Chapter 4:

Tuesday, April 25th, 2243
Malone Road Dormitory, Room 17
Starfleet Engineering Academy
Belfast, Ireland, Earth

"All right, let's hear it." Jansson sat at the workbench, a bottle of dark beer sitting beside a project Scotty had long since forgotten about. The design team for the Lady Grey hadn't had a chance to say much more than a few sentences to each other recently, at least outside of shipbuilding; most of their time was spent working after class until the time limit.

It had been another hard day. All of the repairs were finished in record time, and a good bit more of her hull had been laid out--

--and there wasn't a cadet on the team who hadn't looked at Scotty oddly when, an hour before the limit was up, he had ordered them to stop working on the hull and to start on the bilge.

It was a mystery what was on the shipwright's mind. Corry was closer to a clue than anyone, and even he hadn't guessed.

Scotty apparently wasn't in a rush to give up his secrets, though. Sitting on his bunk, a rolled blueprint beside him, he was sticking strictly to coffee. This time, he had built the suspense up like a professional. "Corry, by all means," he said, gesturing.

"Well, we all know that yesterday Harrison came forward and told Jerry about O'Sullivan's yammering," Corry said, smoothly standing. He still wasn't in a great mood, given what he'd found out earlier, but that wouldn't stop him. "Scotty and I decided to do a little more digging. We took Sean up on the roof and grilled him under threat of death--"

"Bet that's why he missed class today," Albright said, grinning.

"Probably." Corry smirked at the memory. "But anyway, he basically confirmed our suspicions that O'Sullivan had been behind the burning of the Grey . So, once we finished with him, we decided to go do a little eavesdropping. Spent hours sitting outside of O'Sullivan's room. Harrison was there, so was Thylita."

Jansson leaned forward so far he nearly fell off of the stool, and Albright wasn't a whole lot better. This was definitely the first they'd heard of it.

Corry enjoyed the expressions they were wearing, and drew out the moment for all it was worth. Scotty wasn't the only master in suspense.

"Go on," Joe prompted, once he'd had all he could take.

"Well, to cut a long story short, Thylita had been in on it." Cor put his hands behind his back. "They both agreed they'd do it again if they got a chance. Scotty here took off, and I stayed behind for another minute or so--"

Now Scotty was looking a little bit tense as he obviously put together that he’d missed something himself.

"--and O'Sullivan said that Maggie had chewed him up one side and down the other for attacking our shipwright here."

Three stunned looks in one sentence. Corry was on a roll tonight -- even if he hated to think that Maggie was in on it, he still couldn't help but enjoy the fact that he’d managed to get all three of them with his little revelation.

Scotty finally found his voice again. It took a minute, and he was still pretty clearly shocked by it, but he managed to ask, "That was why ye happened to be so upset?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to believe it, you know. So I went and talked to her; told her that we thought we knew who did it. I swear, guys, she got this look like 'oh God', until I told her we were suspecting Lewis. Then she looked relieved."

"Lewis'll love that," Albright muttered, quietly, shaking his head and sounding like he was still trying to wrap his brain around it.

Corry got it, too. It was hard to imagine Maggie doing anything less than nice. It was even harder imagining her doing something so downright devious.

"That's three." Jerry took a hard slug of beer, apparently needing it right then. "At least three people in on the sabotage."

"And no less'n two on Sean Kelley's team." Taking his cue, and the stage, Scotty finally pulled his schematic out. Unrolling it with the finesse of a very planned movement, he laid the paper out in front of him on the bunk.

The other three cadets moved over to look. It was a schematic for the Lady Grey, a side view showing her entire length. The schematic itself was original, but there were hastily written notes, and a few things added to the drawing. Well, honestly, it was more than a few things.

There were several things.

Corry almost fell over. Unlike the other two, he knew immediately what had been changed, and what those changes meant. After a minute, Jansson looked up, and only ten seconds after that, so did Albright.

Corry's voice was very soft, almost a whisper in the dead silent room. Looking up and meeting his roommate's gaze, he couldn't keep the mix of admiration and surprise out of his words. "La mer ne pardonne pas."

Scotty nodded once, as elegantly as a pragmatic engineer possibly could. "The sea is unforgiving."

"This-- is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen," Jansson whispered, touching the schematic as if to confirm it was real. Albright laughed a manic, stunned little laugh next to him.

Finally giving a blade-sharp grin, Scotty leaned back and crossed his arms. "Twenty-four guns, lads.  We’re gonna arm her with twenty-four guns."

To say that it was going to be easy would have been a bald-faced lie, but to say that the cadets weren't determined would have been even worse. They had spent the rest of the night planning it out, too excited to sleep and talking a mile a minute. When 0530 rolled around, they ran down to the restaurant by the shipyards, and had a quick breakfast. Speaking in coded whispers, they were stealing sly, conspiring glances across the table and generally acting like a group of barely grown humans with an outrageous and potentially stupid plan.

And when classes started at 0630, they began to set the gears into motion.

Albright immediately went down to the machine shop, taking an inventory of the equipment kept there. It had been decided that, in order for the Lady Grey to keep her trim, they would have to find an alternative weight for the guns. Ships cannons were originally made of iron and some weighed literal tons; the Grey was a schooner, though, and there was no way she could support the weight of twenty-four iron cannons and keep her racing-style handling. So it was up to Joe to come up with an alternative, and being the mathematician who had done the bulk of her weight distribution studies, it was only right.

Skipping out of his first three classes, Jansson spent his time alone in the shipyards, building templates for the gun ports. Scotty had allowed for twenty guns on her first below deck, and four guns mounted on her main deck; two bow chasers, two stern chasers. The twenty below were going to end up being twenty-four pound shot; in ammunition alone, she would have a lot of added weight, but Albright would have to be the one to determine how much they could carry without drastically affecting her sailing performance.

Scotty simply worked on his classwork. Pearson was quite pleased to have his star student back in what he considered to be the proper frame of mind for a Starfleet engineer, and Scotty was quite pleased that the captain wasn't breathing down his neck. After all, if Pearson couldn't see into his thoughts, he couldn't see just how far from that state of mind the cadet actually was.

And it fell to Corry to be the actor. The best of his troop, he found Barrett in his office between one class and the next. He stepped in, smiling. "Sir?"

"Yes, Mister Corrigan?" Barrett looked up from his desk and the slew of papers there.

"I was going to ask you if you plan on having a sailing day, once we're finished with our final." Corry put his hands behind his back, practically radiating enthusiasm.  No easy feat after barely surviving on a single nap over his midday break for the past couple days. "I mean, after all the hell we've gone through -- pardon me, sir -- I think we should at least be able to take the Lady Grey out."

Barrett raised both eyebrows. "Do you think you can get her finished before the deadline? Because of the sabotage, I was going to just grade the entire class on what they have finished."

Cor nodded. "Yes, sir, I think we'll have her done. Mister Scott has reworked our entire construction schedule, along with a few minor plan changes."

"Plan changes?"

"A few little things that might make it go smoother," Corry said, careful not to let slip any nervousness he might have felt. If Barrett asked for the revised plans, the whole thing could go under. "And frankly, sir, after all he's gone through, it's only fitting he gets to take his ship out."

Barrett smiled, chuckling, "His ship. Well, I'll send a memo out and see if anyone else would like to participate. I think the idea of a few windjammers out there again would be very idyllic. A good note to retire on."

A brief flash of guilt shot through Corry, but it was far too late to change tracks now. Maybe not literally too late, but the line had been drawn and they were going to step over it no matter what it took. "I think Team C would really appreciate it, sir."

"All right, let me see what it would take. Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you sir." Cor stepped out. When the door closed, he took a deep breath to get his thoughts in order, prepare for everything he'd have to work on next, and walked away.

Meanwhile, back in Harland & Wolff's Berth #22, Albright was giving his report to Jansson. Pacing the floor of the mold loft, the mathematician ran down the figures. "I think it's possible to get the cannon weight down to just about three hundred pounds apiece. That'll add about one and a third tons to her on the twenty full cannons; it's not too significant, compared to what it would have been."

"What'll we be using?" Jerry didn't look up from the schematic, a ruler in his other hand and a timber on the floor.

"A duradium and steel mix. Best part is, they can withstand higher temperatures than the iron could, and the duradium's strong enough to resist warping and scarring." Almost jumping from the pure energy he had, Joe Albright was grinning like a madman. "Man, Jerry, if we do this, we'll go down in infamy."

"Go down is right," Jerry chuckled, setting the ruler aside. "Our careers are gonna come to an end."

"Not if I can help it," Corry broke in, closing the door to the loft. "I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure we still have jobs after this."

Jansson took a few hard breaths. He had almost expected it to be someone who could stop them in their tracks now, before they had even gotten started. "You scared the hell outta me."

"Sorry." Not looking particularly apologetic, Cor knelt beside the schematic. "Barrett's going to try to get us out on the water when we finish. We have to have this ship done by next month, even if it means going on the sly and sneaking in here like a bunch of spec ops types."

"The four of us can't do it alone." Albright went back to pacing, working on it out loud. "The rest of the construction team needs to be let in on it, and if anyone leaks, we are in really deep shit. Deep enough to bury us for archaeologists to find in a couple hundred thousand years."

Corry shook his head, standing again. "The only person I'm worried about is Harrison. But I think we can find a way to deal with him."

"For a month?" Joe frowned. "We can't very well keep him away from here for a whole month."

"We can if we send him out to get the sails made, the brassworks, the ropes and pulleys-- we'll lose points for not making all of those ourselves, but on the deadline we've got, we'll just have to take the hit."

Jansson finished cutting the timber to its lengths with a specialized cutting torch. Not entirely historical, but then, they were running so close to the wire that the templates just couldn't be a waste of time. "Are you ready to send him out today? Because in a few hours, I'm going to have the first port ready to fit, and then everyone who sees it will know."

"I could. Won't be easy, but I could." Corry took a deep breath. "I'm going to see about ordering double sets of everything, in case he can't be trusted. The last thing we need is to finish this schooner and end up having no sails or something."

Albright gave Cor a shove, impatient and ready to go. "Get to it, then!"

The project leader flashed a beaming grin, waved and ran out the door.

"Now, ye all know what happened here-- and ye all helped bring it to rights again." Scotty hated public speaking. He didn't mind barking orders when he had to, but trying to come up with a speech was like being rolled over razor blades.

Still, it was his idea, and his job to make it clear what would be done. So the other twenty-odd cadets stood on the floor while he balanced on the Lady Grey, and he did the talking. "But ye also know that Security's basically closed the book on the whole bloody affair, and those who did it still haven't come to any sort o' justice."

The agreement was quiet, but unanimous. Harrison was gone, and the rest of the team had been loyal pretty much from the get-go, even when pressure had built up.

Steadying himself, Scotty continued, "I won't assume all o’ ye want to get 'em back for what they did, but I'd like to think I'm not the only one who does. So, to cut right to it: The design team's decided to arm the Grey with guns. And if it all works out, and the senior cadets get to take their ships out, we're gonna retaliate then."

That certainly got a response. The entire group broke into noise, everyone talking at once. Scotty made no effort to speak over the din, just settled back to wait for it to quiet down. Though, given the general responses, it seemed to be greeted with more skepticism than downright refusal.

There wasn't a cadet in that building who didn't feel something for the Lady Grey by now. Even those who weren't originally part of the team had grown to enjoy it simply for the reason that they were a part of something grand. She wasn't a starship, but she was something special anyway.

Those who had been there for the entire affair had felt wronged by the sabotage. Those who had joined up just a week or so ago sympathized. And all of them knew that even if they did go through with this, it wasn't going to be them who really paid the ultimate price -- that would belong to the men in charge, simply because it was their responsibility.

So when it finally lightened somewhat, and the chatter became tolerable, Scotty sketched in the details. Once finished with that, he offered anyone who wanted it a chance to walk away without any repercussions.

Not a single person did.

Team C went to work on the Lady Grey with renewed vigor. Oh, they had cared before, but now it was something entirely different. Now, it was practically destiny-- that or they thought it was just incredibly neat to arm a ship with cannons and blow someone else's ship up. Either way, they were practically singing.

Corry helped set the first gunport. He could say that there was a lot of exhilaration in that alone; in a sense, they were bringing to life what they had planned only the night before. Smiling to himself as he braced the frame with a few other cadets where her hull had been cut to make it fit, he couldn't help but wonder if Starfleet would appreciate how well they were working as a team now, even if they didn't agree with what was being worked on.

It was going to be rough when it all played out and he knew that every single one of them could be brought up on charges -- conduct unbecoming, assault, reckless endangerment -- and that any number of things would be flung at the cadets when it all played out. But Andrew Corrigan knew one thing for certain -- if anyone was going to take the brunt of it, he was.

Scotty wouldn't like that. Corry knew that already; he could see it coming a parsec away. After all, Scotty had put so much into the Lady Grey, and he had worked out this whole plan to attack at sea, so he would naturally want to take responsibility.

Well, Corry owed his roommate one. Musing on it as he held the wood, ignoring the strain in his arms, he had decided that much last night while they were planning. Oh, he still wanted to transfer to the medical division, still wanted to learn more about the sciences, but until that night when the Grey was burned, he had no real clue about what he would be giving up. Maybe Scotty didn't intend to show him-- in fact, he absolutely didn't. But he'd provided a hell of a wakeup call anyway.

There was something incredibly visceral in holding your deadweight, unconscious best friend.  In cleaning his blood out from under your fingernails and the grooves of your skin after.

That was why Corry had gotten so protective, though he’d tried to keep it from getting overbearing. He always had been some, but that had notched it up considerably. The whole night had terrified him, smacked him hard upside the head and made him think about just how ridiculous he had been. It had all added up; knowing about the Lady Grey, and about why she was so important to Scotty, knowing that not only had he been outright heartless to someone who was only trying to watch out for him, but someone else had been-- Corry was determined to make up for it. It would take awhile, and he didn't care if he seemed like a mother hen, but he wasn't going to give up.

Friends like that just didn't come along more than once in a lifetime.

Stepping back when the port had finally been braced there, he wiped his forehead off with the back of his arm. It seemed like they had so far to go, and not enough time to get there; like they would be running so close to failure that it made a permanent home outside of the door.

"We'll get her done," Scotty said, as though he could have read Corry's thoughts. "Oh, she'll be somethin' to see, Cor.  Somethin' special."

Corry grinned in answer, turning to face his best friend. "Yeah?"

"Aye, damn straight." Scotty sounded like he believed he was invincible; gone was any sign of uncertainty about whether they were going to have enough time. "I'm hopin' Barrett comes through with the sail."

"I think he will." Chuckling to himself, Corry moved over to start working again, laying down the hull planking. That attitude of invincibility was infectious, and it wasn't long before he was just as convinced that she would be done and that it would all work out how they planned.

It was into the next week when Barrett called a meeting. It was the first time since the day after the sabotage that his entire senior class was all in one room, and the amount of talking was almost unbelievable. Only Team C really knew why everyone was there, and they were talking themselves -- though it was plotting they were doing, not speculating.

Barrett waited patiently for it to quiet down, standing in front of his podium with his arms crossed. It was a stance officers tended to adopt when they wanted to be listened to, and after so many years, the old professor had it perfected. It didn't take more than thirty seconds for the room to fall silent; conversations tapered off, voices softened to whispers then to nothing, and everyone waited to hear what he had to say.

"Cadets," Barrett started, smiling warmly at the whole class. "I've called you here today to propose something.  Something I think you'll all like quite a bit."

No doubt we will, Scotty thought, a grin crossing his face before he could stifle it. Forcing himself to look blankly interested, he leaned his elbows on the desk and listened.

"Now, I know you've all put a great deal of work and thought into your finals. I'm very proud of the way the teams have pulled together, and of how hard you've all tried. So, instead of simply grading you and leaving it at that," Barrett said, smoothly, "I've arranged for a race."

Almost immediately the chattering started again, rather like a flood. Corry, looking ready to launch through the roof in pure excitement, leaned over to whisper, "A race! My god, it's too perfect!"

"Shhh!" Scotty hissed, though he just wanted to jump himself. Corry was right, it was too perfect.

"Now, you'll all be graded before the race on what you have completed by the original deadline, and the race itself will have no bearing whatsoever on your academic work. This is purely for fun, cadets." Barrett looked excited himself, a rare sight to see, as he walked over and uncovered the blackboard. "Naturally there has to be some incentive to win, because all of you are going to have to learn how to sail these creations of yours. So I arranged for a unique prize--

"The winner will have the opportunity to name the next Starfleet vessel commissioned after their own vessel, and the entire team will have a plaque onboard this starship giving them credit."

If the idea of racing hadn't won them over, the prize sure did. ‘Fleet vessels were usually named by the top brass, after some historical figure or some historical ship. That one group of cadets would have that opportunity, an opportunity to be remembered in such a way-- it was incredible. The whole theater was deafened by the cheering; the enthusiasm couldn't be cut with a fully charged phaser bank.

Barrett didn't even try. On the board, underneath the rules for the race and the prize, he wrote: 'Full details will be sent in a memo. Dismissed.'

Jansson ran over as the cadets began filing out, leaping every step like a jackrabbit on stimulants. "A race! A race, a race, my ship for the race!"

"I can't believe it," Corry laughed, shaking his head and still looking ready to launch. "Oh, this couldn't be more perfect. If I planned it all myself, it couldn't be more perfect."

"Ohhhh yeah, ohhhhhhhh yeaaaaaah..." Albright giggled, bouncing back and forth. "We have to get back to the slip. As in right now. Hell, as in ten minutes ago!"

Scotty grinned. "Race ye?"

"GO!" Corry took off first, dashing out of the door and almost running over a few stray cadets in the process. The other three chased after him, as they ran through the halls and out of the building.