Chapter Six

Words of Love

Commander Trip Tucker tries to keep from swearing as he pours over the exposed circuits before him. The wall panel that normally hid the systems is at his feet, leaning against the bulkhead, and he is trying to work on an idea for punching through the interference between them and the lost Shuttle.

He had tried numerous methods, some of which went from inspired to quietly desperate, all uniformly without success. The interference field on the planet had been enhanced by unknown years of refinement and did not yield. All his efforts having failed, he now tried a different approach, something he would never have sanctioned previously.

Malcolm Reed had had a similar idea months ago, when the ship had been attacked by an unknown, hostile vessel. He'd wanted to slam nearly the entire output of one of the warp field generators into the newly installed phase cannon. Tucker had had a fit when he'd heard; now he was willing to try something similar.

If he could boost the systems, he would be able to use the output from the impulse engines to enhance the sensors, maybe solving with brute force what finesse could not.

He had been trying various methods of punching through, working around or synchronizing with, the field, all of which had failed. Whatever refinements had gone into the shielding technology on this planet, it was extremely sophisticated, and every method he had come up with was defeated.

Adding to his mounting frustration was the horrible awareness of the possible danger his shipmates were in. And he is determined not to be hypocritical. Yes, he is concerned about Travis, and Liz Cutler, and John Abrams. Yes, he'd love to see all of them safe and sound. But he can not deny his real focus, the thought that had been tearing at him for hours, ever since the 'Yellow Alert' had brought him instantly out of less than two hours sleep.

Tia is down there!

It is one thing to know that, on a dangerous situation, she probably has more survival skills than any of the others; even more so than Malcolm, considering how handily she'd defeated him some months ago. It is far worse to know that she is down there, facing unknown peril, and he is circling thousands of miles over her head, completely safe and utterly unable to do anything.

"Commander?" The voice of his Second calls from behind him.

"Yeah, Billy?" It is still an hour before Alpha Shift, the man should be at breakfast; at least so he'd thought.

"Get out."

x

The two words are enough to freeze Tucker. He is not just surprised, he is utterly astonished. 'Get out', the man had said? 'Get out?'

He turns around, amazement overwhelming any flare of anger, even more greatly staggered to find the entire Engineering crew arrayed behind him. The entire crew – Alpha, Beta and Gamma shifts. He fixes his eyes upon Billy, front and center, budding outrage coloring his astonishment.

"Did you just say -?"

"Sir, your entire crew is here, and we're going to stay until we come up with a solution to this problem; but you have been on your feet since Alpha last, and since I saw you at movie night last night with Miss Anlor I know you did not get to your bunk until after oh-zero-hundred. You've probably only had a nap before the 'Yellow'. We all know that you're worried about her and the others, but Reverend McCabe has set up a Vigil in the Mess Hall and if you can't sleep then that's a better place for you. At any rate, at least have some breakfast."

"You're throwing me out?" He asks incredulously, still unable to believe him.

"Look at how many Lt. Commanders you've got, how many Lieutenants, Ensigns even and three full crews. Collectively we outrank you." Billy says with a smile.

"It doesn't work that way." Even as Trip protests, he is unable to deny being warmed by this display of 'belligerent' friendship.

"In that case," Lt. Mary Sherman, standing next to Billy, says: "remember that I'm Gamma Shift Duty Officer. Right now I'm in charge. You don't come on duty for an hour, and frankly, you're in my way;" the redheaded woman insists with a smile that says far more than her words. "So, Commander, with all due respect – Beat it."

"This is mutiny, 'mister'."

"Yes, Sir;" she agrees; "it is."

Trip shakes his head, unable to resist a rueful smile of his own. "I love you guys."

"We love you too. Get some rest. We'll call you if we need you."

He held up a cautioning finger. "You'd better."

He passes through the crowd of his colleagues, seeing reflected in each of their eyes his own concern for his beloved. He knows, as he had always been sure, that he could not ask for better friends.

xxx

In the Enterprise's Mess Hall the mood of the crew is somber. It is 0730, change of shift, Gamma to Alpha, dinners and breakfasts; but the word of lost colleagues has spread throughout the ship and no one has much of an appetite. Patricia McCabe has set up a table in the rear corner of the room, a white cloth over one of the round tables, and upon it a white Bible and red Book of Common Prayer, all very discrete and unassuming. She has made herself available for anyone who wants to come to her, but has not 'intruded' upon the routine of the ship or the room.

Several of the crew are already present, quiet over their meals. They know full well why she is there, but few look at her and no one approaches. It is as if they want to come to her and have no idea what to say, so they do not move.

McCabe hardly minds. She is well aware of the uncertainty; she had encountered it thousands of times in her career, and concentrates upon being welcoming and available for anyone who wants to approach.

It is no surprise to her that the first to do so, to cross the room as soon as she enters the Hall, is Ensign Dina Samuels. She comes directly to the back of the Hall, to McCabe's table. "May I …"

"Sit down, child." Patricia invites.

When Dina sits opposite her, the first thing she wants to know is; "Have you heard anything?" Patricia shakes her head. "We heard about it while we were setting up the Bio Lab; Sam Harris, Sarah Dutton and I. The usual routine; some of us go down, others prepare the lab, a rotating detail unless one of our specialties is called for and breaks the pattern a bit. The lab's always ready anyway, but we do the necessary detail work; the team lets us know before they start back if there is anything unusual we should prepare for. Pretty routine, we're ready when they get back, all very routine, all … very routine …"

Patricia waits, letting her talk herself out, not pushing. Finally Dina's voice drops away, and she can say in hushed tones what she is really thinking. "We're scared."

"I know, child."

"I … you've been with me a lot since … since the Capellans. I don't have to … I mean, you've seen me at my worst. I don't have to fake anything; don't have to look strong or confident or..." She gives up, unable to think of anything. "I'm scared."

"I know, child."

"The others, Sam and Sarah, they wanted to come; they will come, but …"

"Everybody handles things in their own way. I'm here for anyone who wants to come to me."

"Do you believe they're all right?"

Patricia McCabe wants with all her heart to say 'yes', to give assurances to her friend, but she can not be so cruel. "I don't know, child. I am praying that they are, but I don't have any answers."

"Can I pray with you?" Dina tries not to allow her fear to make it a plea. Patricia takes her hand, trying to be comforting.

"Of course."

Dina opens her mouth to speak first, so Patricia does not. Dina tries again, and then again, but nothing comes out. "I can't think of any prayers. I'm too upset."

Patricia closes her hand reassuringly about the other woman's. "Child, our Religion is over twenty one hundred years old, and I sometimes have this mental picture of God saying: 'if I have to listen to one more formal or prepared prayer I'm going to scream'." Despite her distress, Dina laughs, and is surprised she can, feeling better for it. "Don't worry about the words. Just say what's in your heart. That's what a real prayer is."

"I want them back safe! That's all I want. That's all the prayer I can think of."

Patricia holds her hand more firmly. "That's all the prayer you need."

x

McCabe's eyes flick up to see Ensign Jim Cein and Trip Tucker approaching the table. She'd anticipated their arrival from the moment she'd set up; and their arrival together brings to mind of the ancient adage 'Misery shared is misery halved'.

She is about to stand up to greet them when the most horrendous sound, much like Trip Tucker had once described to her as 'a bag full of cats', blares through every speaker on the ship, drowning out all noise, all thought. A moment later, Malcolm Reed's voice fills every crevice on the ship. "Omega One – All Down. Repeat: Omega One – All Down. This is not a drill."

The pair turns and bolts for the door as three other Security Officers leap to their feet and all charge to the exit; Trip Tucker actually beating them all.

"What's happening?" She exclaims. Cein looks back over his shoulder.

"All Security forces to the transporter, armed for combat!" He is gone, leaving the dreadful caterwauling in his wake.