“We are approaching Setlik, sir,” announced Ensign Mecell from the conn.
“Prepare to drop us out of warp just outside the system, Ensign,” Captain Reihyn ordered, leaning slightly towards the Bajoran, whose shoulders were visibly tensing. He looked at the Orion beside him. “Lieutenant, signal red alert and give me full power to the shields.”
“Aye sir,” D’Kehra replied, before entering the commands.
The lights dimmed red and klaxons sounded throughout the U.S.S. Orion, signalling the crew to stand ready for anything. Reihyn sat back again, gripping the armrests in preparation for all hell breaking loose. “Reverse engines, take us to one-half impulse.”
“One-half, aye-aye sir,” confirmed the young conn officer.
The old Constellation-Class ship rattled as the warp field dissipated and she returned to normal space. At first, Reihyn had found the many shakes and rumbles of the once-mothballed ship to be a little unnerving, but after three weeks he was becoming accustomed to them. As soon as she was under impulse power, the rest of the crew's eyes scrutinised their sensors, his were locked firmly on the viewscreen. At their present range, he couldn’t see anything but the outer planets and the Setlik star, but he knew that things were very different further in the system.
From operations there were a few quick chirps, drawing his attention to the starboard bulkhead. His ops manager, Aleksander Jachim, sat where once the science station had been, though since patched to handle added functions and controls. Jachim, one of the few onboard who didn’t have a single blemish on his record, kept his eyes fixed on the numerous sensor displays as he announced, “The Ariel, Oppenheimer and Lirpa have all dropped out of warp.”
A beep from the opposite side of the bridge stood out over the myriad of other sounds. He snapped his head towards it and the woman responding to it, Lieutenant Commander Clarissa DuMont, his XO who sat at mission ops.
“The Lirpa is signalling, sir.”
“On screen.”
It took a few moments longer than he’d expected before the angular face of Captain T’Lyis appeared. Though the Sabre-Class Lirpa was the smallest of the four ships, she was the newest and held the tactical advantage, thus she was the ship in charge of their current operations. The Constellation-Class Orion, Miranda-Class Ariel, and Oberth-Class Oppenheimer were all part of the “zombie fleet”, old ships that had been decommissioned decades ago brought back into service to carry out support duties for the war. Of the three of them, Reihyn’s ship was in the best condition.
“Relief ships, move into the system and begin search-and-rescue operations. We will commence our patrol sweep outside of the stars gravity well.”
“Understood,” hissed Lieutenant Commander S’sau of the Oppenheimer.
“You got it, dar”eh, ma’am,” was the response from Captain Wade Burbank of the Ariel, in his customary Texan drawl.
“Acknowledged,” he added, before the channel was cut from the other end. Not wasting time he addressed Mecell Koen again. “Ensign, enter co-ordinates to our assigned search grid.”
The Bajoran nodded and started entering the new heading into the navcomp. It hadn’t taken long for Reihyn to suss why the baby-faced man had graduated third from last in his class; though a qualified helmsman (his skills so far had shown some potential), he lacked the initiative and forethought needed to anticipate orders and be ahead of the curve. Hopefully, time and real life experience might help him develop, where four years at the Academy hadn’t quite succeeded”if not, then it was doubtful Mecell would see any other bridge duty after his time on the Orion was over.
“Co-ordinates entered, Captain.”
“Ahead two-thirds. Once we reach the site, begin an immediate spiral search pattern.”
“Um, aye sir.”
“D’Kehra, even with the Lirpa watching our backs””
“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll keep an eye out for hostiles,” she told him, flashing him a brilliant white smile against her jade skin.
He gave her a lopsided smirk in return, before kicking himself”not for the first time, it was easy to be enticed by the alluring Orion even with the pheromone suppressor she took daily. He dreaded to think how bad it would be if she didn’t.
Focusing on the job once again, he tapped the intercom on his armrest. “Bridge to sickbay. You got everything ready down there, Doctor?”
“You have doubts?” Sioll Baxx’s retort made Reihyn chuckle softly, despite what they were about to face. “I’ve got my people waiting in sickbay, all transporter rooms and the hangar decks. Wherever there will be injured, you’ll find a corpsman. I’ve also pinched crewmen from security to help with stretchers and gurneys.”
“Thank you, Doctor. We’ll be in range in a few minutes, standby.” He closed the channel and opened a new one, his tone getting harder. “Reihyn to Ramirez. Status report, Chief.”
“Every transporter room is manned and ready. I’m in shuttlebay one, just finished final checks on all tractor beam emitters; everything's ready to recover escape pods. All non-coms and crewmen are at their allocated posts.”
“Thank you, Chief. Reihyn out.” Of all the ‘motley’ crew on the Orion, he’d have thought that Ramirez would’ve been the most trouble”given that when they’d first met the man had been in handcuffs, just released from a penal colony for going AWOL to join the Maquis”but so far he’d been towing the line and helping keep the crew in check.
There was a moment of eerie stillness on the bridge. He’d run out of busywork for himself, so all that remained was to sit still and wait patiently”something the adrenaline rushing through his body wasn’t allowing him to do. He was fidgeting and shifting in his seat, eager to leap into action and do something.
After what felt like hours, DuMont glanced over at him. “We’re in visual range.”
“On screen.”
The viewscreen flickered as the image zoomed in on the battlefield they were heading towards. As the monitor filled with twisted, melted wrecks and misshapen debris, everything on the bridge seemed to fall silent as all of the crew looked ahead of them. Reihyn felt himself slowly rise from his seat as his brain tried to process the scene. He knew that the Starfleet task force sent to hold the system had just been fourteen ships (only two of which had managed to limp back away from Setlik), whilst the enemy forces had numbered two dozen; but looking at the remains of those ships looked as though it had been hundreds of ships doing battle.
“My Gods,” someone gasped (he didn’t even register saying the two short words).
A signal from his right managed to pierce the numbness he was feeling, but he couldn’t look away.
“Sensors show high levels of radiation which will impede our search. Though I can detect a number of escape pods and shuttles, I can’t tell if any are carrying survivors or were blasted free when their ships exploded. There is also a high level of bio-matter throughout our search grid.”
Reihyn knew the meaning behind the last phrase; active sentient beings were dubbed ‘life-forms’ but the dead were known as ‘bio-matter’. How many had died out there? How many clung to life?
The task force had comprised of: two Nebula-, four Excelsior-, three Norway-, three Miranda- and two Akira-Class starships, totalling over six thousand men, women and others. Only a Nebula and Akira had made it to Starbase 290, both suffering from a thirty percent casualty rate.
“Le...” Reihyn began before his voice caught. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound like a Captain. “Let’s get to work.”
* * * * *
As the Orion entered the battlefield, manoeuvring on RCS thrusters alone, she had to scan every chunk of debris, hull section, escape pod and shuttle she came to, the crew forever hopeful that the next object they scanned would give them a positive result. So far, none had.
It was slow, painstaking work, but thoroughness and diligence were what was needed. Clarissa DuMont tried not to think about the inactive organic matter her screens showed, focused on finding something living. Though it was at times like this she questioned why she hadn’t taken off the uniform years ago, back when it was obvious that she didn’t have what it took to really make it in Starfleet. Instead, she had drifted through her career and her life with complacency and apathy, never trying harder as no one ever expected her too. She knew that was how she had wound up on the Orion; Starfleet wouldn’t waste the billet of XO on someone more valuable to combat operations. She held an appropriate rank and spent six years as Second Officer on the Willoughby so on paper she was the perfect fit for working on the support ship.
Then she was faced with carnage such as this, for the second time in three weeks. It was almost too much for her to bear. She was considering looking for reassignment to Utopia Planitia or Jupiter Station, somewhere she wouldn’t have to see all this and where she could be left in an office handling low-priority logistics”the sort of monotonous work she’d always been adept at.
Her sensor screen chirped. She looked at it and frowned. For a moment there looked to have been something on the hull segment that was coming on to port, but before she could ascertain just what it might be as a damaged fusion reactor nearby released another burst of radiation, scrambling the sensors again. Was it something? Or was it wishful thinking? She had to make a judgement call, or risk condemning survivors to a long, painful death.
“I...um...think I have something,” she stated.
Almost immediately Captain Reihyn was beside her, leaning forward looking at the readouts. He looked at the telemetry and shook his head. “I don’t see anything, Commander.”
“There was a faint signal a moment ago. It didn’t even last a second before being obscured by radiation, but it looked like multiple life-signs.”
The Rigellian-Enex looked down at her, his yellow, tattooed face tight, eyes narrow, lips pursed as he scrutinised her. She knew that he didn’t think much of her, would probably be delighted if she was reassigned. Despite his youth (he was barely in his thirties) he was a pretty solid officer, with a lot of potential as a Captain”she’d known dozens of young officers like him surpass her over the last three decades.
“How sure are you, Commander?” he asked softly so no one else could hear.
She set her jaw, doing something she had rarely done in her career, she took a chance. “Very. There was definitely something there, sir.”
He looked at her for a moment longer and then nodded. “Commander,” he announced so all could hear, “prep a SAR team and carry out a more detailed search.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she slowly nodded. “Aye sir.”
Reihyn gave her a reassuring look, then returned to his chair. She took a couple of deep breathes and quickly thought about who she would need, then called her team together through the intercom, opting to leave the bridge crew where they were”after all they still had a lot of work to do. Her team informed of their new orders, she rose from mission ops and headed into the turbolift, heart pounding in her chest, hoping she was right about this.
* * * * *
As much as he disliked the new uniforms, with their high collar and itchy fabric, Doctor Sioll Baxx hated the EVA suits even more. Commander DuMont had contacted sickbay needing a medic for a search-and-rescue team onto the remains of one of the ships. Though he had younger corpsmen and medtechs who could handle such an away mission, if there really were injured over there then he’d much rather see them first hand, ascertain if they could be moved safely and carry out field triage so he could know just who could be saved.
As he was snapped and clipped into the spacesuit, he was beginning to rethink his decision. As well as himself and the ship’s XO, there were also Lieutenant j.g. Lanali, the bright and bubbly chief engineer, Chief Petty Officer Ramirez, Crewmen Anders and Ytog from security.
“Everyone ready?” DuMont asked, sounding a little unsure to Baxx’s old ears. He was surprised to hear it, seeing as how she was only twenty-odd years his junior. The others all replied as he nodded before pulling the helmet over his head and clicking it into place. Inside his breathing sounded louder than he’d ever heard, whilst displays beside the faceplate came to life, showing suit integrity, air and power levels, as well as other data on it.
Damn thing has more functions that the first tricorder I ever opened, he noted. Baxx wasn’t a technophobe, he just believed that technology should assist with his life, not dominate it. That was the reason he’d pushed so hard to get onto one of the zombie fleet, as onboard one of those old ships he could do a lot of good, without having to rely on overly complicated devices or damned holograms.
They stepped up onto the dais and once in position, DuMont signalled their readiness. Within seconds, the well-lit interior of the Orion faded in a shimmer of blue before being replaced with darkness. The six-man team quickly activated the lights on the side of the helmet as well as the beacons strapped around their wrists. More illumination didn’t make the view any better. The corridor they stood in was scorched from internal explosions, metal warped and curving inwards like arthritic fingers trying to snatch them.
He quickly pulled the tricorder from its pouch and started scanning.
“Orion, this is DuMont. We are onboard.”
“Understood Commander. We’ve been able to identify those remains as belonging to the Trial. We’re having a hard time picking up your life-signs, so there may very well be survivors. Proceed with caution.”
“Acknowledged Captain. DuMont out.”
“Should we get the pattern enhancers set up here?” Lanali asked.
“Not yet, Lieutenant. We’ll set them up if there is anyone onboard, that way we won’t have to move them if we don’t need too.”
“Got it.”
Baxx listened with half an ear, keeping his attention focused on his scanner, the range of which was limited, though in closer proximity to life-signs then it should prove to be far more accurate. So far all he registered was the dead, how many he couldn’t tell.
“There is atmosphere, though it’s very thin and carbon dioxide levels are increasing. Radiation is high though not fatal yet, at these current rates that’ll happen in the next couple of hours or so.”
“Understood,” DuMont replied, looking around. “We’re on deck five it looks like, close to sickbay. If there were going to be survivors anywhere onboard, it’d be there.”
It made sense. Medical facilities were often buried deep within ships for maximum safety; they were also emergency shelters in crisis situations. DuMont led them towards it, all of them scanning as they moved, tentatively, through the remains of the U.S.S. Trial.
In unison their scanners signalled a positive for life-signs. Baxx felt a moment of relief before sadness took over. He was only reading eighteen survivors. Moving faster, they reached the entrance to sickbay in moments, and it wasn’t long before Lanali had the doors open.
Baxx headed through the doors first, eager to see to the injured as quickly as he could. Most of those in the ward were patients, though most of the medical staff were also injured as well, the worst off occupied the six beds. The blood-soaked carpet and tainted instruments spoke of all the others who’d passed through during the battle, some to return to their posts after being patched up whilst others never left.
“We’re from the Orion,” DuMont assured them, “we’re here to help.”
It didn’t take long for the survivors to give them a full rundown of their situation. The ranking officer was the assistant chief medical officer, the CMO having been killed when responding to a call for medical assistance on the bridge, there were three nurses, four medtechs, a junior counsellor, whilst the rest were from various other departments, all brought in when they’d been hurt badly enough. Fortunately, they had enough hyronalin to lessen the effects of the radiation exposure and tri-ox to help them breathe easier.
As Baxx made his way through the wounded, quickly assessing their status himself, Ramirez and Lanali set up the pattern enhancers, whilst DuMont and the security guards helped out where they could. It didn’t take long for them to be ready, but they waited for him to finish. By the time he reached the last bed, he counted three that wouldn’t survive, no matter what they tried to do for them, whilst the other three were touch and go. Of course, he wasn’t about to broadcast that, though knew that Doctor Saunders understood just what the prognosis was.
He looked at the first officer. “I’d suggest beaming us directly to sickbay, Commander.”
Through her faceplate he saw her nod before opening up the comlink to the Orion. “Transporter room two, lock on and beam us directly to sickbay. Energise when ready.”
“Understood.”
* * * * *
Two hours after the Trial survivors had been recovered they discovered multiple clusters of life-forms on what remained of the U.S.S. Malinche, bringing the total of crewmen rescued up to forty-nine. Over the next forty minutes after that they salvaged five escape pods from the Odin and Shran, though only eight survivors were found in total.
Fifty-seven people, out of thousands on the ships they were searching, and there was no guarantee that all of those would survive the journey to Starbase 290. But whilst others were out their fighting and dying, Aleksander Jachim was stuck on a flying trash heap.
Unfortunately, at the rate Starfleet was losing ships the chance of being assigned to something better was getting less and less likely. More ships were being pulled from junkyards or rushed out of the shipyards half-finished and unable to hold full crews. Though his name would be on the transfer list, even with his spotless record, being on a ship like this would undoubtedly harm his chances of being offered another posting. He was the only senior lieutenant onboard, a fact that made him a valuable member of the crew, due to his level of experience, knowledge and security clearance”as well as the Second Officer, an opportunity he hadn’t been afforded previously. It was the one positive aspect to serving on the Orion, though not one he would freely admit to anyone.
He was intent on the sensor displays, his eyes quickly shifting over every piece of data they gathered, looking for any signs of others still alive amidst the debris. There had to be more. His only hope was that the other two ships had been more successful, though neither was equipped to handle large amounts of casualties like the Orion”the Ariel was essentially a supply ship, huge sections of her internal space had been removed to carry a large volume of cargo, whilst the Oppenheimer was little more than a courier, ferrying VIP personnel, equipment or information from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’. The trio had been pressed into the SAR mission due to the fact that no hospital ships were available.
They would need another hour to complete their first sweep, after which they would run it again, checking over everything to make sure they hadn’t missed anyone. Once the living had been recovered and taken to the nearest starbase, other ships would be sent in to recover bodies and salvage any usable systems”an operation that the Orion could well be ordered to carry out. It was a grim prospect, but one that would need to be done, there was no way they could leave Starfleet hardware and ordinance adrift, not with a black market hungry for such things.
Jachim was so focused on the sensors that the flashing of the communications array caught him by surprise. He noted where the signal originated from then glanced at the Captain, a man only three years his senior. “Sir, the Lirpa is hailing us.”
Reihyn scowled for a moment. Radio silence had been ordered throughput the mission, only to be broken in emergency situations. “On screen,” he ordered.
Finger hovering over the control, he tapped it as soon as ordered, shifting the viewscreen from the debris to the face of T’Lyis. She didn’t waste any time. “Our long-range sensors have picked up two Hideki-Class ships on approach. We believe they have picked up on our ion trail and are moving to investigate, it is doubtful the Dominion would dispatch two such ships for either their own salvage operation or to hinder ours.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We will move off, make it appear as though their arrival has forced us to withdraw. They will either pursue us, in which case we will lead them away and try to evade them sufficiently to allow us to return; or they will drop out of warp and attempt to determine why we were here. If this is to happen, you are to take no tactical action, even if you are discovered. Do not engage the Cardassians. Leave the system immediately.”
“It doesn’t feel right leaving you to take on two ships,” Reihyn protested.
“Those are my explicit orders, Captain.”
Jachim noticed the slump of the Rigellian’s shoulders before he nodded. “Understood. We’ll relay the orders. Good luck to you.”
T’Lyis gave the slightest bow of her head in acknowledgement. “Lirpa out.”
The Captain turned his chair towards DuMont’s station on the other side of the deck. “Commander, relay the orders to the other ships. Tell them to reduce their power output as best they can, then hope for the best.”
“Aye sir.”
Seeing Reihyn’s reaction to their orders, Jachim couldn’t help but see parallels between the two of them. The yellow-skinned man was obviously a good officer, no one made Captain in their early-thirties if they weren’t, but whilst Jachim had the opportunity to complain and protest about the ship he now found himself on he suspected Reihyn didn’t have that luxury.
Turning back to his controls, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been a little too harsh on his new CO. The man definitely deserved greater observation, that much was certain.
* * * * *
“Both Hideki’s have dropped out of warp,” stated Jachim, his voice low for some unconscious reason.
From where she sat at tactical, D’Kehra could see they were both actively scanning the debris field, looking to see why the Lirpa had been in the system. All three recovery ships had reduced their power output as much as they could, just enough to keep their shields up to hold back the radiation, life-support systems to keep the crew and survivors breathing, and warp drive spooled up and ready to engage.
It wasn’t in her nature to hide, always preferring to confront whatever situation she faced”which was why she’d been busted from lieutenant commander to ensign. Had it not been for the war against the Klingons and risking her life to save seven of her shipmates, she doubted she’d ever have been promoted again. Now they were facing a far greater foe, one that was quickly overpowering Starfleet at every turn. As much as she wanted to be on the frontlines, she understood that such a thing would be near enough impossible thanks to the black mark on her file. The Orion was perhaps the best thing she could’ve hoped for, at least here she was making an important contribution.
The tension on the bridge was palpable, oppressive. The more experienced on the crew were better at hiding their fears, but the rookies, like Mecell beside her, were having a far tougher time. She cast a sideward glance at the Bajoran, noting the sweat trickling down his smooth, dark skin, and the slight tremor to his hands on the surface of their joint station.
Behind them, the Captain rose and moved over to ops, checking to see if they’d shown any signs of spotting the three starships hiding in the graveyard. She reached over and rested her hand on top of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
He looked at her, terror behind his eyes.
“Relax, Mecell,” she told him, her voice low and soft. “Focus on your duties. Ensure the escape course is locked into the computer and that engines are ready at the touch of a button, then just wait for his order. Okay?”
Not looking any more relaxed or reassured, he gave a quick nod then double checked his system. She noted him entering the commands for the impulse and warp drive into the navcomp, locking them in with their heading, should they need to bug out. She may not have been a ranking officer any longer, but she wasn’t about to give up offering the benefit of her experience wherever she could.
Seeing that he was at least trying to focus, she reverted her attention back to tactical. She quickly noted that shields were showing increasing signs of strain as the radiation levels continued to increase, though for the first time since entering the remains of the battlefield she was grateful for the bursts of sensor-distorting radiation. If it didn’t work however they would soon know of it. Though ordered not to fight, the Orion was in the best shape of all three ships in the debris field, so from her perspective it would only make sense for them to be the last to leave, giving the other ships time to escape. Even then, two modern Hideki’s would be too much for them”if it came to that.
“They are increasing scan intensity near the Oppenheimer,” warned Jachim.
“Stand ready,” Reihyn ordered quietly, slowly moving back towards his chair.
Long seconds ticked by on the chronometer above the viewscreen. With each one the tension grew thicker, nerves were frayed, doubts turned to worries. Of all the ships, the old surveyor was the least likely to survive any kind of assault.
D’Kehra looked at the weapons panel. It would take them at least twelve seconds to turn the power back up to full and to then charge the phasers, far too large a window, but she kept her long fingers hovering over the controls, ready to react as soon as the order was given.
The sensors chirped again. From ops she heard Jachim let out a pent-up breathe. “They’re heading out,” he told the anxious bridge crew. “It looks like they’re heading after the Lirpa.”
Reihyn quickly turned to DuMont. “Send a point-to-point laser signal to the other ships. Tell them to maintain position and power conservation mode until the Cardassians are out of sensor range. The last thing we need is to alert them of our presence.”
“Aye sir,” she replied.
“Mr Jachim, maintain sensor lock on them. If they so much as glance back in our direction I want to know.”
“Yes Captain.”
She glanced at her young companion beside her, who was visibly shaken by the close call. Though too young to be his mother, she couldn’t help but feel a maternal pull towards him; wanting to reassure him and better prepare him for the road ahead. In the brief time they’d served together, she hadn’t had much chance to interact with him off of the bridge, though now she was determined to change that. Whether he wanted it or not, she would mentor him during the worrisome early days of a career in Starfleet, try to steer him clear of the mistakes that she had made.
Before then however, they had to finish sweeping the battlefield, a task they’d need to return to post haste, if they were to make up for the time they were losing now.
* * * * *
Sickbay was busy. Every bed occupied with the injured and the dying saved from the Setlik battlegroup. But with so few medical staff onboard, the doctors, nurses and medics that had been retrieved were helping out. Though she wasn’t one of them, Lieutenant j.g. Myza was determined to do something other than sit in her cabin and wait. She had been one of the few saved from the Trial, where she had been completing her internship as a trainee counsellor (a second career choice for her, after finding serving as a conn officer to be unfulfilling).
She had a basic emergency medical training course under her belt, but so far had yet to put it into practice. Her time in the surprisingly large medical ward was spent speaking with the injured who were conscious, telling them about what had happened to their ships and crewmates, holding their hands as they cried for those they’d lost, whilst in one case having to tell a young ensign that his leg had been lost because of the damage it had sustained. She may not have been much of a medic, but she could provide a sympathetic ear and reassuring words to help them all through the grief”which she shared in equal measure. Though it was not the time to dwell on herself, not when others were in need of support and care.
She was sitting by the bedside of a badly burnt Arcturian who’d finally drifted off to sleep, when a strong hand settled on her shoulder. She look up and back with a start, to find a Rigellian-Enex standing behind her, a mournful look on his tattooed face (the patterns of which signified the ancient clan he’d been born into).
“How are they doing?” he asked softly.
Glancing at the Arcturian chief, then at the other beds she’d spent time with, she shook her head. “They’ve lost everything they had, their homes, possessions, friends, lovers. Some will adjust quicker than others, but for a few it may be too much for them to bear.”
“Well at least they have you to help them, or at least get them on the path to recovery. Lieutenant Myza, isn’t it?” She nodded in reply, for the first time noticing the four pips on his collar, surprising for one so young. “How are you doing? You’ve lost just as much as they have.”
“I’m doing alright. I have my job to focus on, this may not be my ship or all of my former crewmates, but they are hurting mentally and emotionally. If I can get through to even one of them and help them, then it’s worthwhile.” She looked up from his collar to the tiredness on his face. “How about you? Captain?”
He formed a weak smile. “Sorry. Reihyn, CO of the Orion,” he introduced himself, then paused for a moment. “I’m alright, tired after all we’ve been through today, but there’s still too much to do before I can get some sleep.”
“I’m not your therapist, Captain Reihyn, but I would advise against pushing yourself too far too fast. This war is likely to be a marathon, not a sprint.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, Lieutenant.” Just then his combadge buzzed. “Duty calls. Good luck down here.”
With that, he turned away and headed for the exit, answering the page he’d received but keeping his voice low and tone steady so as to not disturb or alarm any of the patients and medical staff. As she watched him leave, the wrinkled Bolian CMO approached, carrying two steaming mugs, one of which he handed to her. The sharp hit of ginger filled her nostrils (a feature many didn’t think Benzites had) and made her smile softly”one of her shipmates must’ve told him of her fondness for the beverage.
“I hope you don’t mind being put to work like this,” he began.
She shook her head. “Not at all, I’d rather be kept busy here than twiddle my thumbs in my room.”
"Good. Ensign Wallace has woken up again and asking to speak with you, if you’re free.”
Taking a sip of her tea, she felt the warm spice of the ginger dance across her palate before her tongue was coated in the reassuring sweetness of honey. A small smile curled her lips as she nodded and followed him back towards the one-legged man from the Odin.
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate 51339.9.
Our search-and-rescue mission to Setlik has been completed and we are heading for Starbase 290. We managed to recover seventy-nine people in total, whilst the Ariel located fifty-five and the Oppenheimer a further forty-one. Just one hundred and seventy-five survivors out of five thousand and eighty-eight in total…I don’t know what more there is to say on those figures.
We have rendezvoused with the Lirpa once again and fortunately have avoided any further contact with the Cardassians. We are due at two-ninety in forty-one hours, after offloading the survivors we’ll be on a cargo run with the Ariel, restocking Starbase 375 with spare parts and magazines of torpedoes.
On a crew matter, Doctor Baxx has continued to highlight how beneficial having a counsellor onboard has been, given the circumstances, and has asked about getting one assigned to the Orion”something I’ve thought would’ve been beneficial from day one. I’ve since contacted the Starfleet Medical office for the sector to see about seconding Lieutenant Myza, for a short time”to help with treating survivors, troops heading out to the front, as well as the crew. They are taking it under advisement and will inform me of their decision by the time we put into dock.
End log.
* * * * *
In the solitude of his quarters, Mecell Koen fought to hold back tears.
The last twenty-four hours had almost broken him, the stress and pressure of what was expected from him were definitely too much for him to cope with”it was no wonder that those who graduated in the bottom ten percent never got postings as bridge flight control officers, they just weren’t ready for it. Throughout the Academy he’d known he would end up graduating near the bottom, his own sheer dogged determination being the only thing that kept him from washing out, so when he saw that he was 347th out of 350 cadets he had come to expect an assignment piloting shuttles out of some planetary base somewhere (a station if he was lucky). So when he saw his name next to that of the U.S.S. Orion he was floored; even more so when he discovered it would be as her senior conn officer.
Now though, he knew that he couldn’t hack it. Maybe, there might’ve been a slim chance had they not been at war with the Cardassians, he might’ve been able to make a go of it, but the thoughts of facing off against them with all they’d done to him…
Tears ran down his cheeks, unable to be suppressed any longer”the tension of recent days and trauma of years past proved too much for him to contain. As he openly wept he gripped his mother’s earring, still with her dried blood on it, tightly. It was the only connection he had with her anymore, after a patrol squad of Cardassians had finished raping the life from her as he’d be forced to watch. The faces of all four men were burned into his young memory, never to leave his nightmares.
He looked up at the ceiling, desperate for guidance, comfort, or divine intervention. “Prophets, please help me,” he begged the silent room.
* * * * *
The deck plates vibrated as the warp field went through an inversion. It was something that happened numerous times when a ship was within a warp bubble, the field undergoing micro-calibrations to ensure its integrity and output. It was the kind of thing no one ever felt and few ever remembered from Warp Drive 101, but on the Orion Lieutenant j.g. Enan Lanali was aware of it every time it happened.
She didn’t have an eidetic memory and her intellect wasn’t rated in the ‘genius bracket’, but at school she had shown an aptitude for problem solving and technology, something her parents quickly fostered and nurtured, allowing them to fully blossom. Of course, her interest in engineering led her to starships which ultimately decided for her that she would become a Starfleet officer. Now here she was, three years clear of the Academy and already in charge of her own engine room. When her new orders had come through, some of her shipmates on the Tesla had been green with envy; that was until they learnt what ship it was. That jealousy soon turned to pity, though in her eyes, all she could see was the challenge.
The Orion presented at least three new problems a day to be diagnosed and overcome, which was what she loved most about engineering. She now spent every spare moment she had elbow deep in some part of the ship, fixing, upgrading or testing something. When the Orion had been towed into Starbase 360 from the junkyard she’d been stored at, Lanali had been the first person to set foot on her, ever since then she had quickly come to know every system intimately; her dreams were now filled with the circuit diagrams and conduit paths of the ship, navigating them with ease even in the deepest of sleeps.
“How’s that?” she called out, voice muffled. Though her shift had technically finished six hours ago, she was on her back buried under a workstation in engineering.
“Still nothing, sir,” replied Petty Officer Ellis.
“Hmm,” she muttered to herself, putting the slim flashlight back between her teeth to hold as she needed both hands to pick through the isolinear chips looking for singed circuits, or pull ODN connectors to see it any had corroded over time. It took another five minutes of searching before she found a couple of culprits, quickly swap them out for less damaged parts, and ask again about the consoles status.
“You got it, Lieutenant.” She could hear the smile in his tone.
Wriggling back out of the crawlspace, she emerged to find him offering a hand. She gripped it and he pulled her up to her feet, the world spun for a second as she got up too quickly, before she handed the damaged pieces to the non-com.
“Give those the once over, see if you can fix them.”
“Sure thing,” he assured her, taking the parts.
Unlike most other ships, the Orion wouldn’t have the luxury of new spare parts”at least not for the small stuff”so they would have to mend and make do with what they had. She had quickly drilled it into her staff that if chips could be fixed and reformatted then they were to be, save what newer stock they did have for more important jobs. The older crew she had didn’t have any problems, most of them would understand the need for it, but the rookies on her staff were having issues with it”all of them no doubt expecting to have workshops full of new parts, to switch out whenever needed.
Sorry kids, this is the real world now, she quipped to herself, smiling at the private joke. One of her newbies, Crewman Apprentice Richardson who had just turned 18 two months ago, did a doubt take at seeing her smile, before quickly getting back to work. She suspected the young crewman found a Vulcan-looking individual smiling to be a shock to the system, which was something that always amused her. Though Rigellian-Tomal’s had the same ears and eyebrows as Vulcans, they lacked the emotional discipline (not to mention the telepathic abilities); so whilst they looked the same, they certainly didn’t act the same.
She had just reached the warp core diagnostic board and was about to run a quick check on the system, when her stomach gargled. It was only then she couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything. For a moment, she did consider trying to ignore it and carry on for a little longer, but a louder grumble from her belly clinched it.
“Richardson,” she called out.
“Sir?” the freckled teenager replied, looking at her expectantly.
“Run a level five diagnostic of the warp core for me, I’m nipping to the mess for a quick bite. I’ll be back in twenty.”
“Aye-aye sir,” the younger woman eagerly acknowledged and trotted over to take Lanali’s place.
Smiling to herself again, the Orion’s chief engineer headed out for a well-deserved break.
* * * * *
Throughout the search-and-rescue assignment it had been all hands on deck, people pulling double, if not triple shifts in order to get the job done as quickly as they could. Now it was over and they were heading back to station, the crew had to get back into their watch pattern. For Chief Diego Ramirez, that meant manning the ops console on the bridge on gamma shift.
Lieutenant Jachim had the com and a number of junior officers and non-coms were manning the other stations, as Captain Reihyn and the others were resting in time for their own shifts. Whilst the Orion was a ship of black sheep, he was perhaps the blackest, as he’d ‘abandoned’ his duty and obligation to Starfleet in order to answer a far more personal mission; keeping his home safe from the spoon-headed bastards. Even among a crew such as this there were those who looked down on him for it, whilst others were thinking of how they’d been close to doing the same thing once upon a time (no doubt now relieved they hadn’t, seeing what had happened to the Maquis).
He hadn’t been there for the end, caught by the starship J’Vaé just three days before it was announced Cardassia had joined the Dominion. From a brig cell on the Norway-Class ship, he’d read the reports as they came through, even heard from one of the more sympathetic officers onboard that Starfleet Intelligence had monitored Jem’Hadar forces striking at every planet, moon and asteroid the Maquis had ever looked at. All those he’d fought alongside for over two years were dead or imprisoned like he was.
When the war had begun he had petitioned for release, wanting to take the fight back to the Cardassians (now with the full might of Starfleet behind him). But the warden had told him that his release would only be granted on one condition, he wouldn’t be assigned to the frontlines, as he was deemed as too unpredictable. So he’d been given the billet onboard the Orion.
It wasn’t what he wanted, but his only other option was to spend the war at the penal colony in New Zealand, an even more unattractive prospect. At least on active duty he was making a greater contribution, even if it was just picking up the pieces.
The communications array chirped. “Lieutenant, there’s a broadband signal coming in from the Oppenheimer.”
“On screen.”
The purple-scaled face of Lieutenant Commander S’sau filled the screen. His tongue flicked, tasting the air. “We are experiencing a slight imbalance with our reactor core. My Chief informs me that she can correct it at warp, though not at our present velocity. We will need to slow down to warp factor two before she can safely fix the problem.”
“Understood,” came the clipped response from Captain T’Lyis, a woman who never seemed to sleep. “We shall match speed and provide technical assistant if required. Orion and Ariel, remain at your current speed.”
As the Ariel confirmed the order, Jachim looked across at him. “Open a channel.” Ramirez did as ordered and nodded when it was live. “Captain, in case this problem is worse than presumed, we have the capacity to take on their injured and get them to Starbase 290 sooner.”
There was a pause before the screen split, showing the bridge of the Lirpa as well. “That would be acceptable. We shall drop out of warp for transport. Once complete you are authorised to increase velocity to rendezvous with the Ariel again and continue on to station.”
“Confirmed,” he managed to say before the channel closed. “Conn, drop us out of warp with them.” He turned to ops. “Chief, have the emergency transporter rooms manned and alert sickbay of the additions.”
“Aye sir,” he replied and set about his task. Of all the crew, Jachim was the one who had shown the greatest disapproval of Ramirez, which made things a little seeing as how they were on the same shift. But that was the Lieutenant’s problem, not his. He was onboard to do a job, which he’d do as best he could, if others had a problem with his past then he wasn’t going to let that get to him.
He dispatched two of his more reliable technicians to the emergency transporter rooms, which could beam up twenty-four people in total, which meant they could transfer over all the survivors in just two transports. He also contacted sickbay, only to hear Doctor Baxx grumble about the extra work being foisted on them, with a facility that was already nearing full capacity”luckily though several empty crew quarters had been quickly converted into additional ward space, a week after the ship had left dry-dock.
It took less than four minutes for the transporter rooms to be manned, activated, transfer over the patients, secure the transporters again and be underway. He doubted that anyone, even the likes of Jachim or T’Lyis could scoff at that.
* * * * *
They were on final approach to the station’s docking ring, so Reihyn left DuMont in charge of the routine manoeuvre and headed below. Of the survivors they’d rescued, four had died in transit due to their injuries, whilst another sixteen who were in critical condition had been beamed to 290’s infirmary as soon as they were in range. Of those left, the first to depart would be the badly injured but stable, then the walking wounded, with the six that miraculously only had a few scratches or bruises would be the last to leave.
Who he needed to speak with was in the last group. He’d finally heard back from Starfleet Medical, who had weighed up his request and deemed it to be acceptable”for a brief trial period at least. When they’d spoken of needing to find a suitable candidate for the position, he’d suggested the counsellor they already had onboard, Lieutenant Myza. It took a few minutes of discussion between them, but ultimately they conceded, seeing as how she was only a month away from finishing her internship.
He wasn’t sure how she would take the news of her new assignment, though he hoped that she would see the merit to it, if nothing else. It would also mean he would have another officer he could draw upon, one with a good few years under their belt.
Stopping at the door to her quarters he tapped the enunciator and waited patiently. It took a few moments for them to open and he found her in a set of teal coveralls, seeing as how her uniform had been ruined on the Trial and with no replicators to make replacements, they had a stock of temporary clothing for survivors to wear whenever they had any onboard. She looked tired, but on seeing who it was she perked up a little more.
“Captain?”
“Lieutenant, mind if I come in?”
She stood to the side and he crossed the threshold. All the officer quarters onboard were smaller than most would be used to, really nothing more than a bed, desk, closet, and a small table with two chairs, though they all had a private head. His were marginally larger, though still far from spacious”and were just as Spartan as the guest room she occupied. He opted to sit at the table and she took the chair opposite.
“How are you doing?” he began.
“I’m fine, sir. Feeling a little drained; it’s been a tough few days.”
“Well you’ve handled yourself admirably. You selflessly put the needs of others ahead of your own, to help them through difficult times”something we will no doubt be seeing a lot of in the months ahead. We’ll also be carrying troops out to the front, where they’ll have nothing but time on their hands as they think about why they’ll be going into. All of which will add stress to a crew that isn’t in the greatest shape to deal with it on top of their own issues.”
She smiled softly; no doubt seeing where he was going (he’d never been able to bluff convincingly). “It sounds like you need a counsellor, sir.”
“Starfleet Medical has come to the same decision, and I was hoping you’d accept the post”as a temporary secondment at present.”
Myza glanced down at her hands on the tabletop for a moment. “I used to be a conn officer, a good one,” she told him, looking back up and holding his eyes. “Put me in the seat of any vessel and I could fly it anywhere. But because I excelled at it, there was no challenge left in it for me; which is why I went back to the Academy to train as a counsellor. It’s tough and gruelling, especially now, but it was what I wanted”to push myself down a different path, where I learned the rewards of helping others. I wouldn’t be much of a Counsellor if I turned my back on it now.”
“So, you’ll take the job?”
She gave him a firm nod. “Yes sir.”
He let out a relieved breath, followed by a subtle smile. “Well then, welcome aboard Counsellor Myza.”
* * * * *
END
Story Notes: Takes place roughly three weeks after "Connecting The Dots".