EP 4 ACT 1
DECK ONE, MAIN BRIDGE, SS FANTASY, WIBBLY WOBBLY WAY
Captain Christian scratched his newly forming beard approaching the centre seat of the bridge just as power was fully resumed. The new-spawned energy rippled through the decks of the Fantasy, illuminating corridors and work consoles and warming the interior spaces. It was like the entire ship came to life in one big nurturing splurge of power. Then lights flickered, the power grid adjusting to the damaged areas. In many locations circuits overloaded and shorted out, spitting sparks and blanketing rooms in darkness once more. In other systems, the air management and water reclamation plant spat, rattled and clunked as damaged machinery received a temporary jolt of power and tried to shake into life.
The half dozen volunteer crew on the bridge seemed pleased enough - some even shook hands or embraced in the more enlivening near-daylight that now shone from non-intrusive wall panels around the Captain. Once power flow had been resumed through all systems, the dormant part of the bridge's automatic reserve computer then kicked in, and consoles simultaneously flickered on.
"I think the Lieutenant Commander is intent upon a promotion," Jackson mused to Christian as he sank into the main chair, pleased that for once something was going right on this trip.
He turned to her, a little hurt; "He had help, you know."
Alarms then sounded from several bridge stations, phasing some of the volunteers. Warnerburg, who had relieved a sleepy Romulan just several minutes since, passed behind each of the workstations on the starboard side of the bridge.
"Engineering shows full impulse power capability. I'm also reading four thousand eight hundred internal sections in need of general systems repair," Cally said. Stepping to the life support stations she continued her summary. "Life support, gravity and environment nominal. No, wait. The systems are re-aligning following our re-routing of power back to the main EPS grid. It's working, Captain, systems are adjusting. Gravity variables in twenty three sections and I'm getting no life support readings from decks 4, 10, 14, 15 and 28. Computer diagnostics are unavailable at this time." She turned her head to face Jackson and Christian. "We're still totally blind to the entire passenger section."
'That's most of the ship', Christian thought.
"I have short range sensors on line, Captain," Souveson said hopping up into the high stool and scrolling herself across the broad console. "Though I'm reading no clear sign of enemy vessels, I'm only getting intermittent readings due to local magnetic and ionic interference."
"I concur," Professor Karnak said turning from her science station. Captain Christian craned his neck the other way and smiled at the attractive young woman, though she did not apparently react. Hedrik, crouching beside her, could not interpret the scientific data that streamed across some of the active screens and the annoyance showed in her face, particularly as Christian seemed to be attracted to this sour-faced fake Vulcan rather than to her more obvious attributes.
Christian nodded to Narli, the Andorian Ambassador, casually leaning back in the communications chair with arms folded and legs crossed. The alien was able to control his own hair growth and had opted for a slender Van Dyke beard, slashes of white amid his deep blue contours. Without looking, Narli reported, "Subspace frequencies remain open, Captain. I scan no recogniseable hails."
Christian swallowed. The Ambassador had said little since coming aboard, but performed a more than proficient role at the communications station. There was clearly more to the older blue skinned man than met the eye. Narli cocked his head, as if reading the Captain's thoughts and Christian rose from his chair quickly.
Walking over to the station Leonard had identified as the Purser's, behind Narli and out of his line of vision, the Captain looked at the strange configuration of display monitors. "This station shows some internal sensor readings," he turned to Souveson. "Are you getting any of this, Ensign?"
The youthful blonde French Canadian flushed a little and progressed her way across the security/tactical console, looking for the internal sensor readouts. Finally she came across a blank part of the LCARS surface that wouldn't respond. "I don't think internal security is patched in, Captain."
"See what you can do about that," Christian turned back to the readings. "I detect lifeforms on several of the decks, presumably our people. This also shows some damage to the outer hull, and the sealed areas of the command section. Some lifepods are missing. That's odd, these command section deck plans look deeper than the actual deck space I've seen."
"I think I might know why, Captain! You'd better look at this," Souveson beckoned Christian, who was joined by an intrigued Commodore Jackson behind the Ensign's high chair. "It would appear the bulkheads to the forward part of the vessel we found just retracted. They weren't sealing off the passenger section at all, but rather they were sealing off the computer core. Must be part of some sort of automatic isolation protocol."
"They must have been released when main power was restored just now," Christian summised. "Miss Hedrik," Christian turned to the voluptuous Orion who leaped to her feet, though a little less lucidly than usual, "is the main computer back on line?"
Hedrik turned to the science station, nudging the engrossed Professor to one side with a shove of her shoulder. "The main core is indeed off-line in isolation mode. Only the local computer nets and individual user stations are active. We could probably reconnect the core at the main control on the engineering deck."
Christian considered his options. "Ganhedra, what is our present position?"
Down in the lower part of the bridge, the old man jumped a little in his seat, coming to life at the order as if startled. He switched on the main viewscreen to reveal a forward view from the ship, hardly moving along the edge of a vast asteroid field. "The ship is holding course in a slow stream."
"Very well. Maintain heading and inform me of any changes. Ensign, Miss Hedrik, please accompany me to the core. Commodore, you have the bridge."
The trio entered the turbolift, Hedrik somewhat reluctant, and the Ensign suppressing a smile at the other's lack of nerves. Hedrik winced at the slight smell of rotting flesh that hadn't quite been dispelled from the turbolift, and opted to hold her nose for the entire short trip.
* * *
RUNABOUT HUDSON
In the cockpit chair of the Hudson, Reb sat fully dressed and clean shaven. He was becoming exasperated with his English compatriot's lack of attention since the hail at breakfast. "Lirik, I said, are you ready?"
Lirik was concentrating on something in his lap, biting a nail, shaking his head. "Look at this," he said, passing a small transparency to the half Ferengi. Reb sniffed it, then sneered at the mass of symbols on the sheet.
"What am I supposed to be looking at exactly?" Heheldthetransparencytohisears,rubbingitbetweenhisfingers,causing a quizzical look from his shipmate.
Lirik approached the other man's chair and leaned over pointing at several glyphs. He was almost bowled over by the smell of fresh cologne Reb must have applied in great quantities following his sonic shower. "Did you help yourself to Ambassador Chiva's cologne?"
"Why? Is he going to need it?" Reb retorted.
Lirik thought briefly of all the lost Federation representatives he had accompanied to the Outer Zone. "I guess not. These are Federation symbols. Look - the Federation of Planets insignia there and the Starfleet insignia there. These look like flight plans, and these… these look like the symbols of the Cardassians, Andorians and the Dominion."
Reb curled a lip. "In a certain light, perhaps. To me they just look like childish scribbles."
Lirik snatched the transparency back. "I found it in the Qovakian Minister's case - she was the local liaison to Starfleet, as I told you. Since I've been in the Outer Zone, I have learnt that Qovakian written language comprises iconographic symbols in conjunction with a kind of over written shorthand, just likethesesymbolshere. I'mguessing this is some sort of official communique, but I don't understand why the aforementioned races would be singled out."
"Really," Reb said disinterestedly, then gave a worried look at the sensor grid. No alarms had sounded, but it looked as if two objects were rapidly approaching the runabout from behind. "Er, I think we've got trouble."
"What-?" Lirik couldn't finish his sentence as the runabout shook violently once, then less so a second time, knocking them both off balance.
Before either could speak, they watched as a gaggle of Starfleet escape pods bounced off the hull and toppled end over end above and in front of them.
"Did they just ram us?" Lirik asked, shocked. Reb was too confused to respond. Indeed, the computer readout showed that the occupants of the lifepods had managed to override the runabout's proximity alarms; a canny move. Lirik punched the hail. "Attention Starfleet escape pods, what the hell are you playing at?"
There was a moment of silence, then a male voice said with an Eastern European lilt. "You're Starfleet?"
LirikexchangedalookwithReb, thenscannedthegaggleof five pods joined in lateral mode. "Just the two of you? What happened to the rest of your crew?"
Reb watched as the computer silently confirmed two humans, one tall, broad male, another smaller female with weaker life signs.
"Can you beam us aboard? My associate is injured," the male voice said.
Lirik looked at Reb, then walked over to the transporter console. Fingers pausing in front of the lcars panel, he made a quick decision and picked up a phaser, holding it at the ready, only then punching in the command to lock on to the scanned humanoids and beam them aboard.
Reb watched with anticipation - and a little hurt at not being consulted - as the two figures materialised on the deck. The male was over six feet tall, early thirties, and wore a command uniform with the pips of a Commander. Dark haired, deep tanned skin with a thick, black moustache that embraced his top lip and jowls to his chin, he looked more South American than European. Thick stubble ranged along his jaw and neck. At his feet, lay the familiar grey and yellow uniform of a cadet at Starfleet engineering college, a pale and shivering Japanese girl.
The tall man frowned at the portly transporter operator pointing a phaser at him. Lirik felt a little embarrassed. "Sorry." He stowed the phaser and crouched over the cadet.
"Reb, get the medkit," Lirik ordered to his pilot. The Commander seemed temporarily stunned at the sight of the half-Ferengi, half-Human who took several gangly steps into the rear of the runabout. He came back almost instantly, the Commander blanching at the stench of cologne.
"Not there, O'Hara must have requisitioned it," he reported, facing the Commander head on. "So who are you, and how did you get out here?" Lirik was a little surprised at Reb's question.
The Commander scoffed at the over-perfumed roughneck. "Don't tell me you're in command around here?"
Lirik rose slowly, recognising the tone and anticipating what the Commander was likely to say in response to his next reply. "No, Commander, I am. His name is Rebbik and he is assisting me in my current mission."
"Your 'mission'?" again there was that scoffing tone. "Just what kind of mission is that, skulking along the Tholian border in a Starfleet runabout?"
Bending over the cadet, Lirik ignored the remark and slipped his hands under her armpits. "Help me get her into the back."
Hesitating at first, the Commander then picked up the lower half of the cadet with ease. Judging from his rough manner, it seemed the man was not overly concerned with condition of his incapacitated shipmate. Lirik watched the Commander glance around the plush interior as they entered the rear of therunabout. "ThisisaDiplomaticvessel. Wewereassignedtoaccompany several Federation Council representatives to the Trade Conference on Vekaria."
"You came from Vekaria?" the cadet suddenly said in short breaths. "How bad was it hit?"
The Yeoman retrieved a tricorder and scanned her. "Don't speak for now, love. Just rest. We don't know the fate of Vekaria, but Helub was hit pretty bad. What's your ship?"
The Commander spoke. "The USS Papillon. We were attacked on Christmas Eve while investigating a magnetic anomaly. The ship was destroyed and as far as we know, we're the only survivors. I'm Commander Struckchev, second officer and head of operations. This is Cadet Yip, on temporary training assignment with us." The Commander held a hand out to Lirik, who merely pointed at his environment shield controls as if in explanation.
"Yeoman Lirik," Lirik introduced himself clipping the tricorder shut.
"'Yeoman'?" Struckchev frowned.
"Oh, it was the rank I had before I joined the Corps - everyone knows me as that," Lirik placed a hand on Yip's shoulder. "I'm afraid you've got a sprained ankle, three fractured ribs and on top of that you've caught a nasty chill, but I don't believe it's serious. Best place for you is bed."
Lirik helped Yip to her feet, but as she stumbled Reb jumped to his aid. Casting a sideways glance at the stony faced Commander who seemed more interested in his own thoughts than his shipmate, Lirik steered Yip to one of the spare births on the starboard side of the vessel. He tucked her in and turned the bed heater up a notch as Reb departed. When he'd gone, Lirik reached behind a narrow recess and withdrew a small field medkit. He had several secret stash locations on the runabout for different eventualities, but didn't want Reb to know about them just yet - secrecy was almost second nature in the Corps. He applied the medication with one quick application, restashing the small box when done.
Yip weakly smiled at him, feeling a burst of conversation rising - a side effect of the drug. "Thanks, I was so cold in the escape pods. Commander had life support extremely low to conserve energy."
"Oh, dear," Lirik sympathised. "Never mind, you're safe now. Just one thing, how did the second officer and an engineering cadet end up the only ones to escape?"
Yip seemed a little cautious of answering. "We were… in the same section when the attack occurred. When the hull began to buckle, we climbed into an escape pod together and ejected. The other empty pods were ejected automatically."
The young woman was falling asleep and Lirik gave her the gentlest of smiles. "I'll be back to check on you in a while."
Lirik walked back into the aft to find the Commander was not there. Walking forward into the cockpit area through the narrow central corridor he found Struckchevhad seated himself in the pilot seat and was busy tapping into the computer. Reb loitered in the rear, looking on in nervous, cowardly silence.
Hearing Lirik approach, the Commander spoke without turning. "You ought to tell your Ferengi friend here that as a Starfleet Commander I am the one giving orders now. Damn idiot tried to stop me from scanning for other survivors."
Without speaking, Lirik stepped up to the power grid control next to the airlock and deactivated the cockpit's control console power. Struckchev was dumbfounded as his work was wiped from all screens, the panels darkening. He spun around to face Lirik who stood with folded arms, doing his best to look intimidating.
"Get one thing absolutely clear in your mind, Commander. This is a Diplomatic vessel and I am in charge," Lirik was pleased with his controlled statement. "You'll make a sensor sweep only on my say so. Clear?"
Struckchev cracked a sarcastic smile, flashing too-white teeth. "You, a, er former Yeoman are assuming command???" Realising that Lirik was indeed serious, the Commander looked astonished. "You're not pulling that Diplomatic Corps nonsense, are you? Not in this situation, surely?"
Lirik placed his hands on his hips, then dropped them, deciding on a different approach to diffuse a potentially volatile situation. "You haven't heard our entire circumstances, Commander. When we escaped from Helub, it was not in this vessel. We were aboard an old passenger ship, the Fantasy, along with hundreds of civilian survivors. We two became separated from the ship some days ago while on a recon mission, now we're hoping to rendezvous further along their predicted course."
Commander Struckchev perched onto the armrest of the chair, apparently willing to avoid an argument, at least for the while. "You don't even know if they've escaped detection?"
Lirik didn't answer, but flipped the power back on and walked over to the communications panel on the front dash. He could smell the nearby, unwashed odour of a man who had been trapped in a confined space with limited toilet facilities for the best part of a week. But couldn't help notice how sharp the manlookedfor it. "Actually, we picked up this transmission just a short while ago. We think it came from the Fantasy." He played the piece several times.
Struckchev checked the diagnostics and nodded his head in agreement. "We detected it also, but as we couldn't accurately pinpoint it we thought it was a rogue transmission. But according to the computer calculations we'll have to cross through that asteroid field to reach them."
"So, does this mean that we are working together, then?" Lirik slid into the co-pilot seat.
"I would like to scan for other Papillon survivors first," Struckchev pushed.
Lirik checked the timepeice. "Can we limit this to an hour?"
The Commander bowed his head, though seemingly willing to go along with the situation, it was clear to Reb that he was not pleased about it. As Lirik walked back into the aft section, Reb followed him.
Safely out of earshot in the runabout's rear, Reb spoke in an excited whisper. "I don't get it. If he's a Commander, surely he can give you orders, what with you being a Yeoman?" Reb was confused, but in a way also kind of pleased that Lirik, the person he knew, seemed to be in charge rather than the other guy.
Lirik moved quickly about the aft section, tidying up with practised ease. Clearly he was well experienced at maintaining the standards of the runabout's interior for his various top-level charges. He huffed and held Reb's breakfast bowl up. "I've told you twice already, don't leave your breakfast out - put it in the replicator. If we lost gravity that half eaten goop could get into systems and cause serious damage."
As Lirik shoved the bowl into the replicator with his back turned, Reb bounced his head from side to side, aping the Yeoman's nagging in silence. Spinning around, Lirik almost caught Reb and there was a brief moment of hesitation before Lirik continued.
"The Diplomatic Corps is essentially an annexe to Starfleet, staffed by people specially selected by a committee of Federation Council members and Starfleet top brass. Some are chosen for their experience as a serving member of the Fleet, usually for special abilities in the field of diplomatic relations, but others are selected from other related liaison fields," Lirik explained, fluffing cushions and wiping down the surfaces with vigour. "I'd worked with many Corps members throughout my career as a Yeoman to Command Officers, as well as with Federation Council members and Starfleet Admirals. It seemed I made a lasting impression as I was selected for service nearly eight years ago."
Lirik paused at the main table's computer interface and speedily called up Starfleet personnel files on Struckchev and Yip, scanning the brief details of the younger one's in a matter of seconds and reading the Commander's longer but abbreviated service record at speed. Reb leaned over his shoulder, noticing the files on the screen, but unable to read English so fast.
Reb was intent upon a straight answer. "So? The rank thing?"
Lirik cancelled the files and walked to the replicator where he entered a special meal program. "There isn't a rank as such in the Diplomatic Corps. You may keep the rank title you had upon entry, of course - that's how everyone knows you. But in terms of jurisdiction, authority, security and general Starfleet protocol, the Corps is as one. If we didn't have such wide-reaching parameters we'd never get anything done, you see."
Reb frowned, watching as Lirik took the plate of steaming goulash to the table and laid it out - presumably for the Commander, Reb thought. Perhaps he was trying to win the man over?
"So there's just one rank in the Diplomatic Corps?" Reb asked, leaning over to inspect the food. He cocked his ears towards it.
Lirik shook his head in frustration. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?" Reb answered, surprised.
The Yeoman cast his eyes upward and stopped the line of questioning. "No, there isn't just one rank. But yes, I have just as much authority in a diplomatic capacity as another Corps member who happens to be, say, an Admiral. And she the same as a Lieutenant, or an Ensign or even a civilian. There are all kinds of people in the Corps, you know. Just not all of regular Starfleet appreciate us, though, particularly starship Captains. So I'm hardly surprised at the Commander's reaction."
Reb still didn't understand fully and decided it probably wouldn't help even if he did. He followed Lirik into the cockpit area several paces behind.
"Anything?" Lirik asked loudly. The Commander shook his head. "Commander, you must be hungry. A meal is waiting for you back there. Get some rest, we'll continue the scans for you."
Struckchev sniffed the air that had followed Lirik forward, smirking. "You prepared a goulash?" Reb smiled - too wide - nodding to the Commander, who just stared stoney faced at him. "Thank you, but I would rather continue with this. I'm fine."
"You need food, Commander. That's an order," Lirik tried to sound authoritative. Reb hadn't been convinced.
The Commander didn't laugh this time. "Don't push it, Yeoman. You're powers are limited to Diplomatic circumstances only."
Raising his eyebrows, Lirik gestured at the walls then himself. "Diplomatic runabout, Diplomatic mission, Diplomatic aide - Diplomatic replicated Goulash even. Want me to go on?"
Struckchev maintained his position.
"You're whacked, Commander. You wouldn't want to miss a life sign due to tiredness, would you?"
Reluctantly, the Commander rose and walked toward the rear section. Stopping beside Lirik, he faced the man with a flash of anger in his eyes, his breath hot and acrid. "You forgot one, Yeoman. Diplomatic bullshit."
Disappearing into the rear, as the doors closed about him, Reb let out a big sigh, tittering. "He knows his rule book all right."
"I'll give him bullshit if he wants it," Lirik said to himself, flopping into the pilot seat. He checked the consoles. To his surprise, nothing was untoward - he wouldn't have put it past the commander to attempt rigging the runabout to respond only to his commands. "Well, at least he didn't try anything here. Best keep up our end of the bargain now, Mister Rebbik."
Lirik gestured the pilot into the other seat and the two began their scans for signs of survivors.
Just as Lirik made his first sweep, he noticed on the security panel that the Commander had logged into the runabout's main systems - presumably to see what Lirik was up to. Lirik merely posted a smiley face to the console runabout screen and watched the panel as the Commander logged off almost immediately.
"Round one to me, I think," Lirik smiled, though Reb thought the rivalry to be misplaced.
* * *
ENGINEERING DECK, SS FANTASY
Less than a week ago, Christian had stood on the engineering deck facing a large bulkhead door in place across one of the main corridors. Now it was gone, and standing in the exact same place, he saw the corridor beyond extended further down the ship. It seemed to be lit brighter than he remembered and curved off - as most corridors did - some way down.
(Because of the respectively long, narrow design of the vessel, instead of having thoroughfares that stretched in one straight line from stern to prow, the designers had made corridors curve inward and outward along the length of the ship - with the exception of the promenade deck. This was mainly as a safety measure, though convention added to the circular, fluid design.)
The Captain and his two shipmates were joined noisily by Lieutenant Commander Leonard, sporting his own white-blonde face fuzz. Christian took point, closely followed by Souveson, then Hedrik and finally the engineer. Nameless doorways passed them on either side as the corridor curved in, and then curved out again. As it straightened once more, the walls on either side became glass. They had reached an area presumably designated for several retail outlets, as some spaces had empty rails and others shelves and manikins. All seemed to have been stripped of valuable equipment.
The corridor turned in again, and other corridors began to converge, the space feeling lighter and airier. Souveson read the wall signage. "We're almost there. The bulkhead seems an awfully long way from the core, though."
Christian looked around, noticing clues - spacesuit lockers, emergency equipment hatches. "I'd say this was also a designated shelter for passengers and crew."
Souveson suddenly cried out. "Bloody, hell!"
Before them, the corridor had become filled with multi-coloured isolinear chips and various other kinds of data storage cards - some antique. They were strewn in great piles. Carefully stepping over them, (though having to wade through ankle-deep in one place), the shops had been replaced by computer storage rooms - seemingly emptied of their memory chips. One room passed, then another - on either side. Finally, the corridor stopped, opening to a fifteen metre wide shaft stretching above and below them. In the centre was a computer core constructed entirely of transparent aluminium - its entire innards on display, and it was an amazing site to behold.
Yet, it appeared that even here someone had removed each and every one of the hundreds of thousands of chips that should have been lodged into position. That there were so many levels with so much data capacity was one thing. But that it should have been designed in such an impractical way was even stranger. The core itself was accessible via transparent decking; Christian counted at least four levels above and four below.
"It looks like this core was something of a tourist attraction in its own right," Souveson remarked, noticing wall-housed seating and simplistic information schematics at various points.
Leonard consulted the guide on his mini padd. "You could say that. It was a one off, designed by the Daystrom Institute specifically for the passenger liner at the request of the owners. It was replaced its more outdated core just ten years ago, but I'd say those relay struts were only about six or seven years old. According to the guide the computer has a unique, long and not very inspiring name, so at the opening ceremony, the then chief engineer paraphrased another of some renown, re-naming it the Big Beastie."
"Big isn't the word," Hedrik said, glancing at Christian luridly and circumnavigating the core centre, looking up and down. "The core isn't just here," she said pointing in to the middle, "it's all around us."
Indeed, through the room spaces branching off the core there were more rooms of less attractive, but just as powerful computer equipment - solid monoliths, fused into the walls.
"Why the need for so much computer capability?" Souveson said.
Hedrik pursed her lips. "I assume that the main core was installed around the same time as the holographic interfaces. For the ship systems to support so much potential holographic activity, I guess they needed a lot of computer power."
Leonard nodded in agreement. "That certainly complies with the nature of the engineering systems - back-ups and redundant engines to facilitate all the daily needs of a pleasure liner of this size and capability."
"I can only imagine the variety and complexity of holo-interfaces on board, Captain," Hedrik moved close to Christian, her left breast softly brushing his arm. He pulled away instinctively, while at the same time giving a half smile.
Leaning on the inner rail and peering down through the decks, Christian sighed. "So we've got one big floating, over-powered holosuite to ourselves. Rather than scanning each of all these chips, it would be much quicker to just re-install them all. We can re-allocate data functionality as required after that."
The German removed his glasses. While he and the other crew had found makeshift berths among the Helan people, as yet no-one was allowed to go beyond the designated safe areas except on necessary ship business. He and others had already expressed a desire to make use of the crew quarters contained in the command section - Christian had deemed it unsafe at this time. What Leonard really wanted, however, was a long, hot, naked soak and a soft, clean bed for the night - though he suspected he would sleep for longer than that.
Christian noticed the tiring engineer. "We can get volunteers to help. Commander Leonard, can you arrange it?"
"Of course, Captain," Leonard said.
Christian wandered to the other side of the core and into the corridor beyond. Hedrik was close behind him. He was now totally aware of her apparent desire for him, and he wanted nothing more than for her to leave him alone for the moment. This was hardly the place or the time.
"Ensign, come with me. I want to take a look at the true bulkhead to the passenger section," Christian turned to the green skinned woman - who had unbuttoned her blouse one button further. "Miss, you just stay here with the Commander. Access the mainframe and get us total computer control."
Souveson and Hedrik snarled a little as they passed each other, and Christian was a little surprised at the Ensign. Regardless, he carried on forward, noticing the Orion moving cat-like toward the German engineer.
* * *
USS HUDSON
"Good morning," Lirik handed a cup of steaming, black sweet espresso coffee to Struckchev as he yawned and stretched, wiping away the cold patch of drool on his cheek and neck. Suddenly he became aware that he was naked under the sheets in one of the spare berths on the runabout, and he couldn't remember how he got there.
"What?! How the hell did I get here?" the Commander couldn't help but physically react to the comfy, soothing feel of the bed around his over-exerted body. Goosebumps flared from his armpits to his ankles and he wriggled slightly in the softness, stretching his feet and wiggling his toes, despite feeling annoyed. He reached for the coffee nonetheless, the sheet dropping to reveal his finely honed dark brown torso.
Lirik frowned, standing so that he towered above the man, his head halo'd by the bright lights of the narrow corridor ceiling behind and above him. He hoped his silhouette would imprint itself in the Commander's brain. "Don't you remember? We beamed you aboard yest-"
"I mean here in bed, Yeoman. And naked," the Commander shouted, peering under the covers.
Crouching low so that his head was level with Struckchev's again, Lirik smirked, giving the Commander a taste of his own attitude. "Don't worry, Commander, you've got nothing I haven't seen before. You fell asleep at the dinner table and we couldn't wake you. You must have been exhausted."
Struckchev gulped the hot coffee down in two big, throat undulating motions. "What's our status?"
Lirik stood again, relieving the Commander of his mug. "Wash up and come forward when you're done." Before the sleepy eyed Kosovan could react, the Yeoman was gone. The Commander punched the mattress in frustration at the impertinent Englishman and slumped back into the soft pillow. His head felt cradled and warm, and he almost enjoyed the feeling of being in bed while others took charge. Relaxing slightly, his eyes wandered to the corridor porthole where he saw from his prostrate position that the asteroid field outside was thinning. Clear open space lay beyond.
* * *
CENTRAL COMPUTER CORE, SS FANTASY
Lt Cmmdr Leonard carefully inserted several isolinear chips into the main core control. Depressing several old-style switches that lit lime green, turquois and yellow upon each activation. The room around him hummed gradually to life. Bronze light became golden, then white-bright as LCARs screens materialised on each of the tall, narrow walls of the control suite, and cascades of data streamed down them, overlapping in psychadelic torrents. Leonard looked around the room in awe, overwhelmed by the computer-generated waterfalls dancing light off the surfaces and over his face - he'd not seen anything like it before, and wondered at the other engineering treasures to be found on board.
Hedrik stepped through the narrow hatch from the highest platform around the core and joined him, smiling. "Great job."
'Tszzzzzchchchc' the sound seemed to come from all around them, like a long, deep static sound, but it was not apparent what the sound meant.
"What was that?" Hedrik asked.
Leonard just shrugged his shoulders and continued to relish the quirky surroundings - it was so unlike the Draco or any other Starfleet vessel he'd served on before. The away missions he had been on in the past had excited him most when encountering alien technology, but for the most part, engineering life in the Federation was pretty much dull and uniform. Usually he and his colleagues knew what to expect. But although the technology aboard the Fantasy was largely old, there was a lot of it, and it seemed there was no expense spared on its capability as would be the case on a Starfleet vessel where everything had to be just-so.
Not feeling Hedrik's hands squeezing his shoulders, Leonard leaned back into his chair and relaxed.
* * *
DECK, SECTION,
Forward of the computer core, the ambience of the space changed. Became more functional and less luxurious again. "Science labs," the Canadian Ensign commented, "pattern buffer stores down that way and transporter controls over there. According to this signage, the science facility and main transporter rooms cover several decks of the command section around here."
The corridors curved in and out a couple more times, and as they straightened once again, the lighting - and seemingly all power in the section ahead - was off-line. Souveson activated the small pencil-like torch-cutter that she'd found. "There's the bulkhead," she said, stepping into the deepening shadows and shivering.
As Souveson reached the cold, unattractive bulkhead surface and override controls, she noticed several warning signs dotted around. "This bulkhead is indeed where separation from the passenger section occurs. There's a manual override."
"Well done," Christian was peering into a power conduit, his hands covered in soot and dust. "There's no power flow here. This entire section must have shorted out some time ago. We should get an engineering team down here to repair it, then we can get these bulkheads retracted."
Souveson nodded, looking around the shadows and back down the corridor into the light wondering who had walked this way before her.
* * *
Leonard and Hedrik regarded the LCARs screens, now suddenly blank. It was several minutes since the strange sound, and neither was sure what the computer was doing. Suddenly, all screens flashed deep red for a couple of seconds, then blanked out again. This time, the room dimmed and died, light from the now active core suddenly poured in from the observation window.
Leonard looked nervously at Hedrik.
* * *
Behind the Captain and the Ensign the lights in the powered corridor suddenly flickered. "Oh, no, not again," Christian said finishing just as they were plunged into complete darkness, save for the tiny light from Souveson's small torch.
"I'll take the point," Souveson said, taking Christian's hand and leading him forward in that way that only security officers did. Christian afforded himself a private smile at the youngster's nurturing attitude.
* * *
Leonard watched Hedrik walk over to the observation window. The core itself seemed to be glowing from within, a sure sign that it was active. But he didn't understand what the red flash had meant, or why the control room's power had died.
Within the bright light of the core, Leonard and Hedrik could see a few sparsely placed control chips still intact at various points - like the last few colourful leaves of an autumn tree.
'Fsssss.'
"Did you hear that?" Hedrik said to Leonard as she walked around the computer core control suite, curiously admiring the plush cream fur and chrome furnishings in the dim light. It reminded her of an old fashioned wooden hideaway on Orion she'd been taken to in her former existence. It was high in the mountains with the blinding snow outside causing that unique white light to pour in to the small one-room building.
Beside her, Leonard was busy trying to break the access code to reset the command routines. "Hear what, Ma'am?"
Hedrik turned on her heel, pert and surprised. "Ma'am?" She laughed out loud. "I'm a single girl, Lieutenant Commander. Can't you tell?"
Leonard peered over his glasses at her, but said nothing. Ffsssss.
This time both heard the sound. "There it is again," Hedrik said, pressing her face against the glass of the small observation window and peering down through the levels of transparent flooring. Several decks below, it seemed that people were gathering, dressed in what looked like colourful wetsuits. She couldn't see clearly through the distortion of the plexiglass flooring of several decks.
Leonard noticed Hedrik craning to see something. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure," Hedrik said, then jumped as she saw a flash of phaser fire lash out from the group of similarly clad figures into the forward corridor where Christian and Souveson had gone. Several of them then peeled off and gave chase in the direction of the phaser fire.
'Fsss! Fssss!' the sound came consecutively from the core below.
Leonard had glanced up when he heard the double sound and joined her. He swallowed hard as he saw the clearly armed individuals several levels below. "We're under attack," he whispered, suddenly feeling deflated - they had no weapons with them. And they had come so far. He didn't recognised the uniforms - perhaps these were the K'Tani; maybe they'd come from the forward section of the ship when the bulkheads had been removed. Leonard wasn't sure.
"The Jeffries tube?" Hedrik suggested, keen to find an immediate escape route.
Leonard couldn't think of a better suggestion. The old-style grill lifted off with ease and he followed closely behind her, sensing the pherenomes that were naturally drifting his way from the excited Orion female in front.
* * *
***
ACT 2