The last volley of weapons fire from the Memorial collapsed the Keldon-class cruiser’s shields with the last detonating short. The intense light and plasma flash-boiled tons of armor, causing it to blister then erupt into space. The dorsal and port hull plating flash-cooled into long liquid strands resembling some form of modern freeform art made from Swiss cheese. The impulse engines on that side were gone, as were the port phasers. The bridge was missing a bulkhead. She listed and drifted seemingly without any real attitude control. Crippled. Quick scans revealed that their warp power was out, main power was holding but not by a lot. The cruiser was a mess.

The Memorial, on the other hand… quickly recovered the damage to her shields and reloaded torpedoes. With the ship crippled, it was a simple matter to transport the surviving crew into the cargo bay(s).

Maria let out a sigh of relief as she secured the transporters and doors in Cargo Bay 1 and 2. =^=Security teams to cargo bays 1 and 2.=^= With a couple more presses, security fields snapped into place around both bays, locking off all access points except to Starfleet personnel with high enough clearance. “Alright, looks like all the surviving crew are aboard. I’m sure medical has plenty to do,” she reported.

=^=Adama, get your gun and bring the cat in.=^= She added.

“With your leave, we should probably get over there to see what intel we can pick up, and see if she’s sound enough to haul back or we should just scuttle it when we’re done.” It was a golden opportunity to get their hands on first-hand intelligence and get a picture inside Cardassian space and the goings-on there. Her inner spook was practically drooling at the idea.

Lt Beckett, COS/CIO/CAG