"U.C.S. Venture" by Mike (KaT Adams) McCann

The engines strained as the sleek destroyer attempted to pull herself off the sandbar. Captain Nathan Marx shook his head as the rumbling came to naught. "Cut the damn engines. We're stuck. How far off is the Golden Hind?"

Captain Marx didn't even look up at the Nav/Comm Lieutenant when he responded. "They're still engaged with the unknown, but ETA is at fourteen hundred hours tomorrow."

Captain Marx sighed. His back hurt, and standing like this wasn't helping. It was just he was used to action of any sort, or being at white alert which allowed him to get off the bridge. Resting his hands on the railing which surrounded the command position in the center of the bridge, Captain Marx recounted all that had transpired to put them on this accursed sandar.

Nav/Comm swiveled his chair to face the Command post. "Captain, level seven data stream from UCNC coming in, tight band. I'll route it to your ready room." Captain Marx nodded and walked to his private office just off the bridge.

"Marx, Fleet Captain, UCNC authorization Beta Beta Omega." The laptop on his desk activated and he sat down to wait for the message. As luck would have it, the message came through quickly.

On the dusty screen, an image of Admiral LaFitte glared up at Marx. "Greetings Captain. Sorry for the interruption, but shore leave is cancelled." Marx groaned in displeasure. He hated giving bad news to his crew. "Your orders are to head straight for the Persian Gulf, or the Gulf of Allah, as they prefer nowadays. We would like you to support the Graf Zepplin and Yorktown. You and I know those massive carriers can be vulnerable, even with their entire task force. You'll be joined by your sister ship, the Golden Hind a day later. We have the Wraith supporting. You should have no trouble with subs. Just keep the Q.R.E.'s ships away. They're too fast, even for our fighters, to keep from doing damage. You know the drill. Fire until there's nothing left. Then fire some more. My best of luck, and a hazard bonus for the crew. LaFitte, out." The Admiral smiled before she ended the message. Marx stood up, bracing himself for the crew's reaction at the loss of shore leave.

The Venture steamed toward the Gulf of Allah at full drive. The Hydro-Reaction Engines had already kicked in and they were maintaining a speed of seventy-four knots. The Venture could move faster, but Marx could see no reason to stress his ship like that. The captain stretched and was thrown from his feet. As he stumbled to his feet, he shouted over the rumbling caused by the shaking deck, "What in the hell is THAT?!"

Bridge Engineering responded first. "I think the port intake grate blew! She's going to roll!"

"Shut it down! Shut it all down!" Engineering hesitated. "Is there something you didn't understand, liutenant? Screw the cold start problems! Don't you get us rolled! She might not come over!" He flipped the General Address switch on his panel. "All hands, brace for shut-down! Brace for shut-down!" The engines went cold and the ship tilted to its side as the engines acted like speed brakes. 000200000DC000000C33DBA,

Captain Marx lifted himself from under the Tactical Two station and stood on the deck of the bridge. "Sound General Quarters- DAMCON Three! Damage report! All damage control teams, report to DAMCON Three positions!" His second in command repeated the orders to the crew. Marx wiped the blood from his cheek and grimaced in pain when he touched the fast-forming bruise.

Staggering toward his Command post, Captain Marx waved off a med officer. He stood at his station and opened the status screen. The readouts weren't good. And with cold start, getting to the Gulf could take days. "If there aren't any imediate problems, get someone in an assault sub to check out any hull damage. There's none on the screen, but better safe than sunk."

A very wet DAMCON Team thirty-two alpha pressed a breach restraint into place. It would take weeks to completely fix even a six inch square gap without putting into dry dock. For now, they could put a restraint and sodder into place and close off the section. When the intake grate blew, debris had riddled the outer hull, and one particularly malicious chunck had breached the hull. It had been acting as a plug and was only just below the waterline, thank the spirit, but it still had to be removed and the hole patched.

"Bridge, DAMCON Three Two Alpha here. The breach is sealed. Rep Team Alpha and Beta have got the engines in functioning order. Engineering can give the go ahead." The lieutenant closed the connection and slumped to the deck with the others of the team. "Why do WE always get the breaches?"

Engineering nodded when he got Three Two's message. "Engines ready for cold start. The Hind is in position watching the 'flat-heads' for us. All stations, prep for cold start. All stations, prep for cold start."

Captain Marx sighed. Some shore leave. And they'd be days late. "Engineering, cold start my girl; and helm, you get her to that Gulf. Start tactical work, and see if we can find some way to get tube one on-line. I'll be in my ready room."

Marx slid into the one leather chair on the ship, worn and battered as it was. He sighed and checked his reflection in the dark screen of his PDD. His cheek had a nicely colored bruise and a cut to the right of it. Marx accessed his log and opened a new entry.

"Commanding Officer's log- June seventh, 2378. The intake grating on the port engine blew and rolled the Venture. We've recovered and begun to cold start, but getting the core up to speed could take days.

"The Hind Is keeping guard for us as we divert all of our defensive and offensive energy toward the start, but we're still vulnerable. Five fighters are out of us and patrolling, but that does little to ease my mind. With the QRE on patrol, we'll have a tough time evading their sensors without the diffusion field. And without Tube one, we've only got five barrels loaded. And QRE mini-subs come in twelve packs.

"There's another problem. The tracking system was damaged in the roll. We were lucky to have come over, incredibly lucky, but it caused some components to rattle and bang around. The efficiency is down to about seventy percent. And we need every drop to keep up with those sub fighters. They're just too fast for our manual tracking.

"Steering was damaged, as well. One of the rudders has to be trimmed seven degrees starboard. We can't turn as sharp that way now. I hope those subs come from the left, because they will come. They're sharks and we're bleeding- a lot. 000200000DFD000019EDDF7,

"On a positive note, the shut-down did little structural damage, so we'll still have full speed, but I still don't like the amount we're weakened, especially with cold start absorbing most of our energy. I've ordered three non-critical decks evacuated and shut down to conserve energy.

"The engines are still cool, but they'll be hot soon, I hope." He paused to rub his forhead. "Well, I'm thinking of adding a harness to the command ring." He chuckled and grimaced at the bruise under his eye.

A summon tone told the captain he was wanted on deck.

"Log out, off."

"Enigines were lucky, sir. The compressors were still hot. We'll be at speed in no time." The Engineering station smiled and turned back to his post as the Marx grasped the rail around his platform. It felt good to stand in the center of the bridge of one of the UCNAS's most advanced warships. He felt all powerful. Then he remembered being thrown against a bulkhead and dropped under the tactical station due to a weak piece of metal.

"Best foot forward, 'Mr. Scott'."

The engineer looked quizically at the captain, but deciding it was beyond him, he relayed the orders to the engine room.

"Targets lost!" "Tube four not responding!" "Diffusion field breaking up, generator damaged!" "High screws coming in hard port!" "Brace for impact! Decoys away!"

A half dozen noise making, debris trailing pods surrounding themselves with ink and bubbles launched from the Venture's Port side. The Hind was busy with six other sub fighters as Venture warded off it's own half dozen and neither could aid the other.

"Engine three! Laser impact!"

That was the last straw. The Venture had just been in dry dock for trouble with number three just a bare four months ago. Marx clenched his fist against the railing as if it were his death grip. "All hands, prepare for Emergency HRJ." The entire bridge fell silent of situational reports as each officer closed the harnesses around his or her own body. Marx himself ran a quick keystroke, bringing a folded chair with excessive securing welds holding it to the deck up from the floor. He strapped himself in, locking in the control pad over his lap. As another barrage of torpedoes impacted on the ships thick and now weakening hull, Marx prayed the metal skin would hold.

He rested his hand on the tiny glass cover shielding a toggle switch. "HRJ in three," glass open. "Two," finger on toggle. "One," go.

The centrifugal force pushed Marx into his seat as the Hydro Reaction engines used up their store of oxygen and hydrogen pulled from the sea water to cause a powerful rocket reaction to send Venture tearing ahead, leaving the combat zone behind itself.

As the reaction ran out all the crew was already undoing the securing straps and reading out new reports.

"Hull integrity holding at fourty percent!" "Breaches sustained and sealed on decks fifteen, eleven, and ten." "Engines in cooling stage. We're on manuevering jets only." "Rear cannons ready. Tracking only four subs. Looks like two of the formation were a bit too close."

Captain Marx smiled. He'd hoped to catch at least one, but his desire was really to give them enough distance to get a better strategic position on these fighters. They were fast, but the Venture's Hydro Reaction Jump could get them moving faster. "Bring her about. Lock on with our dunder heads. We'll stun the pilots and bury 'em in screws."

The High Destroyer turn in a slow one-eighty, bringing the primary torpedo tubes to bear, as well as the dunder heads. 00020000164C000027E41645,

For those unacquianted with these weapons, let me take this time to introduce you. The dunder head is as near as can be to a weapon of mass destruction. These are concussive weapons used to rip apart large carriers or sea ports. Unguided, the precision drops dramatically, but these were not designed to hit anything hard to find.

In a captain's training, there is a little known technique involving the dunder head payload. It can be used against fighters to stun the pilots. The fighters are so compact and tough, that they have a decent chance of survival, but the shock wave will without fail, at least daze the pilots. This is followed only a moment later by the impact of an immense volley of torpedoes, or 'screws.'

The captain was joined by his first mate, Commander Pyhrraus, at the command console. They both removed keys from their necks and inserted them into the rail.

"Marx, J. V. Captain. United Confederation Naval Service Authorization code Beta Beta Omega. Arm primary tactical weaponry."

"Pyhrraus, K. T. Commander. United Confederation Naval Service Authorization code Rook to Queen Checkmate. Arm primary tactical weaponry."

Four of the six dunder head tubes opened and the warheads screwed into place.

"Fire."

Heavy explosives released from the UCS Venture, causing a shudder as the dunder heads' Hydro Reation engines cut in.

"Fire."

The remaining torpedo tubes fired continuously, thirty-six in all.

The first shock wave sent the torpedoes and the mini subs off course. As the subs sat dead in the water, hell's vengance descended upon them in the form of steel and energy.

"Targets destroyed, the Hind is requesting assistance."

The captain glanced at his first officer. "Engage multiple targets, lasers and screws. Fire."

Somewhere in the Gulf of Allah, two heavy carriers, the Graf Zepplin and the Yorktown, with their task forces patrolled the troubled area. A Galactica class Destroyer Submarine aided in protecting the valuable carriers.

These vessels remained nonethewiser as the QRE's three primary task forces bore down on their position, using a new form of sensor evasion. As the QRE dropped it's masking field, every ship released a volley of weaponry, the first wave destroying over half of the Yorktown's force.

The second barrage stripped away armour from the Yorktown, leaving her soft underbelly exposed to the third volley- a line of Red Flashes, explosives utilizing compressed chemicals that reacted to oxygen, in any form.

The primary explosion was caused as the air inside the ship was engulfed in flames, ripping the hull apart from the inside out. The Secondary explosion came from the sea itself as the chemicals caused it to erupt as if magma and the armoury bays with the magazines became internal detonators. Soon the Yorktown's hard top buckled as the ship split in half, spilling sailors and aircraft into the waters.

At this point the Golden Hind and the Venture, sister ships, arrived.

"Target their commanding vessel! If we can knock out their control system, the rest should fall quickly. As long as the enemy task force is acting as one, we haven't got a chance. Release all fighter subs, fire all weapons!" Marx watched in horror as one of the largest moving objects on earth collapsed into flame and was swallowed into the sea. "Poseidon guard you. Venture to Hind. Lock on and shoot the commanding ship with the dunder heads!"

The Hind released it's dunder heads in a full six payload volley. But at the last moment, a QRE Assault Destroyer intercepted the attack, leaving two dunderheads left on the Venture.

"It's not enough. We can't kill that ship with two dunderheads. We'd need at least four to critically wound it."

Marx considered his options in silence as situation reports filled his ears. He lifted his head and stared at the vessel. It's only three times our size. There's... a chance.

"Commander, do you agree that Carrier is worth every effort?"

Phyrraus nodded. Everyone knew the Pheonix Carriers were not only important tactical advantages, but symbols of UCNS power.

"Very well then. Ship Con, what's the current hull viability?"

"Thirty-seven percent, sir."

"In tons PSM."

"Eighteen point two, sir."

"Tactical Three, give me that ship's armour strength."

"Fifty-two tons, PSM"

The captain did the rough math in his head. "All hands, Abandon ship. Skeleton crew only is to remain. All hands, abandon ship."

The commander relayed the order, but no one moved.

"Captain, are you serious?"

"I gave an order. I haven't made a single suggestion since this mission started, this is not the first! Carry out my order!"

Still no movement. Finally, the tactical officer spoke up. "Sir, if you plan on ramming speed, you need the ship working at it's best, and with all the cross fire, a life pod wouldn't last long anyway."

The captain smiled. Well, some orders just don't get followed. "Helm, give me control."

Helm control was relayed to the command station and the captain armed the HRJ. "All hands, brace for HRJ." The crew strapped in as they faced the main view screen. The project path over lay led straight to the hull of the enemy command vessel. "HRJ in three..."

The ship shuddered as a wave hit them. The Golden Hind streaked ahead of them, it's hull battered and bruised, most of it's surface guns damaged and even the tower trailed smoke as it burned. The Venture's crew watched in horror and awe as the once beatiful vessel pierced the side of the enemy's command ship, ramming through the ships magazine. The explosion of blinding white light caused all to look away.