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Chapter 13
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Thundersdawn
“Is it just me or did that Goa'uld just do exactly what we wanted them to?”
“It's not you, Captain.” Carter replied with a smile at the wry, disbelieving tone in Peter's voice.
“Hmm,” she shook her head then triggered the station wide speakers, “All hear this! All hear this! We have bogies inbound, ETA 2 minutes, we are now running weapons free.”
It took just one second for the bridge to fill with sounds of final preparations for combat;
“Diagnostics confirm, all weapons batteries green”
“All airtight doors are sealed, Captain.”
“The Asgard vessel has engaged both Ha'tak's !”
“Weapon's locked! Contacts will enter long range in 5 seconds!”
“Captain, engineering confirms all generators on line.”
“Bogies in Long range!”
“Commence Firing!” Peters shouted. The response was instantaneous.
Thundersdawn began shuddering lightly as volleys of laser light left the jury-rigged Pulse Laser cannons. Most missed, at that range it was inevitable, but the Jaffa in their fighters came on relentless, despite the stabbing bursts of energy seeking to atomise their craft, despite the occasional blaze of light as a direct hit was scored.
“Medium Range ! Re-setting Lasers!”
The lasers stopped for a second then restarted anew, the closer range meaning less energy was lost before reaching the Gliders and so Thundersdawns cannons could fire faster and with greater accuracy. It showed. More gliders were destroyed every second, every meter closer they got. It wasn't enough, the Jaffa were too many…
“Short range!”
The pulse cannons reset again, at this short range they were able to fire almost continuously, but then so could the Goa'uld.
Thundersdawn rumbled almost continuously as the Gliders fired repeatedly into her armoured hull. Half of the gliders were gone now, but those that were left we causing significant damage. One enterprising glider pilot had found a blind spot in the pulse laser coverage and had stopped dead in space firing at the same piece of armour again, and again, and again. It gave. Peters was thrown of her seat as Thundersdawn gave an almighty groan and shifted in space, blown backwards by the force of air venting from her hull.
“Hull breach! Corridor 34E and Hold 1 are open to vacuum.”
The glider pilot grinned; satisfied by the damage he had caused, and moved to a new section. Thundersdawn had yet to stop her uncontrolled movements however, and the Jaffa got a temporary reprieve as the targeting computers failed to lock onto their targets, thrown off by the wild movements of the station as one of the largest compartment in Thundersdawn , Hold 1, vented its atmosphere and more into space.
Thundersdawn shuddered again, and with a bang of escaping energy the environmental control console behind Peters exploded, the body of the operator smashing into Peters, forcing her to the ground. She crawled out from underneath the man, and checked his pulse. Nothing, she cursed and got back to her feet, she had a station to look after.
“Jesus!”
The softly spoken moan from the damage control console grabbed Peters attention.
“Report!”
“A Glider just hit the interconnects between Dry-docks 3 and 4, Captain, dry-dock 4… it's gone, it's broken off totally.”
The Captain stood stunned for a moment, under normal circumstances there could be upwards of a hundred and fifty people in each dry-dock. The numbers were lower as the station and the accommodations hadn't yet been completed plus under combat conditions the bulk of the crew would have been moved to the main body of the station, but there were still likely to be about thirty people in the dock.
And as yet, no escape pods.
Thundersdawn shuddered again bringing her to her senses once more.
“Control, get working on those thrusters, we need control back of that stations movement,” the stationed groaned and she bit back a curse, “we need to stop this venting now.”
“Venting is about done Captain, we should regain control momentarily.”
“Sensors just picked up a big explosion captain, someone just died but sensors are too damaged to tell who. Long-range are totally washed out, short-range are struggling with the energy wash from that explosion.”
“That had better be one of the Ha'tak's .” Peters muttered quietly to herself. Not that it really mattered, if it was the Asgard that blew, they would be dead soon enough and if it was the Goa'uld then there was still one target to deal with and they could still end up dead.
Beyond sucking away the fighters, there wasn't much they could do to affect that fight.
Static filled the bridge as the overloaded intercom burst into life;
“Engineering to command, we just lost pulse laser batteries 4 and 9, they're slagged, total loss, the power distribution grid is heating up a lot faster then expected, we need to shut down the rest now!”
“We still have about 20 gliders out there; we can't afford to stop firing, you'll just have to keep those lasers going a little longer” Peters shouted back through the microphone.
“No guarantees captain!” The intercom clicked off.
“Captain, signal from the Asgard, Scratch one, must have been that explosion tactical couldn't identify."
“Captain! The gliders!”
Peters turned to the sensor officer, surprised by the jubilation in his voice.
“They're leaving!”
“Why?” the question was out before she could suppress it.
“Looks like a retreat Captain, as far as sensors can tell they are not regrouping.”
Peters nodded, relieved.
“Cease firing!”
The station rumbled again, “we've just taken a hit! Corridor 12 section 1 exposed to vacuum.”
Shooting Carter a sick look at that she rose from her seat, diving towards the main station status readout covering the half the rear of the bridge.
“Problem?” Carter asked quietly, following her.
“The lasers for that section have been delayed,” Peters replied darkly, “if they blow that section we lose dry-docks one and three.”
“ Prometheus is in number two dock at least.”
“I know,” came the response, “it's the same evil-minded bastard who blew four off I would bet.”
“New contacts inbound, profile suggests Udajeet fighters!”
“Bring the pulse lasers back online,” Peters ordered quietly, “and ready missiles for launch. Let's see if we can't catch a bunch of them with a nuke.”
“Incoming transmission… it's the Yanks! 1st Starfighter Wing.”
“Typical Americans!” Peters shot a relieved look at the Colonel, “always late to the party, sic the tardy bastards on our unwelcome guest.”
“Aye Captain,”
“And start running a systems check, I want a quick rundown on status within fifteen minutes,” she turned to Carter, “its going to be along day.”