Engineering was in fine form that early morning, and by engineering Helen meant the Chief. He was busy snapping orders at the poor ensign she'd sent to wake him and deliver the report on the latest.
She was busy plucking out isolinear chips that had suffered damage during their run in with the subspace anti-matter drains, the name Shaw had settled on after days of bickering with his staff. The damage had gone unnoticed for nearly a month, just long enough for it to spread and cause the Venture to shudder violently in place instead of going to max impulse as its inertial dampeners failed.
They were fortunate that the captain hadn't been eager to leave Golana behind them. If she'd ordered the ship to warp when they'd cleared the system, they would be paste against the walls and ceilings.
"Any idea what went wrong?" she asked Barclay.
The older man was seated on the ground beside her, scanning each chip she pulled. The furrow at his brow deepened with every additional one she handed over.
He wasn't talkative, not that Helen could blame him. She was the Assistant Chef during delta shift, which meant he'd been roused from his sleep, just like Shaw had been, to come help her with this. Barclay had a hard enough time holding conversation when he was well-rested.
"It's not nanites, at least."
"Excuse me?"
"The Enterprise was once taken over by sentient nanites. We relocated them to Kavis Alpha IV. When I last checked, they were converting the surface of the planet into circuitry."
This was the most she'd heard him say at one time to her; Helen didn't know whether to more impressed by that or the sheer lunacy of sentient nanites.
Barclay read her expression right and muttered out a, "The worst of it w-was that they started out as a teenager's experiment."
"I'm not even going to ask," some of the stories she'd heard about the old Enterprise-D sounded so far-fetched.
"F-for the best."
"At least it's just the chips. During the outage, one of the bioneurals on deck twelve burst when I was repairing a relay. I had to wait three days to clean my hair, and then it took hours for Hannah to braid it. And let me tell you, there's nothing conditioning about that gel."
To his credit, Barclay gave that a sympathetic wince.
She yanked out the last of the damaged chips with an aha!
They gathered everything and moved it to the central engineering workstation. Most others on duty were busy working on fabricating the replacements, calibrating and testing them based on simulations they'd run on the less than optimal status of the engines. It was Helen and Barclay's jobs, as expert diagnostic technicians to determine what had caused the damage in the first place, lest it spoil the next batch.
"How many did you pull, Morlin?" Shaw approached the table from the opposite side, already in the process of pushing up his sleeves.
"Thirty-one. Twenty-four are fried, seven damaged."
"I m-marked another eleven for wear but didn't remove them."
Helen nodded, "It seems like a waste to call you to duty."
Shaw waved it away, his grumpy features giving way to something a little more sociable. If she had to place credits on it, Helen would bet that he'd finally been able to slam back his usual triple espresso.
"It was my maintenance schedule that failed to catch this. Besides, the Venture's little do-si-do tossed me out of bed."
He didn't strike Helen as a square dancer and neither did the Venture, but the mental visual was entertaining nonetheless.
"Given the pattern of damage, I suspect Tibbet is five minutes away from reporting severe damage between the core computer and primary power relays," she said, almost smiling.
"I agree with the Lieutenant," Barclay began pulling up their scan results, which appeared on the work surface.
They went over the readings and did their due diligence by cross-referencing the specs. As usual, Shaw ignored the recommendations of the McKinley and Utopia Planetia engineers — since those were always the optimal baselines, set in a vacuum and unrealistic — and pulled up the numbers they'd painstakingly compiled over the previous months.
The chef engineer whistled and muttered, "The captain is going to love this," in a tone that suggested she really really wouldn't.
Tibbet arrived just in time to make his announcement. Helen was right, the damage was severe. Instead of whistling, Shaw muttered a short curse and pulled the ensign's scans up.
Barclay made the weird breathing sound that meant he'd found something terrible and started overlaying scans and visualizations of the damage progression until even Helen was muttering disbelief under her own breath.
"Dr. Retz will want to take sample to verify," Barclay declared, after a particularly creative string of swearing from Shaw, "but-but…"
"Seek out new life, and it will find you," Helen offered.
Twenty minutes later, Retz joined them at the work table.
Helen envied him. He could be bothered at any time of night or day and look perfectly put together; the benefits of not needing to sleep. Helen liked him well enough — he was always jovial when she came in with this complaint or that, and hovered around engineering on occasion to discuss the intricate minutiae of his complex programming with Barclay. He was truly one of the senior officers, though, and was welded to Captain Janeway or to Commanders Tuvok or Shaw. At least he was a good sport in the Lounge on Saturdays, nearly always lending support to his lower- ranked medical staff as they blundered their way through singing.
Fifteen minutes after that the captain appeared, perfectly put together herself, as if she hadn't just been woken at o'300 hours to listen to wild conjectures from her engineering officers and CMO. Perhaps the captain also didn't need sleep — there was an entire scuttlebutt industry based on her caffeine intake and how it helped her previous ship survive the war.
Janeway slotted in beside the doctor, who began pointing at various parts of the display and muttering. He was toning himself down, clearly aware that most present were running on little to no sleep. Hannah had told her that Jenny Delaney had endless stories of his tone-deaf bedside manner in the Delta Quadrant. Out of respect, Helen hadn't asked for more details. She'd been a green ensign once, and she'd hate it if people kept bringing up the hi-jinx she'd gotten up to before the war.
"An infestation?" the captain's distinct voice drew Helen from her musings.
"It certainly seems so," Retz responded.
"Nanites," Helen murmured to Barclay in jest, as if he'd manifested the extremophile bacteria that was trying to carve its way into their antimatter containment chamber by mentioning the Enterprise at all.
"You're about to tell me they're stowaways from our sojourn in the…" The captain cast a sharp look at Shaw, who wasted no time supplementing the sentence with his preferred terminology.
"Subspace anti-matter drains. Very probably."
"The good news is they were cut off from our anti-matter during our repairs. They're only able to multiply in the bio-neurals," Helen added, because the captain was giving her Chief a dark look.
"The isolinears?"
"Damaged due to the power fluctuations in the relays," Helen offered, "but they aren't hosts."
The good news was that this meant that they were at very low risk of the hungry bacteria eating their way into the anti-matter chambers. Based on the reproductive rates the doctor had calculated (what had he called it, 'back of the napkin math'?), the little pests would keep consuming enough of the gel-packs to sustain themselves, but because it wasn't an optimal environment for them to reproduce, they wouldn't get very far. The real trouble was that they'd keep reducing efficiency, which in turn would lead to a vicious cycle of damage-and-repair.
Not a crisis but still nothing to blink at.
Captain Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose, "Is this one of those scenarios where the bacteria is sentient?"
"I've seen no evidence of collective intelligence thus far," the doctor answered, a thoughtful frown settling in, "but let me run some additional tests."
That wasn't comforting.
"Will we be able to go to warp in the meantime?"
Shaw hummed, squinted an eye in thought then nodded with a, "Yep. We can repair the current damage and reroute power away from the infected gel packs. The fix and testing should be ready by twelve hundred."
"I should be tell you by tomorrow if we're dealing with run of the mill stowaways or refugees," the Dr. Retz chirped merrily.
…
Zehra Drara toiled away happily at preparing and running initial tests on the samples engineering brought to sickbay.
Early alpha shift was usually a quiet affair. All the beta shifters who hurt themselves engaging in off-hours hobbies were already taken care of, while delta and the odd gamma shifter hadn't had enough time to sprain ankles or dislocate their knees yet. Zehra gave them roughly an hour before the first wave of bashful ensigns and lieutenants shuffled in with broken wrists and sprained ankles.
"Hey, Doc," she called out cheerfully, not one to adhere to the human adage that a person needs a ship load of caffeine to behave pleasantly in the morning.
"What is it?" Dr. Gioxi called back, weary but pleasant. She was supposed to be on delta shift for the next six months, but her expertise in xeonomicrobiology meant she'd been called in during alpha shift.
No rest for the gifted.
"What do you say? Do these little cells have any mental wavelengths to read? Secrets to share? Hopes and dreams?"
The Betazed woman chuckled, and without looking up from her workstation, Zehra just knew she was shaking her head in mock exasperation.
"No, I can't sense any higher-level thinking. I don't even think it's possible to with fully networked intelligence. Not unless your psy capabilities are in the top 10%, which mine aren't."
"Really?"
"Really really. There are half Betazeds with more latent talent than me. Which says a lot, since most hybrids can only process emotions," Gioxi moved over to watch what the nurse was doing as she spoke.
Zehra really liked the Deputy CMO, nearly as much as she liked her CMO. Gioxi was unusually introverted for a Betazed, even when off duty, which made her less fun to taunt and tease than Retz, who was nearly always happy to repay her wit with interest. Zehra figured that Gioxi had one or two good bursts of social energy every shift, one at the start and one at the end, and just needed all the time in the middle to recharge. She still smiled a lot, and seemed to respond positively to the stray thoughts Zehra threw her way. Even now, when she'd probably already used up all that social charge during her regular delta shift, she was making an effort.
Far better than the nurse they'd gotten to replace Kevin. Max Landry was just no good for helping the time go by. Serious —droll — even Kivik found him unbearably dull, and she was Vulcan.
Zehra cast her eyes in his direction and pursed her lips. No, Gioxi was so much better.
The doctor in question cleared her throat. Zehra saw the friendly twinkle in those dark eyes and smiled bashfully. She knew, of course, that Gioxi would never comment on the internal musings of her colleagues, not unless they explicitly framed a particularly loud thought with, "What do you think, Dr. Gioxi?"
The Betazed was just too polite to be anything other than discrete.
Except for that time with Lieutenant Loraine, but Zehra had to hear about all of that through the Venture's robust rumor mill; her commanding officers remained dutifully silent about it to this day. It was a frustrating shame, learning that the person who orchestrated Kevin's death had been a trusted member of this crew. Zehra herself wasn't a violent person, by any means, but she'd been very happy to learn that Retz had broken that foul woman's nose.
Gioxi set a hand on Zehra's shoulder, something she frequently did when the nurse's thoughts began circling around Kevin's murder. Counselor McCreary said it was a discrete grounding technique, a way to show silent support, and was something that Zehra shouldn't shy away from.
"Thanks," Zehra cleared her throat, "these little guys are extremophiles, but their rate of growth suggests they're capable of surviving common, life-supporting aerobic environments."
They couldn't test what giving the bacteria anti-matter would do until Dr. Retz and Lt. Barclay completed their specialized chamber in Research Lab 01. Zehra couldn't fathom how a matter-based life form managed to live off of anti-matter without creating disastrous outcomes, but the chamber was based off their warp core reactor schematics —safety first, as Shaw was known to demand.
"Subspace life," Gioxi said with some fondness, parsing through Zehra's slowly growing report, "it would be a shame to destroy it."
"Oh, we shouldn't have to!" Zehra's excitement got the better of her, her own xenobiology training asserting itself easily, "if they're isolated to just a few gel packs, we can create a medium to support them all. Their growth would be limited, which might cause them to go dormant, but I see no reason why they need to die."
The research opportunities were limitless. Provided the bacteria wasn't an active threat to the ship or its crew, their civilian scientists could easily explore the applications for use. Anti-matter spill cleanup was the first positive benefit that came to mind. The evolutionary adaptations to survive in subspace alone could keep entire biology and physics labs running for years.
Gioxi smiled at her excitement and handed the report back, "Sounds like you'll have a few side projects of your own to keep you busy."
"If Dr. Retz signs off, I'll happily work some of my off-shift in the labs."
I have a doctorate to complete, Zehra thought pointedly, Nursing is only a practicum.
"I look forward to calling you Dr. Drara one day. Even if that means you leave us."
"Nah, I'm going to run one of Venture's labs one day, if I have any say in it."
"If you ever finish that PhD of yours, I'll put a word in to the Captain myself," Retz's jolly voice came from behind them, in the direction of his office.
He must have just transferred his program in.
"I thought you'd be here working on the antimatter chamber for the rest of your shift," Gioxi responded.
"A power cell erupted in Shuttle Bay 2. We have six casualties incoming. Clarence is taking two, we have the rest. Reports of third degree burns and at least one head trauma."
"Head trauma coming here?" Zehra was already reacting, beginning to prepare the beds to take readings as soon as they were occupied.
"Beaming in as soon as the Kivik stabilizes him for transport."
"I'm calculating pain management doses based on the reported patients' previous weight measurements," Gioxi stated, "and I'm already sensing that we'll need to sedate all who are arriving on foot. Orders sent to the replicator…now."
"Understood," Retz had moved to prepare the rest of their supplies, "I've already finished the burn treatment regimen for each based on species."
He looked at Zehra, and gave her a brief nod. No one would die from this, he was sure of it. Thank goodness for the enhanced processing power of the artificial mind.
The main doors hissed open, revealing several pained moans and a few shouts. Moments later, the familiar whir of transport could also be heard.
Zehra set aside her dreams of future research as she got to work.
…
"Sickbay is reporting six injuries and no fatalities," Commander Tuvok's voice was steady, the only interruption to the silence besides the beeping of console indicators.
Ilako was happy to hear the news. Steelaxa had been on duty in the shuttle bay during the explosion and was one of the injured; he would visit her after his duty shift. His friend would certainly be able to sense his relief already, but it was important to him than he also made the effort to show that he cared.
An indicator light on his console caught his attention. Ilako read the message, "Engineering reports that repairs are nearly complete. We will have access up to warp four in ten minutes."
"Thank you gentlemen."
The captain sounded no different than her usual self, but Mroll had told him at the start of their duty shift that he'd heard she'd relieved the acting captain three hours early. Surely she must be tired? Humans needed a significant amount of sleep to function; the Cardassians had kept her busy hour-after-hour for nearly a week during their celebrations.
"While we're waiting, Commander" came the near affect-less drawl of Lt. Ro, "I would like to speak with you about the senior staff completing security simulation Beta 32. It's three weeks overdue."
Commander Tuvok rose from his chair, only the rustling of his uniform giving the movement away, "Very well."
The pair drifted off to speak in the observation lounge.
Ilako cast his gaze to Mroll, who was monitoring the spatial and navigational readings, "What is the customary gift for a Betazed convalescing?"
The Kzenti's ear twitched as if some sort of buzzing insect had come too close, "I don't know. Does Steelaxa always expect a congratulations for not dying?"
Most people would find the question off-putting, but Mroll was just teasing. Their Betazed friend was gregarious and unashamed in her demands for others' attention. Mroll was the exact opposite, quiet and thoughtful, but the two got on like a pair of bandits in an unsecured jewel exhibit.
"Our condolences for her nearly blowing up, at the very least."
"If we reward her, she will find more explosions to narrowly avoid."
A delicate snort came from behind them, then a, "I don't think that's going to happen, Mr. Taitt."
"You don't know Steelaxa like I do," Mroll grumbled.
Ilako turned and smiled at his captain, "She's very incorrigible."
"You sound like Mr. Tuvok," there was laughter in the tired lines around her eyes, "He's convinced himself that acknowledging my recklessness will only make it worse."
"What recklessness?" Mroll played along, having finally grown used to having a captain who was willing to banter with her crew. From what Ilako had gathered of his last, well, the bridge had been very quiet indeed.
"That's the spirit," Captain Janeway crossed her legs and leaned against her armrest, "Weren't you bragging about finding an entire case of Bajoran pálinka on Golana?"
Mroll's webbed ears began to twitch in earnest, "Surely you don't mean to suggest that I—"
Ilako grinned and interrupted him "Steelaxa loves brandy."
The pilot grumbled and their captain laughed. As Mroll continued muttering through his reluctant agreement, an indicator flashed on Ilako's screen, and he keyed into it.
"The warp core is back online," he released the additional power to the ship's key systems, navigation in particular, "We're free to go to warp."
"Warp 4, Mr. Taitt," the captain ordered, the good humor still in her tone, "The repair teams on Ivor Prime need their supplies."
…
Helen arrived at her next duty shift well-rested and heavily caffeinated, just as she liked it. Nights in engineering weren't always relaxing, but they were more sedate than the day shifts, and she wouldn't change her roster position for the world. Not for another few years at least.
"The warp core is purring," Higgins handed over his shift change report.
"I love to hear it. Are the refits on deck twelve still underway?"
"Two hours behind. The anti-matter containment in Lab 01 created a power surge that blew out the entire section's relays. Repair crews are still working in the shuttlebay, but they're on track to finish by morning."
"A quiet afternoon, all things considered," she scrolled through the PADD, checking off shift change alerts as she did, "Everything looks good here. Enjoy your evening."
The first hour of her shift was spent finishing the tasks Higgins couldn't get to, but her mind eventually turned to more interesting things.
"Morlin to Barclay. Have you finished the new home for our stowaways?"
"W-we've just moved them into containment."
"Exciting news, but yikes. Tell me you stopped to eat," she pulled up the schematics on a side console and began digging through his notes.
"Ah," is all he said in response, which meant that he hadn't.
"Maybe have your own dinner before you feed them antimatter, and let me know when you're about to start the first experiment. I want to monitor the engines."
"The containment should hold—"
"Should isn't will, Reggie."
The exchange ended as amiably as it began, and Helen turned her attention to the maintenance tasks on her list. They'd keep her busy for the majority of her shift, but would still leave her enough time at the end to complete her personnel reports for Shaw.
Two hours later, as she was taking a fifteen minute break to mainline coffee, the little break alcove shuddered around her. Nothing extreme—she'd barely even felt it—but enough for her to slap her fingers against her badge.
"Morlin to Barclay, I thought I told you to tell me when you started the experiments."
"We haven't," his confusion was a clear through the line.
"Engineering just experienced a—"
The room shuddered around her again, more violently this time. Helen set aside her drink and launched herself out of the space without cutting the line.
"Ensign," she called out for a report.
The Hekaren, Pel, looked up from her console, "Subspace disturbances are causing our warp bubble to collapse."
"Our stowaways?"
"No, Lieutenant, it—it looks like debris."
The Venture lurched, and over the comm line, Barclay spoke, "I felt that one."
Helen cut the line and pinged the bridge, where the acting captain, Ilako this evening, was ready for her with a, "What's going on? Our sensors are picking up inconclusive readings?"
"We need to drop out of warp," even as she said it, Helen was indicating to Pel to pull the warp core offline. The thrum of the ship flattened around them to the regular hum of impulse.
The next shudder hit hard and fast, nearly threw her off her feet.
"What was that?!" she cried out, but the line had already been cut.
Around her, the red alert Klaxons began to blare.
…
Zehra stumbled, already too tired on her feet to draw on the reserve energy she needed to keep her balance, and found herself being held upright by Doctor Retz. Beside him, Barclay was picking himself off the floor with the help of Dr. Gioxi.
"That wasn't us," her CMO said, and he was right. Their little bacteria friends were still in their containment tank, waiting for their first meal.
"That last one felt like weapons fire," Zehra agreed.
Red alert klaxons picked around them, and Retz stepped away to solicit a report from the bridge.
Zehra watched him for a moment before turning to Gioxi, ready to say something to lighten the mood.
She stopped short.
The Betazed was pale, her dark eyes widening in fear, as she pressed a single palm to her temple in distress.
"What is it?" Zehra asked instead.
…
Ilako stood, giving orders to the delta shift bridge crew as they carefully navigated the spatial field of ruin all around them.
The turbolift doors hissed open behind him; Captain Janeway had come in record time.
Ilako turned to report, even though the evidence in the view screen was unmistakable.
"Borg."
Notes
1. Picture Helen Morlin any way you'd like, but my brain has pretty much cast Kirby Howell-Baptiste.
2. A ship of 1500 and no one sleeps like they should.