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2022-10-03
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2022-12-10
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23/23
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Shore Leave Interrupted

Summary:

While the Enterprise is on a systems check layover at Starbase 23, the entire crew get's a week's shore leave as a cloaked Romulan warbird gets ready to test a newly-developed secret weapon.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1

Summary:

The Enterprise parks at Starbase 23 for a week. Shore leave for (almost) all!

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Uhura looked up from the communications console, her chair swivelling towards the centre of the bridge. James T. Kirk didn’t miss the motion and turned a bit himself, eyebrows raised in anticipation of the message she was about to deliver. A smile graced her lips and she nodded. “Starbase reports all umblicals are secure, sir. Systems interface complete. Downloads beginning.”

He felt more than a little tension drain away and leaned back a bit in the command chair for a moment before responding, smiling himself as he breathed out. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Signal the all-clear for Shore Leave. Skeleton crew rotations for station duty as worked out by Mr. Scott. Let everyone enjoy themselves as much as possible. We only have a week.”

“Aye, sir.” His senior communications officer turned back to her board to officially declare liberty throughout the ship and, probably, to start shutting things down at the same time.

Kirk let the chair move back to its natural position and looked up at his first officer standing on the other side. “Mr. Spock, any exciting plans?”

Spock continued to stare at the viewscreen as the planet slowly rotated below them. Kirk had never bought into the idea of Vulcan eyesight being more acute than human, chalking up any differences to the proven fact that Vulcans were better at paying attention than practically every other species in the galaxy. They did see a slightly different spectrum than humans and Kirk didn’t often have occasion to wonder how different the universe might look slightly offset from the human range.

Finally, his first officer looked away from the screen. “A high-ranking member of the Vulcan Science Academy is currently in residence at Sorontree University on the planet below. It has been suggested that I pay my respects.”

If Kirk hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he heard a trace of confusion in the Vulcan’s tone. He decided to let the observation go by, though. “Quite a coup for a school this close to the frontier.” Senior members of the Science Academy didn’t often leave Vulcan. When they did, it was almost exclusively to other core Federation worlds. Like Dr. Ranek’s academy tours. Kirk almost shivered remembering the advanced mathematics course in his third year at the Academy. He’d never had to work as hard to stay ahead of the curve, much less on it. If he were honest with himself, he might admit he’d never worked harder as a student.

“Indeed. I am most curious how it came about.”

“You’ll have to let me know.” Kirk stood and stretched, turning to meet the steady Vulcan gaze and raised eyebrow.

“At the risk of intruding on Dr. McCoy’s territory, do you have plans for shore leave while we are here?” Very, very subtle emphasis on the pronoun.

“Ha!” Like Bones hadn’t been all over the subject for a week. “No, not really, Spock.” He shrugged. “Oh, I’m going to get off the ship for a few days, see some of the natural wonders of Talgia, but to the best of my knowledge, there are no old friends or old flames for the Doctor to push me into pursuing. My intention is to do a little hiking and rock climbing. Maybe some riding if they have horses in residence somewhere.”

“I’m certain Dr. McCoy will be pleased.” Spock nodded as if that was the most important piece of the conversation.

“No doubt.” He smiled as two young officers stood up from Helm and Navigation, their own boards powered down, a rarity on the Enterprise. “Gentlemen, which of you drew the short straw?”

“Sir?” Sulu’s brow pulled down but Chekov raised a hand.

“That would be me, Captain. I have volunteered as deck officer for the first 48 hours.

Kirk raised an eyebrow, deliberately mimicking his first officer. “Really, Mr. Chekov. That seems a bit unlike you.”

“Does it, sir? I have had some leave recently.” The young man shrugged.

“Which you used by taking an advanced tactics course at Starbase 67.” Among other things that weren’t talked about, and wouldn’t be until the mission got declassified, if it ever did. “And that was several months ago.”

Flushing, Chekov lowered his eyes for a moment, but only a moment, while he probably remembered some of the same things, but probably in considerably more detail. “Well, yes, sir, but I suspect those forty-eight hours will be the quietest aboard. There will be very little to do with most primary systems shut down and only a skeleton maintenance crew aboard. I will have sufficient free time that it will feel like I am on leave. And there will still be plenty of interest and entertainment to be found when Mr. Leslie relieves me at the end of it.”

With a grin, Sulu clapped Chekov on the shoulder. “And I’ve got days five and six. A little peace and quiet will probably do me good by then.”

“And the last day of our stay here?” He was pleasantly surprised at the organization of his bridge officers. He probably shouldn’t have been.

The two exchanged a glance, but it was Sulu who answered. “We’ve more or less assumed that it’s going to be close to a regular duty day for at least some of the bridge crew, captain. The crew will be straggling back beginning the night before.”

“I commend the advance planning. Quite logical.”

Kirk flicked a glance at his first officer. “High praise. Thank you, gentlemen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear the mountain trails calling. And maybe some horses.”

“Enjoy your leave, sir.” Sulu began moving towards the turbolift himself.

Chekov, however, straightened for a moment. “Aye, sir. I have the bridge.”

With a look back over his shoulder, Kirk smiled. “You do, at that, Lieutenant. As you were.”

Chapter 2

Summary:

On the bridge of a nearby Romulan warbird...

Chapter Text

Commander Praik stood with his hands clasped behind his back in the centre of the dimly lit bridge. The cloaking device didn’t require so much power that the lighting needed to be dropped to compensate, but there were other power considerations at the moment and a darker bridge suited his personality most of the time, keeping voices low and distractions few. He had no doubts his crew could function effectively with the light of their consoles.

In the corner of his vision, his very young first officer approached and came to attention just out of reach. “Newly arrived vessel positively identified as the Enterprise, commander. Hull number confirmed NCC-1701.”

Praik nodded. He didn’t read the Federation standard script, but their numerals were easy enough and he’d puzzled out those quickly. “That is interesting news, Sub-Commander, but I do not think it changes the nature of the experiment.”

“You are not concerned, Commander?”

“Of course I am, Talrik, but think.” He allowed himself to smile. “If the experiment succeeds even with the Enterprise and its famed crew present, how much more effective will it be shown?”

He didn’t need to look at Talrik to know the younger man was unconvinced. “But if it fails?”

“Then we will have an extra unpredictable variable in Kirk. A thorn in the Empire’s talons at every turn.” And probably a great deal of extra reporting. He shrugged and turned to look at his first officer, so fresh in the post, and wondered who his sponsor might be back home. He should have drawn someone far more senior for the assignment. “We will still receive valuable data from the attempt even if it proves less effective than we hope.”

Talrik stiffened as if aware of his thoughts. “As you say, Commander.”

“Yes, as I say.” He looked back at the viewscreen and the array of vessels parked at the Federation base. They should gather a great deal of data, and perhaps a little valuable intelligence as well, even from passive sensors.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Chekov and Riley, the two officers on the first 48-hours of a week-long skeleton crew, decide regulations allow them to have lunch away from their duty stations. With proper monitoring, of course.

Chapter Text

With most of the primary stations shut down and all necessary functions slaved to the miniature controls on the arms of the command chair, the bridge of the Enterprise was a great deal quieter than Chekov preferred. It reminded him too much of how they’d found the bridge on Pride of Andor a few weeks ago, or other derelict ships he’d been on during the past several years. This wasn’t the same, of course, but the feeling was closer than he liked.

At least the centre seat was comfortable, and he’d gotten a fair bit of reading in during the last twenty hours or so, but he was already getting restless. With a sigh, he stood and stretched, intent on doing a few laps of the bridge to put some energy back into his limbs. “Well, I guess that a single day of peace and quiet is all it takes to bore me. Perhaps Captain Kirk was correct after all.” He cleared his throat. “Computer?”

“Working.”

“Well, I should hope so. Someone should be. What is the number of crew currently on board the Enterprise?” He would know if anyone had returned from shore leave already. Someone would have had to operate the transporter. Since he was the Deck Officer, and therefore the person such communications would come to, there was really only one option.

“There is currently a full station-duty skeleton crew of 12 individuals.”

“Myself, a small maintenance team, environmental systems monitoring…” He nodded. Yes, no one had come back to the ship yet, even to spend the night in their own cabin. Twelve was correct. “Computer, who is the engineering officer on duty at this time? If I remember the roster correctly, I think that should be–”

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Kevin Riley.”

“—Lieutenant Riley.” He grinned. “Well, it's nice to know my short-term memory is still good. Computer, is there a Starfleet regulation requiring that the Deck Officer of a skeleton crew of the starship docked and tethered to Starbase to stay on the bridge at all times?” He already knew the essential answer to that since he was permitted to use the synthesizer for meals and sleep in his cabin. Forty-eight hours was unreasonably long to have someone maintain their post. He had something different in mind, though.

“Negative.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together.

“Regulation 7331, Section 1, Paragraph A states that while the Deck Officer must maintain availability at all times, said officer is permitted to retire to quarters for rest, perform walking tours of the starship to inspect systems, and use recreation facilities as available, all provided the Deck Officer shift assignment is of duration of greater than six hours.”

Better and better and suiting what he had in mind perfectly. “Ah, excellent. I shall be going on one of those walking tours. And believe I shall stop in Engineering.”

“Acknowledged.”

He started walking towards the turbolift and the door anticipated him by a larger margin than usual. It wasn’t all that surprising that the car he’d taken to the bridge after breakfast was still waiting there. With only twelve people on board, there wouldn’t be much demand on the system. He hesitated just before stepping in. “But, since the ship is quiet, perhaps a little music to accompany my travels? Please arrange so that it doesn't disturb anyone else.”

“Affirmative. Selection?”

Chekov gave that a few seconds thought. Even if he was more or less alone, it seemed a little unprofessional to wander through the corridors singing. Something classical, perhaps. What was ideal for a quiet space ship? He grinned suddenly. “Well, it's not Russian, but let's hear a little Holst. The Planets seems ever appropriate. The full suite, if you please. And no, before you ask, I do not have a preferred recording. Select one at random.” From probably hundreds in its memory banks.

“Acknowledged.”

After a brief pause, the opening martial tones of Mars began to rise from unseen speakers. Since the first time he’d heard the piece, Chekov had thought it odd that the composer had started the suite with the Bringer of War, but it was powerful music and blended seamlessly into the Peace that followed.

The turbolift doors slid shut, but the music continued with him, and Chekov wrapped a hand around one of the control levers. “Engineering.” The hum of the turbolift moving wasn’t quite lost under the orchestra.

*

“Computer, suspend playback, please.” He’d timed his meandering walk through the main engineering deck fairly well, though not quite perfectly, stopping the music not too long before the end of Mercury’s movement. He would have liked to get to the first few bars of Jupiter but didn’t feel he could stretch the walk out much longer. There was always the trip back later. Another two steps and the door to main engineering slid open to reveal a bored-looking Kevin Riley sitting at the primary console poking at buttons.

He smiled at the other officer as Riley looked up. “Mr. Riley. No singing today? I understand the acoustics are excellent in Engineering.”

Leaning back with his hands behind his head, Riley rolled his eyes. “Really, Pavel? Were you even on the ship when that happened?””

Which made it Chekov’s turn to roll his eyes. “For at least a month as Delta shift’s primary navigation officer, and sometimes officer of the watch.” He leaned on the console. “You should be well aware of that, having relieved me on more than one occasion.”

“In which case no, Pavel, no singing today.” Riley sighed. “But no one is ever going to let me forget it, are they?”

“Well, you had such a lovely singing voice, and it carried well through the whole ship.”

“It was four years ago, and I’ve spent half the time in between going to Starfleet engineering school on Tellar.” He scowled at the ceiling. “And I did well enough at it that I got posted back to not just a Constitution-class cruiser but to the Enterprise, apparently with Captain Kirk’s blessing. Or at least he didn’t fight against it where I could hear. No one seems to notice that, though.”

Leaning a little farther over the console, Chekov reached out and patted Riley on the shoulder several times, earning a redirection of the scowl. He smiled in return. “Yes, those are fair points. I promise you’ll never again hear about the incident.” The smile got bigger. “From me.”

“How gracious.” Riley sighed. “So, Mister Deck Officer, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your presence in my not exactly voluntary watch of the engine room while we're in drydock?”

“Well, to be honest, I just wanted to see if you are bored as I am. The Deck Officer's job with a skeleton crew doesn't have much to recommend it.” Which was something of an understatement. While he remained convinced that it was a smart idea to get his turn out of the way first, it was far from the most entertaining duty he’d ever had. Even as the junior navigation officer on Delta shift, there had at least been things to monitor, as little as it took most of the time to ensure the ship stayed on course. A starship’s Deck Officer when tethered to a starbase had not even that instrument check to look forward to.

Riley sighed again. “Neither does officer of the watch in Engineering. Most systems are shut down.” He glared at Chekov. “And no, I didn't shut them down myself.”

Lifting his hands, Chekov shook his head. “I wasn't going to suggest–”

“You didn't have to. I can hear you thinking it from this side of the console.”

“Well, I suppose that might be true.” An easy admission to make. “But I wasn't going to say so out loud.” Not after just having made that promise, at least. “At any rate, I was wondering if regulations state that you have to remain in Engineering the entire time. I could use some company for lunch.”

“The commissaries are online?” Riley sat up straight, all pretense at being angry at Chekov gone. “I didn’t have to have ration packs for breakfast?”

“No.” Chekov managed to hold onto the laugh. As the Engineering duty officer, Riley could easily have known what systems were getting power and how much, if he’d thought to check. “And there is exactly one commissary remaining operational since there are only 12 us on board at the moment. It’s possible that may change tomorrow when the inspection sweep begins, but for now we do have access to food, though we have to go fairly far from here to get it.” Back up into the saucer section and half the deck forward, which seemed a little inconvenient now that he wasn’t on the bridge, but the ship wasn’t that big, and the exercise wouldn’t hurt them.

Riley stood and took a few steps to an equipment locker. “Well, in that case, the answer is no, I don’t have to stay in Engineering the whole time, so long as I slave the readouts to a tricorder that’s always on and that I don’t let go of.” A thumbprint opened the locker under his console and he pulled a tricorder out, flipping the power on as he brought it back to the console.

“And if you do?”

Without looking up from the rapid switching of monitoring functions, Riley snorted. “Then you won’t remember me for my singing.” Three more switches and the device made a short, high-pitched whine. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”

Chapter 4

Summary:

The cloaked Romulan ship readies a new weapon.

Chapter Text

Hunched over the scanner, Sub-Commander Talrik worked several controls almost at once. “All systems appear ready, Commander. No faults found in the final scans.”

“Excellent.” Praik hesitated just long enough to let the anticipation tickle his brain. “Begin power escalation.”

His first officer stood and came to attention as he turned to face him. “There is the possibility of power emission detection even with the dampeners, Commander.” Talrik pulled his hands behind his back in what Praik thought was an effort to look more dutiful and severe.

He reminded himself that the much younger man was merely doing his duty as he saw it, ensuring that his commander was informed of all possibilities, aware of all things. “Which is only statistically measurable in the minute before discharge unless the station has full active sensors trained on this exact spot.”

If anything, Talrik’s spine got even stiffer. “I felt it a duty to remind you, Commander.”

Praik only nodded. He wished the young man would learn to relax a little. Discipline could be taken too far into the realm of inflexibility. “Of course. Consider that duty discharged. Thank you.”

“Acknowledged.” Talrik spun on one heel and entered the command sequence. “Power escalation commencing. Time to weapon discharge: six minutes, fifteen seconds.”

“Thank you, Sub-Commander.” This would be a most interesting test. If the weapon performed as intended, it might rival the cloaking device for a battle advantage, at least in the initial moments of a conflict. And if not, it could still be a tactical surprise for a station attack.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Chekov and Riley have their lunch interrupted by a sudden and complete power drain.

Chapter Text

Riley poked at the reconstituted meal on his tray, shifting the cubes of meat and vegetables around in their sauce, his mouth pressed in a flat line. He continued the motion for several seconds before selecting his victim and stabbing it with the fork. “It’s better than a ration pack, but all things considered, I’d rather be eating on the station.”

For his part, Chekov just nodded as he swallowed another mouthful of stroganoff. Hardly the best he’d ever tasted, but a far superior solution to hunger than ration bars. “Entirely reasonable. The food would be much better.”

“Exactly.” Riley stabbed what was probably a cube of potato. “What I wouldn’t give for something a little more realistic than what the synthesizer mockingly calls Irish stew.” He popped it into his mouth, didn’t chew much more than it would take to bite in half, and swallowed while making a tiny grimace.

Chekov raised an eyebrow over his next mouthful. “Really? I think the synthesizer does quite well given technological limitations.”

“Oh sure, it does well for a machine. The food it produces is food. It resembles what it’s programmed to be and it sustains. It’s just not the same.”

Another big scoop and he spoke around the mouthful. “That’s too bad.”

“And you don’t get to play both sides, Pavel.”

Chekov swallowed. “Meaning?”

“That the food is better on station but that the synthesizer provides good food.”

Chekov shook his head, wondering how this was about to be an argument. He wondered if Riley were still upset about his earlier teasing. “I don’t see how that’s both sides of anything. The food is almost certainly—”

Next to Riley on the table, the tricorder suddenly shrieked a brief alarm. Before it finished, the room dropped into darkness and the ever-present hum of air circulation disappeared. He had the sudden feeling he wasn’t going to get to finish his lunch but consoled himself with the thought that he’d managed to eat more than his dining partner even if he hadn’t emptied his plate. “And that is definitely not good.”

Riley squinted, his face taking on a ghoulish cast in the tiny bit of light from the tricorder screen, the only light available in the cabin. “No, it isn’t. I don’t like how dark it is in here all of the sudden.”

A not so comforting statement coming from an engineer. “Main power is down.” He resisted the urge to have another scoop of stroganoff. “Does your tricorder have anything useful?”

Meal abandoned, Riley picked up the device and manipulated the controls for several seconds. “That main power is down.” He looked up at Chekov. “I think we should go back to Engineering.”

“I might have said the bridge in my case, since that is my duty station.”

Riley shook his head. “Can you restore power from there?”

“A good point.” Chekov shook his head and sighed. It was a long way back to engineering if the turbolifts were out and the doors were all stuck in their current positions, almost uniformly closed. “Can you restore power from Engineering?”

“I won’t know until we get there.”

Chekov sighed again. Which was not the same level of negativity facing him from the bridge. “And we’re waiting because?”

“The rest of your lunch might get cold?” Riley stood. “Come on.”

Abandoning their food, the two officers moved for the commissary door and began looking for the first of what would probably be many emergency release levers.

*

The trip to Engineering hadn’t been nearly as difficult as it might have been, though Chekov feared he was developing an engineer’s familiarity with Jeffries tubes. At least they’d only had to open a handful of doors manually, and the one to main Engineering went so smoothly, it might have seemed normal. Perhaps it was just practice at that point.

Beyond that door, though, the two were met with complete darkness and a silence that echoed their own breathing back at them. “This is not good.” He felt like that was repeating himself, but it also expressed exactly how he felt at the moment.

Riley’s voice literally dripped with sarcasm, as cliché as that sounded even to Chekov. “Why thank you, Mr. Deck Officer. And here I thought that the complete lack of power in any system was a neutral thing at worst.”

“Ah, sarcasm, refuge of the weak.” Morale was important, and Riley was the Engineering duty officer. He’d need to do better than sarcastic comments to keep his spirits up.

“Seriously, Pavel—” Riley’s shadow turned to face him.

Chekov gestured to the device in his hands, the only thing casting any light. It puzzled him why the emergency power hadn’t kicked on. “Your tricorder still works.”

“And?” The device bobbed as Riley shrugged.

“And it wasn't connected to ship’s power.”

“I'm still not getting what you're saying, Lieutenant.” Two years in engineering school, and Riley was letting frustration get to him. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been tense moments in the six or eight months since he’d transferred back aboard.

Chekov fought the urge to sigh again. Perhaps the time for peer to peer camaraderie was past in the current situation. “Would you mind opening one of the equipment lockers?”

“Okay.” The bit of light from the tricorder moved away, almost hidden as Riley carefully moved to one side of the engineering room. Sounds reached Chekov’s ears of a manual door being forced open and a variety of clunks and clacks that were probably pieces of equipment being picked up and put down again. “Dead, dead, and dead. Everything's dead.”

Feeling his teeth clench, Chekov sucked air in through his nose but tried to do it quietly. “Is there anything in there that isn't on a charging block, Mister Riley?”

“No, but…” The light of the tricorder moved again then disappeared. Faster footsteps moved further into the engineering bay. Perhaps he was getting the idea. “But this mobile cart showed a full charge when I came on shift this morning.” A couple of clunks and then a small whine of power preceded a few photons escaping from some device. “Hyper spanner, working.” The device shut off and something else whirred. “Electron probe, working.” Repeated again only this time without brief flash of light as something powered on. “Phase inverter, working.” A clunk and then the tricorder light reappeared, farther away than Chekov expected. “So what does it mean, Lieutenant?”

“Only that, so far, it means that whatever was connected to main power when whatever it was happened was also drained. Things that weren't connected to main power at all are still functional. At least that we’ve found so far.” Which is something Riley should have figured out a lot sooner just by virtue of his tricorder continuing to function.

But perhaps he was getting it now. “Meaning what happened only came through the ship's power systems.” He paused, and Chekov had just enough time to wonder what thoughts the other man was gathering. “In fact, whatever it was didn't transmit through deck plates or superstructure or everything would be dead. A weapon of some kind? Are we under attack?”

Shaking his head even though he knew Riley couldn’t see it, Chekov started to make plans in his head. “I do not know, but that is not something we’re able to deal with at the moment. Our systems are all completely dead. Primary, backup, and emergency since the lights did not come on. We are very limited in the responses that we can make. So, the way I see it, we each have a responsibility.” He frowned. “Actually, I have two.”

Riley took a few steps carefully back towards him. “And mine is?”

“Yours is easy, at least to put into words.” He wanted to be able to look around engineering to pick out things that might be relevant but found the darkness a little unfortunate as he tried to track. “Find enough things that weren't connected to main power that you can get at least one engineering console and the antimatter containment system online. That will let you restart the warp core and eventually bring everything else back online, even charging the batteries.”

The light came a few steps closer. “Oh, yes. That seems obvious now. Easy, right. I’ll just whip up a matter-antimatter reaction from tricorders and spanners I find lying around.”

Chekov grinned in the gloom. “There are ten other crew members on board. They are going to help you find what you need to get the job done.” Or they would, once they found their way to Engineering.

“And what will you be doing while I perform this minor miracle?

“Finding them.” Chekov did allow himself a sigh at that. “But my other task is not so easy and may have greater importance. I need to find out if it's just us or if the Starbase has been affected as well. And the other ships docked here.” A gusting sigh from Riley, and Chekov tried to picture the expression on his face. It wasn’t hard. “We could trade, if you like.”

“No, sir. I’m good.”

Chekov wondered if there might be a flashlight on that equipment cart. A communicator would be nice as well, but he’d likely have to get to an emergency locker for both.

Chapter 6

Summary:

With the Enterprise suddenly in darkness, what some of the other senior officers are up to.

Chapter Text

With a deep breath, Lieutenant Commander Sulu knocked on the door to the starbase commander’s office. Like most others on the station at the moment, it was ajar, manually forced open in the absence of main power, or any power, and staying there for the same reason.

The dark-haired woman sitting at the desk looked up. A half dozen communicators and more than that number of pads were spread across the desk in front of her. Two bright LED lanterns threw harsh photons over the lot and probably made the lines creasing her cheeks and forehead look a lot deeper than they were. “Yes?”

Sulu came to attention. “Lieutenant Commander Hikaru Sulu reporting, ma'am. Posted USS Enterprise.”

“What are you still doing on my station, commander?” No preamble and straight to business. He probably should have expected that given the current situation and the amount of time for pleasantries she wouldn’t have. It wasn’t likely Admiral Litchfield had managed even two minutes to herself since the power loss.

“I was supposed to be meeting someone, ma'am. The Magellan was due in this morning, wasn't it?”

Litchfield nodded. “It was, but that doesn't really answer the question. Normally, when a civilized planet is available for shore leave, starship crew doesn’t tarry long on station, even if they are meeting someone from another ship. The planet is much nicer.”

“Yes, ma'am, but I–”

Holding up a hand, Litchfield shook her head. “Unfortunately for you, it doesn't really matter if you were meeting an old girlfriend, your Academy roommate, or your mother. You're here now and I'm going to take advantage of that.”

“Yes, ma'am. Of course, ma’am.” He straightened a little more. It wasn’t like he could beam down to the surface now or back over to the Enterprise, so he might as well be both busy and useful. He’d actually been glad for the call to active duty and didn’t know what he might have done about it from the surface. “What do you need?”

“Main power back online, which my engineering team hasn’t been able to manage yet. Even backup would be nice, which they’ve also failed to produce. Both of which have nothing to do with you. What I need from you is a little less engineering related, more on the order of reconnaissance and manual labour. When the lights went down, eleven starships of various sizes and shapes were docked at the station, including yours, and I’d like to know if any of them are operational.” She looked down at the desk and her eyes skimmed at least two of the data pads. “After that, I need a dozen or so remote sensors placed on the station's exterior along with a communications relay that will let me contact our ground personnel to see if they know anything more than we do.”

Sulu felt his eyebrows go up. Busy might have been an understatement, even if it was only in his head. “That's a tall order for one officer, ma'am.” It was a big starbase and putting the remote sensors on its exterior hull wasn’t going to be a fun space walk. He wondered how many he could carry at once.

“It's a tall order for the team I'm going to give you, as well, but it's what I’ve got to spare.” She sighed. “Just down the corridor, you will find a concerned looking very Junior Lieutenant in a security uniform. You may have seen her on your way in.”

“Yes, ma’am, though I thought she was your guard.”

“So does she.” Litchfield shook her head. “But there’s too much that needs to be done trying to get the station functional and I don’t really need a guard during normal operations. What I do need is to see what’s going on in the space around us. Bad enough that we’re operating in the dark, but we’ve got an information vacuum, too.” She sighed again. “Lieutenant Castellano will take you to Docking Bay Four where you, she, and ten other crew I can't really spare but also can’t magically turn into engineering techs will suit up and get started. Questions?”

“No, ma'am. I'll figure it out.”

She nodded once. “I somehow thought you would, commander. Constitution captains don’t typically carry much dead wood on their crew. Stations… are sometimes another matter. Dismissed.”

Resisting the urge to salute, Sulu came to attention and spun on one heel to go find his assigned second in command.

*

Kirk very deliberately didn’t look between his feet where he knew he’d see a hundred metres of open air acting as a buffer between him and the grey dust that was actually a fairly large scree at the base of the cliff. Instead, he growled to overpower the tightness in his arms and shoulders and looked over at his climbing companion. “And how did I let you talk me into this?”

The lean Terellian laughed, a booming sound that echoed across the cliff face. Litrek had been the number one recommended guide for the mountains and shockingly had a timely cancellation that meant he could fit Kirk in. He spoke standard with a fairly thick accent but understood more than well enough to hear the sarcasm in Kirk’s voice, so at least they didn’t need the Universal Translator. “You wanted adventure, Jame. Outdoors. Hills. Rocks. A lack of tech. So we climb.”

Kirk fought the urge to sigh. “So we climb. Without equipment. A hundred metres off the ground.” It had sounded like an excellent adventure at the time. It still did, from a distance. On the rock face, it sounded less adventurous and more life threatening.

Litrek laughed again. “Nothing will go wrong, Jame. You worry too much.”

“Says the man with four arms to hold on with.”

“Ha!” The guide let go with one of those and looked like he just barely resisted the urge to clap Kirk on the shoulder, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead instead. “And your two are each twice as strong and more. Don’t make excuses. Come, climb. It is only another thirty metres to reach the plateau.” He hauled himself a half metre up with the three arms still gripping rock. “And a view you will appreciate the effort for.”

With another grunt, Kirk shook his head. “I should have brought my communicator. At least I could call for a beam out if something bad happened.” But that was with their equipment stash at the base of the cliff along with everything except a litre of water and two ration bars. No unnecessary weight while defying gravity. One of Litrek’s rules and probably a good one. He looked up, thinking he could maybe see the edge of the plateau. Thirty metres didn’t sound so bad, though he’d be defying gravity for every hand- or toe-hold.

*

At least three sets of wind chimes rippled in the light breeze. With nothing in sight, and judging by volume, Spock surmised they were likely in front of the house but hidden by the local flora.

Standing at the edge of the laneway with hands clasped behind his back, he watched the robed figure approach with measured steps. Dr. T’Lar, he was aware, had been elevated to a senior rank not long after his departure to join Starfleet. He had never met her as an individual before, and never in a non-academic setting, so had been surprised to receive the invitation when the Enterprise updated its communication package from Starbase 23. He was unaware of any connection she had to him personally or professionally. And yet he’d received a notification that she would welcome his visit should he choose to beam down to Talgia.

When the figure was fewer than ten paces away, he raised his right hand in salute. “Live long and prosper, Dr. T’Lar.”

T’Lar stopped when only three paces separated them and raised her own hand in return. “Peace and long life, Commander Spock.” Ritual greeting answered, both Vulcans lowered their salutes. “I trust your transit was adequate.”

“I have no need for complaint, thank you.”

Taking one step to the side, T’Lar swept a hand wide, the sleeve of her pale blue robe making an open cone. “Tea will be served in approximately eleven minutes. Are you able to join me?”

He bowed his head momentarily, eyes instinctively closing for a moment as he did so. “I would be honoured.”

“Please accompany me to the garden.” She dropped her arm and turned to face perpendicularly away while still maintaining eye contact, a clear invitation to walk beside her, and Spock moved onto the path.

Chapter 7

Summary:

Chekov makes the long climb up to the forward observation deck.

Chapter Text

Darkness swallowed Chekov’s flashlight beam only a couple of decks above him. He switched the device into lantern mode and attached it to his belt before wrapping hands around two rungs of the ladder to begin his climb just as the communicator he’d attached to the back of the same belt beeped twice. While surprising, it also seemed like there were a limited number of people it could be and so he quickly flipped it open. “Chekov here.”

Riley’s voice immediately came through. “Well, at least that works.”

“Communications are a wonderful beginning, Mr. Riley.” Chekov smiled.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high. I’ve got intra-ship only. And outside engineering only if you have a working communicator. You’re on your own finding the right frequency to talk to anyone outside the ship. And before you say it, yes, it’s nice that we don’t have to be face to face to talk to each other, but there are other, more important power considerations in the short term. Like restoring some air circulation”

Difficult to disagree with even as he recognized the deflection. “Still, a minor miracle in its own right. You may be happy to know I have sent the last of the maintenance team in your direction.” Tracking them down had taken longer than he’d liked, though the tricorder he’d taken from the emergency equipment locker had given him both power readings and life signs in the dead ship. At least they’d each had equipment carts or other items that hadn’t been connected to ship’s power when everything went down.

“Good news.” Though his voice didn’t exactly sound cheerful. “I’m not sure where to send them all yet, but I’ve got communicators they can take with them when they go.”

“How much progress have you made?”

“Less than I’d like.” Several mechanical sounds came over the communicator. “I have the main engineering console up and running using one of the two portable generators I have handy, and I can see the containment system, but I need to scavenge a lot more power yet to turn it on, much less get it to the minimum integrity required to sustain a reaction. You?”

Chekov looked up again. “I’m standing at the bottom of one of the vertical Jeffries tubes on my way up to deck two.”

“Forward observation deck?”

“Da.” It had been a long trip so far, but he felt it was still his best destination for what he needed at the moment. “I’ll be able to see if the station has power from there.”

“And half of the ships docked to it besides Enterprise, I suppose. What deck are you actually on?”

He made no effort to hide the sigh. Riley would understand. “I’m standing beside Transporter Room Two.”

Riley whistled, a long descending tone. “So you’ve got twelve decks to climb. And boy, will your arms be tired.”

Not even worth a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose they will.” But it wasn’t the first time he’d done a lot of ladder climbing in the last few months. He’d manage, if he didn’t necessarily expect to enjoy it. “Unless your next miracle is to get a turbolift working.”

“Sorry, buddy. Not if you want warp power back anytime soon. You could wait.”

“Really?” If it wasn’t going to be too long a delay, it might be worth it. There were other ways, closer ways, to peek outside, though any of those would give him a very limited field of view. “How many minutes?”

“Three hundred. Maybe four.”

That certainly sucked the power from his personal sails. “Ah, a lovely joke.”

“Sure.” Riley chuckled. “Not really a joke, though. I have to find enough power to build the containment field up to a level it can sustain a reaction at all. Then I have to get the warp core warm enough to generate that power and it direct through the systems I want so that one turbolift car can take you up twelve decks. I was thinking Life Support systems first, and then probably sensors. Engines after that. But I could switch the priority list and put the turbolifts up top, if you like.”

“Probably not a good idea.” He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and arched his back to receive a few gratifying cracks of vertebrae shifting. “I can use the exercise anyway, I suppose.”

“Okay.” A couple of more noises Chekov couldn’t identify. “Stay in touch every couple of decks. I mean, not that we can do anything if you have a heart attack or fall, but it would be nice to know where to start looking for your body.”

“You’re very kind.”

“I do try.”

“Chekov out.” He closed the communicator and let it adhere to his belt as he looked up into the darkness again. “Well, no sense in waiting.”

Chapter 8

Summary:

While leading a team to place remote scanners on the hull of the starbase, Sulu makes contact with Chekov.

Chapter Text

Standing just outside the lock, magnetic boots holding him firmly in place, Sulu stared deliberately down the slope of the station’s primary hull at the warp nacelles sticking into view, the warp nacelles belonging to his ship. It wasn’t the only pair he could see, and the warp drive had been lowered to standby power almost the before thrusters had touched them to the station’s docking tube, but he didn’t like seeing them dark. Parked between the Condor, an Anton-class cruiser that had seen at least one fewer update than the average Constitution, and the Coral Sea, a Larson-class destroyer parked there about two weeks ago to undergo a major overhaul and refit, the Enterprise was in good company in the darkness.

But they were all dark.

He was trying hard not to notice the station lights at the same time, though. Ignoring those being off, he might be able to pretend that the ships were merely docked and waiting for their turn at whatever refit or inspection was going on. “Well, at least the suits are all working fine.”

Beside him, Lieutenant Castellano leaned forward far enough to fully move into his peripheral vision. “These weren’t connected to main power when whatever it was that happened, um, happened. That's not the case for most of the suits on station, Sir.”

Or most of the rest of the equipment on station, including most of the portable battery packs, reminding him that they currently had no way to recharge things when they ran out of power or oxygen. “Which, of course, is going to make me ask for a general update on the status of our sensor pack placements in about two minutes.” He didn’t look down at the one they’d just placed, but Castellano would be equally happy that they hadn’t gotten theirs set last even though he’d given them the location farthest from any airlock.

“Hopefully a bit closer to complete than now, sir. We’re at four in place with two still being maneuvered. Communications booster still on its way. It's like you're psychic, sir.” Castellano was grinning when he turned to look at her.

He turned one hand over to give the impression of a shrug. “More like I was expecting the worst outcome as a major possibility, I think, Lieutenant.”

Castellano frowned. “Sir?”

“Admiral Litchfield took it as possible that all of the ships connected to the station could have suffered from the same power drain the station did.” He grimaced a bit and hoped she didn’t see the expression. “A little ‘what if’ game inside my head suggested that if we brought everything with us the first time, we wouldn't have to make a second trip out if she were right.”

Her vision diverted by something on the arm display of her suit, she kept staring at it while she talked. “It was excellent planning, sir, and saved us an extra manual cycle through the airlocks and probably a bit of atmosphere loss, not to mention the extra power usage that we really can’t afford at the moment. And it hadn't occurred to me at all. I guess I'm not pessimistic enough my nature. Team three is just completing their connections now.”

Leaving one more, in what he was sure was only the first batch. “I don't think of myself as a pessimist at all, Lieutenant, but I do like to be prepared for more than one outcome if I can. I was equally ready for the dirty looks our little crew was going to give me if it turned out all we needed was a signaling device to get someone else to pay attention to us.”

Castellano lowered her arm to look back at Sulu. Through two faceplates and weird reflections from Talgia, he was pretty sure both her eyebrows were up. “You wouldn't have seen any dirty looks, Sir.” The implication being that Security officers were far too disciplined to let their true feelings show.

“I wouldn't have expected to, but we’re both aware they would have been there.” He grinned to take any possible accusation from the words. “Sensor packs big enough to do any good have a lot of mass, even if you're not working with much gravity.”

“Much as in any, Sir.” He might have heard a beep over their channel and her arm raised again. “I– Sir, are you tuned into the system general frequency at all?”

“I wasn't, Lieutenant, but I assume that means there's something there to listen to.” On his own panel, he made a quick adjustment to the communications function and a very familiar voice leapt into his helmet. He looked back at the nacelles he’d been admiring a couple of minutes before.

“–of the USS Enterprise. No, it is no good Mr. Riley. While I believe the frequency is correct, I think that there is still no one listening.”

Sulu laughed and didn’t worry about it being on an open channel at all. “Actually, Pavel, you're coming in, well not loud and clear, but more or less clear. And at least you’re coming in.” He was surprised at how clear the other man’s voice actually was, though, considering how much of the station had to be in the way and that Chekov was probably on a standard communicator that happened to not be charging when power had gone down.

“Mr. Sulu!” Chekov didn’t laugh back, but there was clear emotion in his words. “It is good to hear your voice, though I admit I am surprised by it.”

“I happened to be on the station when all the power went down and offered to make myself useful. Status report?”

“So, it’s much as we suspected. I, ah, status report.” He sucked in a deep breath, clearly audible. “Mr. Riley is having our maintenance team use their… unexpected downtime to locate every piece of equipment that was not the attached to the power grid when the event happened. He's draining them to build enough power to re-establish the magnetic containment field and bring the warp core back online. If he is correct, we will, within a few hours, have the Enterprise back up and running, though without much in the way of a crew.”

“That’s surprisingly excellent news, Mr. Chekov.” And it was. He could give the Admiral some hope, at least, or at least one less thing to gather stress about.

“I take that to mean that the Enterprise is not the only ship suffering from the… effect.”

Careful, Hikaru, pick the right words. Pavel has already figured out I might not be the only one listening, so take the example. “I'm guessing you can see the station where you are. More than that, I don't think I'm willing to share on an open frequency at this time.”

“Understood. Do you require any assistance?”

That dragged another laugh out him. “As if you have the crew to spare. No, I was going to ask you the same question.” Though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Admiral Litchfield to divert anyone from getting the station back up and running, he felt it only polite to offer and pass on any requests.

“Nyet.” Sulu could almost see the shrug. “We are making do. I will attempt to keep this channel open as much as possible in case you or the Starbase has further information you would like to share with us, including, perhaps, an alternate and more secure channel.”

“Understood. Don't be afraid to reach out.”

“I will not.”

“Thank you. It's good to hear your voice, Pavel.”

“And yours, Hikaru.” The bit of informality surprised him a bit. “Enterprise out.” He heard the channel close and straightened a little as he turned back to his team second.

The young Security Lieutenant seemed brighter and cheerful. “Well, that seems like a bit of good news, at least, sir.”

“It absolutely does, if they can get it to work.” And if they could, the same tactic might be viable for the Starbase itself. Considering the nature of Starbase 23, there should be a lot of equipment not connected at every moment to main power. “But it makes me curious about a lot of things, Lieutenant.”

“Other than how it happened, Sir?”

Sulu shook his head. “Oh, I had plenty of questions around that already, Lieutenant. All of the traditional ones. Who, what, when, where, how, and why. There are lots of things to be answered.” But those were all basic questions, probably even the ‘why’. He was building more complex questions now.

“So what's different now, Sir?”

“Well, being certain that at least one of the eleven starships attached to the station is having the exact same issues that we are leans me much in more the direction of this being a deliberate attack of some kind.” He’d already sort of known that when they’d first come out of the airlock and everything they could see, station or ship, was turned off. But what if it hadn’t been? Would eleven skeleton crews have just continued on if nothing was wrong from their point of view? Someone would have noticed the dark station eventually, wouldn’t they? “Starbase 23 is primarily a repair and maintenance facility, with the capability for major overhauls up to a certain size and class of starship. But it’s pretty far away from pretty much every border with any even potentially hostile power. If this is an attack, and I’m leaning heavily in that direction, I'm still left with all those questions, but I have to add at least one more major issue. Well, two really.”

“And those are Sir?”

“Are they still here and what are they up to if they are?” Which lead to a lot of more detailed questions. If it was an attack, why hadn’t it been followed up? But he didn’t ask that one, or any of the others he might come up with. Castellano would let her imagination run pretty hard in the right directions, he thought. “Easy questions to ask, Lieutenant, but a lot harder to wrap my head around than I’d like considering our current lack of data.”

“Are you sure you're not a pessimist, Sir?”

No, he wasn’t, but he was sure they needed to get the ad hoc sensor grid online as quickly as possible. “Assuming Team Three is done by now, has Team Five got their sensor pack online yet? I’d like to calibrate the communications booster before we go in.” And get at least something scanning the space surrounding the station.

Chapter 9

Summary:

The Romulan sensors don't miss Riley's efforts to restore power.

Chapter Text

In Praik’s peripheral vision, his executive officer stiffened at the sensor station. He wanted to ask the younger man what was wrong but would also prefer complete data and so gave him time to verify whatever it was he’d been looking at and make the report on his own.

“Commander.” Talrik stood straight and turned to face Praik, his eyebrows pulled down to almost meet above the bridge of his nose. “I am detecting increased power emanations from one of the ships docked at the station.”

Praik raised his. “Which one?”

To go along with a sharp exhale, Talrik made a noise halfway between a hum and a growl in his throat. “The ship I previously identified as Enterprise, commander.”

Praik sighed, a reaction not worth hiding. “Of course, it would be.” Somehow, he wasn’t even vaguely surprised. If even half of their intelligence reports concerning the vessel were only inflated to twice their actual import, the ship was still the most dangerous in the Federation fleet, and whatever crew had been left behind to maintain it while docked would still be among the best their Starfleet had to offer.

“Your orders?”

Ah, the impatience of youth, a readiness to react without any significant data. “What do your readings indicate?

“They are… inconclusive overall, commander. I cannot discern the nature of the power signature, only its relative strength against the zero background. However, the readings are centered in the secondary hull, what Intelligence would have us designate to be their Engineering section.”

“Odd. The energy dissipator should have left their main power system with no available power. And yet…” He let his voice trail off, quickly reaching a conclusion and then hoping Talrik would get there himself with only a little guidance. “If they had enough equipment not hooked into that power grid when we fired the dissipator…”

And Talrik leapt on the prey, his eyes lit and face animated with understanding. “They could use it to re-energize sufficient ship’s equipment to initiate a reaction in their engine core.”

“And so manage to recharge their batteries sufficiently and bring their systems back online. That they could manage it so quickly…” He shook his head. “Is the weapon ready for another discharge?”

“Not yet, commander. Currently at 82% capacity.” He hadn’t even needed to check the board for that, which pleased Praik. The boy was competent even if he still had much to learn.

“Hmm, yes. I would prefer to wait for a full charge. Even at the risk of the vessel managing to achieve partial power first.”

Talrik cleared his throat. “We could…” His voice dropped off for a moment and then he straightened his back further. “We could destroy the Enterprise, commander.”

“Keep that option available, Sub-Commander. I may yet consider it, but, much as it would be a great blow to strike against the Federation, intentionally revealing ourselves for any reason goes against our instructions and I would prefer to continue to maximize our chances of returning our data to the Empire.” And yet the temptation was real. It could be a significant victory, but was it worth the risk? The data could be classed as important, but if they decloaked to fire even once, the Empire could well wind up never knowing what happened to their mission. And survival was preferable.

“Understood.” He turned just far enough to glance down at the board. “83%, Commander.”

“Thank you, Sub-Commander.”

Chapter 10

Summary:

Things are moving along nicely on the power restoration front. Until they're not.

Chapter Text

The door to Engineering stood open just as he’d left it, and the faint sound of whistling drifted down the corridor to greet him well before he got there. It was amazing just how well sound carried in an empty, silent starship. The tune sounded familiar and even as he frowned trying to remember where he’d heard it, a scrap of lyric jumped into Chekov’s head. ‘I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen’. He tried not to grin as he stepped through the doorway thinking about how to interpret that.

Riley looked up at the footsteps, his face paler than usual in the light of the LED lamp. “Okay then, we've got the containment field up to 15%. Self-sustaining, but not to the point where I'm comfortable putting antimatter into it yet.”

“That’s excellent, Mr. Riley.” He frowned and tapped his chin. “Were you whistling just now?”

Scowling, Riley looked back down at his panel. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“It's just that the acoustics down here are very good and I thought I recognized the song.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

Chekov decided he’d pressed the joke close enough to the edge of his promise for now and brought things back to business with a shrug. “Have it your own way then. How strong do you want the containment field before you can restart the warp core at minimal capacity?”

“Standard guidelines say twenty-five percent to maintain an adequate safety margin.” Riley looked back up at Chekov. “I'd honestly be happier with thirty.”

It felt like there was a question mark on the end of the sentence and since he was never one to pass up a safety margin when he could get one Chekov nodded. “So, twice as strong as you have it now? And that will allow you to bring ship systems online?”

Riley’s head bobbed up and down several times. “At thirty percent, I can take enough power from the reaction to bring up all of the ship’s systems, one at a time in reasonably quick order, assuming you don't want to go anywhere quickly or charge the batteries.”

“And if I want to do both?” Chekov grinned.

Riley appeared to give it some thought, though Chekov was fairly certain his friend had already worked out a variety of options in his head. “Well, there are only 12 us on board at the moment, so life support at bare subsistence levels is going to be adequate. Depending on what else you want for systems and how quickly, I can probably give you limited impulse. Maybe a partial charge on one of the phaser banks since that’s what you’re going to ask for next.”

The statement made him laugh and he felt almost pleasant feelings bubbling up inside. He didn’t know why that should be so unusual at the moment, but it was difficult to do anything other than be happy. “Why, Mr. Riley, I had no idea your telepathy was developing so well.”

Fingers moving over the panel, Riley snorted. “I've been a bridge officer, and I've been around the Captain enough that I know he likes as many options available as possible. You’ve spent a lot more time around him than I have, so I figure that’s probably rubbing off.” The engineer shrugged. “I don't know if we have anything to fight, but I suppose it would be nice enough to have something to fight with if we do.”

“An excellent notion.” He started ticking off things on his fingers. “So, minimal life-support, even just air circulation is probably fine because there are only 12 us, bridge systems and sensors, impulse power, phasers, shields. Maybe enough turbolift access to get me from here to the bridge. In that order.”

“What’s wrong with Auxiliary Control?”

What was wrong, indeed? There was only one of him and, regulations aside, he didn’t have to be on the bridge. He should be able to control things effectively from Auxiliary Control and while he would vastly prefer being on the bridge it was just that, a preference. The additional power saved might get him better defensive capabilities if they needed it. A good option even if he did like the bridge better. “Da, it is a good point. Drop the turbolift from the list, and substitute power to Auxiliary Control systems, but everything else is in the right order.”

“You don't want much, do you?” Riley sighed.

“What's the matter, Mr. Riley? I thought you were studying at the Montgomery Scott School of Miracle Working.”

The disgusted look was worth it. “You’re in rare form today, do you know that?”

Anything Chekov might have rejoined with disappeared under the tricorder alarm and by the quick hum of power dropping from everything around them. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to drop – minimal emergency lighting, a couple of consoles, and the deep vibrations of the magnetic containment unit in the warp core – but it was alarming enough to replace his smart comment with an exclamation. “Bozhe moi! What now?”

It wasn’t enough to dull the Engineering officer’s tongue, though. “Well, since my console and the emergency lights just went out, I'm going to assume that we also lost the fledgling magnetic containment field I had building up. Whatever happened the first time has happened again.”

Pushing away from the console he’d been leaning against Chekov grunted. “New order of business. Engineering console, power source shielding, magnetic containment field, then the other things I asked for in the same order.”

“Of course, supreme leader. Not that I know where I’m going to scavenge enough power to get to the point I was at again, but I’m sure there’s something in my textbooks from the ‘Montgomery Scott School of Miracle Working’ that will help me through this renewed crisis.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you'll be?”

Pulling his communicator free, he waved it back and forth. “Trying to get a hold of Mr. Sulu on the Starbase, or anyone who might be able to give me more information on what’s going on outside the hull.” He pointed at the console with the device. “Keep your communicator open.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

Chekov tried not to roll his eyes at the shadowy salute.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Hearing the station’s chief engineer on a communicator turned up too loud, Sulu had a leg half-way through the door when Admiral Litchfield’s responding voice spiked in both volume and intensity. If he wasn’t already clearly visible in the portable lamplight, he probably would have retreated a few steps to wait, hopefully even out of earshot so he wouldn’t have to hear the dressing down. Instead, he set the foot down and stood in the doorway, knowing she had to have already seen him.

“Dammit! I'm not interested in the technobabble! And I'm not ready to care about what caused it yet. Figure out the sensor readings and shield against it happening again then get back to work on the power core. I’m tired of sitting here in the dark and this station needs to get back online before people start freezing to death.” She slammed a hand on her desk, almost incidentally closing her communicator with a flick of her fingers after the impact. The look she turned on him was three parts scowl, one part fading fury. “Something, Commander?”

Since he’d just dropped by to see if he could be useful again and had been waved through by the security guard in the hall as if expected, Sulu chose to let her guide the conversation if there was going to be one. “Nothing important, ma’am.”

Leaning back in her chair, Litchfield wiped a hand across her face and sighed. When the hand came away, her expression was totally different, lines carving much deeper into her face than when he’d first met her and a pallor that couldn’t be accounted for by the LED light from the lanterns. “This is not where I expected to be, do you know that, Mr. Sulu?”

A good choice. “Ma’am?”

Litchfield shook her head. “I went from senior Lieutenant to destroyer skipper during the Four Years War, Commander, and after that I served on one destroyer or another for a long time. Three different Larsons and one of the first Thufirs – the first one that didn’t go right to the Blue Fleet, actually – before they finally forced stars on me. At my heart, I'm still on the bridge of a destroyer.”

“I haven’t served on that many ships yet, ma’am.” And none of them had been a Larson or a Thufir, ship classes whose primary mission was patrol and defense. Faster and more maneuverable than the Enterprise and armed just as well or better with half the crew or less. He’d spent time on a Nelson-class scout as a midshipman, but his only long-term assignment as helmsmen had been on another cruiser, if of a different class, so he didn’t really have a feel for smaller ships.

“The Mako was shiny and beautiful when I stepped aboard, a lethal little ship. I’m sure she still is. It hasn’t been that long.” She sighed again and looked up at him. “Since the war, I've spent most of my career somewhere along the Klingon border. Why Admiral Nogura thought it was a good idea to give me command of a transportation and supply base, I have no idea. I know Starfleet is supposed to be more about exploration and support than combat, but that isn’t this starbase and it hasn't been me or my career. Unknown aliens and weird engineering problems are not normally in my line of work, or even abnormally. This whole situation is irritating and new.” She arched her shoulders for a moment, and Sulu heard her back crack several times. “Did you understand any of that conversation with Starbase engineering?”

“I, um, think I got the gist of the last bit, ma’am.” He switched gears back into the current situation. He had caught the important parts of the chief engineer’s stuttering explanation before Litchfield had cut him off.

“I’m not going to ask you to dumb it down, for me, commander. I don’t need the engineering or the tech dumbed down, I need it dealt with. The engineering crew can identify it and that means they should be able to shield against it. Eventually.”

At his waist, Sulu’s communicator beeped twice. He deliberately didn’t reach for it but kept his eyes on the Admiral.

Who smiled, and it pushed a little bit of the exhaustion away from her eyes. “With such perfect timing, that can only be your friend stuck on the Enterprise. Take what Commander Glock was babbling and get more details from whoever is currently OOD in ops if you need them. See if you can explain it to the Enterprise duty officer and then get a couple of hours of rest.” Her eyes crinkled a little with the smile. “Who knows what I’m going to ask you to do next?”

Sulu came to attention, feeling like someone should remind the Admiral she could take the same advice. It wasn’t going to be him, though. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

She waved a hand at him and Sulu stepped back out of the office as the double beep came again. He moved a few steps down the hall before flipping open the communicator. “Sulu here.”

“I was hoping.” The Russian-accented voice sounded as tired as Litchfield looked.

“Let me guess, you just lost all of the power you’ve been building up towards the magnetic containment field and getting the warp drive back online.” It stood to reason that if all the ships had been affected during the first incident, they would be again this time.

Chekov paused for several seconds before answering, and Sulu wondered if it was genuine surprise or just for the effect of building a little tension into their conversation. “You are the second person to have developed telepathy today. Or, perhaps, you've lost power as well over there?”

“Very astute.” He found himself smiling. He could always count on Pavel to lighten his mood, even if unintentionally. “Yes, Mr. Chekov, we’re as much in the cold and dark as you are. However, there are a few photons’ worth of good news at the same time.”

“Good news would be very welcome right now. I’m getting tired of climbing ladders.”

So was he, actually, but he wasn’t going to admit that now. “We actually managed to place a handful of independent sensor packs on the station's outer hull and tie them into an independently powered communications booster so we have some external readings that go up to the power loss.” He might be a bit liberal with the use of ‘we’ in the second sentence but was pretty sure he could talk to the right person to get access to those readings. He had the Admiral’s basic permission, after all.

“Are they readings we can do anything with?”

“Now that's a slime devil of a different color. I understood a bit of what the engineering chief reported to the Admiral over here.” Although he’d walked in at the end of the report. “You’ll probably do a little better. Hmm. You said Mr. Riley is on Engineering watch?”

“That is correct.”

“An interesting problem for him, trying to turn the engines on for a change.”

“You might be surprised to learn that he is still sensitive about that.”

Sulu thought back to the incident, the hazy memories of chasing people through the corridors with his fencing blade. He’d wanted to think of it as a dream for a while, but a certain Vulcan First Officer had disabused him of that notice with a single arched eyebrow when he’d returned to the bridge. “Probably as much as I am when reminded about Mr. Spock calling me D’Artangan the same day.”

“Well, to be fair, he’s had two years engineering school since and has been very effective during the current crisis so far, if somewhat grouchy. Is there any chance you can transmit those readings to us?”

“Absolutely. I’m on my way to the Ops Centre right now.” With the Admiral’s order in his back pocket, a quick word with the station’s first officer would probably do the trick. The readings weren’t exactly secret and he was going to have them sent to one of the fleet’s flagships. “I'm guessing that Mr. Riley has a tricorder to set up that he can tie to a communicator and receive significant amounts of data?”

“Two. He is rather resourceful, you might guess. We would likely have had the warp core generating power no more than an hour from now if we hadn't been attacked again.”

That was an order of magnitude faster, or more, than the station engineering team was willing to commit to. “Hmm. Attacked.” He hadn’t looked at it from that perspective, exactly, although it had been floating around the back of his mind. Now that Chekov had used the word out loud, it felt right, though. “I'll get you the readings, but the short of it is there was a momentary, high-magnitude power surge from somewhere outside the station that was both multiphasic and anaphasic at the same time, if you know what that means.”

“I don't, but it sounds contradictory, so I'll need a competent engineer to make sense of it. Fortunately, I have one.”

Sulu chuckled. “There’s a lot more than one on the station, but they’ve also got a lot more space to shield and a lot more opportunity to get in each other’s way. I'll go get access to the sensor readings now and get them transmitted. You can expect the data dump to start in about five minutes, I hope.”

“I will tell Mr. Riley.”

“Good luck, Pavel.”

“And you, Hikaru.” The communicator found its way back to his belt as he walked. It shouldn’t take too much fast talking to get the readings to Chekov and Riley, but Sulu began to martial his arguments on the way in case Admiral Litchfield hadn’t called ahead.

Chapter 12

Summary:

Spock enjoys his tea. Kirk goes rock climbing. Both have the activity cut short.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

He was intrigued that so many Vulcan plants seemed to thrive effectively in a rather more moist environment than they had evolved under but wasn’t quite ready to openly express curiosity about whether they had been modified. “I must thank you for your hospitality, Doctor T’Lar. The quality of the tea available on a starship is, unfortunately, somewhat less than that of most developed worlds.”

T’Lar inclined her head. “If you would find it of value, I will provide the location and address of my source in the university market. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to procure a supply of your own before your vessel departs.”

“Most generous, Doctor, thank you.” He wondered briefly what varieties Doctor T’Lar’s source might have available. It would be gratifying to be able to add non-synthesized Vulcan teas to his dietary availabilities.

They sipped in silence for a time while Spock enjoyed the mixture of native and Vulcan scents from the surrounding flora. He fully understood why his host had chosen to cultivate the mixture of varieties he could see from where he sat. The combination of odours was soothing, potentially conducive to meditation.

Finally, Doctor T’Lar chose to break the silence, setting her cup down on the small, octagonal table between them. “I must admit that I find it strange for your mother to have gone the rather circuitous route of asking me to relay a message to you should your vessel come to the Starbase here. With Sarek's access to standard channels, it would have been much more direct, and far more efficient to attach it to regular communiques.”

So, the unseen hands of his mother worked behind the scenes. He wondered if he could properly understand her ultimate goal. “The circuitous methodology does not surprise me at all.” He drained the last of his own cup and set it down, barely raising an eyebrow at the news. “The use of open Vulcan diplomatic channels for a personal message would certainly strike her as an inappropriate use of resources. However, her choice of person to make the request of does strike me as odd, given personal history.”

T’Lar raised an eyebrow. “Between yourself and Sarek, or between the two of us.”

Spock paused to consider his words carefully as various relevant memories attempted to intrude and removing them from consideration proved surprisingly difficult. While the relationship with his father had certainly improved in the last several years, he and T’Lar had no direct relationship, even if there had been a brief academic one before the start of his Starfleet career. They’d never spoken directly but she had been part of a key decision in his life. “It is possible that both factored in her decision making, and they are not completely unrelated.”

“I find agreement easy, even given my peripheral knowledge of certain events.” She lifted the teapot again, moving it just far enough towards him to make the offer clear. He inclined his head to accepted. “Dr. Tavik's choice of language that day was, I believe it is fair to say, unfortunate.”

“That is a reasonable statement.” The moment had been a particularly difficult one.

She poured and the breeze brought just a hint of the delicate aroma to his nostrils. “Had he not been the senior member of the triumvirate communicating your acceptance, is there some possibility your response might have been different?”

Doctor T’Lar meant, of course, the words chosen by one of the other two members of the three Directors making the offer would have had far more neutrality and offered little to remark on beyond the offer itself. “I considered that greatly in years that followed.” It had taken almost to the time of Captain Pike’s promotion to fully settle the matter in his mind.

“And did you come to an ultimate conclusion?”

“I did.” He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the teacup, finding the warmth pleasant. “The expression of my answer might have been different, but I believe its content would have been substantively the same, as the prevailing attitudes of the time were substantially as Dr. Tavik expressed.”

“That is also a reasonable statement, though you have proven both—”

From his belt, the high-pitched squeak of an emergency alarm issued from the communicator.

Raising an eyebrow, T’Lar lifted her own cup again. “Unless I am misinformed, that is the fleet alert signal. It seems logical that you should answer it, regardless of our current conversation.”

Logical, but less than polite. However, his host had provided the direction, mitigating the breach of etiquette. He retrieved the communicator and opened it to a recorded voice. “Message to all Starfleet personnel. Report to Starbase 23 ground control immediately. Repeat, message to all Starfleet personnel. Report to—”

Further repetitions would gain no additional information so he closed the device and returned it to his belt. “I must apologize, Doctor.”

“No apology is necessary, Commander. Your duty is obvious.” Setting her cup down, she rose and he followed suit. “Should you wish to continue our conversation once the crisis, whatever it may be, is resolved satisfactorily, please communicate to me the intent.”

“Thank you, Doctor, I believe I shall.” Spock lifted a hand in salute. “Live long and prosper, Doctor T’Lar.”

She returned the gesture with ease and assurance. “Peace and long life, Commander Spock.”

#

With a wrist flip that was harder than he meant it to be, Kirk snapped his communicator shut. Conscious of how loud that had been, he put the device gently back in his pocket and tried not to grind his teeth. “That does not make me happy.”

Litrek’s thin grey face split in a too-wide grin. “It seems unreasonable that it should, Jame.”

With a sigh, he leaned against the rock face. “I’m sure McCoy is unhappy on several levels.” He pictured his friend rubbing his hands together to get ready for the harangue.

“This is your famous doctor?”

“Famous is one word.” Kirk shook his head. “He’s probably going to accuse me of engineering a crisis so I can get out of shore leave.”

“That seems even more unreasonable.”

Kirk shrugged. “It is. It’s also very McCoy. It’s like he thinks I don’t enjoy time off.” With a sigh, he straightened again, looking around their small base camp. The afternoon outing was supposed to lead to a waterfall. “I’m sorry, Litrek. I’m going to have to cut our adventure short.” Tomorrow would have seen them climb a strenuous but well-defined trail to reach the peak of the relatively gentle mountain. Well, gentle if you worked around the rock faces like the one they’d climbed that morning.

Litrek shrugged, the gesture having layers of meaning when done with four arms at once. “You’ll be surprised to learn that I am not surprised, Jame. Perhaps your crisis will resolve quickly and we can continue.”

“That will depend on if I can get to my ship, which isn’t responding to hails, at least not from me.” And what the nature of the crisis was and whether or not he could actually do anything about it. He wondered at the point of calling everyone back from leave but didn’t have enough data to decide if the emergency was warranted yet. He almost smiled at the Vulcan influence in that thought but also would have started with just command crews if he’d had any input.

“A poor sign.”

“Very. And it leaves me along with a few hundred other folks in uniform trying to hitch a ride.” He really did enjoy his shore leave, but when things started to go wrong, he knew where he was supposed to be and wandering mountain trails planet-side wasn’t it.

Litrek began gathering up the small amount of equipment they’d brought. “Well, not considering the few kiloms we have to walk, a ride might be manageable. Especially since we now find we have no client for the next several days.” He winked at Kirk. “And it seems unlikely we will find one.”

Kirk thought about how many people were enjoying shore leave on the planet at the moment. Enterprise might be the biggest ship tied to the station right now, but there were probably a couple of thousand members of Starfleet who’d received that emergency message. Transportation might not be the easiest thing in the world to come by. And if neither the Enterprise nor the Starbase wanted to answer hails at the moment, a transporter beam probably wasn’t in his near future. “I’d appreciate that very much.”

Chapter 13

Summary:

The Enterprise has power again. Only a trickle, but growing.

Chapter Text

Click, click, click, smack. Finally, Riley turned the dial and the air around them seemed to shimmer for a moment, quick, rippling waves of green-tinged snowflakes rushing away from the main console to every tiny, hidden corner of the engine room.

The engineer looked up at Chekov, one side of his mouth lifted in concert with the eyebrow on the same side. “That should, in theory, be enough of a deflection if we get attacked by the same power drain again.”

Chekov wanted to let a long breath out in relief, but he held most of it in check. “You're sure?”

“I did say, ‘in theory’, Pavel.” He turned both of his hands over in time with a quick shoulder bounce. “A sure thing is hard to come by, so I can't guarantee it, but based on the readings the engineering crew on Starbase 23 sent over, we should be fine in the event of another incident.”

He let the rest of the breath out slowly through his nose. It would have to do, he supposed. “Hmm. Worst-case scenario?”

The eyebrow went back up. “I'll have a couple of seconds to shut down the matter antimatter interaction before the containment field fails completely and we blow up.”

“Ah, confidence.” He grinned, appreciating the fatalism.

Riley shrugged again. “If that's the message you want to take away, sure.”

There was something more at play here and Chekov thought it was probably past time to figure out what was going on in Riley’s head. Other than the initial word play at lunch, and how long ago that seemed now, the young man had been in a difficult mood that seemed at odds both with how Chekov remembered him and how he behaved when other people were around. “You don't take compliments very well, do you, Mr. Riley?”

Riley’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I wouldn't know, sir.” The rest of his face seemed to close off at the same time. “I haven't heard one yet.”

How to walk the tightrope between giving advice and slapping Mr. Riley in the back of the head? Technically, they held the same rank, but Chekov was nominally in charge as the Deck Officer because the bridge held sway for command. Mr. Scott was in the chain, oddly, and had regularly sat in the centre seat when the Captain and Mr. Spock were both off the ship, but the Engineering Officer reported to the Deck Officer according to regulations, so Pavel had that.

Perhaps Riley didn’t have a clear idea of being good at his job. “Well, look at this way, Kevin, any potential past history aside, Captain Kirk and Mr. Scott signed off on your transfer to Engineering school, yes? And they both signed off on bringing you back aboard Enterprise when you finished.”

“Since when do captains get any input on who gets assigned to their ships? Or engineers?” Shook his head. “Doesn’t compute, Pavel.”

“Oh, I very much doubt there's a lot of it except when a fresh ship is being commissioned or when it’s being re-crewed after a major overhaul in drydock, and I strongly suspect that Starfleet Personnel offices would want a very significant reason for trying to refuse an officer they’d selected as fit for any post.” He leaned in a little closer, resisting the urge to cast conspiratorial glances to the sides. “But have you ever known Captain Kirk to have something forced on him he wasn’t willing to accept?” Well, orders now and then that came from unfortunately high up, but the Captain generally managed to make those work to advantage somehow. “And there are a lot of ships in the fleet. Did you have any reason to expect to return to Enterprise? Did you request it yourself?”

“No on both counts.” His eyebrows drew down, generating a surprising number of wrinkles across his forehead. “Now that you bring it up, I thought it seemed like a bit of a coincidence.”

And there was Chekov’s way in, he hoped. “Well then think of that what you will. Either the Captain and Mr. Scott requested you back, or they didn't object when Personnel randomly, against heavy odds, sent you here to fill the open slot. Either way, it amounts to the same thing.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far. I—”

Chekov held up a hand. “Add in that the Captain has an expectation of more than mere competence. He expects us to be good at our jobs. Mr. Scott put you on the duty roster as Engineering officer for 24 hours while we’re tethered to the station. He trusts that you’ll take care of his engine room. Captain Kirk could have vetoed that. You should take the compliment.” As Riley grinned, coming out of his funk a little, Chekov made a show of looking around. “You have tested what you’re doing to Mr. Scott’s engine room, haven’t you?”

Rolling his eyes, Riley flipped two more switches. “You’re kind of a jerk sometimes, you know that?”

“Da. It is part of my charm.”

Laughing, Riley pushed back from the console and let the chair spin half-way around before standing up. “Over and over again. It works and it doesn’t interfere with anything else. I'll have a containment field capable of holding a minimum reaction in less than an hour and we can start building on that.” He turned around and the smile disappeared. “But I'll tell you something else, Pavel.”

Suddenly worried, Chekov felt himself frown. “What's that?”

“If we get hit again and I'm wrong about the shielding, and it’s not a sure thing, I won’t be able to scrounge enough loose equipment on the ship to try a third time. There won’t be enough left.”

Chekov felt most of his good mood drain away. It was always best to temper things with reality, but he didn’t mind being happy now and again. “Then we will have to think of something else.”

Eyes almost downcast, Riley’s mouth pressed flat. “I actually sort of have a backup plan.”

“And what would that be?” He tried not to get his hopes up for Riley to tear down again. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed.

“We’ll lay some temporary power conduit from here to the shuttle bay and drain one or two of the shuttles’ systems.”

“That… sounds so much simpler than gathering up every piece of loose equipment aboard and draining it.” So much simpler in fact, that he was about to ask why they hadn’t done that in the first place. There were ten shuttlecraft on board. The power cells on one or two could certainly be spared to materially alter their situation.

“It'll take most of what we have on board in terms of stores to do it and it would give us something to trip over in the meantime.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Plus, it's an awful lot of work.”

Surely no more than climbing to deck two and back several times in one afternoon. “Why not just plug a shuttle into the ship and run it through the relays it would take to get power here and do the same thing?”

“It’s not designed that way.” He looked up at the ceiling and Chekov wondered what calculation he was mentally running that he’d done before and was now just checking the math. “And before you make a clever observation, I did think about it. Aside from making a bigger mess, it would actually take about the same amount of effort to work around or bypass the existing systems to get power to flow in the wrong direction as it would be to run totally new conduit. Plus, there's the probability that if we get hit again, any power we might've gotten from the shuttle battery will be sucked out too, since it would be connected now.”

“Always quick to see the dark side of things?” An admirable Russian trait, though Riley had frequently enough in the past professed to Irish ancestry. His memory of stereotypes suggested a little more joviality, but often Riley seemed more interested in tearing down that stereotype than in reinforcing it. Perhaps something he should think a little more about himself.

Walking over to the containment unit, Riley continued talking. “And it’s worth noting that the downside of a lot of starship engineering jury rigs and major problems is usually the possibility of something blowing up. I'd like to avoid that in the vicinity of antimatter.”

“Fair enough. I'm going to make my way back to the bridge. There appears to be far less difficulty establishing communications from there. Auxiliary Control is still a closer option, but I think the bridge offers more flexibility.”

“If you’re sure.”

He grinned. “And if I get there before you start to power things up, I won’t even think to ask for a turbolift.” He started moving for the open door. “Please signal me when you are ready.”

“Will do. And if our power gets sucked away again?”

Chekov looked back over his shoulder. “I would appreciate knowing that, as well in case I’m somewhere it hasn’t been turned back on yet at the time.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Riley came to attention with what Chekov was fairly sure was a mock salute, though it was hard to be sure in the nearly dark engine room.

Chapter 14

Summary:

Kirk and Spock meet up at the ground station. Sulu brings them into the loop.

Chapter Text

Standing just inside the main reception building of the Starbase 23 Ground Station, and grateful to be out of the milling crowd outside, Kirk was glad he’d taken the time to pull on a uniform. The Captain’s braids had let him move a little quicker through the unorganized mob. He didn’t usually like to pull rank, but he needed to find out what was going on with his ship.

The armoured officer at the station wasn’t willing to let him just walk by, however. “Verification code, please, sir.” The man reached out and angled the pickup a little more directly towards kirk.

While he understood the extra security precautions, Kirk wasn’t interested in participating any more than he had to, but he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t make any observations about how disorganized the recall seemed to be. “Lieutenant Pollock, I–”

Pollock made an expression that might have passed for a smile in lower light, his dark eyes somehow managing to convey sympathy while he shook his head. “I'm sorry, sir. I was on post and do remember when you checked out of the ground station on your way off the base, but the orders we’ve been given through the central command structure are quite specific. Please state your name, serial number, and verification code.”

Kirk fought the urge to sigh. There wasn’t any point in fighting regulations sometimes, and it would likely be easier just to give the security-conscious officer what he wanted. “Kirk, James T. Serial number SC937-0176CEC. Verification code: all I ask is a tall ship.”

From the security console, Kirk could hear the computer processing. It only took a couple of seconds before Pollock looked up again. “Thank you, sir. You’re cleared to enter the station.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He took a step to stand even with the desk and no force field leapt up to bar his way. “I suppose you're not able to tell me where to find the ground station commander.”

Pollock shook his head. “Not directly, sir, but I suspect Commander Mellancamp is probably in the operations center.”

In the middle of a station he was completely unfamiliar with. “An escort?”

Pollock shook his head again. “I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have the personnel. Every member of station personnel and the crews of 11 starships has been recalled. We’re stretched across every entrance and guard post regardless of what shift we’re supposed to be on.”

Well, probably the base computer could give him directions if he could get its attention and the layout wouldn’t be that different from the standard design, probably. “I kind of had that impression from the crowd at the gates. Is there a gathering area for Enterprise crew?”

“Signage has been posted in the main terminal, sir. It shouldn’t be too crowded yet.”

“I see.” Not nearly as organized as he would have liked. Hardly at all. Kirk cocked an eyebrow. “And now that I’ve provided my verification and been granted entry, I don’t suppose you have any additional information on the situation is causing the recall.” Or why there had been a general recall issued without a plan to deal with it.

“No, sir. Just that the recall is happening and to deal with it in an orderly fashion.”

Kirk took his first step towards the door beyond the console. “I suppose I'll just have to go and find Commander Mellancamp myself.”

“As you say, Sir.”

The door opened for him without any further demands of proof of identity and closed behind him. He resisted the urge to ask the computer immediately for help, hoping that reaching the far side of the building would provide a window to the courtyard outside and give him an idea of the base layout. Ground stations didn’t typically have a lot of variety in basic design, so the building holding the operations centre should be fairly obvious. If he could orient himself, he’d have at least a rough idea of which direction to go.

But as he approached what should be the far side of the building, passing the occasional harried person in uniform, a murmur of voices began to grow and instead of a good view of the outside, when he reached the end of the main corridor, it spilled out into a shuttle terminal holding dozens of Starfleet officers and crew in all three uniform tones. Most of them were engaged in conversation with others nearby while a few had open communicators, attempting to make contact with their vessels or the orbital station. In a slightly isolated spot next to a particularly tall potted Denevan rhododendron, he spotted his first officer holding a communicator close to his face. He recognized all the members of a cluster of about a dozen mixed uniforms standing several metres away from the Vulcan, though didn’t see any evidence of Lieutenant Pollock’s signage.

While he didn’t think it likely he’d startle Spock by approaching out of sight, Kirk still thought it might be courteous to take a slightly arced path to the Vulcan, who made eye contact when he was still a dozen paces away in the scattered crowd. Kirk waved off any attempts at formal recognition by other crew members and moved in quickly as Spock’s voice became clear.

“Confirmed, Mister Sulu. Are you able to provide any additional information?”

Sulu’s filtered voice reached Kirk’s ears and he leaned in closer to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “Not really, sir. The event has happened twice now, but we had managed to get some sensor packs on the station’s exterior before the second. If you have a tricorder, I can certainly send you the sensor readings we’ve gathered on the carrier wave.”

“Unfortunately, I do not have one available, commander.” Spock looked at Kirk, who nodded. “However, I have just been joined by Captain Kirk. Perhaps you would share with him a brief summary of the information you have provided me.”

“Yes, Sir. Captain?”

Spock held the communicator out and Kirk took it with a nod, getting it closer to his own face, and therefore ears, confident Spock’s superior hearing would let him continue to follow the conversation in spite of the general hubbub in the terminal. “Kirk here, Mr. Sulu. What have you got?”

“There's a large engineering team working on the issue up here, sir, but it amounts to a sudden and complete power drain station wide. Anything that was in any way connected to the station power systems when it happened was affected. If it wasn't plugged in, it's got whatever power it started with, but we’re going to start running out of those soon, and there's a bit of concern about maintaining adequate life support on the station for very much longer.”

“And the ships docked? The Enterprise?” He hoped the concern in his voice wasn’t too plaintive, but either Sulu didn’t notice or he chose to ignore it. Kirk was sure he saw Spock’s eyebrow twitch, though. As if he wouldn’t ask about his ship.

“Affected as well, sir. Anything hooked into the station suffered the same drain and that appears to include all the ships hooked in with umbilicals. I've been in contact with Mr. Chekov several times. He and Mr. Riley are working to restore some power to Enterprise systems. They have the same sensor data I offered to Mr. Spock and Mr. Chekov is confident that Lieutenant Riley is able to provide effective shielding. He hasn't committed to a firm timeline but has led me to believe that they will have a minimum reaction in another hour or so, pending that shielding working as advertised if another event should occur. He expects to have some ship systems online shortly after that.”

Feeling his chest loosen a bit, Kirk allowed himself a small smile. Just a small one, though. Chekov and Riley were a good combination to have on board for this. The amount of energy the two of them could bring to bear against the problem would compliment their experience, though Riley tended towards a gloomier outlook than he’d like. He and Spock were certainly still in the wrong place and it seemed likely they weren’t going to have any direct help to get back to the Enterprise. Transporters would, and should, be very low on Chekov’s list of systems to bring up and running. Long after engines, shields, sensors, and weapons. “Well, that's a bit of bright news, at least. What’s your part in this, commander?”

Sulu paused for a moment before answering. “I happened to be on the station when the first event happened and was co-opted by Admiral Litchfield to serve as occasional liaison for incoming calls from starship commanders, not that there have been many, as well as taking care of several tasks that she didn't have the engineering staff for.”

“Like placing sensor packs on the station's hull.” Kirk grinned.

“For example, sir.”

It made him feel better to have one of his officers close to the action and Sulu would certainly do his duty. “Keep us in the loop as you can, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Spock's communicator seems to have been cleared from whatever lockdown the Starbase alert put on it—” if it was a lock down and not some side effect of the lack of power in orbit—“and I don't know if mine has yet, so please feel free to signal him first.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“Kirk out.” He closed the communicator and offered it back to his first officer. Spock raised an eyebrow but Kirk shook his head. “I already have one and it will be functional sooner or later.”

With a nod, Spock took the device and adhered it to his belt.

Looking around the terminal, Kirk tried to pick out a next course of action. “Well, Mr. Spock, what do you think?”

“I have insufficient data to form more than a rudimentary hypothesis. However, it is reasonable for me to state, based on the limited information available and the context of our situation, that I do not believe this to be a naturally occurring phenomenon.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow of his own, smiling. “Considering your first statement, the second one seems like you going out on a limb to me.”

Not responding to the teasing, Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “Before your arrival, I queried Mr. Sulu extensively on what he has observed and been told regarding the engineering details and the sensor readings.”

“Details which he kindly spared me during the summary, likely assuming that if I really want to know, I'll ask you.” A very good assumption on Sulu’s part. Whatever skills Kirk might have picked up during his career, they mostly didn’t lie in the depths of engineering. In a pinch, he could replace obvious, modular components in boards he recognized, but that wasn’t something on the menu very often, and hadn’t been since he’d taken the Second Officer’s slot on the Constitution.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well then, do you have any suggestions for our next step?” His eyes looked out onto the landing pad.

“I have sufficient data to suspect your next course of action will be to find a way to secure transportation to the Enterprise. Considering the situation, use of the ground station transporters is unlikely to be authorized and the ship clearly has insufficient power to make use or our own. In the absence of transporter availability, a shuttlecraft is the next logical choice.”

“It seems like you’re reading my mind, Mr. Spock. So, time to find the station commander.”

“Should you deem that necessary, yes.”

Kirk felt the grin drop away from his face as he tried to understand what his first officer was hinting at. “That’s interesting phrasing, Mr. Spock.”

Spock nodded. “I feel obligated to point out that there are 10 other starships docked at the Starbase, and that the recall order was for all Starfleet personnel. Statistically, and considering your arrival time, it seems unlikely that you will be the first senior officer to approach the station Commander. Due to having to maintain control of the ground station and its traffic flow, not to mention the emergency itself, he is unlikely to be receptive unless given direct orders by Admiral Litchfield and I regard the likelihood of that to be exceedingly low.”

“Your logic is excellent, Mr. Spock.” So they’d have to find their own ride.

“Indeed.”

Kirk looked around for an exit from the terminal. “I don't suppose you know how to get to the hangar bay?”

“Landing field. While it does appear to be just beyond the windows here, the route to reach it is somewhat more convoluted.” Spock gestured to a door that looked like it led in the exact opposite direction that they wanted to go. “I was able to somewhat familiarize myself with the ground station’s layout before our arrival.”

‘Somewhat’ was probably an understatement in Kirk’s experience. He was certain his first officer meant the ground station’s detailed layout rather than the high-level one Kirk assumed just from years of service and that probably wouldn’t help them. While he had a rough idea of the layout on a macro level, Spock could probably find his way to and through any building on the base. “Somehow, I'm not surprised. Lead on.”

Chapter 15

Summary:

Odd sensor readings and power to the bridge... just in time to be boarded.

Chapter Text

Deciding it was time for a break, Chekov climbed the last few rungs up to the next deck before stepping out of the Jeffries tube to pull out his communicator. “I have been climbing far too many ladders today.” Flipping it open, he looked around at the odd shadows cast by his shoulder-mounted lamp. Odd because of the half-closed side to avoid blinding him while he climbed, lumpy ghost shadows vaguely shaped like his head. He wondered if he’d grow used to those. “Mr. Riley, are you there?”

The answer came back quickly. “I'm not sure where you'd think I've gone, Pavel. Have you reached the bridge yet?”

He probably should have by now but was growing a little tired and had hoped Riley would have a more interesting update for him. “No. Only Deck Three. I still have a little climbing to do, but thought I'd check in.”

“Kind of you.” A short pause and with no background noise around him, Chekov could hear the whir of some device on Riley’s end. “Everything is going as well as I’d like and there hasn’t been so much as a flicker to indicate we’ve been attacked again. At the rate you’re moving—” was there a bit of sarcasm involved in that phrase?—“I should be just about ready to start feeing some power into the systems when you get there. Signal me again when you reach the bridge?”

“Of course.” The transmission cut off at the other end and he closed the communicator. “Well, the break was nice, I suppose.” He leaned into the shaft to look up. Perhaps he had dawdled a little. “And on we go.” Rolling his shoulders twice, he gripped the next rungs and continued his ascent to the bridge.

*

Sulu pulled himself up the ladder into Starbase 23’s operations center. He wasn’t quite ready to bother Admiral Litchfield yet, but thought he might listen in on what was going on in operations and gather a little more information so he’d be better informed for whatever his next job turned out to be.

Because he knew there would be a next job. So long as at least some power held out and Admiral Litchfield had more things she needed done than she had station personnel to do them, his temporary employment would continue.

He’d only been standing in a quiet corner for a few seconds when Commander Jamison noticed him and waved him over. “Lieutenant Commander Sulu, are you free?”

“Of course, commander.” He crossed the space he wanted to call the bridge in a dozen steps to join Jamison at a barely-powered console. “How can I assist you?”

Jamison waved at the panel in front of him, apparently powered by a portable battery pack that looked easy to trip over. “You can give me an unbiased interpretation of that sensor pattern.”

Which meant Jamison already knew what it was, or thought he did, and wanted an independent opinion that hadn’t been prejudiced with any preconceived biases. Frowning at the board, Sulu pointed at the most active display piece. “This feed here?”

“That's the one.”

His frown deepened. It was definitely familiar. Too familiar, really, and out of place so far inside the Federation’s borders. “Is this accurate?” Had Jamison come to the same conclusion already or did his experience lend him to a different interpretation?

The Commander snorted. “Assuming the sensor packs you put out there were calibrated properly, yes.”

“In which case—” Sulu straightened and made eye contact with the other officer. “It reminds me quite a bit of some of the readings I've seen in post-event analyses after encounters with Romulan vessels. Cloaked Romulan vessels.”

“I was afraid you would say something like that.” Jamison blew a long breath out past his thick moustache.

Sulu didn’t hesitate. “What do you need, commander?”

“I don't know yet, but potentially every hand that can hold phaser I can get hold of, and we’ve got a solid armory on 23. Enough of it not on charging stations that there should be plenty to go around.” He looked at Sulu with a raised eyebrow and they took a shortcut through the conversation that might have followed.

He could hold a phaser and was a pretty good shot with it, too. “Understood.” He figured he’d just been told to visit the armory.

*

Chekov looked around the dark bridge of the Enterprise. It had been bad enough being the only one there as part of a skeleton crew with half the systems shut down and the rest barely out of standby mode, but he found the silence and darkness he stood in now much worse, again putting him in mind of being aboard a derelict ship, only it was his ship. “And I thought it was bad being the only one here with most of the stations in standby mode. It is very, very quiet up here.”

The pause before Riley spoke was long enough to be unnerving, but the words that came back through the communicator were more reassuring than he expected. “It probably was. I’ve never been on a powered down bridge before. Honestly, it's deadly quiet in Engineering without the background hum of the warp core, too. You have no idea how glad I am to have it back on, even at a severely reduced capacity.”

A capacity that was building every second, Chekov found himself smiling. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea how it feels and hope to experience the same relief shortly. Plus, except for the emergency light I brought with me, everything is completely dark.”

“I seem to recall that the entire ship was pitch black when the lights went out. Something to do with being a completely self-contained space and not even windows to see the stars in most cabins, much less any chance at catching a glimpse of the local sun.”

“A good point.” He breathed deep and exhaled. The air still tasted fine, but he’d been careful to take different routes every time he went anywhere. Air circulation was certainly a potential issue even with only a few of them on board, though it would take a while. “How are things looking?”

“The new shielding is stable around engineering and the warp core.” He paused and Chekov thought he heard a couple of switches click. “Magnetic field is at 37% and climbing. I’m already putting some energy into the batteries and can hook into the main power systems any time. If we do get hit again, the worst that will happen is a flickering light panel, I think. Just give the word, Pavel.”

Chekov took one last look around the dark bridge, his lamp not showing him anything interesting. “Well then, Mr. Riley, at your convenience, please.”

“Right.” More switches. “Five seconds, mark. Four, three, two, one, engaging power feed.”

It took almost to the count of three in Chekov’s head before the overhead lights came on and every console started to boot up. By the time he reached ten, everything was working together to give that background white noise of instrumentation he missed. “Now that's a sound for sore ears.” Or deprived ones. He began a walk around the bridge, checking each station in turn. “Helm, navigation, sensors, communications, science, engineering one and two, all coming online.” The turbolift doors slid open as he got too close and Chekov found himself grinning. A lovely gift from his Engineering Officer on duty. “Excellent work, Mr. Riley.”

And the grin in Riley’s voice was just as apparent. “We aim to please.”

Lowering the communicator a little, Chekov raised his voice. “Computer?”

“Working.” There wasn’t much of a delay before response. Unsurprisingly, the central core demanded power before everything else, he expected. Which was good, since he was going to need it to make up for the current deficit in crew.

“Excellent. I–”

The buzz of a transporter beam, strange and off-kilter to normal, came up over the threshold of hearing, and Chekov’s head snapped around so he could see a group of blue-grey figures taking shape. “What the—?” He turned and dove into the turbolift, reaching for his phaser pistol with his free hand. “Emergency override turbolift! Take me directly to Engineering!”

Romulan figures, six, no eight of them, turned to the sound of his voice and began to raise their weapons.

“Working. Override acknowledged.”

He got his own weapon up just as disruptor beams began splashing against the closing door, managing a single shot through the narrowing gap and coming at least close to his target. With the usual hiss, the doors slid shut and the turbolift shot downward.

“Pavel, what's going on? That sounded like weapons fire.”

Chekov looked down at the communicator in his left hand, miraculously still open and undamaged from his escape. He huffed once and raised it to his face. “It was. There are Romulans on the bridge.”

“You're not serious?”

Shaking his head, Chekov picked himself up off the floor of the turbolift car. “I wish I weren't. Please exercise some of those engineering overrides you’ve used in the past and make sure they cannot access any systems even after you shut off power to the bridge.”

“I'm shutting off power to the bridge?” Chekov could hear the wheels turning in the man’s mind. After all the work to get the power back on, and now someone wanted him to turn it off again.

He didn’t wait for Riley to catch up. “And life support there. Not that they can't just beam where they would like, I suppose, but there’s no need to make it easy for them. Computer, change destination. Deck 19. Auxiliary Control.”

“Acknowledged.”

Chekov turned his attention back to Riley. “Seal off Engineering and route power to Auxiliary Control instead of the bridge. I’ll barricade that when I get there. I only saw a boarding party of eight, but that doesn't mean they couldn't send more.

“Or beam ahead of you.”

“An excellent point.” And a suggestion that made his stomach curdle. He didn’t want to have to think about that, but he also knew the ship better than they could. Although, he had to assume that their sensors were fully operational.

“I might be able to interfere with transporters if they try beaming site to site, but if they just beam back and forth from their ship to ours, I don’t know if I can manage anything until the shields are back online.”

“I think you’ve just named your next power priority, regardless of where you are on the original list. In the meantime, do what you can.”

“Aye, sir.”

Chekov closed the communicator and waited for the turbolift to take him to Deck 19, already running through what he’d need to do in order to control the entire ship from one station. It had been interesting on a small ship designed for it during normal operations. It would not be an easy feat on a ship the size of Enterprise, especially with Romulan boarders.

Romulans. That derailed his train of thought for a moment. So the power drain was an attack and either the Romulans were behind it or were colluding with whoever was in order to take advantage of it. But why had they waited so long? Surely, the time to board the Enterprise was in the moments after the first power drain, before anyone had even begun to understand what was happening and how to combat it. The answer didn’t matter much now but would certainly be relevant when things were resolved. At which point, the odds were probably that they’d never know.

He wished the turbolift would move a little faster.

Chapter 16

Summary:

Meanwhile, back on the Romulan bridge...

Chapter Text

Praik slammed his fist on the arm of his chair, not caring about the dent it created. “Who authorized a boarding party!”

Remaining stiffly at attention in the face of his commander’s rage, providing a target, a calm part of Praik’s mind realized, so the rest of the bridge crew wouldn’t suffer, Talrik kept his eyes on a point somewhere over Praik’s left shoulder. “There were no preparations made for a boarding party, Sir. On the Praetor’s blood.”

Flaring his nostrils, Praik leaned forward and clenched his jaw. “And yet the sensor readings we were just watching clearly show a Romulan transporter signature depositing a boarding party on the Enterprise. Those same sensors now show eight Romulans on its bridge. There is no permutation or interpretation of our orders that allows for boarding one of the Federation vessels as it sits docked, even if it is helpless, even if it is the Enterprise. Who authorized this?”

Talrik smashed his right fist to his left breast and hinged forty-five degrees at the waist in the stiffest bow Praik had ever seen. “Working.” The younger man spun away and went to the security console, immediately maneuvering switches and, Praik expected, initiating scans.

It wasn’t long before he began to report, a matter of a few heartbeats. “There are no traces of power or power signatures related to the transporter system. The internal sensor array indicates the correct number of life signs on board and everyone at their proper stations.” He straightened from the board and came to attention again as he turned. “No transporter on board was activated, commander. I must conclude that we did not send a boarding party.”

Praik rose from his own seat and approached the console. He kept his voice level as he spoke but stressed and enunciated each word to ensure Talrik was aware his anger had not dissipated. “I can envision other possibilities, Sub-Commander. Is it possible you don’t want to tell me that our sensors have been compromised? Or that you’re unable to understand their readings?” Or that you’re covering something you, yourself ordered?

And now Talrik did make eye contact, the only change in his expression a tiny bunching of muscle in one side of his jaw. “I submit it is also possible, commander, that there is another ship present that we are not aware of, one with different mission goals than our own.”

Praik’s fist came down on the security console, leaving another dent, this one more concave than the one on the arm of his chair, though likely less damaging to the circuits beneath. He straightened his own back and sucked in a deep breath, some of it hissing out with his next words. “The Tal Shi’ar. Interfering in a Military Intelligence Science Directorate operation?”

Frowning, Talrik seemed to try picking his words carefully. “The Tal Shi’ar do not have ships of their own.”

“No, they do not.” Praik sighed. “But unless countermanded by the Praetor, who would have to know there was something to countermand, they can certainly commandeer a vessel for their own purposes.” And it was entirely likely and reasonable that there was an informant on his ship, probably more than one. Another ship would have sensors of its own so the results of their initial tests might already be known. The Tal Shi’ar, if it was the Tal Shi’ar, at the limits of their local patience, could have decided they’d waited long enough to initiate their own plans. “Begin scanning immediately. I want that ship found.”

“Your command.” Talrik bowed again, touching fist to chest, and began issuing orders to other posts on the bridge.

Chapter 17

Summary:

Sulu suits up. Kirk requisitions a shuttle.

Chapter Text

Not quite at attention, Sulu stood in Admiral Litchfield’s office unsure how he got to be a witness to a conversation that consisted of the Admiral yelling at her chief engineer while that same chief engineer struggled to draw a breath on the other end of the communicator. It had seemed to start with him delivering the good news that Lieutenant Riley had used the Starbase 23’s sensor readings to figure out how to shield from the power drain if it happened again and the bad news of the sudden boarding party. But when Litchfield had called her Engineering head, only the initial contact had been civil. A request for a status update and a sharing of news which Commander Glock had initially seemed to welcome until the Admiral asked why an engineer almost fresh out of the extension program had come up with the solution first.

And it hadn’t gotten any better from there.

Litchfield, rigid and jaw clenched, leaned forward to bring her face closer to her communicator. “So, a lone engineer, barely out of training, with a handful of technicians, some string and chewing gum, got their ship up and running faster than a fully dedicated Starbase engineering team?”

He wasn’t sure what made him come to Glock’s defense, but Sulu knew he should have kept his mouth shut as soon as he opened it. Before. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. “Admiral, I'm not sure that’s–”

Her eyes flicked up at him with no change in expression but the pressure in the gaze forced his mouth closed again. “One moment please, Mr. Sulu. I'm not finished yelling at my chief engineer just yet.” He nodded, tried not to swallow. She kept her gaze fixed on Sulu as she continued with the engineer. “Mr. Glock. You have exactly one hour to duplicate whatever the young lieutenant did on the Enterprise and get power flowing again in this station or I will see you assigned as the chief engineer of the Delta Vega mining station. Am I clear?” She closed the communicator before Glock got more than the first syllable out of his acknowledgement. Setting the device down carefully on her desk, she nodded at Sulu. “Now, Commander, you were going to come to the defense of my chief engineer.”

He was, not that he wanted to anymore. He was sure he was going to regret things as it was, but since the Admiral was demanding he talk around his foot, Sulu didn’t see he had much choice now. “Um, I was, Admiral. In the interests of fairness–”

Litchfield shook her head. “Disregarding that I cut Mr. Glock off before he could even finish yes-ma’aming me, in the interests of fairness, what I just said is backed up by the facts of the current situation, isn’t it?”

It would be difficult to dispute the facts of the case at this point since he was the one who’d presented at least some of them. “Well, yes, Admiral, but—”

She held up a finger. “To review what you told me, and flesh things out a little bit, one engineering officer, who’s been out of the compressed Academy Engineering program and back on a starship for less than six months, and a maintenance team of ten have rigged up shielding that will, apparently, protect their antimatter reactor from further assault by whatever the weapon is. Am I good so far?”

“Yes, ma’am.” No further input required so he kept it to those two words. It was time to just answer the questions and shut up. Never let it be said I don’t learn from my mistakes.

“Good.” She held up another finger. “Further, they’ve done so effectively enough to seal off their entire engineering level and the warp core from that weapon. Correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A third finger. “They’ve restarted said warp core and given the Enterprise enough power to spit out the station umbilicals at any moment, and maneuver on its own, controlled by a single lieutenant from auxiliary control—” and a fourth—“all while being boarded by Romulans. Is that a fair summary, commander?”

“It is, ma’am.” He inhaled, knowing he was about to be stupid. He’d never met Commander Glock but was well acquainted with Chekov and Riley’s competence. “But–”

“No, Mr. Sulu.” Litchfield shook her head. “Commander Glock, who is hoping to someday be Captain Glock in the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, has three dozen engineering officers under his command, and six times that many technicians of various specialties to keep this station running, or, in the current case, to get this station running again. Not even counting Maintenance. With all that brainpower available, he so far appears to have failed to do so during the first actual crisis this Starbase has experienced since some years before I assumed command. Based on that, I am not, at this point, convinced that he came up with the idea to drain existing equipment to get a boost independently of your Misters Chekov and Riley whom I will wish could telepathically transmit their competence over here.” Elbows on the desk, Litchfield interlaced her fingers and leaned her chin into the ledge they created. “So, while I appreciate your rallying to the defense of a fellow officer, even if it’s one you’ve never actually met, what exactly, would you like to defend?”

Sulu exhaled quietly, not wanting to sigh at an Admiral. He should have kept his mouth shut. “In those lights, ma’am, nothing.”

“Probably wise, commander.”

But there was another issue to deal with. “However, if I could draw your attention again to the fact that the Enterprise has been boarded, and that it's entirely possible that other ships docked here might be as well even if the station itself is too densely populated to make that likely.”

“I haven't lost sight of that possibility. Is there something you’d like me to do about it? We can’t even open the doors on the shuttle bays at this point.”

Now here was an argument Sulu was actually prepared for. “The Enterprise actually has some power at this point, building more all the time. Assuming that it's possible for Chekov and Riley to power up a transporter room, I would like to beam over with an armed and armoured security team to ensure that the Romulan boarding party doesn't achieve whatever its goals are.”

Litchfield sat up straight, her hands dropping to the desk in loose fists. Even as her eyebrows rose. “Granted. That’s a reasonable request, and good idea. It will feel good to fight back, however indirectly. You can have the same crew I sent you out with the place sensor packs. I would guess most of them are itching to earn their keep again by now.”

Security hadn’t had much to do on the Starbase during the outage other than some grunt work here and there, like placing the sensor packs. It might be different on the ground, but once all the important doors were pulled open and they’d moved equipment to ensure air circulation, there wasn’t even much need for extra bodies unless they could double as engineers. “I expect you're correct, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Thank me when your ship is free of Romulans. Dismissed.”

He came to attention. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.” He turned for the door but she cleared her throat, stopping him before he got there.

“Oh, and Mr. Sulu?”

He turned around again, still straight but not quite at attention. “Yes, ma'am?”

“Secure that transporter room. I may want to use it as a staging zone against boarding parties on the other ships docked. Or even just to send relief personnel over.”

“Understood, ma'am.” Sulu left the Admiral’s office at a quick march. He hadn’t expected to be leading an armed boarding party onto his own ship when he’d beamed back up to the station that morning, but sometimes you just had to take what the universe threw at you, even if it was your own idea.

*

Maybe Kirk had been captain of his own ship for too long, and with his own self-contained crew.

It didn’t seem like the young security officer should have such an easy time not releasing the shuttle into his care so he could get back up to the Enterprise, and it didn’t seem like the young security officer should have such a strong backbone when standing up to something he wasn’t sure was procedurally sound. In one of his own officers, he would have been happy with the reaction most times, or at least most times it was warranted, and he tried to remind himself of that as he found his irritation level growing. “Maybe you don't understand, Ensign…”

“Ensign Storm, sir. Yes, really, sir. Storm. And I understand just fine. Sir. You are absolutely my superior officer, but you are not in my direct line of command and I have no authorization from that line for what you’re asking. I’m afraid I can’t release the shuttle to you.”

Kirk didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t sigh, and didn’t say what he wanted to out loud. Everyone wants to argue today. “Then, Ensign, my question becomes why haven't you called Commander Mellancamp to secure that authorization as per my request?”

Storm straightened more, a frown pressing down between his brow ridges. “I'm sorry, Sir, I can't.” He also didn’t seem to be afraid to make eye contact, something else Kirk normally liked but that was feeling more and more like stubborn defiance at this point.

“Of course you can’t. And why is that?” There had to be a good reason, or at least a reason.

“Because my direct orders state that without an emergency that supersedes the current crisis in urgency, Commander Mellancamp is occupied with that crisis in the operations centre. Messages may be relayed to him through the on-duty communications officer, but unless they are flagged as a AAA priority, it's unlikely he’ll even receive them. And, I'm sorry, sir, but before you ask, the requisitioning of an armed shuttlecraft by a senior officer not assigned directly to Starbase 23 is something, I can’t, in conscience, flag that at that priority level. I'm sorry Sir, unless you can give me a regulation that changes the level of some part of the emergency or your part in it, I can't release the shuttlecraft to you.”

Kirk cast a glance at his first officer. Now would be the perfect time for a nerve pinch. “A little help, Mister Spock.”

As usual, Spock’s expression didn’t shift, though his gaze moved from Kirk to the ensign and back again. “Starfleet regulation 1864, paragraph 2, subsection B states that an armed small craft proceeding into a potential combat situation must have a dedicated weapons officer.”

“I'm not sure how that helps me, Commander.” Had Spock finally slipped a mental gasket? He didn’t see how needing a weapons officer on the shuttle mattered unless they could have the shuttle. And he would have flagged Spock as that weapons officer at any rate.

But the dreaded raised eyebrow preceded the Vulcan’s next words. “If you will allow me to continue.”

He should have known better. “By all means.”

“Thank you, Captain.” And now Spock focused exclusively on Kirk. “Regulation 1017, paragraph 1, subsection C states that if a code red situation has been declared, in the absence of available authority, a senior officer ranked Captain or above is able to requisition personnel directly as required in pursuit of a resolution to the situation so long as any such requisitions do not directly conflict with current operations.”

Why had he ever doubted? Kirk looked at the confused ensign while still talking to Spock. “That changes things completely, Mr. Spock. Thank you.” He smiled.

“You are welcome, Captain.”

“Ensign Storm.” He turned that smile on the young officer and the confused expression on Storm’s face scrunched up even further.

“Sir?”

He kept smiling, looping the trap around the man. “We are in a code red situation, aren’t we?”

“We are, sir.”

“Excellent.” He mentally pulled the rope tight. “Under Regulation 1017, paragraph 1, subsection C, I hereby directly requisition you for an activity that in no way interferes with ongoing operations.” He reached out and firmly slapped the nacelle of the shuttle they stood next to. “Under the same regulation, I’m requisitioning this shuttle. Further, pursuant to regulation 1864, paragraph 2, subsection B, I’m assigning you as weapons officer to said shuttle. Questions?”

He watched as Storm rolled the regulations around in his head and measured them up against his standing orders then modified that based on the common knowledge that Vulcans were incapable of lying. The logic seemed easy for him to follow and he came back to attention. “No, sir. What are your orders, sir?”

Kirk looked up at the shuttle. “The freshly-requisitioned armed shuttlecraft we’re standing next to, does it have a name?”

Storm frowned again. “Um, it has a designation, sir. Stenciled on the side.”

Having read that already, Kirk remained unimpressed. “SB 23G/5. Starbase 23, shuttlecraft number five. I assume the G is for ground station.” He shook his head. “Not terribly creative, is it?”

“I, um, suppose not, Sir.” The ensign’s eyes moved back and forth as he tried to think of something relevant to say. “I think shuttlecraft are only named if they’re assigned to starships, sir.”

Kirk shook his head at the opening mouth of his first officer. “Well, that hardly seems fair. It's not a big ship on its own, but we might be fishing for something bigger. How does the USS Minnow sound to you?”

“I, um, fine sir, I guess?”

“The logic used to arrive at that name is tenuous at best, Captain, and seemingly necessary.” The Vulcan eyebrow twitched again. “Still, if it is your preference–”

“It is, Mister Spock. So, Ensign Storm, so long as you are satisfied that you and the shuttle both have been properly requisitioned as per Starfleet regulations, you are hereby assigned as gunnery officer on the USS Minnow. My first action as the commander of said ship will be to officially log that temporary transfer to detached duty from the landing field of Starbase 23 until the crisis is resolved or until your services as gunnery officer are no longer required.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me, Ensign.” Maybe a little too much official-ese. “You'll be manning the weapons station for whatever situation it is we’re flying into and I’m going to log it while you and Mr. Spock are seeing how quickly you can burn through the pre-flight checklist. You are completely legitimately and officially following orders.”

Storm straightened again. “Aye, aye, sir.” He palmed the shuttle door controls and the three of them waited for the ramp to descend to let them board their new ship, the USS Minnow.

Chapter 18

Summary:

Sulu boards the Enterprise. Chekov goes Romulan hunting.

Chapter Text

The amount of responsibility suddenly piling up on his young and carefree shoulders was making Riley uncomfortable. Leaning a little towards his open communicator, he flipped two more switches and watched the resulting changes in the readings. Satisfied that there were no more precautions he could take, he nodded twice. “Overrides engaged, commander.” And then his natural distrust of his own abilities reared its ugly head. “Are you sure you trust me to operate the transporter from here?”

“Not the best time for jokes, Mr. Riley.” A charitable interpretation by Lieutenant Commander Sulu. “I'd rather you didn't give me reason to doubt your capabilities at the moment.”

Which was an entirely fair statement, and too close to his own thoughts. “Aye, sir. I have duplicated the transporter controls here in engineering. My view of the pad and all its systems is clear enough that I might be looking through a window instead of being a couple of decks away. You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Sulu.” And it annoyed him that the thought, I hope, came on the end of that. Just carry on, Riley, but temper expectations a little. “According to internal sensors, the Romulans are all still on the bridge, but I'm only allowing power to the areas of the ship we actually want to use so the grid isn’t really complete.”

“Better, and not unreasonable in the current circumstances. We’re coming in force, so as long as the transporter room itself is clear and we can get into the corridor without getting shot, we’ll be fine.”

That was something he should have thought of sooner. “Sir, I completely certify the transporter room to be Romulan free and sealed to outside access.” He moved a few controls. “Providing power to the pickups in the corridor outside the room… it’s clear as far as the cameras can reach.” Which was a relief.

“So, just trying to lighten the mood, were you?”

Sure, let’s go with that. Riley straightened, reminding himself of what Chekov had said to him earlier. The Captain expected more than mere competence. Maybe he was good at this, or good enough that he could convince himself he was at least competent. “That's me, sir. Engineering know-how and comic relief rolled together. I man of many talents. I’ve even been known to sing on occasion.” Where had that come from? In no way did he want to remind anyone of that event.

“No thank you, Lieutenant. We're good.”

Riley found himself grinning. “Have it your own way, sir. Energizing now.”

#

The transporter room faded into view around him and Sulu breathed a sigh of relief he shouldn’t have had to. Lieutenant Riley was clearly under enough stress trying to get an entire starship running almost by himself that it had slipped his mind that other people might be feeling the stress, too, particularly a party beaming aboard to repel the intruders. Sulu hoped the man was relying on the team of techs he had and not trying to do everything himself. He couldn’t remember who’d been on the skeleton roster for today but didn’t have any doubts about anyone on the ship being able to do their job. He also didn’t have any idea if Riley was experienced enough to look at things from that level.

The communicator, still open and still in his hand beeped once to remind him. He lifted it a little higher to speak into. “We are aboard safe and sound, Mr. Riley. I have the transporter room.” The first half of the team, that was.

Riley’s slightly tinny voice came back through the small speaker. “Releasing overrides. You have full manual control.” He paused. “You know, if there are enough of you, I wouldn't mind a couple of extra phasers keeping watch over engineering.”

Which wasn’t actually a bad idea now that someone had brought it up, but Sulu hadn’t planned for that and didn’t want to divide the strength he had more than necessary. Two could play at the humour game, though. “I'm sure if you sing at the Romulans enough, they’ll leave you alone.”

“That seems like specious reasoning, but I'll keep it in mind, Commander.”

“Save it as a last resort, Lieutenant. Sulu out.” He closed the communicator and stepped down off the pad, the last one to do so.

Already at the control console, Lieutenant Castellano looked up. “What was all that about singing, sir?”

Hmm. How to explain that without giving away too much. And was the event still classified? Maybe if he just kept to a few simple details. “Oh, there was an, um, incident on board several of years back. Collapsing planet, gravitationally complex water molecules.” That seemed like he was keeping things safe enough. Skip over the danger and the time travel, maybe. “Well, the short of the matter is that everyone affected was essentially drunk at the same time and it spread by touch. One of the things that happened was Mr. Riley taking over the ship’s communications from engineering and locking the door while singing at us over the intercom. The same song, over and over again, and not very well to be honest. A bit of a running joke at this point, but it's really only funny if you were involved.” That was oversimplifying quite a bit. And let’s not talk about my part in things.

With a shrug and a half frown, Castellano looked down at the board again. “Sounds more dangerous than funny, sir, but I'll take your word for it. Ready to proceed.”

“Honestly, you're better off.” He’d probably be better off, but there was no point in taking it any further. “Let's get the rest of the team on board, shall we? No issues with our transporter?”

Castellano shook her head without looking up. “Same generation controls as on the station. I think I'll be fine.”

He’d been more concerned about power issues considering the current state of the Enterprise. “Not what I meant, Lieutenant, but good. We've got some Romulans we need to make feel unwelcome.”

#

Chekov had finished the run through of the basic checklist from Auxiliary Control. A lot less power than he would have liked and a lot more complicated to pull everything together. He would have appreciated something more in the style of the Nancy Wake’s bridge consoles but wouldn’t dare say that in Mr. Scott’s hearing. The result was worth the effort, though. He had the entire might of the Enterprise, reduced as it was at the moment, at his fingertips, including a particular item that hadn’t been there when he’d started.

Riley beat him to the reaction, however. “I have the primary forward phaser array fully recharged, Pavel.”

Chekov felt himself grinning. “Most appreciated, Mr. Riley, and most welcome. Emergency release of station umbilicals.” He didn’t hear anything, though he felt like he should have, but the indicator light turned green. “Activating thrusters, full reverse.” He wondered… “I'm hoping that means you can give me at least rudimentary shield power as well.” He could almost see Riley’s answering shrug.

“Magnetic containment field at 52% and rising. I’m increasing the reaction strength just behind the field curve. I can give you half shields almost any second and let you keep phasers. Hmm.” A brief pause. “And bring anything else online you might want one system at a time over the next hour. Faster if I stop charging the batteries. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? I could have a very large wish list right now, Mr. Riley, but what I’d really like is for all this to have happened on someone else's watch. Bringing the active sensors online.” Power levels ticked up so that shields became available. “Shields up. Now that we have the security strength to repel the boarders, and the ability to block more, I'd like to focus on flushing out the Romulan ship that provided them the first place while Mr. Sulu does his work.”

“Aye aye, sir. Engineering stands ready to support.”

Thrusters firing to spin the ship so that forward phaser array would face away from the station, Chekov couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “Thank you, Mr. Riley. Let’s find that Romulan vessel.”

Chapter 19

Summary:

Commander Praik makes a decision.

Chapter Text

Praik watched the Enterprise push back from the station and do a quick, for a vessel of its size, spin on the vertical access to point outward. Every moment gave it a wider field of fire available with less of that field taken up by the station itself.

At his station, Talrik straightened and turned to face him. “The Dissipator remains fully charged, commander. We now have a choice of target for a third discharge.”

“I am well aware of that, sub-commander.” He shook his head. It was tempting, but he had no desire to become a target for the most infamous ship in Starfleet. “But I think we have gathered sufficient test data at this point. I would vastly prefer that Starfleet blames the other vessel present for their problems today.”

Talrik’s steep eyebrows pulled down, appearing to narrow his entire face. “I do not understand, commander.”

“We have used the power dissipator twice, and while a third would possibly net us a small amount of additional data, it will now also potentially make us a target. We cannot discount the Enterprise having proper access to sensors and sufficient bandwidth to be able to trace the pulse.”

“Commander, I—”

Praik held up a hand. “We have also seen how quickly a starship engineering crew, however small, may recover from its use and how quickly a Starbase engineering group, large and unwieldy, doesn't. While effective for its basic intent, the Dissipator has limited application, primarily for the disruption of a systemically isolated base. We substantively have what we came for, and I see no reason to risk ourselves further for whatever limited intelligence the Tal Shi’ar might gather by piggybacking onto a legitimate mission. Do you?”

The younger man seemed unwilling to things go easily, though. “If it will bring advantage to the Empire–”

“Would it?” He caught and held Talrik’s eyes. “Your heart stands where it should, but consider all the details, please, sub-commander.” Praik watched his first officer consider options.

The young man’s strong features folded in on themselves a little with the intensity of thought. “If we use the weapon against the station, the Enterprise may detect us. If we use it against the Enterprise, and it seems likely that they will have shared whatever they learned with the engineering crew of the Starbase, it is only a matter of time before it is operational again as well. At this point, the other vessels docked here are unlikely to be terribly far behind.” Talrik smoothed his face and nodded. “Our time to remain hidden is shrinking, regardless. The risk is great for minimal additional rewards.”

“Agreed.” Praik nodded. “And if the crew of the Enterprise has restored power sufficiently to begin maneuvering, they will also be working to rid themselves of the boarding party. The time for the Tal Shi’ar to join the mission effectively was at its inception. The time for them to send boarding parties was in conjunction with the dissipator’s first use, though it seems likely their waiting was out of consideration for the experiment.” A generous thought, and unlikely, though necessary to express aloud. “It still seems to me that their penchant for secrecy has doomed their mission, whatever it is, to irrelevance.” But, in the interests of whatever informers might be on board, he shouldn’t appear so negative. “I wish we had been informed at the outset. It would have been possible to contribute to the success of their objectives.”

“Commander?”

He lifted an eyebrow at his first officer and allowed himself a small smile. The younger man knew exactly what he was doing. “One quarter impulse power, moving us away from the station, sub-commander.” Once farther from the Starbase, they would increase speed, though likely not to warp until they were far enough away that their entrance to it would be likely to go unnoticed.

Talrik tapped his fist to his chest. “I obey, commander.”

Given a year or two of proper guidance and Talrik would be an able commander in his own right. Given perhaps five years of experience, he had the potential to be exceptional.

Chapter 20

Summary:

Sulu and Castellano discuss tactics. Chekov and Riley work on strategy, briefly.

Chapter Text

From deck two, Sulu’s security detail spread out and waited for the engagement plan to develop. Lieutenant Castellano scowled at her tricorder as it fed her detailed readings from the bridge above them. “Still eight life signs, commander. I read them all as Romulan.”

Shaking his head, Sulu frowned at the ceiling. “Why haven't they left the bridge? What are they trying to accomplish?” They might be trying to get some information out of one of the consoles, though that would be difficult with no power flowing to the bridge. How long would the air continue to be breathable with the life support shut off and eight of them using the oxygen? No, not the best question. They could have anticipated environmental issues and brought their own breathing gear. And it didn’t matter anyway. They were still on the bridge. Why were they still on the bridge?

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir.”

“I don’t have any good guesses, Lieutenant.” He shook his head. If nothing else, they should have tried to get off the bridge by now. “And I’m definitely open to better than the bad ones I do have.”

Castellano tucked the tricorder back into the thigh pouch of her suit. She glanced up at the bridge shaking her head. “They may have brought a portable power generator with them, sir. Power up a console or two, strip the information from them, do some detailed scans of what they look like when they’re operational. That sort of thing.”

Sulu considered that for a moment. It would provide a lot more in the way of technological detail than they might get from the limited amount of data actually on the bridge. “It's not a bad possibility, Lieutenant, and it's not something that Mr. Riley can effectively block from engineering.” He thought for a moment. “Although Lieutenant Chekov has all of the functions covered from auxiliary control, unless they suddenly have command override, it's not like they can actually get anything to do more than just power up and display current information, however good their scans.” Which shouldn’t be much beyond normal operations since everything had been powered down for the maintenance inspection.

“No sir, but he’s also not likely to have the attention to stop them from following that path considering he’s running the whole ship by himself.” So she’d felt the ship begin to move, too. “What kind of easily accessible current information is stored on the bridge of a Constitution?”

“Good question, and worth thinking about, I suppose, but I still don't see how it could be worth the risk they’re taking.” He knew that every so often a small ship went missing along the border, despite all the precautions and patrols. The same was the case for Romulan vessels getting just a little too close to the Federation side, although much less frequently due to cloaking technology. And everything was for sale in the Triangle even if the Romulan presence there was discreet.

“We didn't have much contact with the Romulans for a long time, not until the last few years, sir. When I entered the Academy, they were a mysterious, old enemy we hadn’t talked to in a century. A few long-range sensors readings now and then.”

Sulu sighed and nodded. “And now I feel like I'm reading something about Romulan activities almost once a week.” But he thought about the general makeup of border areas again. “I would bet that they have better placed spies for more current information than a console on the Enterprise’s bridge.” But it was still a possibility. Maybe they were leaving things behind rather than taking them. He’d have to remember to make sure there was a detailed inspection of every nook and cranny on the bridge when things were over.

“You’re probably right, sir.” Her frown returned and she looked back up at the ceiling. “So this makes even less sense.”

“It does.” Romulan motivations always seemed to be odd on the surface of things, and by the briefings and reports Sulu had access to, they were usually expected to be multi-layered. “And they’re still on the bridge. Suggestions?”

The grin Castellano turned on him was feral, teeth on display and eyes narrowed. “Frontal assault?”

He didn’t think the preference for a direct attack was that endemic to Security officers. Sulu knew they had significant tactical training even in the Academy. “There is only one turbolift to the bridge. Seems likely they'll have that covered.”

“Probably.” The grin didn’t go away. “So what if we just send up a couple of gas grenades that would go off when the door opens?”

Now that was an idea he could get behind. “Distracting them while we come up through the Jeffries tubes? Not a bad idea.” He started to picture a pincer movement that, so long as it was well timed, would catch the Romulans in overlapping fire. There was some cover on the bridge, but not a lot. They should be able to thin the numbers quite a bit in the initial assault and then turn it into a persistence game.

“Or we could beam in.”

While they had control of the transporter room, Sulu was less keen on that, not least because he’d have to send someone back and that would involve more waiting than he wanted to right now. “Hmm, I thought of that, but it worries me a bit. It takes a few seconds for the transporter beam to do its thing, and whoever beamed in would likely be facing all the Romulan weapons available.” He thought about involving Riley for a little more remote work. “What if we've beam in a piece of random equipment for one distraction, timed to be about five seconds before the turbo lift door opened on your gas grenades, and then came up through the tubes? Too much?”

Castellano appeared to give it some thought. The viciousness slipped away from her face, but the smile itself remained, so she didn’t actively dislike the idea. “Well, Sir, the tighter we can make the timing, the better, but the more moving parts there are, the more possibility of things going wrong.”

“True, but I don't think we’ll do much better in a timely fashion with our current situation or resources.” Three pieces to a plan spread over a few seconds didn’t seem like it would be all that difficult. And if the transporter or turbolift timing was a little off, it shouldn’t affect the overall plan much.

“You're probably right about that, sir.”

“You’re very agreeable, Lieutenant.” He grinned at her, glad she’d been willing to discuss things openly instead of just agreeing with whatever he might have come up with on his own, which probably wouldn’t have included a distraction. “Well, let's get to it then, shall we?”

“Yes, sir.” She turned to split the group into the needed teams.

#

The sensor readings should have had Chekov’s full attention. If there had been more than one person in Auxiliary Control, they probably would have. As things stood, he’d set a number of alarms on various possibilities, but still had to devote attention to the fact that he was also the helm, navigation, weapons, and communications officers all at the same time. At least Mr. Riley was handling the engineering functions. “Where are you, you little Cossack?”

Riley’s voice came from the communications panel he’d forgotten had been left open to make talking to each other quicker and easier in the current situation. “You’re very Russian sometimes, you know that?”

He managed not to pull his eyes from the sensor panel, using his peripheral vision to tap a small course adjustment. “That is usually my joke.”

“If you say so. Either way, the Romulan cloaking device is pretty good. Do you even know what you're looking for?”

“Trace emissions of certain varieties.” He squinted at one readout, but it was a simple fluctuation, well withing normal parameters of background radiation. “No system is perfect. Even if they are only working on passive sensors, there is always something that could be shielded better. If we are looking in the right place at the right time, we will find them.” In the right place, at the right time, on the right wavelength, with enough focused attention. He’d studied the available records extensively, especially those of stored Romulan encounters by the Enterprise. The traces were small, but there was always something that would stand out if you were thorough enough, if you had the time and ability to be thorough enough. Radiation leakage from the system itself was usually the key.

“While that sounds reasonable from an engineering perspective, in terms of nothing being perfect, what you’re doing sounds more like wishful thinking that an actual strategy.”

Chekov found himself grinning. “I'm not saying you're wrong, but unless you have a better idea, which I would be more than willing to hear, it is what I have to work with at the moment.”

There was a long pause. “Well, I could get you the rest of the phaser banks and maybe one salvo of photo torpedoes to go with them in place of full, or any, power to the shields, but I still don't think that we’d have enough power to go with an area denial strategy.”

Chekov took an even longer time to decide that was a joke. “No, Mr. Riley, you are most certainly correct about that. Although the concept is certainly entertaining.” If he could localize the cloaked ship and expend a few dozen photon torpedoes in a few seconds, maybe. “But you are correct, there is not much likelihood of our success. The attempt, however, is giving both of us something to do, and makes me feel better than being a sitting duck attached to a powered-down Starbase. At least, if they decide show themselves, we will be able to put up a defense for that Starbase.” And so far, at least, they were the only ship available to do so. One or two of the others, at least, should have established shielding and the beginning of a reaction by now, though he doubted he would get an update until they established communications. The Enterprise was still on its own. A single charged phaser bank didn’t seem adequate in that light, but it was still better than having absolutely nothing. Why had they waited so long before sending the boarding party and where were they now?

“I won't argue that, I think.”

“So it makes you feel better too then?” Smiling, Chekov shook his head. “I had wondered, for a moment. If—” A shrill alarm went off almost in his ear and the viewscreen on the forward bulkhead shifted its feed source to show him a ship decloaking. “Bozhe Moi! Battle cruiser de-cloaking off the starboard bow! Klingon design!” He immediately started turning the ship as quickly as the compensators would allow to bring his only weapons to bear.

Riley was still connected. “I'm seeing the readings here. That argues very strongly for the last major Enterprise encounter being a new normal, doesn’t it?” A short pause while Riley probably looked at the sensor data in more detail than Chekov had time for now. “Database comparison agrees with a Stormbird classification, but with some variation on the basic model. D7 Battlecruiser converted to Romulan specifications with ninety-seven percent confidence. Although I suppose the cloaking device was giveaway. Are they charging weapons, Pavel?”

Chekov flicked a glance at a different set of sensor readouts. “But of course they are.” He flipped several buttons and opened a new communications channel, taking a deep breath to speak for the ship. “This is… Commander Pavel Chekov, USS Enterprise. Romulan vessel, you are in clear violation of Federation space. Stand down and return to the Neutral Zone immediately.”

Cutting off the external communication, he finished maneuvering to focus his weapons on the cruiser and began working towards a phaser lock. “I would be happy for additional phaser banks, Mr. Riley.”

Riley’s response was almost immediate. “I'm pushing the intermix reaction as hard as I can, ‘Commander.’ The other banks are charging, but it’s still slow going. Shields are closing in on full strength. Remember there's only one of each of us and I’ve only got ten people to do everything on the ship at once.”

“I hadn't forgotten.” But the reminder was a good one. A dozen people doing the jobs of four hundred meant there were an awful lot of jobs not being done and most of the rest got the something less than the minimum needed attention unless they were urgent. “And you should be aware that I appreciate everyone’s effort in keeping the Enterprise in motion. We will do the best we can.”

He flipped the switch to reopen external communications. “Romulan vessel, this is your final warning. Stand down and set course for the Neutral Zone immediately or we will be forced to open fire.”

For an answer, the flash of light against his forward shields was a good one, if not the one he was looking for, and the Enterprise shaking that went with it underscored the Romulan response.

“Have it your own way then.” Chekov cut communications again. Manipulating the controls to get as close to a lock as he could, he returned fire.

Chapter 21

Summary:

Engaging the Romulans in combat, inside the ship and out.

Chapter Text

Inside the freshly-christened USS Minnow, James T. Kirk turned to look at his first officer. He knew his eyes were wide, but at the same time, Kirk wanted to frown. “Did I hear that right, Mr. Spock? Is ‘Commander’ Chekov taking my ship into battle with a crew of 12? Against a Romulan battle cruiser?”

Spock didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “So it would seem.”

Perhaps Kirk should have been no more surprised than the Vulcan considering the situation. He shrugged and decided that the situation warranted the strong stance Chekov was offering. It wasn’t as if he had many options available, after all. The Enterprise was the only active defense in the system at the moment. “Mr. Storm, all power to weapons.”

“Um, yes, Captain. All power to weapons.” The weapons console was small on the shuttle, but Kirk was grateful it had one at all. The shuttles on Enterprise were all unarmed, normal enough. The phasers on a ground station combat shuttle were far more powerful than the largest portable phaser cannon marines used, perhaps equivalent to the main gun in the armour corps, but he’d still classify it as a pea shooter next to cruiser-mounted weapons. “Shields at full strength but…”

Kirk cast a glance over his shoulder. “Yes, Ensign?”

“This is a solid little shuttle, sir, with excellent shielding. Technically—” he cleared his throat—“if you added a warp drive you could class it as a corvette, though we’d need a couple of bodies in the way of engineering crew and a couple of bunks. But we can't take very many hits from starship-level weapons.”

Nodding, Kirk turned back to piloting duties. A corvette without the warp drive, was it? The little ship’s maneuverability certainly suggested performance beyond the standard ship-board shuttle so far. “You're absolutely correct about that, Ensign. But I hope we don't have to.” He hoped they wouldn’t take any. At least, that was the plan. “I strongly suspect that Romulan commander will see us as more annoying than threat. We can’t cause them much damage by comparison, so they won't worry about us until and unless they can disable the Enterprise.”

“Then what's our objective, sir?” The young man’s voice sounded confused.

And that brough another smile to Kirk’s face. “To be as annoying as possible, Ensign. We don't have much chance of inflicting any significant damage on the cruiser, but the Enterprise has a much better one, even underpowered and under-crewed as she is right now. We need to make it harder for the Romulans to aim at their primary target.” And any little bit of power drain the Minnow could manage to the Romulan shields was a good thing. Thinking about power, he pushed their acceleration a little harder and felt a tiny lurch before the compensators dealt with the extra weight they didn’t need. “And, realistically, we probably don't have to destroy that cruiser.” Which unless the Enterprise had a full charge to all weapons, they probably couldn’t, anyway. “We just have to make it more worth their while to retreat than to keep fighting. Whatever their plan is here, I'm sure the commander would rather get home with partially accomplished objectives than not at all.” Although, his direct experience with Romulans didn’t necessarily bear that out.

“Captain, I feel I must point out the possibility of the plasma weapon.”

Count on his XO to temper any overly-good feelings about what was going on. “Certainly an important point, Spock. But the Enterprise's shields, if they’re at full strength, are heavy enough to survive at least one hit. And we’re maneuverable enough to get out of the way of the blast at anything more than point blank range. Anything I’m not considering?” He hoped Spock wouldn’t remind him that the starbase didn’t have any possibility of getting out of the way of a plasma weapon.

As if he’d read Kirk’s mind from where he sat, the Vulcan chose to let things go. “Nothing with significant bearing on the current situation. However, if you will permit me, I will take over all non-flying, non-weapons functions of the shuttle at this point to improve our combat efficiency.”

“I'd like that, Mr. Spock.” Kirk grinned. “Mr. Storm, don't feel like you have to wait for an order to open fire once we’re in range. Weapons free.”

“Yes, sir!”

#

Seconds slid by slowly as Sulu crouched with three Security officers in the Jeffries tube. On the opposite side of the bridge, Castellano would be in position with three more. Since Mr. Riley was a little busy at the moment, he’d sent two officers back to the transporter room and given the remaining two responsibility for the timing on the turbolift. He hated to give up the phasers, but there weren’t a lot of options.

Listening intently, he checked his respirator and waited for the sound of the transporter beam dropping a tool cart beside the Engineering 2 station. When it started to fade, he listened for the soft whoosh of the turbolift doors. A slow count of seven didn’t give him the sound he was looking for, but there were definitely a couple of Romulan shouts.

They’d agreed not to use the communicators to coordinate, trusting to internal clocks, their own ears, and reaction time. Sulu had had enough of waiting for results, though. He nodded to the other members of his team and spun the manual release for the hatch.

“Now!”

Finger already on the stud, Sulu popped up and opened fire, barely waiting to find a target.

#

The ship shook again.

While Enterprise’s shields were holding well so far, Chekov felt the lack of adequate phasers to respond with. The Romulan Stormbird was getting at least twice as many shots in as he could manage, mainly just due to having more weapons available. He swore under his breath and then raised his voice. “Mr. Riley, I could use a great deal more weapons power.” And more individual ways to shoot back would be nice, as well.

“I'm giving you as much as I can, Pavel.” His voice didn’t quite take on a Scottish accent, but the cadence was familiar enough to Chekov. “I'm not looking to break all the safety margins you know.”

If not now, then when? Chekov felt his lips curl in a bit of a snarl and pulled that back to just a jaw clench. A good thing he was the entire bridge crew. “Mr. Riley, I don't particularly care about safety margins at the moment.” His fingers worked to rebalance the shields and present a stronger face to the Romulan vessel even as he tried to maintain the phaser lock and shoot again. “The Romulan battle cruiser probably has 10 people to do each of the jobs I'm balancing right now, and a full engineering crew to back them up, which amounts to at least the same for you. Unless we are about to explode, I'll remind you that we are looking down the throat of a ship that we are outgunned and heavily out-crewed by.” And they hadn’t even revealed whether or not they were carrying any heavy weapons yet. More and more, this was not turning out to be a good day.

“Mr. Chekov, I–”

He interrupted, smacking the panel in front of him as he lost the phaser lock. Nothing for it but to fire by instinct. There was just too much to do. “If you say you can't change the laws of physics, I will be forced to throw you in the brig.” He looked up to see an armed Starfleet shuttle zip between the Enterprise and the Stormbird, smaller phasers reaching out to strike the enemy’s shields and perhaps distracting them for a moment. “Where did that shuttle come from?”

Riley clearly hadn’t seen it, though, and ignored the rhetorical question. “I was just going to say I'm not Commander Scott.”

“No, but you are Lieutenant Riley.” He felt the frustration bubbling up and reminded himself of history and differences in experience. “The fact that you are the only engineer currently on the Enterprise doesn't change the fact that you are qualified and competent, nor that you are the one holding the ship together in our current situation. Break the safety margins, get me more weapons. I would like to return the ship to Captain Kirk in approximately one piece.” Or at least return it.

The ship shook again as Riley somehow waited to respond. Chekov didn’t have a lot of time for his engineer to reach inside and find the courage he needed, but Riley stepped up. A sigh came over the communicator, but it was a short one. “All right, unbuckling the safety harness. Pushing the matter antimatter reaction to 110% of recommended peak strength, and I'll give you 120 if I can. I don't know how long it will last but enjoy the fire hose.”

Chekov wanted to imagine that he felt and heard the surge of power through the ship’s systems. Riley certainly must, standing right next to the warp core. He watched the readings go up on the other phaser banks, rising quickly towards providing him the entire array, at least for as many shots as Riley could maintain the reaction at that level and still give him power for shields, sensors, and impulse drive. “I will take whatever I can get. Thank you.”

In only a few seconds, several parts of his boards had brightened to full capacity, and he grinned. Let the Romulans take note. Commander Chekov had them in his sights. In moments, he had all three phaser banks firing. Their shields remained strong, but he’d certainly caused more damage to them than he’d been able to do so far. “Someone to reload the torpedo tubes right now would be very nice.” After the initial salvo, there hadn’t been much he could do about that.

“I’ll just run down the hall, shall I?”

“I didn’t mean—” The ship rocked again and Chekov fought to keep the Enterprise level for his next firing solution. Beside him, a light on the small communications portion of his panel began blinking urgently. He clicked the button beneath it and opened his mouth for a query, but the person on the other end beat him to it.

“This is Captain Quintana Schmidt of the USS Magellan hailing USS Enterprise. Do you require assistance?”

“Ha! Chekov, Enterprise. You are most welcome Captain Schmidt. If you would kindly direct your weapons towards the Romulan battle cruiser troubling us, we would be most appreciative.”

Did he imagine the grin in Schmidt’s voice? “We’ll be in firing range in fifteen seconds, Mr. Chekov. Hopefully, we can make this an unpalatable situation for the Romulans.”

He had no idea what class the Magellan was or what armaments she might carry, and no time for a scan, but it didn’t matter. Chekov now had some desperately needed assistance and the Romulan ship now had to divide its attention further. Between them, this situation could possibly be changed favourably. “A wonderful goal, Captain.”

Chapter 22

Summary:

And now, the plasma weapon.

Chapter Text

Kirk didn’t fight the urge to grin. “Well, our own tiny, overheated phaser banks aside, an under-crewed cruiser and a fresh off the production line scout should be enough to discourage that battle cruiser, don't you think?”

“Perhaps, Captain.” The Vulcan’s voice was always hard to read for emotional content, but Kirk could clearly see him scowling at the sensor board. “The readings I'm getting suggest their plasma weapon remains fully charged however, and – evasive action!”

Not needing to be told twice, Kirk pulled back and to the left on the control yoke and then shoved straight down. At the same time, a sliding control let him push the engine capability past the recommended maximum, overwhelming the inertial compensators for several seconds and shoving him back in his seat, hard.

But the Minnow was small and agile, and it didn’t take long to get out of the field of fire. “We’re out of the way, but the station?”

“Is still unable to maneuver.”

Kirk felt both his eyebrows go up, even knowing his First Officer didn’t intend the observation as a joke. It was the worst possible option for the defenders, and so it had been an easy go-to for the Romulan commander. He hated things he couldn’t do anything about. Where was the winning gambit in this scenario? He didn’t have much time to find it.

Spock’s hands worked independently on two widely-space parts of the controls in front of him. “Opening a frequency. Attention all Federation personnel and vessels. This is Commander Spock of the USS Enterprise. A photon torpedo detonated at the edge of the plasma envelope has a significant chance of pre-detonating the plasma ball before impact.”

“Schmidt, Magellan. Unfortunately, commander, photon torpedoes are not part of our armament.”

Chekov’s voice came almost on its heels. “Commander Spock, it is very good to hear your voice. I only wish – stand by!”

The channel cut off and Kirk looked over at his first officer. “Stand by?”

Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

#

Chekov flipped the open channel closed and stared at the speaker, not quite wrapping his mind around Riley’s last statement. “Repeat!”

The engineer shouted back, adrenal gland in clearly overdrive. “I said you've got one in the tube, Pavel! Take the shot!”

How Riley had managed it didn’t matter. He’d given the station a chance. Chekov had spent long minutes with too much to do, too much to watch. It had been one thing to pilot the ship slowly through empty space while devoting much of his attention to sensors, it was another again to pay attention to everything while exchanging fire with another cruiser.

Now, Chekov paid only the barest attention to those same sensors, to all the ship’s systems but one. There wasn’t time to calculate a precise trajectory. He had to take his best guess and get as close as he could. “Targeting… and… torpedo away! I hope we're not too close for your shields, Mr. Riley.” Or the station’s lack of them. His finger poised over the switch that would send a remote detonation signal. Just get close to the edge of the envelope, Pavel. “Impact in two, one—”

He jammed the switch down, certain he felt it give under the pressure and the screen, focused on the plasma ball, bathed auxiliary control in brilliant white light for a moment before the dimmer circuit cut in to save his eyes. The shockwave came a heartbeat later, part of its energy turned by the ship’s outer hull into a grumbling roar through the corridors and heard all the way into the most sheltered part of the Enterprise, where he sat.

Internal gravity kept him in mostly in his seat as the wave passed and clutching one arm of his seat held the rest of him down. All the while, he kept his gaze on the most important readout. “Shields at… two percent. Well, it will do, I suppose.” He shifted his eyes back to the sensor readouts to find the battle cruiser had cloaked again, likely running for home. That would do, too, he thought.

He shifted power from two of the phaser banks to channel back into the shields, though, just in case. He could always switch them back if the Romulan should reappear.

Chapter 23

Summary:

It's nice when a denouement wraps things up.

Chapter Text

“Hangar doors sealed, pressurization complete. We may exit the shuttlecraft at will, Captain.”

Kirk stood up from the pilot’s seat and stretched. He tilted his head to one side and then the other, but nothing shifted enough to crack. “Thank you, Mr. Spock.” He took a couple of steps towards the exit. “Open the hatch, if you please.”

“Acknowledged.”

The upper hatch door began to rise before Kirk could take another step and he only had to wait a few seconds for the ramp to begin its descent as well. From somewhere outside the shuttle, a familiar boatswain's whistle echoed in the landing bay and an almost as familiar accented voice called out. “Ahoy, the shuttle.”

He caught sight of the gold uniform almost without looking, about half-way between the shuttle’s open hatch and the main doors to the landing bay. “Permission to come aboard, ‘Commander’ Chekov?”

Even from a distance, he could see Chekov’s pale face flush. “Ah, you heard that, did you, sir? I didn't mean–”

Staying at the top of the ramp, Kirk shook his head and held up a hand with the palm facing out. “You were hoping that the Romulans might take a Commander little more seriously than a Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man exhaled. Kirk thought it a good gambit but estimated the chances of the Romulans actually listening rather lower than he suspected Chekov had. “That was it exactly. It was not my intention to overstep.”

“Of course not. It was a good try, but the Romulans weren’t in a listening mood. At least, not to words.” They weren’t usually, he’d found. Although there had been that one time. He took another step forward down the ramp, but only one. “Permission to come aboard?”

The flush returned. “Of course, Captain. Permission most joyfully granted. I hadn't thought… please, it is your ship after all.”

Grinning, Kirk pointed at the deck. “Yes, but until my foot hits the deck plates, you're in command.”

“Perhaps, Captain, but the sooner you take that step, the better.” The young man was maturing quickly, but also wasn’t afraid to yield the floor, or in this case the deck, to someone he knew was more qualified.

Kirk wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet. “You’re sure?” He chuckled. “I would be perfectly happy to finish my shore leave, Lieutenant.”

“And I would be equally happy to start mine, sir.” Chekov grinned back. “But I believe I still have some hours left before Mr. DeSalle is scheduled to relieve me.”

Kirk hoped the young man might be able to spend some of that time asleep. It had been a busy day. “Be that as it may, it might take a little longer than that for you to complete the after-action reports.”

“It might at that, sir.

He took the step onto the deck, onto his ship. “Can I hope that my ship is more or less in one piece, Lieutenant?”

Chekov’s hands tilted, both of them outwards. “More or less, sir. A few modifications may have been required in the heat of the moment. Mr. Riley does a remarkable impression of Mr. Scott grumbling about repairs.”

“His on the job training is proceeding nicely then?”

“It would seem so, Captain.”

A gentle footstep hit the deck beside Kirk’s and Spock stepped into his peripheral vision. Looking back over his shoulder, Kirk found his erstwhile weapons officer peaking out the hatch. “You’re welcome to come aboard too, Mr. Storm. I’m sure we can find a way to get you back to your previous post quickly enough.” Although, he strongly suspected the young Security Ensign would prefer to wait until someone had the opportunity to review the ad hoc verbal requisition Kirk had put in, quoting the regulations provided by his first officer, while the Minnow had burned for orbit.

#

Internal lighting seemed to be back on, which meant Commander Glock must have some power flowing from the primary reactor, at least. The outer chamber to Admiral Litchfield’s office was empty, and Lieutenant Castellano had taken the position up Sulu had originally found her in. Had that only been this morning? He’d been thinking about lunch at the time. Castellano smiled and nodded as he passed by.

The door to the Admiral’s actual office was closed but slid open at his approach. Better lit, but otherwise the space seemed much like he’d last seen it, with various communicators, tricorders, and pads spread across the desk surface. Litchfield herself didn’t look to be in a much better mood than just before he’d beamed aboard the Enterprise, but he suspected that was likely the normal state of affairs. She looked up at the open door and raised her eyebrows at him. “You’re still here, Commander? Wasn't the Magellan the ship you were waiting for?”

And a chance to catch up with an Academy room mate. “Yes it was, ma'am, but I thought I might officially return your security team first.”

Litchfield snorted. “That’s considerate of you.” The eyebrows lowered. “I have to admit, I did hope for some prisoners.”

So had he. While it was unlikely he would have had anything to do with the resulting debriefings, it would have been comforting to know that someone might learn what everything had been about. “I'm sorry, ma'am. We did manage to stun half of the Romulans on the Enterprise’s bridge but when the exterior battle appeared to not be going their way, they beamed the entire group out.”

“Taking advantage of the confusion created by the discharge of their plasma weapon so close to the station.” She reached out and tapped one of the tricorders. “The Enterprise may have come through the blast unscathed, but her shields at least flickered for a moment and the Romulans were waiting for it.” Shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I hate to think what might have happened if your Mr. Chekov had been just a little bit slower with that torpedo.”

Or if Riley hadn’t somehow managed to get one torpedo loaded. While he suspected he wasn’t the only one, Sulu would have to look into that to see who needed a complimentary note to file. He was already planning the same for the crew he’d led in the boarding action. “I don't think we would be having this conversation, Admiral.”

“No doubt. I hope you don't mind the presumption of my putting a small note in your file. It will be suitably complimentary.”

Surprised at the echo of his own thoughts, Sulu shook his head. “While I appreciate the thought, ma'am, it's not necessary. I'm a Starfleet officer. I was just doing my job.”

“Actually, Commander, your job was to be on shore leave somewhere on the planet until the recall order was issued, at which point it was to wait for transportation back up to your ship to get it running again.” She snorted. “Not that much came out of that for most of the officers and crew stuck on the surface. My ground station doesn’t appear to be as organized as I’d hoped. A general recall was probably not the best idea.” Litchfield shook her head. “No, commander. You were in the right place at the right time, and you stepped up.”

“Like I said, ma'am, doing my job.” He just always wanted to be good at it.

Litchfield frowned a little. “Yes, well. Since I'm sure I'll get a communications request from Captain Kirk if I don't release you soon, it’s been a pleasure, commander.” She stood and reached a hand across the desk, and he didn’t hesitate before taking it.

“Thank you, ma'am. The same.” He did wonder how Commander Glock would fare the next few days. Lieutenant Castellano should have something nice to go in her jacket, though. She’d helped him immensely in pulling things off. He’d make sure of that, too.

“Dismissed. Go meet the Magellan, or report to Captain Kirk, or whatever. Since you're not technically my responsibility anymore, I don't have to worry about it. But when you do catch up with your Captain, perhaps he'll let you return the shuttle he borrowed.”

Sulu hesitated on his way to the door, feeling the frown on his own face. “Shuttle, ma'am?”

“You'll find out soon enough, commander.” Grinning, she waved him on.

#

It was a quiet little bar with a lovely patio set high enough off the ground that the valley at the city’s edge could be seen fading into the foothills of the mountains. Chekov raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of something that was almost, but not quite, vodka. More to the point, it wasn’t synthesized which made it easier for him to enjoy the flavour for what it was. He did wonder why so many missions seemed to end in a bar lately, but at least he wasn’t toasting any new absent friends this time.

He looked over at his drinking partner and smiled. “Why the long face, Kevin? There may still be reports to write—” and more than a few— “but we’ve been given a little time to relax first. The day is saved, the Romulans defeated, and there are commendations all around. What can you possibly have to be so gloomy about?”

Staring into his own drink, something mixed that Chekov hadn’t caught the name of, Riley shook his head. “Have you ever heard the expression that the reward for good work is more work?”

“Heard of it?” Chekov lifted his glass as if in toast. “I almost invented it. It is an old Russian saying.”

“Of course it is.” Riley looked up, but not before rolling his eyes. “It's also very directly applicable to my long face, as you eloquently put it.”

Another sip. The caraway taste was beginning to grow on him. “How so?”

Riley sighed and took a big gulp. “Well, after he got done being upset with me for the state I had the engine room in when he came back, Mr. Scott was very complimentary about my ad hoc shielding against the power draining weapon the Romulans used against us.” He sighed again, holding the glass so he could see it was only a quarter full. “So much so that he asked me to draw up plans for a full installation of a stable model.”

“That still seems to be good news.” He tilted his glass towards his friend and had a quick sip.

“You would think.”

“But you don’t.”

“Of course not.” The semi-straight back slumped. “The design will be followed by the installation, which is probably going to be ten times as much work as we put in over the course of this crisis, so that it blends in properly with existing equipment and doesn’t get in anyone’s way.” Another sigh. “And then there'll be all the documentation and writeups for whatever technical journal Mr. Scott feels like it needs to go to, the Starfleet tech files if nothing else, and there will be something else. Probably several something elses.” He sighed again.

Chekov shrugged. “Well, perhaps they’ll name it after you.”

Perking up a bit, Riley started to lift one side of his mouth. “You think? Hmm. Riley Shielding.”

“Why not?” Chekov lifted his glass and held it over the middle of the table. “Cheers?”

Riley grinned. “Sure, cheers.” Reaching out with his own glass, Riley clinked it to Chekov’s and they both drank.

 

 

END

Notes:

Shore Leave Interrupted takes place near the end of the original 5-year mission and is an ensemble cast adventure, though doesn't involve quite everyone.

As always, Star Trek and all associated names and trademarks remain the property of CBS Paramount. This is a work of fan fiction and no infringement is intended.