Title: "Fifteen Decks"
Author: NorJC
In association with: Albert Green Jr.'s "A Thin Veneer Universe"
Words: 6300
NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT MUST NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.
-COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-
"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine", and "Star Trek: Voyager" and "Star Trek: Enterprise" and all related Star Trek related material, its characters and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and whatever corporation it may or may not be owned by.
No studio is responsible for the content of this story. Other names and additional characters are the creation of the author who owns and is solely responsible for them as such.
THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'FIFTEEN DECKS' IF DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM. THIS DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY ANY DISTRIBUTION OF THIS STORY.
Dedication:
Both my lovely bride of nearly 20 years and our children have allowed me to hide in our office and write in relative peace. As I have said before and shall always say again, thank you, my beloveds. I also would like to thank Albert who galvanized me to get off my duff and start writing again with his wonderful stories, 'A Thin Veneer', its supplements and his 'A Universe of Change', 'Those who Stand' and 'the Evolutions-Ruination war series' and who helped me edit this story. I'd also like to thank my beta reader Ruth.
This story is the first of a short story and novella series that focuses on the life and times of the crew of the Constellation-class, USS Valkyrie, NCC-2590, a single Federation starship engulfed in the war encompassed by the 'A Thin Veneer' ("ATV") series. Because the events in this particular story occur about a year before the events in the ATV universe, you don't need to read that series in connection with this story; however, I heartily recommend reading 'A Thin Veneer' in connection with the stories involving the Valkyrie and her valiant crew.
#
"Captain, we're still behind schedule on deck seven! Should I tell McKinley Station to delay the baryon sweep?"
Jason Tynen, the new master of the Constellation-class star cruiser Valkyrie, came to a halt amongst the throng of scurrying crewmen and station specialists in the corridor and shook his head at his Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Etana Mazan. "No, have the crewmen from that deck divert to Cargo Bay Two and use the transporter there," he told the red headed Ktarian female.
"Right away, sir," said the lovely woman who possessed the distinctive yellow eyes with cat-like slit pupils of her people before she allowed Tynen to continue on his way down the corridor.
Moments later, he was stopped short by the controlled monotone voice of his new Vulcan First Officer. "Captain," Commander V'Lar said, "may I have a word with you?"
Tynen forced a smile he didn't feel onto his face. "Of course, commander. What can I do for you?"
"I believe I need to place additional field diverters in engineering for both the intermix computer control system and access tube J-217's junction box to ensure that the upgrades to the system will be unaffected by any baryon particles."
Tynen shot a questioning look at her. "V'Lar, will we need to delay the sweep?" he asked. He wanted to avoid any delays because the station had to perform a baryon sweep on his starship before it could leave for deep space. The procedure would remove radiation that'd built up from extended periods at warp during the Constellation-class starship's shakedown cruise. Unfortunately, the procedure was toxic to organic tissue and disrupted unshielded electronic equipment, so the ship had to be evacuated, delaying inspections for defective components and repairs. The Valkyrie was on a timetable to cast off in three days to make room for a pair of heavy frigates due for refits. Tensions in the neutral zone between the Federation and the Klingon Empire had increased recently and Starfleet wanted more warships patrolling the area.
Now he watched her as she clasped both hands behind her back, inadvertently thrusting her impressive bosom toward him. Hopefully, he prayed, she didn't notice that he'd glimpsed down at her chest as she said, "I do not believe so, sir."
He smiled thinly. "Good. Oh, commander, are you sure you won't join us at the Dockmaster's reception?"
She blinked once and said, "I am certain, captain. I would prefer engaging in meditation in one of the station's private alcoves before returning to duty later this evening."
He nodded at her just as he saw his Andorian Chief Medical Officer approaching them. Hoping to avoid being caught in the crossfire between his two officers, he blurted to V'Lar, "All right then, you'd better hurry. Oh, and be sure to evacuate the ship via Cargo Bay Two's transporter."
She tilted her head respectfully to him and strode toward the turbolift moments before the doctor reached Tynen's side.
"So," Lt. Commander Thae'lak Shron purred, "where is your Vulcan off to now?"
Tynen narrowed his eyes at the smaller alien and swore under his breath. Although, they were friends and had served together on the heavy frigate Hippolyta, Tynen's last command, Shron could be a real pain in his ass, especially when he claimed that V'Lar was 'his Vulcan.' The Andorian could never know that teasing him the way he did truly irked the captain. No matter how interested he was in her as a woman, Jason knew he could never allow a personal relationship to form between them because of the ghost that still haunted his nightmares.
He buried a sigh as his thoughts turned to the lithe and curvaceous Vulcan. Although he tried to avoid her during their off duty hours, in his most clandestine moments, she'd stolen into the dreams of chivalry and romance that were his since childhood. Indeed, in his midnight fantasies, she was a faerie princess, dark and ethereal, her emotionless facade a rampart that protected her volcanic sensuality from every suitor except him, her devoted paladin.
Tynen blinked twice as his mind snapped back to face the problems of the here and now. "I believe she's performing her duty, doctor," he retorted. Then he shook his head and sighed deeply, realizing he really needed to deal with this thing between Shron and V'Lar and get them both to stow their racial animosity!
Even after the Federation had been formed to bring peace and cooperation between the founding members mostly due to the efforts of Jonathan Archer more than a century ago, the Vulcans and the Andorians still tended to be wary of each other. At times, the wariness resulted in antipathy and grudges. So if the brass got wind of this kind of sniping on board a ship the Federation had pegged as its 'showcase of diversity' to prove to the other galactic powers that Starfleet wasn't an 'homo sapiens-club' where humans mostly staffed its vessels, there'd be hell to pay.
Now feigning an interest in his friend's section, he said, "What about sickbay? Is it prepared for the sweep?"
Shron nodded as his two antennae waved back and forth above the doctor's pale blue forehead. "McKinley provided me with ten medical storage units to hold my living tissue samples. They assured me that these units will protect the samples from the baryon particles."
Tynen smiled at the blue man. "Good. Then I'll see you over at Saunders' reception."
"Right. See you then," Shron said. Then the Andorian turned and walked away while the captain proceeded to the turbolift that would take him to the bridge.
When he reached deck one, Tynen stepped out and found his Trill navigator, Lieutenant Niznik Vox and his human helmsman, Ensign Lanei Rager, busy securing their stations. He smiled to himself at the eagerness that Lanei always seemed to bring to her work. The ensign was practically a home town girl to the captain; she was from Baton Rouge, Louisiana while New Orleans was Tynen's city.
Tynen cleared his throat to draw their attention. "Vox . . . Lanei, sorry for the delay."
The young African American woman with short, ebony hair smiled brightly at her commanding officer. "Think nothing of it, sir! It's just that the computer needs your authorization to disable command functions during the baryon sweep."
Tynen nodded at her and turned to the now male Trill whose symbiont had been joined with the woman who'd been both the captain's instructor and 'April/October' lover at the Academy. "Are we ready, Vox?"
The Trill regarded the captain in the way that still reminded Tynen of Jezri's coy smile. "Almost, Jason. I'd say we will be ready in another twenty minutes."
"All right then," Tynen said as he strode over to Mazan's panel and activated the communication function. "Computer, disable all command functions in thirty minutes. Authorization: Tynen charlie-one-niner-six-zero."
"Authorization acknowledged," the pleasant female computer voice announced.
A few moments later, Vox's console beeped for the Trill's attention. "Incoming message, captain. It's the station's Dockmaster, Commander Saunders."
"I'll take it in my Ready Room, Vox."
"Sir," Vox said, "request permission to be excused from Commander Saunders' . . . reception."
Tynen smirked. "Permission granted. Well, that makes two of my senior staff who won't be there. V'Lar begged off, too. Obviously, the man's talent for engaging in insipid small talk has certainly preceded him. Now, if only I could skip out as well."
Vox merely shrugged and observed, "Well, at least this works out because with V'Lar not attending, you won't have to be stuck in a social setting with her."
Tynen suddenly shuddered. So it shows! Damn it, Jason! You've got to be more careful or you'll tip everyone off!
Aloud he said, "Vox, I have no idea what you're talking about. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Commander V'Lar, the same as I have for all of my officers. Anyway, I hope you have fun with whatever you're planning to do. And, as for you, ensign," he directed to Rager, "I expect to see you at the reception."
"I'll be there, sir!" she answered brightly.
Smiling at his ensign's bright attitude despite the unpleasantness raised by Vox, Tynen crossed the bridge and entered his Ready Room, a kind of office for the captain near the bridge that Starfleet had designed for the new star cruisers. He took a seat behind his sleek and modern desk then activated his terminal. "Go ahead, Commander Saunders."
A pleasant but vapid looking man stared at him from the terminal's flat screen. "Captain, if you're on schedule, we'd like to confirm that the sweep will begin at seventeen hundred hours - approximately one hour from now."
"Confirmed," Tynen said crisply.
"Good. Now you must make certain the entire ship is evacuated by then, captain. Per standard protocol, the station will scan for life signs thirty seconds before the sweep begins, then our sensors will be useless to us since baryon particles interfere with their operation."
"Acknowledged."
"I also wanted to confirm that you'll be able to attend the reception this evening."
Tynen tried to keep the expression on his face from appearing as if he'd just sucked on the sourest lemon in the galaxy. "Why . . . I'm looking forward to it, commander."
The man's bland smile broadened. "I'm delighted to hear that, sir. McKinley Station out."
After Tynen switched off his terminal, he dragged the palm of his hand across the stubble of his right cheek. He didn't need a mirror to know that the fatigue of the past few days had caught up to him and his face was haggard with bags under his eyes.
The captain gathered himself and stood up from behind his desk. Then he exited his Ready Room to find the bridge was empty. Taking a moment to adjust, he slowly ambled around the space, drinking in the welcome solitude. Finally, he sat down in the captain's chair – his chair – and soaked it all in for several moments before he stood up and strolled to the turbolift.
#
He entered the station's vast conference room to find a festive reception already underway. As he circulated among the tables of food, a waiter offered him a flute of champagne.
Tynen took a sip of his drink and was mildly surprised with how good it tasted. Despite the man's reputation, apparently he knew his vintages. The next moment, a jovial voice caught the captain's attention.
"It's not often that I get a chance to entertain the command crew of Starfleet's 'Flagship of Diversity,' Dr. Shron . . . and speaking of command, hello Captain Tynen!"
The smile that was frozen on Tynen's face was one of forced cheerfulness as he turned to greet the man. "Hello, Commander Saunders."
"I was just telling the good doctor what a real pleasure it is to have you all here."
"Thank you, commander." Tynen noticed that the 'good doctor' had taken the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. Pressing on, the captain said, "We have enjoyed working with McKinley to get our girl ready to sail. We appreciate everything that both you and your crew have done for us."
Saunders smiled brightly at that. "Why, captain! If you continue to go on like that, you'll make me blush. Anyway, while you've been here, have you had the chance to do much sightseeing?"
"Er . . . um, no. I've been busy getting the ship ready to launch."
"Now, captain, you really must take the time to get out while you're here. Since you'll be in deep space soon, you may not have such an opportunity for quite some time."
Tynen fought to keep from rolling his eyes in frustration while he desperately sought a way out. Then when he spied his chief engineer walking by with his tactical officer, he reached out to them like a drowning man gripping his lifeline. "Janja! Etana! I don't believe you've met our host." Then he turned to Saunders and said, "Allow me to introduce Lt. Commander Janja Rad from the planet Catullan and Lt. Etana Mazan from the planet Ktara. Janja, Etana," he indicated to his officers with a sweep of his hand toward the man, "this is Commander Saunders."
Both of his officers warmly greeted Commander Saunders and he said, "I was just telling your captain about some of the fascinating sights he could see here. For instance, are either of you interested in Mayan archaeology?"
Etana hesitated. "Uh . . . well . . ."
"If not, do you happen to have an interest in ancient vinyl recordings?"
Tynen had almost made his getaway when Saunders' question brought him up short.
"Vinyl records, did you say?" Tynen whispered.
"Yes . . . there's a shop called Analogue Haven that caters to stereo phonographic enthusiasts. It's right here on McKinley Station itself. Although I only listen to digital, I've heard that stereophiles throughout the sector frequent the place looking for long playing records produced during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries."
"That sounds . . . great," Tynen admitted. Turning to Janja, he asked, "How long until the baryon sweep begins on the Valkyrie?"
"At least twenty-five minutes, sir."
Tynen's face brightened at that. "Then I'll have time to get my headphones."
His statement was then met with blank stares from the other three.
"Your . . . headphones?" Etana asked.
"Yes," Tynen said simply. Then he noticed they continued to look at him strangely and added, "Headphones are a very personal thing. They have to be broken in . . . worn . . . molded to your ears, creating the perfect seal . . ."
Now the engineer interrupted him. "You keep headphones . . . on the ship?"
"Yes, with the rest of my two channel audiophile system," Tynen explained.
When they continued to give him funny looks, he added, "Which I keep in the arboretum on deck seven."
At Etana's raised eyebrow, he stated, "It has the best acoustics on the ship."
"I see," Etana said.
"Look, I'm from New Orleans. I grew up playing sax in a band my brother, two sisters, and I formed to perform in my father's club on Bourbon Street. Trust me, I know how music is supposed to sound and digital simply is inferior to analog playback. As an audiophile, when I listen to vinyl records to determine if I want to add one to my collection, it's perfectly normal for me to bring my own headphones with me."
"Of course," Etana offered.
"Yes, sir," Janja said.
"Absolutely," Saunders contributed.
Realizing that none of them would ever understand where he was coming from, Tynen narrowed his eyes at them. "If you'll excuse me," he said. Then he turned and strode out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster.
#
He stepped lively through the arboretum portal into the corridor for deck seven with his headphones dangling from his right hand. Just then, he heard from overhead, "Auto-shutdown sequence in progress. Defensive systems off-line. Baryon sweep begins in twelve minutes."
Walking a little faster now, he rounded the bend and saw something that puzzled him in front of the entrance to engineering. He slowed and found a few of the field diverters V'Lar had discussed with him earlier were still in the hallway.
A curious Tynen stepped up to the access portal into main engineering and the computer-controlled doors slid open with a 'whoosh.' He entered the vast room facing the ship's warp core with its plasma conduits on either side of the power plant. Circling around the core, he approached the intermix computer control station which was a crucial element that allowed the Constellation-class's four warp nacelles to work efficiently with one another.
Finally he stopped. He'd reached J-217 and found the hatch for the tube standing straight up on its hinge. Tynen leaned over the access tube, stared inside, and saw something that made his heart clench inside his chest.
V'Lar lay at the bottom of the seven meter deep shaft, her arms and legs askew like the appendages of an abandoned marionette. He didn't see any signs of blood except for a trickle of dark green at the corner of her lips. Her head faced him and he saw that both of her eyes were closed. Lying next to her right hand, he spied a broken rung on the floor. A rapid scan of the tube revealed where the fixture had snapped off and apparently sent her tumbling to the hard floor below.
Blazing white hot fury warred with the specter of fear inside him. If she's dead because of a frigging rung, I'll hunt down the bastard who missed finding it and kill him!
"V'Lar! Commander V'Lar, can you hear me? It's Captain Tynen!"
He would have jumped for joy to hear her monotone voice respond to him with her oh-so-proper English.
However, she was silent.
Crap! Tynen frowned. She's unconscious or worse.
He chewed on his bottom lip and thought hard. He still had time to go down there, to check on her. But if one handrail had failed, he couldn't chance using the others in that tube. If another one snapped off, he'd fall on top of her and possibly kill her.
He stood up and turned full circle, scanning engineering for something he could use. In a corner next to an EPS conduit, someone had stowed a spool of diagnostic cable. Tynen placed his headphones on the floor, strode over to the spool and unwound six feet of cable. He grabbed one end with his left hand and the piece of the cable closest to the spool in his right and tugged on it, gauging its strength.
Satisfied by the admittedly unscientific results, he unwound the entire spool and tied one end of the cable around the base of the intermix computer system. Seconds later, he took the other end and wound it around his waist and both of his thighs, creating a harness.
"Auto shut-down sequence in progress," the computer announced overhead. "Defensive systems off-line. Baryon sweep begins in ten minutes."
Hearing that, Tynen hurriedly gathered the loose cable toward him. He coiled it into large loops, placed the makeshift rope over his right arm, and stepped to the edge of the tube. Then he turned to face the computer, slid the ball of his right foot down the vertical surface of the tube, shortly followed by his left. He tested the strength of the cable one more time, screwed up his courage, and began to rappel down the wall of the tube.
Tynen uncoiled lengths of a yard or so as he gently bounced down the wall, descending to the unconscious woman below. He glanced over his shoulder once or twice until he was low enough to reach the floor with the toe of his right boot. He unleashed about eighteen inches of cable at that moment and stepped onto the floor beside her.
Moments later, he knelt beside her, checked her pulse, and leaned over her face to examine her pupils but was stunned to see wide open eyes staring off into eternity like a pair he'd seen through a tinted faceplate six years ago.
In spite of himself, he was surprised when she coughed spasmodically then whispered, "Passion leads to death."
Shock weakened Tynen's knees. He stared down at her face and trembled. "What . . . did you say?"
"You, you . . . terminated her existence," she mumbled.
"What . . . did you say?" he whispered, his gut wrenching inside.
She stared beyond him as she murmured, "Savage . . . brutal . . . her blood on your hands . . ."
Tynen fled. He scrambled up the rope, dragging himself up the wall as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. He didn't dare stop. He launched himself over the edge of the opened hatch, his heart smashing against his ribcage until he could feel nothing else.
But in his mind he still witnessed those ruthless minutes at the Romulan Neutral Zone, when he'd been an operative for Section 31, when he'd become a murderer. Oh yes, they'd given him the frigate Hippolyta for that secret mission; a ship and a stain upon his soul he could never wash away.
He collapsed onto his back on the deck, gasping for air, eyes darting about wildly. He rolled onto his hands and knees, hanging his head, vainly attempting to ward off his nausea when the computer announced, "Auto shut-down sequence in progress. Defensive systems off-line. Baryon sweep begins in six minutes."
He wanted to get up. He wanted to escape.
Tynen hesitated.
I'm her captain.
"She's . . . my . . . responsibility," he wheezed. She found out about me.
He stood up and slowly turned around to face the access tube hatch. "I can't leave her to die," he muttered. Damn Vulcan touch telepaths to hell! Concussion's made her hysterical. If she babbles about me where someone can hear it . . .
"She needs me." It's the Section's secret; FleetCom doesn't know anything about it. No questions were asked; just gave me a starship. If it comes out of the closet now, I'm finished. Everyone'll know . . . my dad, the Romulans, everyone!
For a minute or so, he hung his head so low his chin rested on his chest. Then Tynen looked up with a steel-like gaze.
Committed now, he descended down the access tube wall once more. Two minutes later, he knelt down by her side. "V'Lar . . . V'Lar! Can you hear me? It's Tynen!"
The Vulcan's eyes were closed and she didn't stir. He glanced up at the top of the tube and knew it'd be difficult to climb it while carrying the unconscious woman. He stared at her for several moments, hoping she might open her eyes and regard him with her normal, penetrating gaze. But his mind overlaid over her elfin features a face he'd once seen, a face shrouded in death.
"Auto shut-down sequence in progress. Defensive systems off-line. Baryon sweep begins in four minutes."
He heard the computer continue its countdown and knew he was running out of time. Then she groaned lowly.
"V'Lar! Commander! Can you hear me?"
"Captain?" she muttered, her eyes struggling to stay open.
A relieved smile flashed upon his face. "Yes! Yes! It's me, V'Lar!" She feebly responded to him by flopping her head his way. "Stay with me, V'Lar. That's it," he cajoled, "that's it!"
"I had to shield the intermix power coupling . . . I believe it is sufficiently protected," she whimpered.
"V'Lar, listen to me! You fell down the access tube and lost consciousness. Now, we need to get off the ship. They're going to start the baryon sweep in a few minutes. If we don't get off the Valkyrie, the sweep will kill us."
She winced and stared at him. Then she nodded but stopped herself as the motion apparently disagreed with her.
Then an idea occurred to him. "When the station conducts its final scan, they'll see us and stop the sweep."
She shook her head gingerly and moaned. "No . . . the access tube is shielded. The station's sensors will most likely fail to detect us."
He grimaced at that bit of news. "Well, then we've got to reach the main engineering deck. Let me help you," he offered and reached for her.
As his hands hovered over her, she gulped, swallowed a scream, and cringed from his touch.
"Do not touch me!" she snarled.
Tynen yanked his hands away like they'd brushed against a scalding hot stove when he saw the accusation in her eyes.
Then she moaned lowly and her eyes fluttered shut.
"V'Lar? V'Lar!"
She was out like a light.
"Auto shut-down sequence in progress. Defensive systems off-line. Baryon sweep begins in three minutes."
He stared down at her, his memory of the indictment of her glare, raw. But now, she looked so fragile, so vulnerable. She reminded him of a faerie version of Sleeping Beauty awaiting her rescue from a fate worse than death.
"Auto shut-down sequence in progress. Defensive systems off-line. Baryon sweep begins in two minutes."
His mind blank now, Tynen wound the cable around her shoulders, her midsection, then under her arms to form a harness.
"Final warning. Primary power off-line in thirty seconds." Then the computer counted down the seconds until the overhead lighting dimmed rapidly. The ship appeared to enter into a deep slumber as the last words from the computer were, "Primary power is now off-line."
The captain took a moment to draw a deep breath under the twilight gloom of the emergency lights before he gritted his teeth and began to scrabble up the wall. His arms already burning from his previous efforts, he grunted and fumbled his way up the smooth surface.
When he reached the access tube's edge, he clambered out of the hatch and took up the line in his blistered hands. He placed both of the soles of his boots against the lower half of the hatch for leverage. Now he tugged the cable with V'Lar attached to it, slowly, steadily toward him.
The first few strokes weren't so bad but soon, he was grunting and swearing when both arms felt like they were coming out of their sockets. Both of his cheeks blew up like balloons for a brief moment before he exhaled forcefully. "Jesus, V'Lar, for a skinny thing," he complained, "you're a lot heavier than you look!"
After grunting and straining for what seemed like an hour, he spied the crown of her head peek above the edge of the hatchway. Tynen hauled her up onto the deck and collapsed onto his back as he struggled to catch his breath.
Minutes later, he rolled painfully onto his knees and forced himself to stand, coughing once. As he lay there on the floor wracking his brain for a way out of this, he heard a wavering, harmonic hum resonate from just behind the wall several feet in front of him. Moments later, he saw a transparent sheet of green radiation emerge through the bulkhead, flickering and snapping as it inexorably crept toward him.
With death fast approaching, Jason Tynen moved like he'd never moved before. He whirled and dropped to a single knee in one motion and grabbed up V'Lar by an arm and leg. He immediately flung her across his back and sprung up onto both feet, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. He scurried away, the tortured muscles of his back shrieking at him while he carried his precious burden toward the main entrance to engineering.
When he reached the doorway, he flung open a small panel on the wall beside it and snatched out a small suction device. Then he attached the emergency manual door-opener to the hatchway and grunted as he slid one of the doors to one side. Once he made enough room for the both of them to slide through, he turned sideways and inched them both out into the hallway.
Tynen paused momentarily to hoist V'Lar's stomach over his right shoulder. He secured her to him by wrapping both of his arms around the back of her thighs and started to waddle down the hallway toward the now useless turbolift.
He glanced up for a moment and saw the lift's door and where the corridor branched off to either side of it. When he reached it, he staggered to his left and after several steps turned right. Then he paused and huffed, "Thank God, the Val isn't a Constitution refit."
Unlike the bulkier heavy cruisers with their hangar decks at the rear of their engineering hulls, the Valkyrie possessed only a large saucer with the squared off impulse drive section of the Miranda class. Thus, its hangar decks had to be placed toward the front port and starboard sides of the Valkyrie's fifteen deck saucer. Although the shuttlecraft were due to arrive after the station had completed the baryon sweep, he knew of another way out.
He heard her groan softly and he smiled wanly.
"That's it," he grunted, stumbling down the corridor. "Come on, V'Lar! Don't give up on me, you hear? I'll get us out of this."
Then he thought he heard a buzz, that sounded like a prehistoric, huge and angry bee from somewhere behind him. The muscles in his gut clenched and he scrambled forward down the long hallway with the woman draped over his shoulder.
Time congealed down to a single point for him, notions of past and future merging into an agonizing now. His entire existence boiled down to nothing more than toil and pain, with the sweat of his labors drenching him.
They reached the hatchway to the turbolift that led to the port hangar bay three decks below. Tynen teetered to his knees and gasped, "Almost there . . . V'Lar . . . escape hatch . . . way out." His vision was fuzzy and he struggled to catch his breath.
He gently slid her off of his shoulder onto the floor and staggered to his feet. He barely detected the panel door due to the dim emergency lighting. He gasped deeply as he opened the tiny compartment and removed the manual device.
He leaned his body into the device and pressed it against the door. Again, he strained as he tugged on the opener and grunted when the door finally began to give. He managed to slide it open enough to allow him to slip inside. He scanned the tube and saw that luck finally had favored him. The lift was locked in place several decks above. Tynen tested the handrail nearest him on the side of the tube and scrambled his way down to the door leading to deck ten. Once there, he used his manual device to open it.
He turned around and clambered back up the ladder, praying he wouldn't stumble upon another defect and end up falling to his death. When he returned to the engineering deck, he stepped onto the floor, fighting the temptation to stare at the inexorably approaching sweep. He knelt down beside her, removed both of their tunics, tore off her boots, and unfastened her belt. Then he pulled her pants off, drew her belt out and used it to strap both of her hands together.
Tynen scooped up V'Lar and draped her over his head and shoulders so her forehead rested on the back of his neck. He crept toward the handrail and began to descend down the shaft with her dead weight pressed against his aching back.
Slow and steady, that's it, Jay. Just keep moving one hand before the other. Don't slip on the rung. Tighten your back muscles . . . I know it hurts like hell but if she makes you lean back too far, she'll kill you both. Watch your step.
Don't fall.
They reached the hangar deck and Tynen struggled mightily not to stumble to his knees. "Couple of meters . . . make sure . . . take device with me." His vision was blurred and angry hornets sounded inside his skull. He managed to uncouple the device and slogged ahead with his Vulcan and that thought was almost his undoing because he nearly fell down laughing. Jason was almost willing to pay just for a glimpse of Shron's face if the doctor could see V'Lar, in nothing but her Starfleet-issued underwear, strapped to her captain's back like something out of a sadomasochist's twisted dream.
They reached the entry to the hangar bay and he managed to open the final door. Once again, he inched them both inside the cavernous space and stumbled over to the escape hatch where several emergency space suits and an EVA work suit hung inside.
He reached up and lifted her arms over his head and unbound her wrists. Then he dressed her inside a fully-charged suit, making certain that she was properly sealed.
Tynen drew several deep breaths before he went through the motions of dressing himself inside the EVA work suit with its small, fusion-powered impulse motor on its back. Then after he'd locked his helmet and activated its environmental systems, he almost drew blood when he bit the inside of his cheek. At most, the gauge indicated, he had only ten minutes of air left in his suit.
However, he'd run out of time. He knew the sweep was almost upon them. He could almost feel it coming.
They had to leave.
Tynen cycled the hatch and stared at the analog gauge that showed the rapidly descending air pressure in the chamber. Once the dial indicator approached zero, he cycled the outer hatch and drew his comrade out into the depths of space.
Glimpsing back along the hull of the Valkyrie, the sweep was only moments away from swallowing them whole. Without any hesitation, he whirled directly away from the encroaching radiation and activated his impulse motor, boosting both of them away from sudden death.
Moments later, they were far beyond the operational area of the baryon sweep. Tynen cut his thrust and flipped on both of their suits' communications panel controls.
"V'Lar? V'Lar! Why don't you say something?" Tynen panted at his first officer. "You can't die. Do you hear me? You can't die! I've got to explain it to you . . . I didn't mean to kill that Romulan. I didn't even know she was a woman! In space suits, you can't tell, you can't even see a face unless you're close, too damned close. I was tampering with their Neutral Zone sensor . . . how'd I know that the Tal Shiar would send out a frightened kid for an operative? I know I shouldn't have tried to kill her but the first thing I knew I was ripping her air lines open. I didn't know she was a woman, not until it was too late. I know it doesn't make any difference, but I didn't know, I didn't know . . ."
Then like the ghost from his nightmares, the space-suited figure of the here and now turned on him and his heart nearly froze inside his chest. As it reached out with both of its hands to ensnare him, he opened his mouth to scream and teetered on the edge of an all-encompassing blackness. Then even he was forced to give up this ghost and felt nothing at all.
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A faint twirling sound needled him. Darkness bled into gray around the edges. Tynen opened his eyes and saw the broad, low ceiling of the station's sick bay. The noise was from the medical tricorder hovering over his face.
"Are you all right, brown skin?" Shron leaned over him, his angular, pale blue face frowning worriedly.
Tynen halfheartedly nodded.
"Well, I am happy to say that you both will make a full and speedy recovery," Shron said, stepping out of the space between the two med-tables.
V'Lar was awake. Her helmet and boots were off but she still wore the rest of her pressure suit. "Captain, for a human, your strength is surprisingly formidable."
He narrowed his eyes at her then sighed resignedly. "I struggled with you outside, didn't I?"
She nodded and the elegance of her motion nearly made him ache. "When I regained consciousness, I heard you over my radio and surmised our situation. Then you ceased communicating and I had to grab a hold of you and request an emergency transport."
"You saved my life," he noted simply.
"Not before you saved mine...Jason."
Tynen stopped short, both when he realized she'd used his Christian name and he remembered his time floating among the stars with her. "I raved a lot out there, didn't I?"
She cocked a well-groomed eyebrow at him and answered, "It does not matter now, Jason. Logically, you acted against the Romulan out of an inate sense of self-preservation. Indeed, considering that you survived an encounter against a Romulan operative in hostile territory invokes odds that are in the realm of the astronomical."
He regarded her with a wan look on his face for a moment before he drawled, "Way to stroke my ego there, V'Lar."
She cocked her other eyebrow at him as she glanced up from the task of putting on her boots. "Captain, that was never my intent. I simply wished to state for the record that you, sir, are no 'murderer.' Although it goes against the nature of my people to engage in violence, Vulcans are quite capable of homicide when it is the only logical course of action to pursue. In your case, though, I am gratified you were able to survive your encounter with the Tal Shiar operative."
He smiled sadly. "I only wish I'd found another way. Still, the whole incident might get out to the press. It could get nasty."
She nodded. "Captain, please forgive me for my overzealousness in engineering placing you in jeopardy."
For some reason he preferred for her to use his Christian name because it sounded nice the way she'd said it. Then he shook his head and said, "You didn't do anything wrong, V'Lar. This thing between the Romulan and me - it doesn't matter anymore. They can do whatever they want to me. It's over and done with and I can take whatever they throw my way."
The depths of her eyes briefly unveiled to show her unbridled loyalty and undying respect for him. "That is indeed wise, sir."
He smiled at her. "Sometimes, humans manage to rise to the occasion," he said and began to roll off the table onto his feet. "However, until Starfleet Command says differently, I'm still the captain and we've got a ship to get ready for her deep space mission. Are you coming?"
She nodded respectfully to him and took her place by his side. Then both officers strode purposefully out of sickbay eager to face the wonders of the universe together.
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