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“Phasers locked, Keptin. Ready to fire.”
Ford glanced up at the sound of Lieutenant Nechayev’s report. He looked, then, left to the engineering stations. Lieutenant Commander Tolin looked back at him, her dark eyes impassive.
“You’re sure nothing else can be done for ‘em?”
The chief engineer shook her shaggy, white-haired head.
“Nothing, Captain. They’re totally wasted.”
Captain Chevy Ford shrugged a little and looked back to the viewscreen and the targets floating helplessly before his starship. “Very well, then. You may fire when ready.”
The enunciator sounded on the primary weapons console just a split second before a brilliant crimson beam of phased energy whipped out to spear the floating collection of damaged warp drive coils. The fractured crystalline material of the round devices superheated and began to glow under the assault. They then imploded, bursting inward upon themselves and hurtling tiny particulate mater in all directions against the backdrop of storm-filled space.
Chevis hated destroying equipment, even if it was faulty. But he couldn’t really just leave it laying around, either. Anybody could happen across them and take them home. Even damaged warp coils could teach alien engineers things that the Federation might not wish them to find out. Now all that remained of them was an expanding cloud of particles.
Satisfied that one more task had been completed, the captain turned his beaten command chair about to face the weapons console. Lieutenant Daniel Nechayev gazed back at him with light colored eyes. The man only ever seemed to stand up straight when at his station. Any other time one looked at him, he was slumping. Perhaps manning the guns was the only thing that made him happy…
“Any contacts on long range scan, Lieutenant?”
“Negative as yet, Keptin.”
“Good. Keep a sharp eye out.” Ford tossed a look toward the science station. “Surall, you have the conn.”
“Aye.”
As the skipper stood, he winced at the sharp squeak that projected from his bullet-riddled chair. He looked upon his science officer with a beleaguered expression. He’d been sitting in that haggard thing for over a week now. Nearly every other station on the bridge, and indeed the rest of the ship, had been repaired of its post-Gorn damage. Surall stopped close by and pegged him with a puzzled expression.
“Captain?”
“If you can find a small team of maintenance personnel who are not otherwise pressed… have them fix my chair.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Ford headed for the after hatchway, shaking his head as he went. Before leaving the bridge, he paused and caught the comm officer’s attention. “Mister Smith, a word in my ready room please.”
The round-faced young lieutenant whipped his head about to face Ford so fast it might have snapped his neck. With an absent-minded nod, he fell into place behind the captain as a junior NCO took over his post. Both men were silent as they filed through the confines of the security office aft of the command compartment and entered the CO’s day cabin.
Ford left the junior officer standing at attention before his polished oak desk as he went to the synthesizer station for refreshment. “Coffee, Mister Smith?”
Noah looked to his skipper with a mixed expression. Ford wasn’t even looking his way. He just stood there with slumped shoulders before the drink panel. The captain was passed tired, juggling between overseeing repairs, the ship’s tactical situation and his afflicted friend down in sickbay. Chevis had even let his beard and head stubble go this morning.
“Uh… aye, sir. Extra cream and sugar, sir.”
“Like a lil’ coffee in your cream an’ sugar, eh?” Ford joked as he waited for the machine before him to complete its cycle. He turned around with two cups in hand to find the lad still sticking his chest out at attention. Chevy shook his head.
“Oh, have a seat, dammit. I’ll let you know when I want you at attention.”
Smith looked about himself in mild shock and then finally… relaxed. Taking the offered cup, he found a seat and settled into it. Ford reclined into his synthetic leather lounger and sighed openly. He seemed lost in his drink. Noah blew on the contents of his own and cautiously sipped it. The captain’s synthesizer was set to a very hot temp. He seemed to like everything in extremes.
After a few moments of quiet reverie, which made Smith want to get this meeting over with before he said something stupid before his commanding officer, the captain seemed to take notice of him again. He sat forward a little bit in his chair and managed a tired grin.
“Lieutenant, I just wanted to recognize your contribution last week with the comm probe modification you helped with. That idea took some innovation, and you’ve done very well for such a fresh officer.”
Noah swallowed.
“Thank you, Captain. But much of the innovation was Commander Davenport’s.”
“Well… he’s been with me for a while. I expect miracles outta him every week. You out did yourself, though. I’ve made a notice of commendation in my log. That plus a Purple Heart on your first patrol will look pretty decent on your record.”
Smith smiled broadly and nodded to his commander. He then looked thoughtful and glanced out the aft viewport. “Thank you, sir. I just wish all my work had been for a better cause.”
“A better cause?” Now was the captain’s turn to look confused. After a moment, though, he had a clue what the boy meant.
“Aye, Captain.” Smith clarified. “I mean, saving somebody worthwhile, I guess.”
Ford was quiet for a moment, staring at the boy. Moments ago, he might have thought the same thing to himself, within the privacy of his own mind. But to hear that come from a fresh-faced lieutenant; the kind of kid that was supposed to be wet-behind-the-ears and starry eyed; it made him reflect on his own feelings on the subject.
The Gorn had opened fire on them during a humanitarian mission… saving that species’ own children… But knowing the Gorn would have reacted this way in advance, would this have influenced their decision to act? Should it have? How much risk or personal sacrifice was another life worth?
“Mister Smith…” Ford went slowly, his voice carefully attenuated to be calm. He didn’t want the kid to think he was bawling him out. “Every life, even that of a… so-called enemy, is worthwhile. Don’t let the Gorns’ actions cloud that knowledge for you. To forget that ideal is to forget what it is to be human.”
Smith eyed him back, the depth of his captain’s words sinking in. At first he was worried that he’d indeed said something to offend Ford. But after another spell of consideration, Smith just decided to take the advice for what it was. He finished his coffee at a gulp and set the cup on the smooth grain of the desktop. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t let me take you from your duties any longer, Lieutenant.”
“Aye.” The boy stood with the archaic hand salute. Ford returned it, sitting though he was, and watched the young man leave. He feared his own anger toward the alien Gorn might have rubbed off on his crew. Some animosity, hell… a bunch of animosity, was understandable. But to let their anger taint their future actions would be a crime greater than what the Gorn skipper had committed.
Chevy stared at the closed blue door of his ready room, thinking on how he might have handled it all as a junior officer. How would the Gorn attack have maligned his view of the world? What kind of captain would he be now if it had happened back then? And what affect would it have on his judgements tomorrow?
Ford drew another sip from the hot chocolate brew in his hand and mused over his ship’s situation for a time. He had loads of data work he needed to tend to. PADDs were piling up all over his desk. He also had his XO’s share, as Mister Thomas was now far too ill to even pretend to tend to them. Each module detailed a small part of their current situation.
Endeavour was far removed from her home territories. She had no backup, no main propulsion and no communication with home base. They were in a dangerous area of space, filled with gravity flux and plasma phenomena. Their only hope of resolving any of these issues was to transplant half of the warp coils remaining in the port engine nacelle to the damaged starboard pod, thereby restoring warp drive.
Endeavour currently rode a close orbit above a Class D planetoid in a barely stable star system, having been towed there by their former adversary, Captain Dath’mar. Ford’s men had been in the process of performing the ‘coil swap’ for some five days now. Chief engineer Tolin estimated another two before they could test warp propulsion. It was hard not to hate the Gorn for their present predicament. But the entire Gorn race hadn’t conspired to bring this about. Only a single captain’s volatility had done it. And the tiny beings within those eggshells surely hadn’t been to blame. Allowing his anger to influence him would lead only to corruption, he decided.
At length, his mindless reverie now put aside, Ford reached to the data PADD atop the tallest mound and keyed it on. He was just about to bend his mind to the dealings of the fuel consumption rate of a Mark Seven engine when an emergency alarm filled his cabin with noise.
“Medical emergency, Code Blue! Doctor Keller to sickbay, stat!”
Ford passed between the opening sickbay doors at a run, only slowing enough to get through. The far corner of the intensive care ward was crowded with medical staff. All of them were encircled about his executive officer’s bed; each was helping to save his friend’s life. Ford staggered to a halt, his booted feet catching clumsily on the carpeted deck.
He could go no farther. His presence would only hinder his people as they did their duty. And he could not bear to see a friend die. Not again. He stood, staring, mouth agape as another nurse charged by him with a heavy bag of surgical equipment. Ford remained still, listening.
“Set cortical stimulator for two-twenty!” That was Keller’s voice. The small woman could hardly be seen amid the much taller members of her staff.
“Stimulator set.”
“Clear!”
A shot of neural energy echoed through the medbay.
“Still flat-line. No cortical reaction. Slight attenuation of the hypocampus.”
“Again! Clear!”
That sound again. It made Ford’s gut lurch. Ben’s feet jerked spasmodically from the burst.
“Still nothing, Doctor!” Nurse Tyler reported. Her voice was filled with concern and fear. It was nothing compared to the churning in the captain. He fought to remain still.
“Reset to three hundred! Clear!”
And then, again, there came that sound: The electric snap of high voltage neural energy being applied to Thomas’s frontal lobe. The commander practically jumped up from the table. An arm fell from the upper surface to hang limply beside it.
“Still no appreciable reaction, Doctor!”
“We’re losing him!”
Ford felt his heart and mind settle into an unnatural sort of detachment. He could feel the change happening within him. He mentally commented on it, challenged it as though it were not a part of himself. But it presided over his consciousness, accepted or not. It was almost as though the outcome of what went on before him would not affect him. He couldn’t summon up the correct level of pain anymore. Why was he feeling this way?
The drama continued to unfold before him, and he watched as though it were a holodrama. It all felt so… unreal. Was it really even happening?
“Set cortical stimulator to maximum.” Keller seemed suddenly calm now, herself. She stood a fair distance back from Thomas, looking down at the big man’s face. “Clear!”
The burst was louder now, louder than Ford had ever heard it. The sound made him jump, despite his undead malaise. Ben sat straight up on the table amid all of the medtechs and looked around. Ford’s eyes opened as wide as they possibly could. Ben’s met them. Pain and confusion clouded the XO’s expression. With a mighty fist, he backhanded the nearest nurse, sending her reeling to the floor.
The remaining medical staff grabbed the mountain’s arms and began to shove him forcefully to the bed. Thomas struggled against them, growling some inhuman oaths in slurred speech as he pushed at them. Ford rushed over there, then, stepping over the fallen nurse and helping Keller to hold the XO’s shoulders down.
“Sedative!” Keller was almost screaming. Ben was actually lifting himself from the table now. Ford absently wondered if a sedative was such a good idea from a medical standpoint, but never got to voice his musing. Nurse Tyler, the one Thomas had smacked, jabbed her hypo deep into Ben’s neck.
As Thomas sagged back to the comfortable confines of the biobed, Ford stepped back and away. Keller stepped close to the bio-monitor and read off what she saw there.
“He’s stabilizing.” She said.
“What the hell caused that, Doctor?” The blasé was fading from Chevis now. Business was taking the forefront of his mind. Thomas’s rapid decline and violent outburst had stunned the captain. He found himself breathing hard despite the little he’d done to assist.
“The bacterial infection has taken hold in the cerebral cortex. Material from the infected mass is interfering with neural activity, and threw him into what looked like cardiac arrest. He’s alright for the immediate future, but I’m going to have to remove the diseased mass surgically.”
Ford caught the inflection in her last words. He looked sternly into the redhead’s blue eyes.
“And that’s really not going to help in the long run.”
Keller looked back at him fully for the first time, taken slightly aback. She, too, had been frightened by Thomas’s turn. Behind her, Nurse Tyler was being taken care of by the junior techs.
“No. It will only allay the present symptom. And it may not solve that problem for any length of time, as the healing material of the cortex will be even more prone to infection.”
Ford was no doctor, but what he was hearing at least made sense. His jaw jutted in frustration.
“And none of your treatments have made a dent in this infection?”
“No, sir.” Andrea replied. She sagged tiredly back onto the bed behind her. She had been working as tirelessly as he had been. “I’ve tried every known and available serum meant for bacterial disease. I’m now trying to adapt non-related treatments to the current situation.”
“He’s running out of time.” Ford didn’t say it as a question. By now, it was a statement, an observation that needed little evidence.
“Yes, sir. He is. And even if we were to make way now for Starbase, Number One would not live to see their medical ward. I must emplace him in the suspended animation unit.”
The suspended animation chamber required an enormous amount of power, and its long-term benefits were minimal. Often it caused as much damage to living tissue as it prevented if used for too long a period. But his friend had little choice left to him. Ford glanced back to the swollen, red fleshed man and his bruise-encircled eyes. A brief ache filled his stomach and he looked away.
“Whatever you have to do. I’ll authorize it. But don’t abandon your research. We’re bound to be stuck in this soup for a might longer…”
Andrea shook her head in professional defiance.
“I certainly shan’t, Captain. In fact, I was about to request a member of your bridge staff to assist me.”
“Anybody you need.”
“Lieutenant Surall. She is a remarkable physicist, and I’m planning to expand my research into radiation treatment.” The doctor’s eyes were searching, studying her captain for any hint of surprise or resistance. Ford had to admit he was a bit of the former.
“You’re going to treat it like a cancer?”
“My simulations have indicated that this strain of bacteria may be susceptible to various radiations. I intend to pursue whatever may lead to a cure.”
Ford was quiet for a moment. He looked back to Mister Thomas. It took only one more look to convince him. “Do whatever you have to, Doctor. I’ll head to the bridge and order engineering to fire up the SA chamber systems.”
The British doctor tilted her head and nodded graciously as Ford turned and left. She watched the slumping skipper go, feeling her own tiredness all too acutely. With a final glance over at the Number One, laying in a heap on the biobed, Keller stood and headed for the starboard intercom panel.
“Doctor Keller to bridge. Lieutenant Surall?”
“Yes, Doctor.” There was inquiry in the Vulcan’s demure voice. The two of them had barely shared ‘hellos’ since their boarding the ship a month ago.
“Might I have a word with you in my office? I have a task for which you are imminently suited.”
There was only a second’s worth of pause from the other end of the comm circuit.
“On my way, Doctor.”
Captain Ford killed the comm link to engineering and settled into a tired mass into his cabin chair. His quarters were nearly dark, with only the intercom lighting and the standby indicators on the main computer terminal providing illumination. Chevy’s dog, Chinasing, stood on his bunk a few feet distant, patiently awaiting his attendance. Ford spared the Pekinese a soft pat on the head, and returned to his desk. There, he uncorked a long-necked bottle of rum and poured it over a waiting glass of ice cubes. The frozen cubes at the bottom of the snifter began to pop and crack with the sudden temperature change.
Briefly, Ford considered weakening his chosen poison with some cola. He decided against it. He wanted the full effect. Sadly, he was unable to enjoy it.
“Yellow Alert, Captain to the bridge!” Cried Davenport’s voice from the intercom.
For a second, Ford’s concern for the cause of the alert was overridden by his wonderment at Davenport making the call in the first place. When he’d left the bridge, he’d left Lieutenant Nechayev at the conn. Davenport hadn’t been on duty. The captain looked at the antique chronometer hanging on his port bulkhead. It was 1800 hours. He’d lost track of time entirely. By now, Ron would have come on shift, and the tactical officer would have resumed his station. The captain should have been on the bridge by now, following his usual pattern.
His left hand fell to the intercom.
“Bridge, Captain. What you got, Ron?”
“Sir, tactical has picked up a vessel with a very minute sensor profile. She’s incoming at low warp velocity and appears to be making maneuvers to remain unseen.” The voice from the speaker said back.
Ford considered the probabilities. He had a pretty good idea who this might turn out to be.
“Maintain Yellow Alert and order the helm to accelerate our orbit around the planetoid. I’m on my way.” Ford laid his drink back on the desktop and turned for the hatch, snapping up the open front of his maroon duty jacket. A frustrated groan came from the direction of his bunk, compelling him to look back.
“Don’t you give me that.” He chided the agitated, love-deprived old Pekinese. The small dog tilted his almond and ash colored head to ponder his owner’s words. “You signed on for this gig. Don’t complain to me about it now.”
China huffed a complaint at him as he attempted again to move for the door.
“No, you can’t come to the bridge.”
Ford’s companion half-groaned, half-growled another comment. He bounded up onto his hind legs to amplify his statement. Ford leaned in and gave him a nuzzle. “Sorry, buddy. Duty calls. I’ll be back later. The yeoman will be in soon to take you to the arboretum for a walk.”
Giving his faithful critter another affectionate pat, Ford exited his cabin and joined the throngs of crew passing through the corridor, headed for their posts.
“Report.”
Lieutenant Commander Davenport looked at his skipper as he exited the portside lift. Ford walked briskly over to join both the Chief of Operations and the weapons officer in the tactical section of the bridge.
“Definitely one ship, confirmed as one of the Ya’wenn combat ships we encountered at Kovarn.” Ron told Chevis. Ford halted and was quiet for a moment, looking over the monitors spread out before them. The look adorning his ruddy face seemed to suggest that he was not surprised by the Ya’wenn’s appearance.
“Jarn’s people tracked us down.” He commented, glancing up at Davenport.
“Seems so, Cap’n. Maybe that last ship we detected before entering the plasma storm did actually scan us.” That occurrence was well over a week behind them, two days before their run-in with the Gorn. But it had been the last time they’d seen a trace of the aliens. Perhaps they’d scanned Endeavour the very day she’d entered the plasma field. Just knowing where the ship had gone would go a long way toward tracking them here.
“Doesn’t much matter. They’re here now and taking great pains to go undetected.”
Lieutenant Nechayev tapped the monitor depicting the incoming vessel’s profile and energy emissions. “They’re a wery noisy ship at varp speed, Keptin. They cannot know the extent of our sensor enwelope or they vould have slowed to impulse long ago to awoid detection. At sublight, they might have gotten into veapons range.”
Davenport noted the slight twitch of a smile in his captain as they both listened to their Russian security chief’s accent. Few could detect the skipper’s grin when he aimed to hide it. Ron had only learned to see it a few years back. Nechayev likely had no idea the he was providing entertainment.
“I don’t think this guy’s here to throw any shots at us.” The captain began. “I think this feller is part of a larger party. He’s just slipping in here to see what condition we’re in so he can report back to base. So we’ll give him a show. Keep a close, passive eye on him… and cut shields.”
“Sir?” Daniel Nechayev did not like the sound of that order. “Vith out our shields—”
“You can bring ‘em back up if he enters Ya’wenn weapons range. Till then, keep them down.” Ford paused as he watched the tactical chief begrudgingly lower the deflectors. “I don’t think he’ll get into shooting distance, and I want to look as though we haven’t seen him. What’s the status of the repair team out on the nacelle?”
Ronald glanced over engineering’s way, even though he knew their progress by heart.
“Chief Tolin is leading Beta Party right now, with four Workbees and one Type J shuttle. Coil number seventeen is being fitted into the starboard nacelle’s number eight cradle. After that, it’s just three more coils to go.”
After that, though, they would still have to reattach the outer hull bracings, the exterior casing and the EPS power leads to the structural integrity grid. All in all, they liked another two days of round the clock work. The captain knew about how long all of this would take and Ron didn’t bother adding his estimate. Ford seemed to mull everything over.
Endeavour was quite vulnerable out in the open as she was. The inner workings of her nacelles were exposed to space and a good-sized repair team floated alongside with no protection at all. Only her shields would keep enemy blasts from ruining their chances of getting home, and Ford was gambling on leaving them down. But he was also gambling that more ships would soon be on their way to deal out some revenge for stealing back their money and causing some appreciable damage before leaving Kovarn. The more in the dark the Ya’wenn were about Endeavour’s preparedness, the better.
“Like I said, we’ll keep our shields down. Helm,” Ford inclined his face to see the dark haired Bronstien at the forward console, “reduce to standard orbital speed.”
“Aye, Cap.”
Ford laid a reassuring hand on the blonde security chief’s arm. “Keep a close eye on ‘em, Weps. If they twitch, bring up the shields and we’ll give ‘em a whippin’ they won’t ever forget.”
“Yes, Keptin.”
Ronald left Nechayev chewing nails at tactical and paced the captain as he headed for the conn. Davenport continued on to his own post as the skipper took his seat and relieved the junior ops man there. Ford made a puzzled, but satisfied sound, causing Davenport to turn around after he seated himself at operations. Chevy was trying to rock his freshly installed captain’s seat front and backwards, looking it over. Ron grinned.
“So… Is this my same old chair?” The captain asked.
“No, sir.” Davenport answered, not giving any extra detail. Would Ford guess where it’d come from? “Freshly installed.”
“Freshly synthesized?”
“Nope.”
Ford glanced up at him.
“I know we didn’t have one of these in spare parts…”
“No, sir.”
“Then where’d it come from, Mister Davenport?”
“Miss Surall found it in Auxiliary Control. She surmised that no one used it when manning that section, and it was only there for the commanding officer in the event of catastrophic bridge damage… In which case she says the CO can just stand till we get another replacement.”
Impressed, Chevis pursed his lips in a comical expression and nodded with pleasure.
“I never noticed the Aux. Con chair was just like the bridge model… Remind me to give the Lieutenant a raise.”
“Aye, Cap.”
Lieutenant Nechayev listened to the CO and Ops Chief’s idle banter with dismayed disbelief. The two of them acted as though there was not an armed warship closing in on them at warp velocities. Daniel could understand a restrained amount of comradeship, but how the captain and the senior officers carried on was unbelievable at times. Daniel forced himself not to dwell on the matter. After all, the two of them had proven their skill several times since his coming on board. He focussed his attention on the closing contact and tried to allay his growing apprehension.
The Ya’wenn space vessel showed no sign of having discerned any of Endeavour’s earlier actions. Or they’d not given it much thought. He wondered vaguely if the alien’s sensors could even detect Federation shielding at that distance. They reacted as though their sensors were of poor resolution in addition to being short ranged. There were no indications that the incoming ship had activated either its shields or its weapons.
Daniel turned to the two senior techs that manned the aft-facing tac sensors console. Both men were evaluating the Ya’wenn ship’s sensor details and engine emissions. Their drive showed signs of low power strain. They would not be able to maintain their stealth profile for much longer. After who knew how many hours of low current feed, the aliens’ warp coils would begin to overheat. Likely they had already begun to build deposits of carbon within their plasma guides. These people were not a professional group. He wondered if they had been through any sort of organized service training. With the signs he’d observed, he doubted it.
Finally, after three or four minutes of bird-dogging, there came an aspect change in the target. He turned to face the tired CO. “Keptin, wessel is slowing. They have reduced to impulse power.”
“Still incoming?”
“Aye, but they have altered course to a less direct route. They have begun, also, to power down many unnecessary systems.”
“Time to weapons range?”
“Two minutes at their current welocity.”
“Now on visual.” Davenport reported from operations. The alien ship centered on the viewer against a backdrop of roiling plasma clouds. She was one of the more angular Ya’wenn craft, with a sharp nose cone and a wide fantail. Nechayev could count the particle cannon without the need of sensors.
Ford stood again, rising from the new conn and circling back around to the weapons console.
“Estimate on vessel’s tactical proficiency?”
“Seven EM pulse guided particle cannon vith a large coverage gap in her aft ventral arc. Two launchers for impulse powered nuclear veapons. In a stand-up fight, she’s no match for us.”
The weapons officer watched the captain for obvious reactions to his report. He could not read this man. The short, round-bodied man could be a stoic as Russian heroes of old. His face betrayed little he did not want conveyed. This was one of the things he actually liked about Chevis Ford.
At last, Ford nodded and turned back to watch the slowly enlarging warship slowly grow in stature. Daniel continued to count the range to target, growing more alarmed at it came closer to weapons range.
“Now at two million, five hundred thousand kilometers, Keptin.”
This apparently, was close enough for the captain.
“Alright, we’ve given them enough false misinformation on our sensor resolution. Bring the shields up and run an active scan over them.”
Lieutenant Nechayev was so very glad to hear those orders. Waving a gesture to his sensor techs, the tactical officer re-raised the deflectors. “Shields up, Keptin. Target continues to close on us at low impulse.”
“Scanning now,” Came a voice from behind Daniel.
Nechayev watched the sensor graphics suddenly begin to wheel through a series of changes just after the active scan wave passed over them. “Target has noticed our scan. They are slowing to minimum speed… I read tactical systems powering up.”
Ford nodded again, moving, then, back to the conn.
“Hail them, Comm.”
The young Mister Smith’s voice called back from near the port bulkhead. “You’re on, Captain.”
“Ya’wenn vessel,” The skipper began, his voice loud and full of assumed authority. “Halt your approach on our ship or you will be fired upon.”
“Keptin,” Daniel watched as the indicators beside the flashing red blip on his screens began to rise. “They are powering their varp drive engines. They are disengaging at varp factor three.”
“I didn’t think they’d frighten so easily.” Davenport commented.
Ford shrugged.
“I think they were originally here to scout for us. When we looked defenseless, he decided to cruise in for a sucker shot below the belt. I figured he’d have been smarter than that. At least he has a false idea about our sensor capabilities.”
Nechayev nodded along with the rest of the agreeing officers. The captain’s ploy might prove to be a useful one if the time comes. Bobbing along without shields in place before an armed ship, however, made him nervous. He hoped no other demonstrations would be necessary.
“Maintain Condition Two till we’re sure we’re alone out here.” Ford arose from his seat and made for the ready room. “Ron, you have the conn.”
Chief engineer Tolin halted in her booted tracks on the curvature of the outer hull of the portside warp nacelle and answered the beeping comm signal at her chest panel. “Yes, Captain,” her whisper-ish voice responded.
“Status?”
“We’re fitting the next to the last coil now, Captain. Coil alignment will take some time, but the final coil should be installed by this time tomorrow.”
Above her slim, white EVA suit, a team of thruster-suited engineers, flanked by two workbee repair pods, escorted coil number eighteen into its new position within the nacelle. The nacelle itself was open to space. Its armored cowl had been removed for the swapping operation and the entire inner structural framework and internal components were vulnerable to whatever may come their way. The engineer had been informed of the possibility that a Ya’wenn warship was about to come in and trade fire with them. She’d been more than relieved when the bridge officers had updated the situation and told of the scout’s withdrawal.
The captain’s calling so soon after the incident told that the scout’s visit had changed some things.
“I need you to accelerate coil installation and get the nacelle cowling back into place. We’re gonna have more company within the next twenty-four hours.”
Tolin’s balled fists found their way to her waist even though there was no one about to hurl her angry scowl at. Crammed within the bowl-like confines of her EV helmet, her antennae cramped as they tried to coil in response. “Captain! The coils must be aligned! Trying to align them after the structural stem-bolts are in place will take forever. There’s no freedom of movement!”
“I’ve got to make sure this vessel can outmaneuver multiple Ya’wenn warships, Commander. She has to be in one piece with all her parts covered. I can’t even shield the open warp nacelle without that cowling replaced. Get it done, Engineer.”
There was no vehemence in Ford’s voice such as there had been before when disagreeing with her. In fact, her sensitive hearing almost made her sure he’d been smiling when he’d spoken. He was enjoying aggravating her. And she’d risen to the bait.
“Very well, Captain. I’ll order all structural members set in place immediately and get the final coil settled within the next two hours. The cowling will take another seven hours to reattach.” She privately vowed never to be such an easy target for him again.
“Carry on, Commander. Ford out.”
Clumping her way up the long expanse of duranium alloy to her working team, she keyed for their local work frequency. “Tolin to Alpha Repair Team.”
Her eye caught the motion of each of her suited men halting in mid-activity to turn their helmets her way. Even the workbees descending with the waiting coil fired their station-keeping boosters to stop what they were doing. One suited man, Hershey, judging by his size and the phasic scanner head in his hands, reached up to key his own communications.
“’Sup, Boss?”
“Captain’s ordered us to install the final two coils now and get the armor back up.”
Hershey’s helmet and shoulders tilted in confusion.
“He knows how long it’ll take to—”
“Captain says we have hostiles inbound within twenty-four hours. He’s getting us ready for combat. Our job is to get this nacelle ready for that action.” Tolin gave them a stern look even though probably none of them could notice it. “You have your orders. Carry them out.”
“Theleron radiation!” Doctor Keller’s jaw sagged open at the Vulcan scientist’s suggestion. Her English accent echoed slightly within the chambers’ mostly empty confines. Surall, for all of her audacity, merely stood there without preamble, watching the doctor intently. The two were alone. “Are you joking?”
“Vulcan humor is hard to master, but rest assured, Doctor, I am serious.”
“Theleron radiation is deadly to all manner of life!”
“Including the bacteria. The simulations have proven this.”
Keller paced around the length of the laboratory’s main table. Computers and holo-simulators lined the entirety of the workspace, along with all manner of chemicals and test modules. She looked back to the dark-skinned woman, incredulous. “It will kill the Exec. Even in the smallest dosage… the particles would poison every living cell they encountered as they traveled through the blood stream.”
Surall nodded, having come to the same conclusion and thought past it.
“Yes it would. However… Commander Thomas’s blood is not currently circulating. He is in stasis.”
Andrea stopped in her tracks. That thought hadn’t occurred to her. She’d assumed that any treatment rendered would be done outside the stasis barrier. If they could alter the chamber for surgery…
She shook her head.
“The radiation would still destroy every bit of living tissue in the infected areas. And Thomas’s blood is saturated with the bacteria.”
“Then we remove the blood from Mister Thomas’s circulatory system and transfuse him after the procedure. Precise targeting will reduce the danger to living tissue. Lieutenant Nechayev is an expert designer in targeting systems. I’m sure he can assist.”
“There’ll be residual radiation within the body…”
Surall approached the red haired doctor and tilted her head as she studied her.
“I did not say that this method was without risk. I am stating that it is likely Commander Thomas’s best hope for survival.”
Andrea stepped over to a seat by the aft bulkhead and eased into it. The prospects for killing Ben in this procedure were staggering. But if done correctly with absolutely no mistakes… She looked back at the science officer dubiously. “Theleron radiation can only be created within laboratories.”
“My department has been studying the affects of Theleron radiation on solar bodies for two weeks. Our prototype emitter is in its final stages of planning. Were this not a viable possibility, I would not have suggested it.”
Captain Ford snorted in mid-snore at the sound of his intercom. He roused from the ready room couch and sat upright, calling out to the ceiling mounted comm receiver. “Ford here.”
“Doctor Keller, sir.” Responded the English accent. “Am I disturbing you from rest, Captain?”
Chevy had crept into his office just over an hour earlier, after having told the bridge officers that he was going to slip in some shut eye. He had been close to shutting down. He knew the crew understood. But he still felt as though he was cheating them.
“No, Doc. Go ahead.”
“I believe Lieutenant Surall and I have discovered a viable treatment option for the Number One.”
Chevis roused to full wakefulness.
“Go on, Doctor.”
“It will involve the use of carefully controlled doses of a lethal form of radiation. I am patching your terminal the info right now.”
With a grunt brought on by his fifty-six years of age, Ford arose and stepped around his desk. At the tap of a key, he called up the details of the treatment and read over what was involved. He was silent for some time.
“Do you concur with our findings, sir?” Asked the doctor when she decided enough time had passed. Ford slumped into his seat, feeling the leather stretch beneath his weight. He felt just about as stretched as the synthetic hide. He would push for some major shore leave when Endeavour got home.
“Theleron radiation was developed in weapons research, Doc.”
“Yes, sir. But I fully agree with the lieutenant that it may be our only hope of destroying this virus in time.” There was a plea in the surgeon’s voice. Ford shook his bald head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was not an easy choice. But given the capability of this disease to strip away Ben Thomas’s health and totally incapacitate him, it had to be made. He could still hold Thomas in stasis till reaching starbase. But there was definitely a battle coming up in their near future. The stasis unit or the ship’s engine could quite easily be damaged in this conflict. Should either happen, then Thomas was dead.
“Doctor, you’re the one in charge of treatment. If this is what you came up with, and you believe in your capacity to render results without killing Mister Thomas… then by all means, do it.”
“There is also the ethical question of undergoing this procedure without the Commander’s direct consent…”
Ford found himself smiling.
“Trust me, Keller. If given the choice between agonizing death by disease or a quick death from a lethal radiation, Ben would choose the second choice.”
“Very well, then Captain. I’ll require the participation of Mister Nechayev, engineering and the fabrication departments.”
“You’ll have it, Doctor. Ford out.”