"...why don't you kneel? I am your GOD!"
Subcenturion Ari Neyhmanu, Officer of the Romulan
Fleet, Stardate 1635.2. Last recorded words before execution.
"Open it." Larssen said to Ensign Tarn. The young
woman ran forward and knelt beside the lock, pulling tools
out of her engineering kit. Larssen looked around and took
stock.
Janice Rand, pale but steady, the duffel over her
shoulder holding not a change of clothes and hairspray
but the specs for the Lady Grace, her crew manifest,
the communication protocols for Starbase 18. Shimona,
very still, eyes fixed on the lock as if expecting an
attack to come out of it, one hand hovering near her
sidearm. Brand dead white beneath his freckles but
not, for once fidgeting. Lieutenant N'o, feelers
whipping up a storm - Larssen couldn't tell if that
was a good sign or not.
And the others: John Lim, shoulders very straight,
face shining with sweat, and ten other yeomen and
ensigns about whom Larssen knew nothing except that
Yeoman Drysden bluffed when he had a poor hand and
Ensign Wrenth would fold on a high one rather than
call.
"Listen to me very carefully." Larssen said, pitching
her voice low enough to force the ones further away to
gather nearer. "Admiral Dewey has said that there's
no shame in admitting we can't get the Grace up to
scratch. He says we're to do our best and if we can't
manage it, we'll get evac berths without any problem."
A collective sigh of relief.
"There are five hundred fine officers who won't,
though." Larssen said calmly. "Every body we can get
out of here on the Grace frees an evac berth for one
brave officer willing to face god-knows what kind of
death because duty demands it. I don't know what
we'll find when we get in there, but I do know one
thing. I will be on the Lady Grace when the deadline
passes, either safely out beyond the cordon or sitting
here still working on her engines. The rest of you
can make your own decision based on the state of the
ship, but as for me, mine is made."
"And mine." John Lim said immediately.
"Mine too." Brand said, and then gulped at his own
bravery.
A murmur from the others.
Larssen nodded. They'd do. They'd more than do. Her
throat was hot and sore, and she had to swallow hard
before she could speak. "That's what I'd expect from Starfleet
officers." she said.
"Here to serve, ma'am." That was Yeoman Farley, and the
usual lower decks joke was suddenly serious in the still air
of the dock.
"When we get in there, Yeomen Rand and Lieutenant N'o
to the bridge. Secure it, see which systems are working,
and report to me. Rand, you'll have the conn. You are in
charge of every piece of organization we need: schedules,
parts lists, manifests, refugee loading, all of it."
"Yes'm." Rand said. She looked overwhelmed at the
responsibility, and Larssen put a hand on her shoulder,
shook her gently.
"You'll do fine. You've handled worse for the captain
before now. Shimona, you and Yeoman Farley are on
the bridge with N'o and Rand. You are to see they get
there, and that the area is secure. Phaser on stun only,
and I'd prefer you didn't have to put anyone out of action
even temporarily - we'll need co-operation, and every
pair of hands we can get. However, it won't do us any
good to be bundled back off the ship by a bunch of
merchant spacers, so use your discretion."
"Yes'm."
"Once the bridge is secure, you are responsible for hull
integrity. I know you've worked on metal stressing before
now. I want a report on our soundness soonest possible.
Internal structure as well."
"Yes'm."
"Farley, as our only communications crew, you are now
the communications department head for the Lady Grace.
I want that relay on line ASAP."
"Yes'm."
"Lim, Brand, you two are life-support. That is your sole
and only responsibility. I know it must be working
somewhat now, but it has to be ready to support five
hundred people over the existing crew complement."
"Yes'm."
"The rest of you are with me, depending on what we find
in there."
"It's open, ma'am." Ensign Tarn was scrambling back
from the lock, putting her tools away. Larssen took a breath,
and then with one hand on her sidearm and the other
holding the PADD with the impoundment order in front
of her, she walked up the ramp.
It was anticlimactic when they got in there, after all.
There was no-one in the lock to greet them or resist them,
although Larssen could see the red light blinking above
the door that meant the computer had registered an
unauthorised access. She looked around, remembering
the blueprints she had so briefly studied while waiting for
the others to arrive.
"Bridge is ... *that* way. Page me the second you get
access to allcall, if not before."
"Yes'm." a chorus in four voices, and then they were gone.
"Main Engineering this way. Fall into security pattern
delta niner."
"Yes'm."
They were inexperienced, but they sorted it out, and as
Larssen led the way down the corridor with the Judge
Advocate's seal held in front of her like a shield, behind
her the others were covering doorways and lines of fire,
staying out of each other's firepaths and from under each
other's feet.
Main Engineering was empty. Larssen looked around in
surprise. "I guess it must be night shift for them." she
said, although it was rare to find engineering completely
deserted during refit even during ship's night. Perhaps
things were done differently in the merchant fleet.
She gave them all assignments, things to check up on and
report back to her on, inventories to take and diagnostics
to run. Lim and Brand headed for main life support.
When they had gone, Larssen took a quick look at her
comm. to make sure that she had not missed a page -
although her common sense told her that Rand and the
others could hardly have reached the bridge yet.
She looked around for the door to the engineering office,
identified it, and was halfway across the room when
someone spoke from the darkness behind her.
"If you're looking for the chief, he's not there."
Larssen turned, forcing herself to do so slowly and not to
whirl in fright. There was a figure slouched in one of the
far corners, near the small mechanical repair bench. He
was almost completely in shadow.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"He's doing his job." the voice answered. A low drawl, a
trace of an accent Larssen couldn't identify. 'And what
are you doing?"
Larssen held the PADD with the impoundment order up in
front of her and approached him. "I'm Lieutenant Larssen
of the USS Enterprise. I have an impoundment order for
this
ship."
"Horta's eggs." And the slouch was suddenly a pose of
coiled menace. "Give it here."
Larssen got barely close enough to hold the PADD out to
him, and he snatched it. The movement brought his face
a little further into the light, and she recognised him.
Madison.
She moved unobtrusively sideways to get her back to one
of the repair tables instead of the cavernous open space of
Engineering. Where the hell were the others? What was
taking them so long?
"You're not taking my ship, lady." he said.
He wasn't all that tall a man, even standing straight
Larssen would only have had to look up slightly to meet
his eyes. Slouched as he was, she could stare him down
without moving a muscle.
"I've shown you the order." she said. "As of now, this
ship is under my command."
There wasn't enough light for her to see his face clearly,
although she could make out the sneer curling his lips
and the hostile intensity of his eyes. Brown, she thought
they were, a muddy murky brown the same colour as the
hair that he had pushed back with a greasy hand so it
slicked oilily away from his face. Something glittered on
a thong around his neck.
"I don't take orders from Starfleet, lady." he said softly.
The muscles of his shoulders bunched and moved and
Larssen braced herself for an attack. He saw the motion
and laughed. "Relax. I don't choose to hit women, even
ones in uniform."
"I know you won't hit me." Larssen said, holding her
voice steady, holding his eyes, "Although you might try
to, whether you succeed or not is nothing to do with
your choices. And you don't have a choice about taking
these orders, either. As of 2132 hours today, this
Starbase is under martial law. There is a general
emergency under section 75 subsection 39 a of the
Federation legal code and all personnel are being
evacuated on all ships available."
"The Grace isn't available." he said. "You're
welcome to look around, if you want. See for
yourself. We're up on blocks for a complete
overhaul and a pretty damn penny it's costing,
too. The Master and Mate are taking the time to
visit their families and so're most of the crew.
There's nobody here but us chickens, lady, and a
ship that's going nowhere fast." He did push away
from the wall then, crossing the space between them
at a saunter until they were face to face and Larssen
could smell the oil and grease and sweat on him. "So
take your martial law and your section 75 subsection
39 a and shove them up your puckered Starfleet arse."
He wasn't all that tall a man, but Larssen had
to fight down an urge to back away and open up a
safer space between them. She stood still and
took the challenge his stare offered. He was not
going to be the one to look away first. Well,
that was a game two could play.
"I have sixty five hours to make this ship fully operational
to evacuate over five hundred civilians." she said. "Now,
you can accept the inevitable and co-operate with me,
or -" She raised her hand slightly, to let him see the loose
pipe coupling she had picked up from the table behind her
while his attention was focussed on intimidating her. "Or
I can knock you through a bulkhead and *then* you can
co-operate. You might have the dick, Madison, but I've
got the bigger stick."
She had to give him credit, he didn't even glance at the
pipe that had to be looming in the corner of his peripheral
vision. For a long moment he still held her gaze, his face
half hidden in shadows and his breath steaming in the
cold, until her arm began to ache and want to tremble with the
effort of holding up the heavy pipe. Then he started to
laugh, and looked down, and stepped back.
"Jesus, lady, Starfleet academy is some charm school!" he
said, still laughing, and turned toward the door. "The
engines are through this way. I'll show you what you're
up against. Oh and -" he half turned back. "Bring the pipe.
We'll need it."
The corridor light fell full on his face as Larssen started
towards him. Blue, she saw with a slight shock before
he went through the door, his eyes are blue.