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Star Trek - Suicide Run
Chapter 2
Galen O'Mara sweated profusely, as he crawled through the Jeffries tube. It was filthy, dirty, dark, and he loved it. He surprised himself at how quickly he was warming to the old ship. Especially since the captain was giving him free hand in its repair and refitting. He had stopped concerning himself ordering parts, and gave the Ensign, one Thomas Grave, a list of his needs.
"Now, how much do I have to stick to the letter of this thing?" the man had asked, reading the text which appeared on his PADD.
"As long as I can make use of it, I'll take it. I realize a lot of that equipment is wishful thinking, but do the best you can."
The other man smiled.
"Don't be so sure. I've got some sources that would curl your toe nails."
"The antimatter containment center is my main need. I have to have something stronger and safer or I'm severely limited in what I'm going to be able to do with the rest of the ship."
Grave nodded.
"Will do. Say," he said, looking up from the PADD, "I know somebody behind Romulan lines. How about one of their Forced Singularity cores instead of an antimatter unit?"
"Oh, now that would be interesting." the Chief Engineer whispered, gazing back at the weakly pulsing containment unit.
"I'll get right to work on it." the Ensign replied, turning and striding out of Engineering.
Now, he was involved in replacing some of the ship's antiquated wiring and circuits with some Klingon Isolinear type chips. At least that's what he thought they were. When they had arrived along with Grave, he had been quite evasive about where they had come from. Only that the commissioning of one of the Empire's new K'Tanga class, ultra heavy battle cruisers was going to be delayed indefinitely. O'Mara didn't care. He only asked that the parts be kept coming. He was running the Engineering staff on three shifts, twenty-four hours a day.
Jane Franken gleefully examined the new shipment of medical equipment that had just arrived from Vulcan. It was the absolute latest design, not yet readily available to Starfleet. It had apparently come straight from the development lab to her. The Ensign who had delivered the machinery to her had told her to check the stuff out thoroughly. Apparently they weren't sure if final testing had ever been completed on most of it. A brand new, high density medical scanner, which could do much deeper examinations in a fraction of the time the old could; a new technology altogether for the fleet, a device that could scan and clone replacement organs and body parts; a computer that could link to the main computer and instantaneously access any medical reference to any medical problem in Starfleet history. This was of special value since it came complete with Vulcan medical histories and a limited Romulan history. With this equipment, she knew she would be able to carry on her research, which the Federation had so rudely interrupted. Jane Franken had been stripped of the right to practice medicine and had been incarcerated in a medium security stockade. All for some unauthorized experimentation. They had even ignored the fact that her tests and treatments had proven beneficial to her subjects. Ungrateful.
Then, she had been surprised by the release from the stockade, her reinstatement as a full doctor and subsequent assignment to this ship. Jane Franken wasn't dumb. She knew when she was being set up. But then again, it was looking as if everyone on the ship had been set up. The routine medical checkups she had been running were proving quite entertaining. Most of the crew were covered in a variety of scars and replacements parts which screamed of their checkered pasts. They had begged the doctor to remain silent, promising that here, they would turn over new leaves. So far, it seemed they were. Though to say the least, most of the men and women aboard Star Tiger had a few glaring eccentricities, for the most part, they were doing quite well. At least from a medical standpoint.
Doctor Jane Franken had met Lestan Darkraven almost thirty years before, when he was still a civilian, and she was just starting her Starfleet career. He came to her, late one night in her laboratory, because, he said, she was the only one he could trust; the only one who might possibly understand. He claimed then, to be a vampire; a dead thing, living off of the blood of his fellow man. She had immediately tried to eject him from the room, only to find him physically immobile. He could not be moved. When she turned to call security, he had called her by her true family name; Frankenstein. There was little choice for her, but to sit and listen. Even in the 24th century, Mary Shelly's book was still a classic. Her family name had been nothing but a pain to her, all her adult life. So, she shortened it, and went into the medical profession, in the footsteps of her family for generations. All this time, the family had been involved in the search for their ancestor's lost secret to eternal life. In seven centuries, none had ever rediscovered it. Jane Franken had been the first, with a real chance. Through her experimentation on a vampire.
What Lestan wanted, she had been hard pressed to provide; a chemical that could alter his structure enough for him to pass unharmed through the light of day. The search had been long, almost ten years, but she finally provided what he had asked for. In turn, he provided her with as many samples, submitted to as many tests as she wanted. The process had been educational for them both. Finally, he had joined Starfleet, now able for the most part, to pass as a normal human being. Except, he still needed blood to survive. But Franken had managed to rig a replicator to create an approximation of blood. Over the years, she had improved it, till what the machine created was indistinguishable from a normal human being's life fluid. At least Lestan couldn't tell the difference (other than a slightly metallic taste, which he said he could live with).
Now, after not having seen Lestan in several years, she was serving on his command. To say that this was going to be an interesting assignment, would be putting it mildly.
The Gorn, Tzardoz fussed with the ship's phasers, lamenting the apparent weakness and liability that he considered them to be. Ship's shields were also on his mind, as they wouldn't have stood up to a modern phaser-drill, let alone a Starship battery. Then, one of Grave's men had contacted him very quietly. He had a chance to acquire a weapons system from an as yet to be built class of Federation starship. A very hush hush project called an "Omega" class star destroyer. Would he be interested? Tzardoz had indicated he would be very interested. He had a rough idea of what the Omega project was about; an ultimate battleship, designed to terrify the Cardassians into backing off of Federation borders and retreating into their own inner systems for protection. He also knew that the Federation High Council would never approve the Starfleet plan. The ship was as good as dead before it ever existed. What would it matter if the few test parts that were being made, vanished unexpectedly?
When the photon torpedo system had arrived, Tzardoz had been in a quandary for a full shift. The machinery had come from a Ferengi vessel, which undoubtable meant it had been purchased from somewhere else. He didn't know where. He had never seen anything quite like what was being installed in the torpedo bay room. It was fully automated, and rigged very neatly in with the new computer core that was being installed. He found out that a certain starbase would be complaining about the lost shipment of their new, base computer system. Oh well, war was hell.
Lia Stronn, ship's counselor, relaxed in her quarters, watching the latest erotic release from her favorite director, Elizabeth Dark. She lounged, naked on her couch and watched the dramatic remake of Beauty and the Beast unfold. Dark had given the ancient story a whole new dimension. Suddenly, her door chimed softly.
"Enter." she called, not giving a thought to her current state of undress.
Thomas Grave entered the room, looking straight down at his PADD. He didn't immediately notice his superior's lack of covering.
"Commander, I didn't see any equipment request on here from you, and I just wanted to check and make sure..." the man had finally looked at the Deltan officer. She smiled, sensing the sudden jump in his blood pressure and the beginnings of an uncomfortableness in his pants.
"That is correct, Ensign. I won't be requiring anything for my job. I thought that you'd probably have enough to do without any requests from me. Besides, I really need very little extra... equipment to do my work efficiently."
"I... I see. Uh, very well Commander. Sorry to disturb you." Grave said, his eyes now wide, his breath coming in short gasps. He was beginning to feel the effects of her overpowering pheromones.
"Not at all, Ensign Grave." she said sweetly, to the retreating man. "Please feel free to stop by anytime."
Grave nodded, holding his PADD in front of his now fully aroused area of discomfort, and backed quickly out the door. The Star Tiger's counselor chuckled gently to herself.
Selon yanked the crude scanning equipment out of the science station and tossed it unceremoniously on the deck. She was not making any bones about her dislike of this assignment, and the ship in general. The one thing that had not come about yet was the advances of her commanding officers. Marius West was, she judged, too old to be moved by her. But the Captain was a different story altogether. He should have been all over her, if past experience held true. As of yet, he had not spoken to her at all, outside of the daily staff meetings and progress reports. He was a strange one indeed, she had decided. Apparently, an insomniac, as she had seen him striding through the ship's corridors at all hours of the day and night. Selon found him to be an intriguing case. One which she was determined to crack.
Gently, she placed the new equipment into the space where the old had been. She was intimately familiar with the design and maintenance of the machinery she was installing, as it had somehow been liberated from a Vulcan deep probe science vessel. Such a ship as she had always dreamed of serving on.
But such a thing would never happen. Could never happen.
As a child, Selon had been given the choice of following her family's heritage or not. Being from an enlightened lineage, she had attended the Federation school near where her father was teaching at the Academy on Vulcan. Long before she was to begin her training, she had met new people and been inundated with new ideas. Thus, when given the choice, she did not want to be any different from the friends she was spending her school time with. She did not want to leave them, as following her ancestral path would require. So, Selon became one of a growing handful of Vulcan children, who did not necessarily follow the dictates of logic and control that were the trademarks of her people. Instead she became more of a cultural hybrid. Human sensibilities and Vulcan abilities. Her perceived beauty did not help her either. To escape the disdain of her relatives, she had joined Starfleet and quickly made a name for herself. Unfortunately, the reputation she earned, was not quite what she had been shooting for.
Delicately, she fitted connections together and wired the new equipment into the computer that had been somehow schemed from under Starfleet's nose. This equipment, backed by the undisputed superiority of the Bynar computer system, were going to put her in a distinctly better research position than she had ever been able to achieve before on her own. It was the one bonus she perceived, from working on the ancient wreck.
Marius West poured over the information he had been able to glean from Starfleet, on his new superior officer. There was information available on Lestan Darkraven before he entered the academy. The Commander had no doubt that it was false. Anyone with the will to dig up the files could readily see how shoddy the background check was. The information listed with had taken some time to check, but he had verified that fact that it was all patently false. There were some records of property and business being owned by a Lestan Darkraven of Miami, Florida on Earth, but some of them went back over one hundred years. He was no handwriting expert, but the signatures on these documents, and current ones on Starfleet file looked very similar to him. There was apparently much more to the young man than met the immediate scrutiny of the eye.
The old man kicked back from his desk in frustration and stood. Grimly, he paced the room, trying to fathom what all this pointed to. A man, appearing to be in his twenties at best, but giving every indication of having been around for at least the last one hundred years or so. More and more peculiar. His door pinged for admittance.
"Come in." he called, still pacing back and forth. The doors swished open, and Lestan Darkraven glided into the room. Marius West was immediately on his guard. It was unearthly at times, the way the young man moved without seeming to move.
"Commander West, I have the currently operating status reports for the ship, I wondered if you would mind going over them with me?" the tall, blond man said absently, sitting down by the desk.
"Certainly, Captain." West replied, abruptly breaking from his pacing and moving to be seated beside his commanding officer.
"As you can see, we are running right on schedule. Thanks to Ensign Grave and his gang of Merry Men, we will be at least marginally operational by the end of the week. At this rate, we might even get to make a shakedown run before tossing the old girl into combat."
West nodded, and looked at the readout on the PADD.
"I'm concerned about some of the things they're bringing on board, though." he said thoughtfully to the younger man. "We have equipment here that is arguably in some cases, totally untested. By the end of the week, Chief O'Mara tells me we're going to have a Romulan Forced Singularity setup, instead of a normal Starfleet antimatter core. We're going to play hell with friendly sensors."
"Agreed, but in the situation we're heading into, a little confusion might not be a bad thing. If we can confuse the Cardassians, I can't see how that would be bad for us."
West smiled. "Very true. Oh, and Captain. I really wouldn't let any of this out. Not even to Admiral Sesok. If this turns out to be what it looks like, I don't think we're meant to succeed on this mission. The brass might be very disgruntled if they realize we're planning on making it back alive."
"You know Commander, the same thought had crossed my mind." Lestan grinned. He had dazzlingly white teeth. Something a bit off about the smile, though. Almost as if he were controlling it for some reason.
"Anything else, Captain?" West returned the smile, standing. He was going to have to talk to somebody on this ship about his suspicions. Perhaps the Counselor. He still had some pull with the Deltan. After all, he had been the only one to speak up on her behalf. Even if it hadn't worked out as they'd wanted it to.
"No. Thank you, Commander. I'll see you on shift at 12 hundred hours?"
"Certainly."
"Til then." the blond man bowed slightly, and vanished out the door. West quickly followed him to the door, which swished open again, so that Marius could peer out. The Captain was nowhere to be seen. The corridor was empty.
Armin Sesok sat in the conference room, aboard the Galaxy class starship Iliad. Andrew Gavrilov, her captain sat across from him. He was not happy.
"Admiral, this is suicide! You can't expect that ship to do anything other than practically self destruct when they take it out. Get her into combat? It will be a miracle if they make it out of the system." The graying, bear of a man argued. Sesok didn't correct him.
"You are missing the point, Andrew. The Star Tiger is meant as a diversionary feint. We already know what her chances are; nil. But she will accomplish her task. We're outfitting her with a copy of your I.D. beacon, and sending her in first. The Cardassians will be drawn away from the planet and move to destroy the Star Tiger, thinking at first that she is you. While they are thus engaged, you will swiftly dart in, invade the installation, rescue our people and download the base computer system. Total time for the operation should be not more than thirty minutes."
Gavrilov shook his head.
"The Star Tiger will be dead in 30 seconds."
"I think you are underestimating her Captain and crew," the older man said calmly, knowing he was lying again, outright.
"I think not. I took the liberty of scanning her crew roster. You should have just designated it a prison ship and gotten it over with. Admiral, some of these people are downright infamous! Thomas Grave is probably the slickest Black Marketeer in Starfleet. Lia Stronn, after sleeping with a plethora of her patients, should have been sent directly back to Delta for a mind wipe and reprogramming. Marius West has to be sixty-nine if he's a day..."
"And what, pray tell, Captain, is wrong with that?" the Admiral asked coolly.
Gavrilov reddened as he realized his blunder.
"I just meant that he's probably too old to be an effective field officer on a starship. He should be behind a desk somewhere."
"We were once field officers too, Andrew. Damn good ones at that. Just because we grew old, doesn't mean we're not effective anymore."
"I think Commander West showed his effectiveness on Sergod II. Wasn't the contamination of an entire pre-interstellar flight culture enough confirmation?" the younger man said firmly.
Sesok shrugged.
"A matter of semantics. I voted that he be commended for that job. He saved an entire civilization. He was presented with a crisis and made his choice. Obey the Prime Directive and watch them all die, or reveal our existence and save an entire world. I think his actions were justified."
Gavrilov looked down at the screen of his terminal.
"Be that as it may, I don't feel right about this."
The Admiral closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"Neither do I, Andrew. Neither do I."
"Let me get this straight, Marius. You want to tow the Star Tiger out of drydock and move her to where not even the Fleet is going to know where we are?" Lestan queried, leaning back in the conference room chair. The old man sitting next to him had a grim expression on his face.
"I think it would be well advised. I've just received some information from a friendly source at Fleet headquarters. We're to be used as a diversionary tactic. What Armin Sesok told you was true, but in reverse. We're to be the diversion that allows the Iliad to make it into Cardassian space."
Darkraven sat and digested this bit of news. It gave him a sour stomach.
"So," he said slowly, collecting himself, "your recommendation to move the ship and crew is meant to be a measure to preserve all of us, but outside of Starfleet authority."
"No. Not at all. Well, only temporarily." the gray haired man said, leaning back in his seat. "I believe we can complete the mission, or have an entirely different role in it from what the top Brass intends. At this point, they basically want us there as cannon fodder."
"More like the target for those cannon."
"Exactly."
"So, what do we do?" Lestan sighed, turning his head to gaze out the window.
"We move the ship to a secret location and complete our repairs. We use a scrambled subspace signal to keep in touch with Starfleet, and bounce it around the system for a while, to confused them as to where it's coming from. Then, when we're ready, we make our move."
"Any idea as to what we were supposed to play sitting duck exactly for?"
"As near as I've been able to put together, Starfleet has some hostages that they desperately want free. They're on Delibes, just over the Cardassian border in the Berterent sector. We're supposed to go in headlong, and draw the Cardassian ships off, while another vessel makes the actual rescue run at the planet."
"I see... and we were supposed to...?"
"End up blown to kingdom come by the Cardassian fleet in that sector. That's why we're composed of every undesirable' in the Fleet and saddled with a ship nobody would every deliberately recommission."
The Captain's lower jaw worked slowly. Marius could see the anger building, but it was controlled, with no flush. It was a very pointed and focused anger. The old man was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of it.
"Very well. We're going to change the game plan a little. Get Ensign Grave in here. He's got to know of a smuggler's post we can camp out at and complete repairs. As for moving the ship," here, the tall blond man stood and moved for the door, "I've got two of the most powerful private cruisers made, sitting in the shuttle bay. You and I will drag this old girl to where we've got to go."
"Very good, Sir." West replied, moving to stand and follow his commanding officer.
"Marius," the Captain said, turning back, just as he passed through the door, "We both know who's got the experience commanding in the field here. I see no point in your addressing me as if I were that person. My name is Lestan, and I'll be grateful for any help that you desire to give me."
Marius West looked into the incredible eyes of the young man and nodded curtly. Now he knew how this man was keeping this rag-tag bunch of brigands from mutinying. One look and he inspired loyalty. The old man had no doubt this crew would follow them anywhere they decided to go, whether it was with Starfleet sanction or not.
Thomas Grave sat at Navigation, some three hours later, when West and Darkraven announced their intentions. The Captain had laid it out on the table for the whole crew, sparing them no detail of how Starfleet was prepared to use them and loose them. To say the least, the crew was ready for murder. But Lestan calmed them, and told them they were going to do something even better. They were going to complete the impossible mission that the High Command had saddled them with. They would not fail, and they would not die. Lestan had every intention of having his ship and crew win, and he said he knew they could. For most of the individuals on the Star Tiger, this was the first time in a very long time that anyone had expressed any confidence in them, and any care for them. There was silence for a moment, at the end of Lestan's speech. Then, a low roar built up through the ship. The entire crew was cheering and shouting his name. Marius West looked at the Captain and smiled.
Grave stayed in his seat, while his two commanding officers took to the two shuttle craft. He watched over the viewscreen as they moved into position, one above each of the Star Tiger's huge warp nacelles and they locked onto her with tractor beams. Then, slowly and majestically, for the first time in a century, the grand old lady left her berth and headed for open space. Lieutenant Tzardoz, monitoring communication, heard the frantic calls of the drydock manager, telling them to stop and return to their bay. When they did not, he heard the calls for any Starfleet vessel in the area to come to their aid. Teeth glinting in the bridge light, the Gorn cheerfully jammed their signal, and sent an overload surge across the line, which fried the junkyard facility's communications system. By the time it was repaired, the Star Tiger would be long gone, on their way to where they would be temporarily safe from prying eyes.
Calmly, he fed the coordinates to the old smuggler's base into the two shuttle's guidance computers. West and Darkraven oriented themselves and locked their flight computers to perform maneuvers in close sync. Then, the old ship lurched into warp, towed by the two shuttles, and was gone.
"THEY DID WHAT!" Admiral Sesok roared, jumping up from the seat in his office on Starbase 491.
"Um, apparently Sir, they, ah, stole the ship," Barclay stuttered. The man never was any good under pressure.
"Nobody tried to stop them?"
"There was no chance, Sir. There were no ships in the yard operating to go after them. The Star Tiger somehow destroyed their communications system. The dock foreman said that two DeVass shuttles towed the whole ship into warp and took off."
Sesok looked grimly at his aid.
"Barclay, find them. I don't care how, just find them."
The Commander nodded and walked briskly out of the Admirals office. He was covered in a cold sweat. Now the rough job fell to him.
"Shuttle Maharet to Star Tiger."
"Star Tiger. Yes Captain?" Tzardoz asked, standing at parade rest near his station.
"How do we seem to be holding up?"
"Sensor sweeps of the ship's superstructure show no signs of undue stress or metal fatigue," Selon called, her delicate hands flying quickly across the controls of her station's new instrumentation.
"Any signs of pursuit?" the Captain's ghost of a French accent drifted across the bridge.
"None, Sir." Ensign Kiko Todesku chimed in, sitting beside Ensign Grave at Navigation.
"So far, so good. Are we sure this base is deserted, Mr. Grave?"
"I, uh... checked with some people that I know. They assure me there will be no problem with our being there. As long as we mind our own business, nobody's nose will be in ours." the rough looking man replied, smirking.
"Thank you, Ensign. Well, I put out ETA at 13:25 hours. If anything comes up, you know where I am."
"Yes Sir."
Tzardoz moved down to the command chair and sat. Quietly, he checked over the shoulders of Todesku and Grave, doing his own survey of the ship's status. Satisfied, he leaned back and stared at the viewscreen and the starfield moving by. He judged their speed at about warp five. Supposedly, the transwarp engines they were outfitted with had been able to transcend the warp 9.9 limit and pass beyond, into some theoretical speed. It had never been adequately explained in the old texts that he had seen. O'Mara had said it looked like they were opening some sort of crude hole into subspace and transmitting the ship through. As communication through subspace was practically instantaneous, so would passage be for an entire ship. The one drawback was, the enormous amounts of power necessary to push solid objects through the dimension. That's why the whole idea of transwarp drives had been discarded. They worked, but were horrendously impractical.
"Lieutenant." Selon said quietly, turning from her station.
"Yes?"
"I'm monitoring a distress beacon, from a ship at extreme range. It appears to be an ore carrier."
"Lieutenant, I'm now receiving a distress signal from the vessel." Todesku stated.
"Put it on audio."
A heavily accented voice came over the bridge speakers, talking firmly, and calmly.
This is the Telluride freighter Steller. We need assistance. Our antimatter core shielding is failing. Can anyone hear us? I repeat, this is the Telluride...
Tzardoz looked grimly about the bridge.
"Get me the Captain."
On board the Maharet, Captain Darkraven digested the news. Commander West was crosslinked into the conversation.
"Well, what do you think?" the blond man asked his first officer.
"We can't ignore them. If we do, they die."
"But what can we do to help them?"
"Get O'Mara on the line."
There was a moment's silence as the Star Tiger made the necessary connections.
Engineering. O'Mara.
"Chief, we've got a problem."
Don't we all. What's yours?
"Telluride freighter needs help. We're the only ones within earshot."
There was silence.
Weeeeeeeelll, I haven't installed the new power source yet. We're still drawing off the antimatter core that was put in here a century ago. I might be able to coax enough energy out of it for a short TransWarp jump. But we're going to be sad sacks afterward.
"Meaning?"
Emergency reserve power and not much else, til we hook up to the power source in that dry-dock.
"Enough power to operate the transporters for emergency beam out?"
Yes. If it's not a crew of five-hundred.
"How many people on board the freighter, Lieutenant Selon?"
"Crew manifest says thirty total." the Vulcan woman's voice came flatly into the conversation.
Lestan sat debating for a moment, them began to run his hands across the controls of his ship.
"Reel them in, Marius. It's time to do a good deed. Lieutenant Tzardoz, notify the vessel in distress that we're on our way."
If a lipless lizard could smile, the Gorn would have been grinning from ear to ear.
"Telluride freighter Steller, this is the Federation ship Star Tiger. We are on our way. Expect us momentarily."
Star Tiger, this is Steller. We don't have you on our sensors, how far away are you? We don't have much time. We have coolant leaks, and Engineering's been flooded with lethal gas. the voice was no longer quite so calm as it had been.
"Prepare your crew for emergency beam out. We will be at your position momentarily." the Gorn repeated.
"Sensors show shuttle craft Maharet and Pointe-du-Lac on board." Selon said, turning to the command chair.
"Chief O'Mara, are you ready?" Tzardoz asked, gripping the armrest of the captain's chair.
"As ready as I can be."
"Ahead, TransWarp factor 4."
There was a noise, which built slowly. It sounded like some great beast which had awakened and was yawning. Then, there was a jerk, that they felt throughout the entire ship.
"We have entered TransWarp." Ensign Grave said quietly, keeping an eye on the readings coming from Engineering.
"Selon, keep scanning the superstructure for any problems." The Gorn said, looking forward at the viewscreen. The picture presented there was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Stars seemed to twist and turn. Whole galaxies spiraled seemingly out of control, pell mel across their viewing field. What they saw made no sense at all to the naked eye. Tzardoz found it extremely disquieting.
"Main viewscreen off." he ordered, feeling his stomach start to spiral like the picture on the screen.
At that moment, the Captain and Commander both burst onto the bridge from the turbolift. They caught a glimpse of the starfield as it faded out. Lestan looked ill, and Marius West turned white. They noticed that the bridge crew who had seen the phenomenon were experiencing trouble too.
"Well now," Commander West said, following the Captain down to stand next the command chair, "isn't that special?"
"Status report, Lieutenant Tzardoz?" Darkraven asked, moving to take the seat as the Gorn got up.
"Ship's systems approximating normal. We're due at the sight right about now."
As he said the words, the viewscreen came back on, and the spinning slowed, stopped and resolved itself into a very old, ratty looking freighter. Suddenly a voice was speaking very excitedly over the bridge speakers.
Star Tiger! You're here! How? Our sensors did not detect your approach!
"Ummm, secret weapon. New Technology." the Captain mumbled, "Prepare for emergency beam out."
We are ready Captain.
"Darkraven to transporter room four. Is the cargo transport ready?"
Up and running Cap'n. a voice came back, doing a very convincing imitation of a pirate.
"Energize."
They watched, as seconds later, the aft area of the freighter began to throw off flares of energy and glow dangerously.
"Shields!" Lestan barked.
"Shields operating at only fifty-four percent." Selon called, manipulating her console and the engineering console simultaneously.
"Will that be enough?" West asked. Looking worriedly at the young man seated in the chair.
Lestan gritted his teeth.
"It will have to be."
Engineering here. I think I can squeeze a bit more out of the core. I'm going to shut down power to everything except life support and sensors. O'Mara's voice sounded sharp, for a change. As if for the first time, the dreamer was fully awake.
"Then do it, Chief." West ordered.
The old ship shuddered once again, slowly began to turn and run away from the exploding vessel. They seemed to be moving at a crawl.
"Chief..."
I'm working on it!
The entire hull of the ore carrier began to pulse ominously, with a deadly glow.
"Chief!"
GOT IT!
As the freighter went up in a blinding blast, the Star Tiger hiccupped, and jumped into TransWarp.
"Admiral, a message just in from Starbase 919. A Telluride crew was just dropped off there, victims of a warp core breech." Barclay said, walking unannounced into Sesok's office.
"Yes?"
"They claim they were rescued by a new prototype Federation starship."
"What have we got operating out there?" the Admiral asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Nothing from the Development Division. But that's not the least of it."
"Yes?"
"They say the name of the ship that rescued them, was Star Tiger.'"
The old man leaned forward in his seat.
"Do tell."
"The Captain of the Telluride vessel claims the Star Tiger didn't appear on their screens as even being in the sector. The next minute they were there and being beamed off of the ship."
"O'Mara got the TransWarp drive working."
"Galen O'Mara? Uh, Sir, Galen O'Mara wasn't able to keep his mind on his classes at the academy, let alone concentrate enough to fix a TransWarp drive. We were classmates."
"Boredom does not necessarily denote stupidity, Commander. Albert Einstein flunked first grade and still managed to come up with the theory of Relativity." the Admiral grinned, rising from his chair.
"Surely Sir, you're not going to compare O'Mara to Einstein!"
"Whatever get the job done Commander, that's all that counts, in the end. "
"Yes Sir."
Are we there yet? Lestan asked, leaning over his shuttle console, and whispering closely into the mike. On board the Star Tiger, the entire bridge crew jumped at the volume of their CO's voice.
"Uh, almost, sir. We should be in sight within the hour." Ensign Grave said, wiggling his little finger in his ear.
Good.
Tzardoz sat in the command chair and looked over the bridge crew's shoulders. The only one he didn't check up on was Lieutenant Selon. He got the distinct impression that the Vulcan would hit him if he got too close to her. So he made especially sure to keep his distance.
He heard the lift doors grind open and shut behind him, and turned to find the Doctor standing beside him. He nodded in respect.
"Hello, tall, green and scaly. When are you coming down to sickbay for a physical?" the gray haired woman asked cheerily.
The Gorn officer coughed and started to reply. He was stopped by the woman prying apart his jaws and looking intently down his throat.
"I don't like the sound of that. May have to remove your tonsils." she murmured, her head practically in the Lieutenant's mouth. He shook himself out of her grasp, and ignoring the titters of the other bridge officers, he glared at the woman.
"I am fine. You do not have to remove my..." he paused, thinking before continuing to speak, "Doctor, my species does not even have tonsils!"
"That's okay Tzardoz. I'm sure I can find some other useless bit to remove. Report to sickbay for you physical as soon as we dock."
"Yes, Doctor Franken." the Gorn sighed. He turned as the woman left, and glared at the bridge crew, who were all looking at him. They spun and went back to their respective jobs. All except the Vulcan, who continued to look at the Gorn, an open smirk on her face.
"What is it that you find so humorous, Lieutenant?"
"I was just recalling an old Earth rhyme that I had heard from some friends in my youth."
"And that would be?"
"Well... it went something like... Jane and Tzardoz, sitting in a tree, K... I... S... S... I... N..."
"THAT will be quite enough, Lieutenant!" the Gorn barked, trying to drown out the childish nonsense that the woman was reciting.
The crew broke out in outright laughter. He glared at the woman in undisguised annoyance.
"Lieutenant Selon," he hissed through his pointy, extremely sharp teeth, "you make a poor Vulcan."
The Science Officer turned, looked him in the eye, and stuck out her tongue.
That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Comments welcomed. Peace!