As the door shut behind him Chekov suddenly felt resigned to his fate. He had no choice. If he came out of this alive it would just be luck. He ran over to the engineering hatch. The circular door was still open as he had left it. He climbed awkwardly over the high lip, trying to protect his injured arm, and found himself back once again in the small dark red engineering room. The water sloshed violently from side to side. It had been up to his ankles when he had left. Now it was lapping around his tired calves. He felt sea sick just watching it. The oily mix of water and coolant was now starting to splash at the low wall on which the door sat. He turned to the valve. He hoped that in his absence the wall had miraculously healed itself and assumed its former smooth profile. He wished that he had hallucinated the whole thing. Unfortunately the round wheel sat lodged firmly against the grey mound of the bulkhead. It wasn't going anywhere. The hopelessness of the situation seemed to empty his mind. He couldn't think. He felt as if all the neurons in his brain had stopped firing. He was expected to save the lives of 430 people in 5 minutes with what? A hammer? He didn't even have that.
A sound of water gushing in a new direction caught his attention. The water from the room was now starting to flood out of the hatch and into the rear compartment. He waded back over to the door and slammed the hatch closed. He gave the wheel handle one turn to seal it shut. He leant back against it for a moment, pushing his dripping hair out of his eyes with the palm of his hand. He suddenly felt very alone. As he surveyed the room he spotted a tool cabinet. He stumbled awkwardly back across to where it sat on the wall and opened the door. He had to start somewhere and this seemed like a reasonable place. He didn't know what he could expect to use. The Academy hadn't given classes on this. Even the mission to date hadn't put him in this situation. He surveyed the tools hanging in the cabinet. Gravity reformer – perfect, if he could go outside, which he couldn't. Calipers, screwdrivers, wrenches, probes, duct tape… all useless. Plasma cutter. Possibly. A small thought began to form. Then his mind began to race. He could set up a forcefield and cut out the bulge, or at least shave some of it off, if he was quick and careful enough. But the shields were off-line. He'd have to jump-start the system and squeeze out just enough residual power to form a reliable barrier at the site. Could it be done? Yes, it could. Did he have the time? He wasn't sure. He'd have to re-build the code from scratch. He hauled himself over to a back-up panel on the wall and initiated the series of commands he needed. He remembered something similar Mr Scott had shown him during his time in Engineering in his first year on board. He just had to adapt a few protocols and he was sure it would work. He tapped in the code as quickly as he could. The numbers danced in his mind's eye and down to his fingers. One by one the shield status lights went from red to orange as he drew power from other systems. Orange was good enough. Next, he needed field generators. He opened all the hatches he could in the walls, pulling out tools and equipment, throwing them clumsily onto the floor with his one good arm in his haste. They landed in the water with a heavy splash. Eventually he found some lodged at the back of a cupboard next to a box of interphasic coil spanners. He pulled out one and primed its anti-grav controls. He went back over to the damaged wall, holding the generator awkwardly at shoulder height. He could only do one at a time. He slammed it against the wall next to the bulge and pressed the button to fix it in place. The generator hummed into life, vibrating with the energy it was waiting to release. He waded back across the room and dug out the second generator. Once again he went through the start-up sequence and thumped it hard against the wall on the other side of the bulge. He took a few minutes to program it then went back over to the tool cabinet and pulled down the plasma cutter. It was heavy and unwieldy with a bulky power cell at one end. He tucked it under his right arm. He could only turn it on with his left hand. He gritted his teeth and pulled his wounded arm across him, thumbing on the button. Pain shot through him. He yelped out a curse. Somehow having no one to hear it made it more bearable. The cutter kicked and sprang into life. He balanced it precariously on his shoulder and pointed it towards the bulge. He had to keep it at the correct distance to melt the surface of the bulkhead but not to cut it. He was glad of all the micro welding he had done recently. The flow and colour of the metal was familiar and fresh in his mind. The plasma hissed its way through the bulkhead. The smell of burning metal mingled with the coolant and burnt circuitry in a heady mix. As long as he didn't over-do it, he'd be fine, he reminded himself. Just keep concentrating.
The water was now up to his waist. He tried to ignore its cold pull and the constant splashing up his back. The deeper it got, the more it unsteadied him. He'd have to work faster or it might pull him over completely. At last he could see a chink of light between the valve handle and the wall. He was almost there. Suddenly new alarms went off around him, the red lights dimmed and winked out. He was plunged into darkness. Above the waterfall of water from the duct he could hear the computer in the next compartment. … off-line. Warning: hull breach imminent. Shields are off-line. He didn't wait to hear the rest of the computer's report. He dropped the cutter and lashed out wildly at the wall at where he thought the second generator should be. This was his only chance. In his mind's eye he had positioned it. His hand hit home first time. It sprang into life, casting its welcoming blue light over his face. Almost immediately afterwards, the forcefield fizzed and formed its golden strengthening matrix over the thinned patch of hull. The computer outside fell silent. He reached up with his right arm and pulled at the valve wheel. It spun freely - well-oiled and smooth. He gave it a few more tugs to make sure it had travelled its full rotation and locked the release handle over the top. In response, the ship gave a strong pull forwards, sending the mercurial water in his compartment into a deep sinoidal wave. It lifted him off his feet and dragged him down. He came to the surface spluttering like a sailor at sea, but he didn't mind. The ship was at full power again. They were on their way to the Enterprise.
The emergency lighting came back on with a flicker. He half swam over to the power management panel on the wall and checked it over. Most of its lights had come back on. Granted, they were flashing furiously, but at least they were on. He accessed the coolant replicator system and shut it down. Gradually the gushing from the duct receded – at least he wasn't going to drown just yet. It ended in a persistent drip. He moved onto the extractions systems and modified them to remove the water. Slowly but surely the water around him receded, sucked out through the vents and out into the recycling systems. When it was drained he sat down on the floor in exhaustion, still hugging his arm. Now that the danger had passed and the adrenaline was starting to seep away, all the fear and anger welled up inside him. He burst into tears. Suddenly the sound of banging on the hatch door caught his attention. He looked up, wiping his nose, suddenly ashamed of himself for his childish outburst. He rose to his feet, staggering like a drunkard and threw himself against the hatch. He pulled on the wheel and spun it open, falling backwards as Sulu and Uhura pushed their way through. In a wave of exultation and relief he felt the blood rush to his head and he fell into their arms.