurry. ::
:: He reached out, his hand touching the exterior of the missile. Using it to pull himself closer, examining it as he did. It was damaged, scratched and dented but still seemed to be in one piece. That’s all he needed. ::
:: Tal pushed, forcing it to move, feeling the pain ripple through him. He definitely had internal injuries. He was going to fail, the Borg were going to win, to assimilate him…… ::
:: NEVER…. Rage ripped through him, the pain serving as fuel. He would die before letting those [...] parasites get their hands on him… He pushed, ignoring the pain, ignoring the weird sensations inside him, pushed with all he had, like his life depended on it. ::
:: The torpedo shifted, altered its angle. Not as much as he wanted but enough that his idea should work. He had to rest for a moment, breathing deeply as black spots danced in front of his eyes. He was going to pass out. He could feel it. He fought it, desperate to stay conscious. His hands fumbling with the torpedo, snagging the damaged side panel, ripping it open so he could activate it. ::
:: Nothing happened, the torpedo just lay there. The Borg would win after all. Tal glanced up to see the Apollo take a massive hit, one that seemed to do more damage than it could take but the edge of the Borg cube blocked out the details, preventing him from telling just how bad the damage was. ::
:: In a fit of rage Tal kicked the torpedo, again and again. The sudden activation of its engines ripped him free from the outer hull of the shuttle as it started to pick up speed, being pushed haphazardly towards the center of the massive cube that towered over him. ::
:: He had to get away. Now that his mission was completed he had to escape. He reached down, feeling for the controls for the propulsion unit. His fingers felt weird and the black spots were back, dancing a weird hula dance before his eyes. ::
:: The controls had to be there. He could feel the propulsion unit still on his back so he kept fumbling at his waist. He could barely breathe. That didn’t make sense. He had a 4 hour supply. He must have lost more oxygen than he thought… that or he was losing some now. Who knew how many holes there were in his suit. ::
:: Suddenly the Borg cube seemed to drift away from him. He must have hit the controls… it was nice out here… so peaceful…. The stars were fading… everything was fading… for some reason his mind drifted back to the music… he had… given the Borg his best shot………………………………………………. ::

Cmdr. Tal Tel-ar

Chief Operations Officer

USS Apollo, NCC-71669

Director of the SDC

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