TALES
OF A
STARFLEET
ENGINEER
by
A. J. Trook
Chapter 13 (continued)
Max materialized in total darkness. For a second, he feared that he'd been transported into open space, but the presence of breathable air and a temperature read in Centigrade vice Kelvan convinced him that they were aboard the Romulan warship.
A blinding light suddenly shone in his face, dazzling him. Squinting, he made out The Lieutenant's scowling mug. "Here's a worklight, Davis. Looks like we've got cover of darkness."
"Not anymore," Max muttered, taking the light and strapping it to his forehead. Turning the light on, he looked around.
They had apparently beamed into someone's quarters. A closet door was opened, with several Romulan uniforms hung up neatly. Max grimaced. The Romulans wore quilts for uniforms? No wonder they were always feisty. S'rel and N'var had been far more fashionably dressed.
A meaty hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to their situation. "Davis, we've got to take out their deflectors and weapons."
Davis frowned. "How do you know that?"
"A little voice told me." The Lieutenant favored him with a look that dared him to question the answer.
Max questioned the answer. "A 'little voice'? Are you kidding me??"
The Lieutenant snarled, "You callin' me a liar?!" His grip on his AP riveter shifted not-so-subtly.
Max backpedaled. "Whoa! Hey! Whatever you say, Lieutenant!"
"Good. Then let's get this gear loaded." The Lieutenant loaded the ammo and extra tools onto an antigrav sled. Max struggled to lift his can of rivets onto the lift. After a minute, the Lieutenant was finished. He reached over and took the can from the struggling engineer and set in on the sled. "Pineapple on your pizza. No wonder you're weak as a kitten!"
Max started to open his mouth to protest when he realized that The Lieutenant had lifted the rivet can from him with one hand. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Lieutenant."
The door opened, and an inspection mirror stuck out into the passageway. After a minute, there was a muffled curse, and Max's headlamp poked out into the passageway as well, illuminating the pitch-black corridor. Thankfully, it was deserted.
Max was baffled. "Wonder what happened to the lights. Even the emergency lighting is out."
The Lieutenant grinned. "The Exped's security teams probably got 'em. Get some, boys."
Before Max could reply, The Lieutenant eased the sled out into the corridor. He started down toward the more distant end. Max padded along behind him, covering their six.
Several turns later, The Lieutenant stopped short. Max, who was walking backwards, bumped into him. With a shout, Max whipped around firing. The Lieutenant grabbed his barrel and held it up. "Davis! Cease Fire! It's me!"
Max released the trigger he'd squeezed reflexively. "Sorry! I-"
The Lieutenant made a shushing motion, then pointed. Max looked back down the corridor, noticing the row of rivets embedded in the bulkhead where he'd accidentally fired. There was a break in the row where a door that had been closed now stood open. As they watched, a Romulan with a disruptor pistol in his hand and a rivet in his forehead fell out of the doorway and collapsed on the deck.
Max gaped at the body in horror. "Is he . . . ?"
"Dead as a doornail, Davis! Nice shooting!" The Lieutenant slapped Max on the back. "And you doubted old Gertrude could perform." Before Max could form a suitable reply, The Lieutenant nodded and said "Uh, huh. Right."
"What? I didn't say anything."
The Lieutenant shushed him, then continued talking to thin air. "Yeah. Okay. That's right. I think we're on deck fifteen. That's two decks down."
Max stared at The Lieutenant in horror. The man had finally lost it.
The Lieutenant nodded. "Aye, sir. You can count on us."
He turned to Max. "We need to get two decks down to Auxiliary Control. It'll be guarded, but we can flank 'em!"
Max shook his head. "What are you talking about?! We're engineers! We can't go storming around in the dark looking for trouble!"
The Lieutenant scowled. "We're Starfleet officers, Davis. Our duty is to defend the Federation. By any means necessary."
Max thought about that. When he'd heard that in the Academy, it had carried a deep emotional message. Now, standing on a darkened Romulan Warbird next to an insane man taking orders from imaginary people while holding a fully automatic rivetgun, he felt an entirely different set of emotions being inspired.
The Lieutenant looked around, then grinned at him suddenly. Pulling a fire axe from the sled, he took a step toward Max. "You know, Davis. I think it's time we buried the hatchet."
Max staggered backward, bumping into the wall. He watched in terror as The Lieutenant lifted the axe over his head and brought it down -
- A foot to Max's left. Max looked at the hole as The Lieutenant struck the bulkhead a second and third time. "What are you doing?"
The Lieutenant smiled. "There should be an access tunnel behind this bulkhead. If we can get into their maintenance tunnel network, we can get to their Aux Con without them seeing us."
Max nodded. "And we could even use that maintenance hatch." He pointed to the access cover three meters to their left.
The Lieutenant froze in mid-stroke. "Yeah. I suppose that would work, too."
The two men pried open the cover and guided the sled into the recesses of the maintenance tube. It was slightly more cramped than the Jeffries tubes on the Expeditious, but still workable.
The Lieutenant stopped again and stared off into space. "We're on our way, sir. We made it into the maintenance tunnels."
Max shook his head in exasperation. "Who are you talking to?"
The Lieutenant frowned at him, annoyed at the interruption. "Commander Jones. Now shut up!"
Max was flabbergasted. "Commander Jones is in your head?!"
The Lieutenant rolled his eyes. "No, he's in my ear." He turned and pointed to the side of his head. Max spotted the tactical communicator in The Lieutenant's ear.
"Oh."
-----
Luck was not with the intrepid duo that afternoon. The maintenance tunnel network on the Warbird wasn't nearly as interconnected as it was on Federation vessels. Max and The Lieutenant had been forced to abandon the network in favor of a more conventional route. Unfortunately this brought them in contact with the ship's crew.
The Lieutenant dashed across the intersecting passageway, pausing to send a shower of rivets ricocheting down the corridor. Three Romulans ducked back into the turbolift they were trying to exit. Several rivets slammed into the turbolift doors, effectively sealing them.
The Lieutenant checked for activity with his inspection mirror, spotting only the lone casualty. Nodding in satisfaction, he looked back to where Max was waiting. "We're clear, kid. Now let's blow this thing so we can all go home!"
Max grinned as he shoved the antigrav sled across the passageway to join The Lieutenant. "Han Solo! Star Wars! Earth year 1977!"
"That's right!" The Lieutenant beamed. "Caught it on the 2D cinematic archives marathon last week."
The two men paused, realizing they had something in common. There was
a long and uncomfortable silence.
Fortunately for them both a squad of Romulans rounded a corner and broke the awkward silence with a hail of disruptor fire.
"Yikes!" Max dove around the corner, then smacked his palm on his forehead. Lying on the deck right by the sled was his AP riveter.
The Lieutenant favored him with a baleful eye from the other side of the corridor intersection. "Tool accountability, Davis! You'll never finish a job leaving your tools lying around!" He pulled a socket set out of a belt pouch, grabbed several of the metric sockets, and rolled them down the corridor. Seconds later, there was a blinding flash and screams of pain.
Max looked up at The Lieutenant, his eyebrow cocked in Vulcan fashion.
The Lieutenant grinned. "Incendiary sockets. Should blind even those double-eyelidded devils for a few seconds."
Max started to round the corner to retrieve his rivetgun when several disruptor shots flashed past. Most of them were off by over two meters, but one singed the hair on the back of his hand.
Apparently the Romulans had decided to make up for accuracy of fire with volume.
Max reached out and snagged the sled, dragging it around the corner. Building a five-foot rod out of a speed handle and seven 6-inch 3/8 extensions, he managed to hook the rivetgun and drag it within reach.
The Lieutenant was poking his weapon around the corner, squeezing off a
string of rivets. "They're getting their sight back, Davis. You gonna help or what?"
Max closed his eyes and rolled out into the corridor, letting loose with a volley of rivets. He heard the whanging sound of rivets embedding themselves in bulkheads. It went on for an eternity.
Pap-pap-pap-pap-click-click-click. Max was out of rivets.
Everything was silent, and after a second, he risked opening one eye.
Nine Romulans lay dead about twenty meters away, their bodies riddled with holes. The far bulkhead looked like it was suffering the most severe case of warts anyone had ever seen.
The Lieutenant nodded, satisfied. "I think you got 'em, Davis."
Max stood numbly as he reloaded. It was awful. Looking at the puddles of green blood, he set his rivetgun down on the deck. "I can't do this."
"Sure you can. Just look at those guys. You're a natural." The Lieutenant finished reloading his rivetgun. "I've seen asteroids with fewer craters."
Then he looked hard at Max. "Ohhhhh. You mean you don't have the heart to kill these Rommies, even though they're trying to kill you."
Max shrugged. "I - well, when you put it that way it sounds pretty stupid."
The Lieutenant nodded. "That's 'cuz it is stupid, Davis. If you don't fight, they're gonna kill you. And me. And everyone else. Now come on. We've got deflectors to sabotage." With that, The Lieutenant turned and headed toward the corridor they had been aiming for when they had been ambushed.
Max stared at the rivetgun on the deck at his feet. With a heavy heart, he picked it up and turned to follow The Lieutenant.
-----
They reached another turbolift and rode it down to the deck where Auxiliary Control was rumored to lurk. The doors slid open, and Max and the Lieutenant ducked as disruptor fire slammed into the aft bulkhead. Max slapped the turbolift controls, desperately trying to close the doors. After a second's delay, they slid shut and the turbolift began descending another deck. "Whew! That was close!"
Silence was the only response. Max looked around. The Lieutenant was gone.
"AAAAAAAHH!!!" Max beat on the turbolift controls, willing it back up to the deck where they had been attacked. The Lieutenant must have dived out of the lift and counterattacked!
Seems he might have invited me along!
The doors opened again, and Max peered out. The corridor was deserted, but well-riveted. The Lieutenant had definitely been here.
Shouts and sounds of fighting suddenly caught his attention, and Max jogged up to the bend in the corridor. The Lieutenant was on the deck, pinned by several Romulans. His rivetgun lay on the deck, its ammo expended. The Lieutenant was struggling for all he was worth, but it was obvious he was beaten. He started yelling at the top of his lungs. "Never give up! Never surrender!"
Max knew if he tried to help The Lieutenant, he'd end up a prisoner as well. Or worse.
Never give up. Never surrender.
Max retreated to the turbolift and retrieved the sled. Using an extension cord, Max lashed it to his waist and towed it as he headed down another corridor. If The Lieutenant had been right, their target was on this deck.
Using the inspection mirror, he peered around several corners, discovering nothing of interest until he found one that had a door. The door wasn't unique. Every corridor had several. But none of them had two armed guards. Now this was promising.
Of course, there were the two guards to deal with. Max looked the sled over, and was shocked to realize that they were out of rivets. He had maybe fifteen more in his rivetgun. Unless he found another surprise in The Lieutenant's bag of tricks, his life was going to be short and unpleasant.
Max looked the sled over more carefully, then grinned evilly. The Lieutenant had apparently thought of everything.
-----
The centurion sighed, angry at being posted to defend auxiliary control. The glory was being seized by the hunter teams being sent out after the Klingon and Federation invaders. He had once been a guard of the Praetor himself, and now he was guarding a door. His ears tinted green with shame.
Just then a lone human rounded the corner and started shouting at them.
His rifle popped to his shoulder and he aimed reflexively. His finger almost depressed the firing stud when he realized that the human was probably harmless and obviously insane.
Max stood there with a three-foot crowbar in his hand and blue sealant compound smeared across his face in vertical stripes. He shook the crowbar at the centurion, shouted "Freeee-dom!!" then he darted back out of sight.
The Romulan looked at his fellow guard, and then both centurions ran to pursue the madman. When they rounded the corner, their feet shot out from under them and they hit the deck hard, their weapons flying. Slipping across a freshly greased deck, they slid into an open room.
Max slapped the door controls and the door slid shut. Max fired five rivets in the door to keep it from opening, then put the rivetgun on the sled, grabbed one of the dropped disruptor rifles, and pushed the sled to the door to Auxiliary Control. Grabbing a handful of sockets, he keyed the door open and hurled the sockets inside. Counting to five, he braced himself to charge in.
Five. Six. Seven? Eight??
Max risked a peek through the open door. Several Romulans were staring at the sockets on the deck. One subcommander had picked up one of the sockets and was examining it, mystified.
Max groaned. Wrong sockets. Firing three bursts into the ceiling, he stepped into the room. "All right! Everybody freeze! Everybody on the ground!"
No one moved.
Finally the Romulan commander spoke. "Well, human? Which is it?"
"Huh?" was Max's clever reply.
The Romulan sighed. "Do you want us to 'freeze' or do you want us to get on the ground?"
"What?" Now Max was mystified. "What are you talking about!?"
The Romulan sighed again, obviously struggling to be patient with this armed fool. "If we 'freeze' as you so adroitly put it, we cannot get on the ground. And if we get down, we will be in motion. Not to mentio-"
"Shut up!!" Max couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "Just get on the ground, okay??"
The Romulans started to drop down on their bellies. The commander managed a wounded look. "Technically speaking, this is a deck, not the ground."
Max had heard enough. "You want to be nailed to that deck? I've got a rivetgun, and I know how to use it!!" He was slightly embarrassed to hear the almost hysterical screech his voice was taking on, but at least the Romulans were finally complying. Perhaps the uncertainty of dealing with a blue-faced Starfleet officer with an obvious mental imbalance was encouraging them toward a more cautious approach to dealing with this madman.
The Romulan was wisely silent. Max walked around, removing disruptor pistols from belts. Nudging one of the Romulans, he nodded to the sled waiting just inside the door. "Go get some wire and tie everybody up. I'll be inspecting the knots, and if they look weak, you'll be the first one to know about it." He followed the Romulan to the sled, then picked up the rivetgun with his left hand.
The commander's eyes widened, and Max grinned. "No. Not yet. Hopefully never." He slammed several rivets into the doorframe, jamming the door. He watched as the Romulan tied his fellow officers hands behind their backs. Looking at the bindings, he was satisfied that the Romulans were secured. When the Romulan finished, he looked up at Max with open contempt. "Now what, Starfleet? Are you going to kill me?"
Max smiled. "Only if you don't eat your marshmallows."
The Romulan looked confused. "My what?"
"Marshmallows. That Lieutenant is really on the ball." Max tossed a large pack of jumbo marshmallows to the Romulan. "Bon appetit!"
The Romulan blanched. "You want me to eat poison? Just shoot me and be done with it!"
Max laughed. "Poison? Perish the thought! Look!" Max took another bag, opened it, and popped a marshmallow into his mouth. "It's a Terran tradition to share marshmallows with your prisoners. It's a symbol of my intent to treat you honorably as prisoners."
The Romulan reluctantly tasted one. His expression softened. "It's . . . not unpleasant."
Max shrugged. "Of course not. It's a sign of goodwill. I doubt it would carry much significance if they were nasty. Now share them with everybody. It's not valid unless everyone has at least twenty."
The Romulan shared the marshmallows with his fellow officers. Most accepted them with trepidation at first, but by the fifth one they were almost clamoring for the confectionaries.
Max nibbled on another one and smiled. The Lieutenant had obviously known about the intoxicating effects of sugar on Vulcans and realized that the Romulans would also be susceptible.
After the marshmallows were all consumed, Max walked over and sat next to the commander. The Romulan looked over at him with a silly grin, the sugar hitting him like a fifth of vodka. Max smiled his most winning smile. "You know, you've got a really nice set-up here. Care to show me how some of it works?"