EP 3 ACT 2
"It's time," Lirik said. Rebbik winced at the melodrama.
The sinewy half-Ferengi man rose from his seat and peered out of the side window toward the observation booth. Several metres across the hangar deck, behind the smoked glass, Hedrik held up a finger in response and activated the depressurisation sequence.
The atmosphere was imperceptibly sucked out of the large shuttle bay. The runabout's cockpit bleeped and chirped as automatic flight controls kicked in. Lirik resisted checking the flight controls, concentrating on recalibrating sensors for a speedy analysis of their location and surroundings once were clear of the shuttlebay.
Rebbik manoeuvred the small craft toward the doors he had opened while leering at Hedrik just a short while ago, and guided them gently out into the star-strewn blackness of open space.
The communication speakers immediately relayed background hiss, presumably from the Fantasy's external sensor rigged up as the commlink between the runabout, engineering and the bridge. The computer simultaneously gave a negative trill.
"What is it?" Rebbik's hands trembled in anticipation. The space around him looked black and oppressive. The thought of enemy ships flying around the sector paled him.
"Amazing," Lirik said, "I can't verify the originator of the communication signal." He turned to Rebbik for dramatic effect. "Sensors are saying she isn't there. Captain, do you hear us?"
Rebbik, showing off, half somersaulted the runabout in a two second right half back flip to bring them back into position facing the Fantasy. He was hoping to make Lirik feel queezy in the process, but the Yeoman didn't even flinch as he seemed to enjoy the twisting vista.
"Loud and clear," Christian said eventually.
Lirik glanced at the flight controls. "We're positioned behind you. Mister Rebbik has matched course and speed, which is about 300kph. Bearing - about 40 degrees from standard."
Rebbik balked, "How could you possibly know the location of the centre of the galaxy without making a long range scan?!"
"I just do," Lirik stated.
"Copy that," on the Bridge Christian took a mental note of their speed and also of Lirik's ability to sense Starfleet's navigational reference; clearly a Medusan orientation skill. He wondered if the reputable navigational expertise of the Medusans was inbred in him, and if Lirik would therefore come in useful at the helm. No soon as he had spoken, another voice bellowed through the small speaker device, a strong German accent.
"We hear you, too," Leonard chipped in.
"Thank you engineering," Christian drummed his fingers, "let's keep chatter to minimum."
Although the communications frequency was only local, so not detectable for a long time for several light years around them, Christian had no idea what K'Tani sensor technology was capable of.
A few heartbeats later, the Hudson's long-range sensors gave multiple warning warbles.
"Oh no," Lirik brought his hand up to his mouth. Rebbik watched as the computer called up a grid reference indicate the location of the sensor readings. Multiple dots appeared all over the screen.
Rebbik swallowed. "That doesn't look good."
Lirik swooned, but kept his voice steady. "Captain, I'm detecting over one hundred and thirty seven ships on long range sensors."
On the bridge of the Fantasy, Christian bolted out of his seat. "One hundred?"
"And thirty seven," Jackson was equally sickened.
"Affirmative," Lirik's voice spoke crisp and calm through the small box on the armrest, "though I can't identify them. They don't match Federation technology and appear to be following a standard search pattern."
With death-knell like timing, the runabout computer gave a further warning which was audible across the commlink.
"Seven ships are breaking formation," Lirik informed them, watching the grid representation as seven of the green dots bore left and headed toward the centre of the screen. "They may have detected us."
Rebbik shifted in his seat, hands flexing over the controls, ready to take the ship back inside.
"Get back aboard," the Captain's voice was urgent.
Lirik paused for a moment, conscious of Rebbik about to carry out Christian's orders.
"Sir, given my earlier sensor readings, I doubt they've detected the Fantasy," he said, hands flashing across to the central command console mounted in the middle of the cockpit. "I have control," Lirik relayed to Rebbik, whose jaw dropped as he watched his flight control panel dull off line. Lirik turned the runabout hard to port and nosed down, accelerating away from the Fantasy at half impulse. "Captain, if we come back aboard, we'll disappear from their screens. They might search the area for the runabout and discover the Fantasy in the process."
"Yeoman, I gave you an order, turn back to the shuttle bay immediately," on the bridge Christian exchanged a sharp look with Jackson. He turned and stared hard at the silent voice box on his chair, willing it to comply.
A moment later, Lirik spoke again, quieter this time. "I know what I'm doing, Captain. If we can lead them away, they probably won't find you. No further transmission."
"Dammit, you have no means of finding us again," Christian yelled, but the feedback through the speaker seemed quieter.
Narli turned from the communications console, matter of fact. "He's broken transmission."
"Damn him!" Christian yelled.
* * *
On the runabout, Lirik turned to face his compatriot, blinking slowly. "If you swear at me like that again, I'll put you on report."
It was a subtle joke, but Rebbik was in no mood for humour. "You can go to hell."
Lirik checked the sensor grid. "I was right, the alien ships are pursuing us. We've got about ten minutes' head start. They don't appear to have detected the Fantasy."
Rebbik gritted his teeth. "What, am I supposed to pat you on the back?"
Lirik adjusted long range sensors again, re-setting search parameters. "Our action may have just saved the lives of everyone aboard the ship, not that that is likely to mean anything to the likes of you."
"'Our' action? I had no part in it!" despite his anger, Rebbik suddenly felt compelled to know what was happening. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for somewhere to lose them," he said. Rebbik watched the duplicate screen on his side of the cockpit as the Yeoman searched for the right place. With almost computer speed, images flashed across the displays.
"What about that nebula?" Rebbik suggested.
Lirik shook his head. "Too small, but this," he had stopped scanning. "This looks more promising."
Rebbik balked at the outline of a globe twirling on screen - the runabout wasn't close enough for a clear visual - supplemental data streamed under the image. "It's a planet. Are you mad?"
"An M class world, in fact. The star system's only thirty minutes away at maximum warp," Lirik entered navigational commands onto his flight console and the runabout jerked as it jumped to full speed.
Rebbik was fluttering. "But if we land on the surface, surely we're an open target just waiting to be captured."
Lirik was busy storing the runabout's flight path to increase chances of tracing their path back to the Fantasy. "I'm reading unusually high levels of EM activity emanating from the planet. It should play havok with their sensors and give us a chance to find somewhere to hide."
"Er," Rebbik laughed, "in case you weren't paying attention back there, those ships of theirs withstood both fierce EM storms and a wormhole's explosive shockwave with less than a fender scratch. So I hardly think this puny planet's going to stop them."
"It's also slap bang in the middle of a large, active asteroid field, so they'll have a rough ride if they decide to follow us," Lirik flexed his hands and fingers.
"We've got to get through that as well, you know," Rebbik shook his head, he was beginning to think the Yeoman really didn't know what he was doing.
"I'm glad you understand your challenge," Lirik smiled, flipping the pilot controls back to Rebbik.
Rebbik folded his arms in unconscious protest. "How do you know they won't just wait for us in orbit?"
Lirik had thought of that, but banked on the K'Tani not being interested in exerting themselves over one small ship. "Bloody hell, you are so negative, aren't you?"
"I'm part Ferengi!" Rebbik squeeked, then tightened up. There was a moment's silence in which Lirik both held back a snigger and appreciated the gravity of the situation from Rebbik's less experienced point of view.
"Look, perhaps you're right, but I don't have a better plan. Do you?"
Rebbik whirled round to face Lirik, but instead of responding, he just gritted his teeth
* * *
On the observation deck, Christian stood looking out of the viewports with his binoculars. He made a long scan, mostly taking mental note of a variety of star types, then handed the device to a young Bajoran male.
Jackson, beside him, gave a warm smile. "I have a question. If Starfleet Command thought you were ready to go it alone, why do I sense that you're quaking in your boots?"
Christian laughed a little. "I was hoping it didn't show."
"Only to me, probably. Can't be helped. Not every day one finds oneself in the middle of a bloody coupe, now, is it?" She swallowed hard. "You're doing fine, Mister Christian. Better than me, anyway," Jackson was welling up again. He was about to say something, but she silenced him with a tight-lipped shake of the head. "No. I'm your commanding officer. Crying in front of you won't do at all." She inhaled hard then blew a long controlled breath and blinked her eyes hard.
Christian waited a few moments. "Commodore, even if we manage to get this ship moving again, what the hell is our next move?"
"What do you think it is?" Jackson asked. She had her own opinion, but she wanted to hear his. "You made these people one heck of a promise back on Helub."
"I know." Christian sat on the cushioned step beneath a viewport and looked out. "We're Starfleet officers, and this was once a Starfleet ship-"
"And you're a Starfleet captain, so you're going to run this ship the Starfleet way, it's what you've been trained to do," Jackson came to stand beside him.
"Of course," though Christian couldn't actually ever imagine the Starfleet accepting this vessel as one of it's Fleet, "and I need a good crew."
Jackson huffed, "I think you've got that already."
Christian nodded. "They will need a lot of training," he turned to face her, "as do you. No offence."
"None taken."
"And you and I will need to select a command crew."
"And then what?"
"Get Lirik and the runabout back, I suppose," Christian said.
Jackson crouched beside him, her knees clicking. She opted to sit sideways instead. "I disagree. Going after them is not an option in our condition. Even if we could it would simply put the ship in danger. Our priority must surely be to stay hidden."
"Hidden, but not in hiding," Christian brushed some dust from his sleeves.
"So what then?" Jackson urged.
"We need allies. The Tholians?"
"No way," Jackson almost laughed at the proposal.
"Then the Qovakians. They would all help us."
Jackson recalled several overheard conversations. "Not all. During the occupation there were quite a number of Qovakian worlds that co-operated with the K'Tani."
Christian bit his lip. "That poses a security issue - we may have Qovakians from those collaborating worlds on board. Not to mention the Romulan and other non-Federation citizens."
"Other planets in Quovakia managed to negotiate neutrality, but the rest were either decimated or ruled with an iron hand. There were even a few worlds reputed to have been brought into the modern age hundreds of years too soon."
"I would imagine those worlds would be grateful to the K'Tani," Christian watched Jackson think.
"Undoubtedly. Talking of violations of the prime directive, my personal view is that we're already in it up to our necks, so our independent actions are lawful," Jackson was slightly concerned that Christian being a fresher Captain might be over zealous in such matters.
"I agree, except of course if a people have maintained isolation," Christian wondered if they were indeed going to come up against first contact situations. "We should find out as much as we can from the Qovakians about this area of space. Who to trust and what to avoid."
Jackson shook her head a little, this hadn't been the conversation she was hedging for. "So we're going to have to tread carefully and gather intelligence. But to what end?" Jackson pushed him. "What's the mission?"
"The mission?" Christian didn't follow for a moment. "Well, we could be looking for a way to get the Tholians to relay a message back to the Federation."
"Do you think that's possible?"
"It's worth a shot. But we would still be stuck here. We could try and find another way back to Federation space."
"We would still be travelling through hostile, occupied territory, possibly for months. And it doesn't help our people back there."
"The only alternative then is to stay here. To find others and form a resistance," he said, turning to face Jackson.
"A rebellion," a voice said from behind. The Starfleet officers rose and turned to face a figure in the shadows. It was Ganhedra, the whites of his eyes seeming to glow in the darkness around the electric blue of his irises. The rest of his face and body seemed almost invisible. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. You were asking each other about what our next actions should be."
Christian stepped forward, his face firm. "Sir, this is a Starfleet ship under my command. Whatever we do will be my decision alone."
"Of course, of course," Ganhedra approached, stepping into the starlight his features became more solid, more human. "My people are travellers, we know parts of Qovakia well and can advise you, as can some of the Qovakians."
"Your race is not part of Qovakia?" Jackson asked.
"Well, no, not really. Our planet lies at the edge of Qovakia a long way from here. We have so much contact with Qovakians we consider ourselves to be one of them, but we are actually an independent nation," Ganhedra had fallen into drone mode, Christian thought. There were times when this man spoke that he found himself switching off or thinking of something else and missing the last sentence. "A century ago we-"
"Captain, you'd best attend to the engines," Jackson interrupted. Christian nodded and aimed for the door. Ganhedra called to him.
"One last thing, if I please, Captain?" Christian stopped and shook his wrists. The old man chuffed a little. "In this part of space, it is different to the Federation. Its people are different. So are its cultures. Many worlds here have been conquered and peoples oppressed. Things may appear very straightforward, but in fact are more complicated than at first appearance."
Christian frowned at the babble. "Are you trying to tell me something?"
Suddenly the man's face changed to a beaming smile. "Speaking for my people, I just wanted to let you know that we're, er, right behind you. Whatever you decide to do."
"Thanks," Christian glanced at an equally bemused Jackson and departed.
* * *
The Hudson darted between tumbling asteroids above the night-dark side of the alien world. Planet colours always excited Lirik - each one more special than the last. This particular world was tinted yellow and ochre, its upper atmosphere carrying dust from the many asteroids in orbit.
Finally the vessel accelerated through an opening and into clear space. The pilot deftly flipped the ship over (twisting half inverse pike) so that it hung below the asteroid field high above the planet. As they crossed the terminator into daytime, the runabout cockpit was bathed in a yellowy pink light.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lirik observed "It seems the planet has technology which emits an intense sphere of electromagnetic energy that is at opposite polarity to that of the main elements in the asteroids. Thus they are mostly held at bay in orbit."
The runabout juddered slightly. "What was that?" Rebbik immediately thought the motion felt like the vessel had hit something in mid air.
Lirik peered at the sensor readings, then had a thought. He ran an analysis on the composition of the asteroids. "Part of the runabout's hull is the same composition as the asteroids. The energy from the planet is affecting us, destabilising our trajectory."
Rebbik fought to control the bucking runabout, narrowly avoiding collision with an orbiting asteroid travelling at great speed inches overhead. "Is there a weakness in the energy field coming from the planet?"
Lirik was wondering that as well and scanned the atmosphere below. "Over a large desert, the field is weakest there - presumably uninhabited."
Rebbik captured the scanned co-ordinates and banked the runabout down into the upper atmosphere, lowering through occasional fluffy clouds. Several seconds later, the runabout dropped beneath the cloud level. Below, a vast, sunstreaked landscape of desert and plain stretched to every horizon point. The terrain was mostly flat, but occasionally there were layered butresses and a labyrinth of wide, deep crevasses giving way to waterfalls and more lush vegetation many miles below. Here and there, varying sized dimples in the landscape gave evidence of asteroid impact. Clearly at some point the planet had not been so protected.
As Lirik looked through the viewports, he realised what made the spectacle even more wonderous were the hundreds and hundreds of small shadows cast from the asteroid field above that blocked the sun's light in dalmation patches of shade intermingling with those of the clouds. The pattern was wild, and moving quickly across the ground. Lirik wondered what it must be like to live amid such a vividly animated landscape all the time.
Without prompting, Rebbik took the runabout down toward one of the largest crevasses. As they dropped below 1500 metres, the polaric energy eased off to a negligible level. The flight became perfectly smooth.
"There are caverns beneath the planet's surface," Lirik scanned further, "Crikey, it's like a Swiss cheese under there, stretches for many kilometres."
Rebbik smirked. "You don't even have to tell me that's where we're heading."
"Good," Lirik said matter of factly and stretched in his chair. Yawning, he slapped his chops several times then said. "How about a nice cup of tea?"
Rebbik was appalled as Lirik hummed his way over to the replicator.
* * *
"Chow's up!" Jackson called in Starfleet tradition. Christian and the others in the main engineering area gathered around the Commodore and three helpers. Each carried slabs of bulkhead panelling acting as trays to carry a variety of drinking receptacles, jugs of milky green liquid and piles of small gold wrapped items."
"What's this, Commodore?" Christian opened a gold wrapper to find an opaque bar of hard, sweet smelling stuff.
Jackson winced slightly at the eagerly grabbing hands relieving her of provisions. "Someone on Deck 22 found three cases of Risan Sunshine Sticks - they're a nutricious confection apparently."
Christian tried to bite but the substance was rock hard. Resorting to sucking it, he smacked at the odd taste. Something tasted odd. Checking the label he said, "This is five years out of date."
Jackson nodded. "I know, but O'Hara says they're still okay to eat."
"And this?"
Jackson poured the liquid into people's outheld cups. "You know, I've never seen an animal quite like it. It's kind of like a cross between a chicken and a pig, with a bit of fish thrown in."
"Sounds gross. Is this its milk?" Christian tasted it and was amazed to find the taste very similar to cow's milk. "Not bad."
"How are things going?" Jackson asked when her jugs were finally spent. People took the opportunity to relax a little and chat.
Leonard was dunking his Sunshine bar into the milk in an attempt to defy the musty taste. "In this situation I'd recommend a dry dock for about three months. Given that we haven't even got replicators or all the necessary tools and materials, I can't even begin to guess how long it will take us to complete repairs. It certainly won't be up to Starfleet specs."
Christian drained his cup and handed the bar to a smiling Qovakian. The Captain paused for a moment to look hard into the man's face.
"We can't even move?" Jackson asked.
"Oh, we can have impulse engines back on line in a few hours," Christian said. "Only trouble is, there are no safeties. Systems could blow out again, just like the last time."
Jackson looked at the Captain then at Leonard. "That hardly matters, does it?" Christian and Leonard looked at each other.
"I beg your pardon?" Christian tried to say as politely as possible.
Jackson became aware of Cally Warnerburg intently listening nearby. The atmosphere felt tense. "Look, gentlemen. You've said yourselves you can't make repairs beyond your limited means. So we therefore must accept that this ship won't be safe to move in at any time until we can get it into dry dock. Surely you see that it's more prudent to keep moving away from the K'Tani search party?"
Leonard piped up, "We don't actually know that they are K'Tani ships."
Christian stood and walked over to Jackson, lowering his voice. "This ship isn't all we have. There's also the runabout to consider."
"I've already said, that's not an option," Jackson didn't want to get annoyed.
"Well I think it is," Christian replied. "It can help us enormously. Commodore, you said that I was in charge of the ship-"
"Of the ship and the ship alone, that's what I said. I still have seniority, and I say that for the safety of the people we're responsible for we keep going," Jackson could hardly believe her own words, but felt sure her keeping the people safe was more important than the risk of unsafe power conduits.
Christian bit his lip, this wasn't something to back down on. "We're as safe right here as we are moving through space-"
Jackson shook her head, "Uh uh, they could be looking for us. The longer they look, the more chance they have of discovering us."
"Why would they be looking for us? And besides, unless they come close, they detect us. At least if we stay here continuing with repairs we give Lirik a chance to get back with the runabout while also giving us more chances of continuing the journey in one piece. Internal power should be restored in less than an hour. Already we've found a way to get internal communications back on line - won't take more than twelve hours." Christian looked Jackson hard in the eye. "Please, give us time to continue repairs."
Jackson looked at Warnerburg and around at the crew who had all been eavesdropping until she looked up. The idea of capture, of letting all these people down and possibly losing the chance to rescue those captured on Vekaria was unthinkable. "I still say it's unwise. How about a compromise. We wait six hours, and if they haven't returned by then we get the engines back on line."
"Twelve," Christian said firmly. Jackson was about to argue, but then saw the man smile and couldn't help herself.
"You have a lot of cheek, Captain," Jackson said. "Twelve hours, but not a minute more." With that she turned and departed.
Warnerburg stepped closer. "She can't mean that, surely? If we don't finish repairs what happened to Jaz could happen to any of the rest of us," she hoped Christian would change things.
"I know. But she's also correct in one respect, we mustn't sacrifice ourselves just for two people and a runabout. Many more people here are depending on us."
A flash of light from one of the dilithium chambers below the deck and a short scream heralded another in a long line of minor accidents. It was the Romulan - for the second time - he appeared to have a wounded hand.
"Get that seen to," Christian bellowed as the wincingly controlled young soldier emerged from the warp core.
* * *
Rebbik skimmed the reeds bordering a narrow stream at the bottom of a massive crevass. The shady creek was only ten metres or so wide, but he handled the controls with ease. Their destination was a series of pock holes in a distant rock face which gave way to an intricate maze beyond.
As Rebbik was about to lean back and relax, Lirik spotted something in the sky way above. "Oh, no."
In the shafts of occasional sunshine pouring from the cloud and asteroid peppered sky above, the K'Tani vessel's hull exterior shone an almost silky sheen, a two-tone enamelled shell with small bumps dotted across its surface - presumably K'Tani ships could retract the needle-like devices they displayed around Vekaria, Lirik thought. Its path seemed slow and considered, almost as if it hadn't seen them.
"Oh, shit," Rebbik felt their location didn't give them any room to manoeuvre.
"I don't think they see us," Lirik guessed. "We can still make it."
Ribbik didn't argue this time, Lirik noticed. The cavern's interior reminded him of an endoscopic view of muscle tissue or like the formed structure of a sponge. Thousands of long, twisted strands and pillars knitted together and splaying themselves in a horizon-clutching, insane jungle gym. The lime-white, almost vertebral structures were lit by many small pock holes in the planet's surface high above. The runabout's path ahead looked like a forest of giant's bones.
Leaving Rebbik to concentrate on navigating the complex structure, Lirik continued his scans. "The electromagnetic energy the planet exudes is not naturally occurring. I'm detecting definite focus points of origin around the meridian. And man-made structures. The nearest one is about 300 kilometres from here."
Rebbik nodded at his display. "Got it. Are they following us?"
"Not that I can see," Lirik said with omen-like timing as the runabout trilled and the vessel shook slightly. Rebbik instinctively reached for the shield controls, but Lirik had been a split second faster. "We're being fired upon from above! They're dropping some kind of explosive through the holes in the canopy above. Wait, not us, they're trying to destroy the structure instead."
Although rocks tumbled down from above, remarkably, the almost delicate looking structure was taking quite a pounding and managing to hold itself together. Shards broke away and fell, and dust billowed from strike points. "The mineral composition of the rocks are virtually impervious to the blasts. We're safe for now." The firing stopped. It was replaced by a beam of red light that lanced down from above and began searching them out.
As the beam passed across them, the shields fizzled slightly. "Shields down ten percent. This really isn't fair," Lirik said, reaching for the tepid cup and sipping at his tea.
Rebbik was working hard manouevring the ship through the complex structures, trying to take the runabout deep enough to shelter from the destructive light. The only way of doing that was to enter the darkest spaces that crept into seeming infinity below them. Rebbik remarked to himself about the ambiguity of contrast between the oppressive feeling of open space and that of closed spaces deep beneath the ground. They hadn't even travelled two of the 300 kilometres yet.
* * *
Hedrik popped her head out of the pit beneath the communication station's bridge post, nail file in her mouth. She was standing amid a nest of wiring and control boards, balancing on the balls of her feet upon two support struts. "Try it now, Commodore," she motioned over her shoulder.
Jackson, sweat-stained and dirty sat in the Captain's chair. She and Souveson were still chuckling at the noises of hunger coming from Professor Karnak's stomach. Despite the physical need for food, the food and milk offered to her earlier she described as unpalatable - her face and demeanour had remained impassive throughout. The Vulcan-trained human had unwittingly compounded the situation when she stated that she would not be offended at their fun, that she understood their emotional needs for amusement in a frightening situation and explained that controlling such primal automatic responses such as hunger was virtually impossible for human students of Vulcan teaching. The statement had been followed by the longest and loudest of belly groans which had fair split the bridge team in half. It was a welcome respite to the tension and sense of doom about their situation.
"Bridge to Sick Bay," Jackson said.
Immediately, a clear response range out from the bridge speakers around and above them. "This isn't Sick Bay. Sick Bay has no beds and no equipment. We're in what appears to have once been a beauty spa." Decks below, O'Hara, sleeves rolled up, hair re-tied in a tighter bun, stood hands on hips, impatiently diverted from her medical duties. Her uniform was disgracefully blood-stained, but with no other clothes there was little she could do. Vostaline had offered her a spare dress, but O'Hara somehow couldn't bring herself to agree to wear such a rustic looking amalgam of materials.
Jackson almost enjoyed her sarcasm, but didn't verbalise. "Bridge to Engineering."
"Engineering here," Christian called over from the piece of wall he was carefully reassembling.
Engineering and Sick Bay completed their tests successfully and Christian called back to the Bridge. "Commodore, Mister Leonard and I would like to know how Miss Hedrik managed to get the voice interface back on line so quickly?"
Hedrik removed the nail file from her lips and unconsciously filed down a nail without looking at it. "Once I realised that the network which had been removed was actually a newer, replacement system for the original, I looked a little deeper and found that the original network still remains - dormant, and integrated into the ship's structure itself. The wiring's about as old as the Andorian Ambassador, but it still works just fine. It was then just a simple matter of linking up the existing interfaces with the old network at the selected locations and then isolating a part of the stand alone bridge computer core to run a simple communications voice interface program." Hedrik was beaming, Jackson noticed, it was almost like watching the enjoyment of a child.
She wondered briefly about Souveson's arrest of the young lady earlier. Jackson had only had dealings with two Orions in her life, one of whom she had lived to regret meeting ever since. From what she knew about Orion females, Hedrik must have been abused at some points in her life. Although prejudice against Orions in the Federation had improved, (she had even heard of some Orions from the more privileged and civilised parts of the Orion Empire had actually joined Starfleet), to the majority of Federation citizens simply being green skinned meant association with an illicit or immoral business of some kind.
Christian's ears had pricked back at the bridge's computer core. It may help them to reduce repair time enormously. "What kind of shape is the computer core in?"
Jackson spoke for Hedrik, to the younger woman's obvious annoyance. "What's there is mostly remnants of old deleted files. There's nothing there of use, apart from the clear space of course."
"No link to the ship's main core?" Christian felt himself grasping at straws.
Hedrik managed to jump in on cue this time. "None, Captain."
After a pause, Christian gave his own report. "We devised a similar solution for repairing the EPS network. It seems the entire power grip for life support runs as a separate entity. Because it's still intact, we're converting just under half of the network to act as the power grid for command controls and drive systems. Where we can't, were attempting to extract the life support devices and relocate them in engineering. It may get a little cold and clammy in the lower decks."
Jackson sat forward, perching on the edge of her seat. She checked her tiny antique clock locket that had remained safely around her neck beneath her tunic. "Only seven hours to go, Mister Christian."
In engineering, a few looks were exchanged. "Message received," Christian hoped his choice of words were clear enough to Jackson.
***
ACT 3