Disclaimer: As always, I do not own these characters. I am, however, quite willing to let them run rampant for a while. Yes, I am evil.
Author's note: Shameless plug alert. Please read and review, and if you like it, pass the word. Evil and shameless. What can I say?
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He gathers me and Rostov around his desk, keeping his voice low. "I think it's time we automated this war. Moved up to artillery."
"Artillery, sir?" From the reports, Rostov's grenades are working well, but the armoury has found a way to replicate those too. I can see him starting to wrap his mind around something bigger.
For me the word 'automate' was the clue. "You're thinking of using the sprinkler systems, sir? Isn't that a little indiscriminate?"
"Not if we time it right. Any time we can get Reed, or any of them isolated, we trigger the system. Drown the bastards if we have to. Eventually they'll decide to give up."
"I hear they've been recruiting from other departments, sir. Evening up the numbers." Rostov doesn't have the same problem I do with indiscrimination. He is the one, after all, who thought of using grenades.
Commander Tucker's fingers twitch, and I can tell he's trying not to make a fist. Good thing, too, because he throws an appalling punch. "That lousy little…"
I stop him before he says something about a fellow officer that he might regret. "There's nothing to stop us from doing the same thing, sir. A great many more might want to join the winning side."
The commander nods, conceding the point.
"Sir?" It's Simpson. "Actually, we're getting reports that there's another faction."
"Another faction?" All three of us say it at once. I can only hope we haven't lost Maintenance.
"Science has got their own people involved, sir. And they've pulled in Command Support."
Command Support. Every single paper pusher on the ship. "It seems one of them accidentally wandered into some crossfire, and…"
"Fuck." Things just got way more complicated. Then, to make matters worse, Commander Tucker's com panel starts beeping.
"Tucker, here."
"Commander. Why can't I open my door? And why am I hearing shouting from the hall?" Captain Archer sounds way too suspicious. Immediately the rest of us make like we're doing work. Any work.
"I don't know about the shouting, sir. I'll find out for you if I can. As for your door, there does appear to be a glitch in the system." He sounds so honest, so sincere.
"It wouldn't be the same glitch that's affecting communications, would it? You're the first person I could actually get through to."
"You're the first to report a communications problem, sir. I'll contact Hoshi right away, see what I can find out. We'll have you out of there as soon as possible, sir." He adds a touch of feedback and static, then lets the line go dead.
"All right. Now our main enemy is still going to be the armoury, but we can't ignore the science people either. At the same time, I think this new information cancels out your objections to the artillery, Lieutenant."
I nod. Aside from the two people in the captain's dining room, there are no innocents left onboard Enterprise. Everyone is fair game, now. "And we've got to make sure that he pays for his little 'no-play-dead' trick." It still irks me, the cheater.
"Actually…" Simpson pulls back, to indicate he's just he messenger. "Apparently that only applies to you and the commander. What I heard was basically '…and his little dog, too.'"
Commander Tucker has to wrap both arms around me to stop me from charging from the room and physically shoving those words straight back down Malcolm's throat. I may be strong, but dragging seventy-five and three quarter kilograms[1] of dead weight is not an easy task.
"Relax, Hess. I'll handle it."
"You better, sir. I'm a cat person." Which means I am not a nice, loyal type, cuddly person, like a dog person would be. I'm independent, vicious, and easy to offend. And have sharp claws.
Lifting me off the ground, he carries me over to a corner. "Stay here, for now. Cool off."
I take a deep breath, smile. "I'm cool. But I get first shot at pulling the trigger."
The commander nods. "Okay. But you can't hurt him. Much as I hate to admit it, he's still my friend." He can tell I'm still upset. It's one thing to throw insults at each other, it's another to call someone… "Besides, he's the one quoting the Wicked Witch of the West. Meaning we're still the good guys." He chuckles. "And stop smiling like that. You scare me." Meaning either I look like a maniac, or he's one of those people who wonders what happy people are up to.
Still… "Little slimy bastard gonna pay." Mr. Tucker may want to use the sprinkler system and fill it with dye, but there is a way to selectively program what comes out where.
"Hess…" He's standing halfway across the room, and I didn't say it loudly, but he hears me. He shakes his finger at me, warningly. "No hurting Lieutenant Reed. We may need him later, and it will make Captain Archer very upset. And then I will have to be upset, and nobody around here likes it when I'm upset."
"I wasn't planning to hurt him." Much. Physically. But let us just say that there is more than one type of fire-retardant.
Commander Tucker gives me the eyeball, he knows me too well to believe me. "I don't want to have to be a witness at your court-martial, Hess."
"I'll insist upon you as prosecuting attorney, sir." Not that they'd ever allow it, but a girl can dream, can't she?
He changes fingers, and goes back to work. I wait until he's deeply engrossed in his project, and begin my own. Hmn. What to use, what to use, what to use…
A pounding on the door interrupts us. Being the experienced battlers that we are, all heads swing towards the monitors. It's Travis and he looks panicked.
"Let him in." Commander Tucker gestures at two crewmen who run forward and open the door, one of them keeping Mayweather covered, while the other one frisks him.
"I'm unarmed sir, but right now this seems like the only safe place on the ship, aside from the armoury. Everywhere else…"
Commander Tucker looks him up and down, taking in the spots on Travis' uniform. "Looks like you've seen some battle. Have you come to join us, or just catch your breath?"
"I'd like to join you sir. Lieutenant Reed asked, well, demanded I take his side, but someone hit him with a bucket at that moment. One of his own people, by mistake, sir. I figured here might be safer."
"Well, I won't lie to you, Travis, we've had a few friendly fire incidents ourselves. But this is the right side. We have resources the armoury never dreamed of." Commander Tucker loops a friendly arm around Travis' shoulder, leading him away from our programming work. Seems he doesn't trust our helmsman not to be a spy either. Which was the first thing that occurred to me. Starfleet may not be military, but most of us know better than to volunteer.
"They've got Hoshi, sir." This information causes Commander Tucker to stop so abruptly that he nearly takes Ensign Mayweather's head off.
"Hoshi? Hoshi is working for him?" I half expect to have my non-violence order rescinded, the commander can barely speak. This is bad news indeed, because it means our communications could be badly compromised. There is almost nothing about that system she doesn't know. I mean she's no technician, but Reed has enough people who are, that if she points out a problem…
"We need to start using codes." The commander begins to pace, thankfully letting go of Travis' head, first. "Technobabble ought to confuse them to start, but they'll figure that out soon enough."
"It can't be any language based code sir, they've got Ensign Sato." I'm trying to think of something she can't crack, something outside her skill range. "And we've got you. I think you can see where that puts us at a disadvantage."
He glares at me, but doesn't deny it. Commander Tucker nearly flunked languages at Starfleet Academy, no one's quite sure how he got through.[2] "Fine, then. Nothing language based. How do you suggest we communicate? Semaphore?"
"Not a bad idea, sir." Rostov wades into the conversation, a contemplative look on his face. "A general colour-code light system…"
"They'll figure that out soon enough too."
"Not right away, sir. And it'll give us some lead time to work on an encryption. After that, we send everything silent, straight to the pads."
And every engineer carries one of those; most other personnel don't. They're part of our tool-kit, and engineers are very possessive about their tools. I don't see anybody being stupid enough to grab an engineer's pad to take a look.
Commander Tucker snaps his fingers then points at Rostov. "Ensign, you are a genius. Hoshi's no cryptographer, not when it's an electronic scramble. And I know…" He starts towards the door, then stops. "No." An odd look crosses his features, one of uncertainty. "Let's just write one of our own."
Travis is staring at us, his mouth hanging open. I think he thought that this was just a game; he had no idea how seriously engineers take these things.
I reach over, and gently tap his jaw closed. "Now, don't you worry about a thing. We've got everything under control."
[1] According to his file. Which I suspect he doctors. Just because he can.
[2] Most rumours involve the smuggling in of a Universal Translator to the final exam. What is known is that he developed a serious case of laryngitis just in time for the oral test. And that there was an odd break-in to the biology lab about a week before.