[Makeshift Bridge, USS Enterprise, Vulcan system]
As the ship careened towards the Vulcan system, the Miran Lieutenant at Tactical keyed in the command to activate the shields. A shell of energy leapt into being, its only purpose to protect its lifegiving host from serious harm. Despite its promise of protection, the Miran girl's stomach lurched, tightening into its customary ball as she faced yet another unknown. She gripped the console before her with a fierce determination, unwilling —or just unable— to let fate play out is hand unfettered. There were times in which Lizzie admonished herself as being paranoid of having no faith that things would just play out.
This was not one of those times.
It seemed that the battered spaceship had barely reached its destination before everything went to hell. The deck underneath the Security Chief dropped away as the ship pitched suddenly on its side. Clinging to the console, Lizzie waited the sixty milliseconds for the inertial dampeners to engage, righting the gravity and allowing her to let go momentarily. Enough time to discover who had attacked them and how quickly she could fire back.
There was no obvious attacker on scans, nothing but bits of debris registering on scanners in the immediate vicinity. The attacker must either be cloaked or long range, perhaps having sent a torpedo to knock out their defenses. Her mind ran as she checked over the E's weapons capabilities.
Dorsal phasers? Check.This isn't a typical Borg tactic. They have no real mind for such strategy up close, now when a lone sphere is a match for a whole starship.
Forward torpedoes? Check.A cloaked adversary could be present, perhaps a Romulan war fleet come to enact Reunification by force?
Ventral phasers? Check.Vulcans are known for their fortifications and savvy war machines. This could have been a new automated system programmed to fire on any inbound vessel as a failsafe measure. Or an actively hostile measure, should—
Interrupted by the sound of the new captain, with whom she had knocked heads with earlier, the Miran girl scrambled to mutter a coherent response. She was caught off-guard when the young ensign at the science station piped up in reply instead. A cloaked mine had made mince-meat of their shields, no enemy was in range.
The young ensign at science was obviously oblivious to the cold glare reaching out from the tactical station.
Even before S'rravl called for a damage report, Lizzie's due diligence had looked up the state of the final weapons' and defensive capabilities. Her face contorted into a frown as the console beneath her fingers reported a discrepancy in the aft torpedoes. The girl couldn't remember any such problems reported by her assistant chief's report. She had no reason to trust the Vulcan's competency, but for the moment the Miran Lieutenant chalked it up to battle damage.
The shields, though, the shields were in poor shape. Ventral shields on the forward port side were gone, simply gone, their emitters damaged. Other sections had lost strength while attempting to automatically compensate or from the blast's shockwave. Overall, the E's defensive fields stood at a miserable 27%. Lizzie's frown turned into a outright scowl.
"Weapons' systems look," the Miran paused, considering the full weight of an admission of problems. No, the girl thought, she would deal with it herself. "good. But our shields are at a quarter of their strength."
Glancing around the makeshift bridge, Lizzie took in the stares of the other officers, so many of them too young and naive to have expected any problems. Of course, the Security Chief realized, the Vulcans were allies
. Few of them had experience the true depth of the failure of nobility when faced with few good alternatives. In the darkness, all beings became monsters.
"I recommend we wait here until a full tactical survey of the system can be made."