Enterprise High
being a high school AU of ST: XI
with many hijinks
and much angst
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Chapter Eight: The Corbomite Maneuver
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Let us set the scene.
At the University of California at Riverside, there is a racetrack fifteen miles long. It winds in and out of thin forest and academic buildings. The track itself is closely-cropped grass, cut low by sheep and the occasional mower. There is no grandstand, no announcer's booth. Sports these days run without commentary, and the fans are trusted not to wander onto the track. Well, not trusted entirely—an invisible force field surrounds the course, with stakes spray-painted white to mark its boundaries.
This is the first of six races to be run in the California High School Hovercraft Competition. One hundred and six schools across the state have entered and their representatives are here, all of them and their clubs, fifteen hundred students and teachers, divided into little roped off sections of frantic people surrounding shining hovercars.
But the Enterprise High School Hoverclub is not frantic.
There wasn't much left to be done to the Enterprise. Scotty and Spock went over its systems once more before Spock zipped up his flight jacket and pulled down his helmet and goggles. The Enterprise had been painted at last. Its dull gray hull didn't stand out, unlike the flashy colors around them. It could slip unnoticed through crowds of other hovercars, seeming like nothing special. But it was one of the smallest, most compact cars there; its cushion was tiny and its thrusters were sleek and obviously well designed.
Kirk was in the pilot's seat, re-checking the controls. Spock leaned in next to him, trying not to be aware of their proximity.
"Are all systems operational?"
"Checks out great." Kirk hauled himself out of the cockpit, brushing against Spock's chest as his feet landed on the ground. "She's all yours."
"Thank you," said Spock, thankful that his helmet covered his green-tinged ears.
The race official's voice sounded over the PA system. "Would the A through G schools please make their way towards the starting line, pilots in hovers, sponsors leading and members following."
Spock settled down into the cockpit. The controls were simple buttons, wheels, and switches. Scotty was used to putting together a tactile surface. While some of the nicer hovercars had touch screens, the Enterprise had a hands-on interface.
Spock depressed the three buttons that would start the hovercar. It purred to life, its thrusters burning bright blue. The cushion inflated and the Enterprise rose off of the ground.
Scotty beamed like a proud father. Bones slapped him on the back. Pike moved to the nose of the Enterprise and started towards the racecourse.
The club members at the back made sure to keep well away from the flaming tailpipes. Scotty was tapping at a PADD with a sensor on the back of it.
"What's that?" said Bones.
"A display ah didnae have time t' add," said Scotty. "It shows handlin' power. Ah forgot about it when ah firs' installed th' screens, and then ah would have had t' rewire everythin' t' put it in. So we'll be keepin' up with Spock by communicator." He nodded to the headset on Uhura's ear.
"This sounds awfully like foreshadowing," said Kirk, leaning over. "You sure the communicator'll work on the track?"
"Positive. Ah've hooked into the UC Riverside system. We're allowed t' in th' racin' rules. Lots o' teams keep all their displays off-car so they can lighten th' load, but that puts more pressure on th' team. Ah figure Spock's more'n up t' th' task of keepin' an eye on everythin'."
Chapel spotted Ayel, the VP of the Pride High team, walking their way. He was carrying a box towards the race central cortex where the feeds were streamed and stats were kept on the cars. She tapped Sulu on the shoulder and pointed Ayel out to him.
"Where do you think he's going?"
"Dunno. Surely they're not going to try to cheat again."
"You'd hope not. They can't always expect to win on deviousness alone."
At the starting line, Spock maneuvered the Enterprise into position. Everybody shook his hand as they left for the edge of the track, where they would watch the race on their viewscreens. Uhura leaned down and kissed his cheek when she wished him luck. Spock's ears stayed bright green.
"Testing," she said, when they had reached the viewing area. Each school had a special screen set up. They were at the highest land near the track. They could see some of the race, if they craned their necks, but half of the track was hidden behind trees.
"Enterprise here. Communication is check."
The hovercars had lined up in alphabetical order by school. Ten crafts would begin the race every ten seconds, giving the cars at the back a total of one hundred and twenty seconds of stagger. The Enterprise was leaving in the third group. The Narada, Pride's ship, was leaving in the seventh.
In the cockpit, Spock wrapped his hands around the wheel. He checked the four viewscreens—left, right, back, top—and glanced out the front window. Fuel connected. Hydrogen ready to flood the engine as soon as his group was given the go.
"Check," he said into his mike.
"Acknowledged," said the race official on the other end. After about thirty seconds, the official requested check from three more vehicles. One had to drop out; something had happened to its thrusters. Spock switched over to the private channel. "Enterprise to base. Check completed."
"Acknowledged," Uhura replied. "Stand by for handling reading. Given every two minutes. Reading positive; full power."
"Received."
One hundred and five cars, burning hot. Spock's fingers twitched on the wheel. He was steel. He was ready.
"Group one in three. Two. One."
Roars as the first ten cars took off. Their dust blasted across the windows of the hovers behind them.
"Group two in three. Two. One."
The cars directly in front of the Enterprise sped onto the track.
"Group three in three. Two. One."
Spock was slammed back in his seat as he pressed the accelerator, reaching four hundred miles per hour within seconds. He moved immediately to the front of his group. The first part of the track was relatively smooth; he tried not to maneuver in order to keep up his speed. He approached the back of the second pack slowly, thinking. As long as he stayed ahead in his group, he was golden. Fifty ships would qualify for the next round, knocking out a little more than half the field. He decided not to risk passing the second group unless something unexpected occurred.
Which it did.
One of the hovercrafts behind Spock, the Constellation, put on a burst of speed, rocketing past Spock. Spock could see no logical reason why the pilot had done this; the Constellation had been second in the group, in a steady thirtieth place. He twitched the controls a few meters to the left to make some room between the Enterprise and the Constellation. But the pilot of the Constellation seemed to have other ideas. He closed on the Enterprise.
Spock applied the brake, dropping behind the Constellation. He was still ahead of the rest of his group. He sped up, now passing the rogue ship, and pushed his engines until he was at the back of the second group again. The Constellation was following him closely. Worried that the pilot might attempt sabotage, Spock nudged his way into the second group.
They were coming to the hilly area of the course.
"Base to Enterprise. Handling conditions normal."
"Received," said Spock. He couldn't believe the race had been going for two minutes. The final group had left the track only a minute ago.
One of his screens was hooked to the race central cortex. It showed him his exact position. Currently he was in tenth place. The Narada, Pride High's entry according to the readout, was in fifth, which meant that it had probably passed at least two groups already, and was close behind him. He wove through the second group, keeping a safe distance from the other ships. The ground was beginning to get uneven; the hills were increasing in size. He had left the erratic Constellation behind and was near the front of the second group.
The Narada moved to fourth, then third. Spock wished they were provided a map instead of numbers. He didn't know where the Narada was, only that it was getting closer.
He pushed the accelerator, leaping to five hundred miles per hour. He was in front of the second group.
The first group was more spread out. They were not hemmed in. The leader of the first group was the Lexington, a car built along the same smooth lines as the Enterprise. The Lexington was also in first place by virtue of its incredible head start. The ship was a cool gold color with chunky thrusters that spoke of good speed but bad maneuverability.
"Base to Enterprise. Handling con—"
There was a sharp static sound. Spock flinched and reached for his ear, but the sound retreated, leaving total radio silence.
"Enterprise to base. Enterprise to base," Spock said, but Uhura did not reply.
"What the hell just happened?" cried Kirk back at the viewing area. All around them, other teams were tapping their headsets and looking worried. Uhura pulled her earpiece out and popped the back off.
"The connections are solid," she said quickly. "Nothing wrong here."
"Th' system must be down," said Scotty. He looked down at the display he was holding. "Our screens are still working—they're set through our own satellites, not through th' central cortex."
The PA system announced an unexpected communications failure and requested patience. The teams with their displays at their base rather than in their car looked worried.
The first casualties occurred in the fifth group. One car, unsure of how fast it was going, tried to brake when another car swerved in front of it. Her engine exploded when the quickly-applied brakes caused the pressure in the engine to triple. The driver was ejected immediately and her vehicle slammed into three more vehicles behind her, ejecting their drivers. Twelve more vehicles sustained damage and seven more were disabled before the rubble was left in the dust.
Spock watched as eleven numbers went gray, then invisible. Now there were only ninety-four cars in the race.
Around him, the drivers without displays became desperate. The groups intermixed; worried drivers unsure of their position in the race sped up and danced between the other cars. It took all of Spock's skill to stay out of the way of the frantically weaving hovercars. Four more collisions occurred, taking out nine more cars. They had passed through the hills and were on another straight area of the track. The cars evened out, calming down even though communications had not been restored. Now that the drivers could see all of the other cars, they had a rough idea of where they were.
Spock had dropped to thirty-second, which he was not entirely satisfied with; his goal had been to stay above twentieth place. He figured that the calm would last until they came to the next part of the course, which was composed of sharp angles and turns. He sped up again, pushing the engines, advancing to fifteenth. The Narada was ahead of him, having passed the Enterprise in the logjam back in the hills, in third, battling for first and second with the Lexington and the Constellation, whose pilot seemed to have regained his senses and advanced safely to the head of the pack.
This was the first time Spock had set eyes on the Narada. It was completely unlike the other crafts. It had a single huge thruster at its back and was cylindrical, painted a brittle, gleaming black. The structure looked like many straight, sharp tentacles had been hewn from obsidian and attached to an invisible interior pod. Spock went cold at the sight of it. The craft was built to be menacing.
He stayed well back from the frontrunners, maintaining a position in the teens. All of his displays read systems normal. He assumed his handling was still fine; the Enterprise turned well enough when she needed to. His fingers detected a slight tremble whenever he had to jerk the craft out of the way of collision, but he assumed that it was just the strain of the race.
The display in Scotty's hands told differently. A fuel line to the handling had burst during one of Spock's close calls back in the hills. The handling was fine for now, but the fluid was leaking: Spock's ability to steer the Enterprise might not last the race.
"We need to effect repair to the communications system," Kirk insisted to Pike. "The race officials just aren't getting it done fast enough. We have to let Spock know about the handling."
"The officials aren't going to let you into the cortex," said Pike, frowning. "But you may try, if you think it'll help."
"I'm sure it will," said Kirk. He looked around. "I'll need everybody for this. No, wait—who's going to monitor the viewscreen?"
Pike raised an eyebrow at him. "I think I'm more than capable of watching a race," he said dryly. "I'll be in contact." He removed his communicator from his pocket. "Good luck."
Kirk led the Hoverclub out of the viewing area and down to the tunnel underneath the racetrack. The race central cortex was located on the interior of the track. There were guards stationed at the entrance of the tunnel.
Kirk had anticipated this. "Go," he said to Chapel and Sulu. They rounded a corner towards the guards, chatting animatedly. The guards snapped to attention.
"No unauthorized entry," said one of them sternly.
"Well that's not what we came for," said Sulu, fluttering his eyelashes at the guard, who relaxed a little. "The repair team from the main campus can't get past the main entrance. Those students are mobbing."
"Are they?" said the guard, looking concerned. She nodded to her fellow. "Let's check it out. Call backup." They set off towards the main entrance.
"That was pathetic," muttered Kirk. "No wonder Nero and his gang could get in here and sabotage the race."
"We don't know it was Nero," Uhura reminded him as they started down the tunnel.
"Yes, but let's go out on a limb, shall we? Scotty, how's she look?"
"Not bad," Scotty admitted, glancing up from the display. "Thank God th' last bit o' track is straight an' narrow. He might not be able t' steer by then."
They emerged into a small, empty lobby. They heard voices from a corridor off to the side. Kirk motioned everyone into a corner and slid silently over to the corridor entrance.
"—completely sealed off," somebody was saying. "A self-replicating force field, it looks like. We won't be able to get communications back before the end of the race."
Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Scotty," he whispered. "Isn't there a trick to getting rid of self-replicating force fields?"
"Aye, take away their oxygen," said Scotty. "Starfleet's stopped using them now that they can be broken."
"Excellent," murmured Kirk. "These engineers won't listen to a couple of students, though. Looks like we need another distraction."
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On the racecourse, the hovercars had reached the maze. Spock spun hard out of a particularly sharp turn, nearly colliding with another hover. The Enterprise had not turned as well as he had expected, and the trembling in the steering wheel increased.
"Enterprise to base," he repeated once more into his headset, the strain beginning to show in his voice.
Ahead of him, the Narada swooped in front of a large orange hover, causing the driver to swerve to avoid it. Spock slammed the Enterprise out of the way of collision, bumping into another hover. No damage was done to either car, but the orange hover spun out to the left. It reduced five cars to ruins.
Spock gritted his teeth. The trembling had increased when he had been forced to swerve. It was shaking him to the bone.
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"Pike to Kirk," Kirk heard on his communicator.
"Kirk here."
"They're down to eighty cars. The Narada is vicious, she keeps swerving and causing collisions. Spock's holding on, but barely; his steering has become erratic. He's dropped to twentieth."
"His readout is pretty bad," said Kirk, glancing at the display Scotty was holding. "The handling fluid is half gone. He's got to stop making sharp turns."
"Surely he knows by now."
"Maybe, but at this point he won't finish the race with steering power. Scotty says there's something we can get him to do if we can get communications back up, though, something he's been working on."
"What is it?"
"The Corbo—" Kirk went quiet.
"Pike to Kirk. Pike to Kirk. I've lost contact. Is everything okay?"
"Sorry, sir, there was an… incident. I'll be right back. Kirk out."
Pike snapped his communicator shut. What were they up to? At first, he had doubted that a bunch of high school kids could solve whatever it was that Nero had done. But he had to remind himself that they were exceptional high school kids.
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"Nice work," said Kirk, surveying the empty corridor. "It's good not to have to knock people out."
"They really should learn to be more careful," said Chapel, brushing her hands together. "Gas leak my ass. How unrealistic is that threat these days anyway? They won't be able to get out of that supply closet for at least another forty minutes."
"We'll let them out when we get communications back up. Scotty? What's your plan?"
"I'm already settin' it up, Jim," said Scotty. His hands were wrapped around a thin blue beam of light that he was waving over the entrance to the room that housed the race central cortex. "The force field just about fills this room. We'll have t' turn off th' air supply. Sulu—"
"I got it," said Sulu, dashing off to a control panel on a nearby wall. "Say when."
Scotty sat the beam of light on the floor and pulled at its ends until it had gone all the way across the entrance. He flicked the beam and it unfurled, rising up to seal the entryway.
"Go," said Scotty.
Sulu snapped apart two cords. "System override," he reported. "Vacuum in three—two—one—"
Nothing changed beyond the screen of light.
"That should do it," said Scotty after a few seconds. "Effect repair."
Sulu hooked the cords back together. Scotty collapsed the light screen. Air rushed into the room. Scotty reached forward into empty space. The force field was gone.
"Excellent," said Kirk. "What next?"
"Now for th' actual repair work," said Scotty. "It shouldnae be too hard. Nyota, you know more about communications systems than meself."
"I'm right there," said Uhura, moving forwards. She knelt before the race central cortex, a glowing red pillar of hard drives and satellite uplinks. One portion of the pillar looked like it had been set on fire.
"I'll need a replacement catalyzer," she said, peering closely at the burned area. "And the primary transmitter has been half-melted. It'd be nice if they had an extra…"
Bones, Chapel, and Sulu were searching through compartments set into the walls. "This what you're lookin' for?" said Bones, holding up a long, flat gray panel with wires spewing out of its back.
"Perfect," said Uhura, taking it from him. "Christine, get me that toolkit. Jim, some eight point three wires. No, the blue ones."
Sulu found another primary transmitter. Chekov and Scotty attempted to install the thing, but they kept messing up the connections. Uhura snapped at them to quit; she was about to finish the catalyzer and would be there in a second. Scotty worked on general damage repair and instructed Kirk and Chekov to make sure the cortex would be able to sustain broadcast. They opened up a panel in the floor and poked around at the power supply, which looked fine. Uhura told Scotty to finish hooking up the catalyzer and moved to the transmitter, a rounded, fragile looking disc. Everyone watched anxiously as Uhura glided ten tiny wires into the correct nodes, shut the panel, and looked up.
"Power," she said to the pillar. The blackened parts glowed red once more. She pushed a few buttons on the control panel and heard her earpiece spark to life.
"Go," she mouthed, signaling with two fingers towards the entrance. "Base to Enterprise, emergency," she said into the earpiece. "Handling fluid half depleted, repeat, handling fluid half depleted. Avoid unnecessary maneuvering. Base to Enterprise—"
"Enterprise here. Received."
"Stand by for further instructions." She followed the Hoverclub out of the cortex room. Chapel had disappeared to let the race officials out of their supply closet. Everybody else hovered inside the tunnel, waiting for her. She came sprinting silently out of the corridor, waving for them to go. Behind her, angry voices echoed off the walls.
At the tunnel entrance, the guards were still gone. "Instructions?" Uhura mouthed to Scotty.
"Wait," said Scotty. "He needs t' be in th' clear. And ah haven't finished th' calculations yet." He tapped his head. "They're three-fourths done and th' hardest is yet t' come."
By the time they got back to the viewing area, the other teams had figured out that communications were back up. The field was beginning to stabilize, although the chaos had taken out another eight cars. The distance between the crafts stretched. Spock maintained a shaky twenty-fourth place. But although the course was beginning to straighten out, Spock was having a harder and harder time steering. His handling fluid level had dropped to nearly zero.
"Base to Enterprise. Spock, all you have to do is get to the final straightaway," said Uhura. "Then we have something you can do to regain acceleration. It's called the Corbomite Maneuver."
"Received. Nyota, I have not heard of this."
"Monty came up with it a while back, when the fuel line blew. It should solve your acceleration problems. You have to be on the straightaway to execute."
"I shall arrive at that section of the course momentarily," said Spock, barely making it around a corner. "I am now in thirty-first position. This had better work."
"It will," said Uhura, shooting a glance at Scotty, who was doing frantic calculations with Chekov. Kirk leaned over their shoulders, totally focused.
"Thirty-ninth," said Spock. "Fifteen seconds."
"Got it," said Chekov, holding a paper triumphantly.
"Wait!" cried Kirk. "This is wrong—eighty-seven degrees! Damnit, let me redo this problem—"
Scotty threw up his hands. "Ah cannae do th' math that fast, Jim. You go ahead."
"Now would be nice," hissed Uhura.
"Fuck! Alpha point two," Kirk muttered, scribbling out a figure. He paused and stared at the paper. "Give me the headset."
"What?"
"I have to do this in my head. Give it to me."
Uhura pulled the headset off and gave it to Kirk, who fitted it quickly around his skull.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Spock here. What happened to Nyota?"
"Nothing. Thought I could explain better. You on the straightaway?"
There was a grunt on the other end. "I am now," said Spock, sounding strained.
"Here's what you do," said Kirk. "You have to line her up exactly center on the trajectory, okay? I mean dead fucking center, not an arcsecond of a degree off. This is crucial."
"Received." Spock paused to align the craft. "Continue."
"You got it?"
"James, I am now in forty-seventh position."
"Okay, turn on the F57 and set the trajectory positive. Set the altimeter to eighty-eight degrees."
"Achieved."
"Prime the thrusters at four point eight."
"Achieved."
"Punch the following buttons with a delay of one second between each. Rocket two, rocket five, jammer, F32, and rocket one."
A pause. "Achieved."
Kirk held his breath. "What you're going to do next is the final step. It'll ignite the corbomite. Hold tight."
"Continue."
"Hit rocket three."
There was a noise.
On the track, the Enterprise exploded forwards, flashing from fifty-eighth to sixth in five seconds. Within eight seconds, it was in second, diagonal to the Narada. They were less than a mile from the finish, just a quarter of a minute away.
"Okay, listen," Spock heard Kirk say. "Here's the deal. You can't steer. You have to just go straight, no matter—"
The Narada swerved towards him. Spock reacted instinctively. He spun the wheel.
The Enterprise's thrusters blew up.
The shrapnel peppered the Narada, battering its dark exterior. The Enterprise, its tail flaming, slowed dramatically. In the viewing area, they watched, horrified, as Spock dropped rapidly in the ranking.
Spock flipped switches quickly, utterly composed, coaxing impulse power out of the barely-alive engine. He was so close to the finish. He hit the accelerator. Smoke billowed out of the back end, confusing the crafts behind him. The Enterprise limped over the line—in forty-ninth place. The Narada, severely damaged by the blowup, achieved fiftieth.
Spock braked, coasting the Enterprise to a stop in her assigned space, out of the way of the vehicles still limping in. He sat in the slightly smoky cockpit for a second, breathing hard as he turned off the engines. There was yelling in his ear—in the viewing area, the crew of the Enterprise were cheering madly.
"We'll be right down!" he heard Kirk shout.
Spock unsealed the hatch and pulled himself heavily out of the Enterprise. The grass was soft, he could tell even through his boots. He breathed deeply, removing his helmet.
The punch hit him squarely in the jaw.
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