Terence stared at the light blinking at him on the console. He knew it meant something, but his tired brain was so fogged that he couldn't remember what it might be. What had he been doing before that light came on? Let's see, they had just taken off, he'd sent a message to the Nix', telling them that they were on their way, and then the light came on. Wait! The light was tied in with the message, somehow! That was it! Still didn't tell him what it meant, though. The light was red, that usually meant something bad, so something about the message was bad. Oh, it was the "Delivery Failure" light, that's what it was. So, did he screw up the message somehow? No, everything looked okay. Well, why would they get a "Delivery Failure" light, then?
If it wasn't something he'd done, or any of the shuttle's systems, then it would have to be something wrong with the Nix's system. But text messages almost always went through, and if there was a failure, he wouldn't necessarily know about it. So, why was the light on? The only other reason it could be on, would be if they were being jammed. For that to happen, that would have to mean ---
"Fuck!" Terence shouted. "We're being jammed! There's goddamned Klingons in the system! Get us out of here!"
T'ocha, Terence remembered her name now, jabbed at the controls, activating the evasive maneuvers subroutines in the shuttle's systems. The shuttle veered up sharply in response to the program.
"Tell the others." T'ocha said.
"How?" Terence was wide awake, adrenalin having kicked in as he scanned the instruments for information as to where the Klingons might be. "We just have to hope that they've noticed we've changed course."
"How many Klingons? And what's their heading?"
"Looks like two ships, and they're heading in our direction. It might just be that they're on their way to Neural and haven't noticed us yet."
"We can't take that chance. How long 'til the defense system goes operational?"
"Maybe fifteen minutes."
"What are the other shuttles doing? Have they figured out what's going on?"
"Looks like it. They've each peeled off in a different direction."
"Good. Now, let's hope we can make it to Neural's moon before the Klingons can catch us!"
"Shit! hard to port!" Lincoln cried out as image of the drifting Klingon ship filled the viewscreen as the plasma began to dissipate.
Chi-Chi's fingers did the appropriate dance, and the crew felt themselves jerked as the ship rapidly changed direction and the underpowered dampeners failed to keep up with the demand placed on them. Lincoln's mind raced as he tried to plot their next move. He hadn't expected that they would be within collision distance of the Klingon ship when they emerged. If that ship was still operational, there was little the Nixon could do to successfully outrun it, and no chance that they could successfully repeat their surprise maneuver again.
"Sybok, status of the Klingon ship." Lincoln said.
"They might be fucked, captain. Their shields are down, and they appear to have lost main power."
"Chi-Chi, back off to a safe distance, and then blow them out of space."
"Captain?" Chi-Chi's voice was shocked, with no hint of a double entendre.
"Dat's murder!" Cornrows shouted.
"That's an order, Chi-Chi." Lincoln turned his chair to face Cornrows. "Its survival. Klingons don't believe in surrender. If they can't repair their ship, they'll try and lure us in to approaching their vessel, then self-destruct once we get close enough that they can be certain they'll take us out.
"If we leave them here, they'll do whatever they can to get their ship operational again and come after us. There's two more Klingon ships in this system that we have to deal with, and we have four shuttles with crew members out there, somewhere, just sitting ducks.
"Those Klingons," Lincoln gestured towards the screen. "Are dead already, its merely a question of who kills them. I vote that we do it, and we do it now. Fire, Chi-Chi."