"Linnea Sinclair - To Dance With Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

To Dance With Death
From the Log of Lt. Commander Tamsin McCabe
SD 8819.01
Linnea Sinclair
A bit of fan-fic I wrote, well, check the Star Date: 1988. It was a Trek fandom writing
group, but not 'TV Trek' per se. More like what else was happening in the
Federation... and it was all lots of fun.

The group requested we write an opening log explaining how our characters arrived
on the Endeavor... this is Tamsin and Kyne's first story...
-1-

The woman in the fighter pilot's uniform was small and slender compared to the
men around her. Yet her shoulders were straight with the confidence that comes
from command. As she spoke, her dark gaze moved from face to face, adding a
nod or a half-smile to her words.

"You have it, then? A double-V formation? On my mark as we break."

Five heads nodded at the commander of the Dauntless's Blue Squadron.

"White Squadron will ride shot-gun, mirroring our movements." She tapped at the
com badge on her uniform. "You got that, Rho'kharis? We're counting on you to
protect our asses out there."

"Got it, Mac," drawled a deep voice from another fighter bay. "That is, if you can
keep from bumping into eachтАФ"

"Don't be smart," the woman called Mac cut in. "McCabe out." She snatched her
helmet from the servo-stairs. She wrapped her long auburn braid around her head,
then shoved the helmet on. She activated the com-link. "Gentlemen, let's make
tracks. We've got work to do."

-2-

Helthos loomed large and grey against the darkness of space. Tamsin McCabe
tapped lightly at the fuel mixture control on her fighter as her eyes darted from
scanners to sensors and back out to Helthos again. They'd be launching their fleet
shortly, now. Fleet Intelligence had shown the Helthosians to have some fairly
decent attack craft. 'Stingers', they called them. The name was unimportant to
McCabe. What they could do was not.

"Blue Leader to White Leader," she said into the helmet's mike.

"White Leader," came back the familiar voice. "You're not holding it bad for
amateurs."

"Stuff it, Rho'kharis. Talk to me about what your sensors are picking up."

"A good time to be had by all, is my guess. Why?"