Chapter Seven is now up.
Chapter Eight will be the end of this story, and will have the poll and bibliography attached.
Enjoy!
Chapter Seven
Chief Joshua Johnson and Crewman 1st class Isaiah Washington was a crew in a crew on Valiant. Chief Johnson actually led the construction crew that put in the new transporter system on Valiant, and he took the young and mechanically minded volunteer under his wing. Together they could troubleshoot and repair the system in minutes, and since Valiant launched they constantly won fleet-wide fitness tests on transporter efficiency and safety. They were the best of the best in Starfleet.
Transporter Room One was their station, and they got the job of beaming out the beings in trouble on “that little ship out there.” Washington had the job of locking the targeting system in, Johnson was the emitter controller. Or, as the lower decks called them, Johnson was “Catch”, Washington was “Pitch.”
As Le Bourget’s shields failed, “Pitch” got a lock even before Captain Louis ordered the transporter to lock. His hands always seemed to know where the target was, and he could hold it like the transporter had glue on it. “Locked” was all he usually needed to say.
“Catch” had just as good a gift; picking the best molecular beam frequency for an environment, then manipulating the hardware to get the maximum beam strength possible. This was not an easy trick; even in open space (as compared to planetary environments) there were varying differences in beam characteristics which would get different results. Of course the biggest difference was between cargo, and “live cargo” on any transporter use.
From the moment the crew was warned about two ships and a possible rescue Catch was looking over the environment. When he heard “lock heavy” from Pitch, he called “energize”, and ramped up the power on the board to its maximum published rating. Because Valiant had twice the number of emitters for the system than a standard transporter system, Pitch and Catch could handle larger loads.
Pitch immediately moved from his targeting station to the rematerialization station, to monitor the software process needed to put people back together. His next word to Catch was “clear”, meaning the software had made complete pickups and rebuilds of the target. Catch responded “Go”, and hit the toggle on his side of the board to finish the process.
In a matter of seconds, Pitch and Catch had brought eight suited human beings onto the transporter nodes, all in one piece, a job well done. After the usual hesitation, the eight were free to move. Only this time, the group dragged a person off the pad, and one popped his suit immediately (a violation of standard protocol) and shouted “Two more Pitch!!” Pitch and Catch both looked up: Chief Ostihal usually did not have much emotion in his voice. When they looked at his face, and two fingers in the air, words were not needed.
Pitch immediately brought the target program back up. He swore to himself; the target was moving in a non-linear direction, which meant he had to guess a direction, then try to find targets, then lock. Both he and Catch noted the environment had changed, that usually meant some kind of violent event was happening, making any type of beaming a dicey proposition, if it was possible at all.
The targeting computer suggested the target ship’s course as not moving away from Valiant, but time had run out already for more than one try. Pitch tracked the system up 20 degrees left, and yelled: “GOT IT!”
Then he found 2 targets: “LOCK CHIEF!”
Catch heard his call, but he has already made his decisions: He jacked up the power of the beam emitter to 108% of capacity, ran the beam through every emitter he had, and prayed he did not blow the system out, or worse.
Captain Louis waited for the report from Chief Johnson before directing the start of salvage operations. One minute was not going to change anything. Then he heard “two more Pitch”, and sprinted to the turbolift doors. Immediately the doors opened, closed, and six people on the bridge looked on in wonder. Captain Louis had jumped the safety rail from his bridge chair to the upper deck to get to the lift. Science officer Elion was now conning the ship, and simply said: “Show off.” Then turning to his sensor hood: “Secure from Action Stations. Ensign Rocca, course 300, mark 122 one-quarter impulse. Ensign Robart, come to the bridge on the double.”
“Energize.”
The various software systems on the transporter began their work, and two sets of eyes met each other. “No choice Pitch, I assume there was an explosion of one ship out there. The beam path is a mess.” He toggled his communicator on the transport control station, “Medics to Transporter Room One.” The quick-response team would be there in a moment, CMO Bort Vermeille would be waiting until he was needed, usually in Sick Bay.
Seven other sets of eyes looked helplessly at Pitch and Catch, not even wasting time getting out of their suits. Captain Louis joined them, somewhere within 32 seconds after he heard the call. He stayed out of the way this time, he liked to be behind the console during beaming, but this time he understood his place was not over the shoulders of Pitch and Catch. So did the med techs as they picked up a still unconscious crewman Southerby. The gurney carried him out, with two techs taking him to Sick Bay. One tech stayed for the next beam-in.
Pitch continued to stare at Catch for something that seemed like a day; he then moved his eyes to stare at the rematerialization monitor. Pitch trusted his superior, and closest friend in the world, totally. He would jump off a bridge with him if he was asked. Their working relationship was close too, and only he, Catch, and the transporter designers knew the risk Catch took.
Catch had violated multiple safety protocols by using such high power levels in the beam, and all the emitters he controlled. The bottom line was this; all the research showed that in 73.8% of all completed transports with this power level and hardware usage, it was better to let the people die before beaming.
Catch did not see it that way; Joshua Johnson was still one of these so-called “luddites” who believed in God. This time he was asking for that God to perform a miracle.
“Beam closed” said Catch. They got all the material they were going to get.
“No joy, Chief. Reload.” That was Pitch.
“Energize.”
Almost half a minute went by…. “No Joy, Chief. Reload. Request Logic A”
“Logic A, energize.” Logic A used different software parameters to complete a rematerialization. The odds were now 82.1% bad.
“No joy Chief. Reload. Request Logic B”
Now it was time for Catch to stare at Pitch. Logic B had never been tried on living beings, of any type. Logic A must have totally failed, and Pitch decided there was no sense trying it again.
“Request Logic B.”
The time was also short; the living material in the pattern buffer would not last much longer. This was it, and Catch agreed with the call.
“Logic B, energize.”
5 seconds.
10 seconds.
15 seconds. Pitch figured there’s not much more than 10 more seconds left.
“CLEAR!!!!”
Catch pushed the toggle, and looked up.
Logic B rematerialized its “packages” one at a time. The first package was a human female, standing up and bent over at the waist. Captain Louis ran over with the med tech to Lisa Gerrard.
“Ensign?”
“Yes sir.” They dragged her off the platform.
Package #2 materialized in a sitting position, with some kind of bag in its lap. The problem with that beam-in position was that no chair came with it.
Mack King believed in life after death; heaven, if you will. Last thing he knew, he was looking at the tactical monitor of Le Bourget, saying goodbye to Lisa. Next thing he knew he landed with a bump on his rear end, with an aching shoulder, looking up at the top of a transporter pad and his feet in the air.
“Bullford!”
He then heard a voice with no face: “Well, well, if it is not Lt. Mack King of the USS Enterprise.”
A head and hand looked down at him. “Lt. King, why is it every time I see you, you are making a mess of a valuable piece of Starfleet equipment?”
“I try to be consistent, sir.”
That is when he first heard the cheers. As Captain Louis helped him to his feet, he saw his passengers and two transporter techs yelling like babies in a nursery. A Med tech and Lisa Gerrard moved over to him.
“Sir, request permission to come aboard?”
“Granted, Lieutenant. You look like Hell.”
“My shoulder feels that way. But first sir, I have to report we discovered a Class M planet probably contaminated by that pirate ship.”
“We will get there, Mack, after we clean up the local mess. Now Ensign Gerrard will escort you to our CMO, who will no doubt do something nasty to you. I will want to hear from you later.”
“Ay, sir, and thank you sir, for saving us.”
“Thank you Lieutenant, for the chance.”
The med tech rounded up the rest of the Le Bourget’s passengers, and herded them off to Sick Bay. Lisa and Mack came up the rear, and slowly fell behind. The tech turned around, and Mack sent him along. He would get there soon enough, and it was not like he was going to avoid a physician in his state.
“How bad do you hurt Mack?”
“Pretty bad, Lisa.”
“Then I will keep it short.”
She wrapped one arm around his waist, gently pulling his head to her with the other and kissed Mach King like he had never been kissed before. Mack did his best to reply in kind. As she broke it off, she whispered in his ear, “more later”. Mack was suddenly hoping for sooner rather than later.
Bort Vermeille ran the med scanner over Lisa Gerrard, simply smiled and said “Grade one concussion, Ensign.” Getting a hypospray out, he dialed up a dose of something, injected it in her arm, and then called his chief nurse over.
“Ensign, in about 2 minutes from now you will collapse in your quarters and sleep until you are better, see me when you wake up. Nurse Jones will take you to quarters, go.”
Her eyes met Mack’s and then she was gone.
“Now you are a rather different case. You have a grade 2 A/C separation and two different dislocations in that shoulder. Did you go out and ram that ship yourself?”
“No Doctor, but I was about to.”
“Well, thank goodness you had the common sense to stay inside. I shudder to think about what else I would need to fix. You have two options son. I can fix you up awake, or asleep. Tell me your choice.”
“Don’t let me oversleep my alarm, doctor.”
As Mack reclined on the medical bed, Dr. Vermeille got a hypospray out, fixed up a sterile field over Mack’s upper torso, and said “Pleasant dreams, Lieutenant.”
The chronometer on the wall had only moved two hours or so when Mack woke up again, his arm in an old-fashioned sling, and a bone regenerator attacked to his shoulder. Dr. Vermeille helped him to his feet and steadied Mack as he got his bearings. At least the pain was gone. The Valiant CMO released his patient’s arm, and listed the orders:
“Lieutenant, you are to wear the stimulator for 24 hours, and then you will be as good as new. No heavy work for a couple days after the pack comes off, and the Captain would like to see you on the Bridge. And finally, no romancing my other patients until they see me first.”
“You are tougher than Dr. McCoy, sir,” Mack said with a grin. “Was it that obvious?”
“As obvious as a Vulcan at a Denobulan birthday party.”
“I will be more discreet, sir. Thank you.”
“Don’t trip over anything as you walk Lieutenant.”
Exiting the turbolift on Valiant’s bridge, Mack was awestruck by the beautiful ocean blue and white clouds of an obvious Class M world. He stood in the entrance as he heard the science officer report: “…population is in the realm of 5-7 billion people, and their industrial level is just below that which is sufficient for long-term space flight. According to the models, this planet’s people will be out of their system in 70 to 75 years, depending on the damage the Hesperus did.”
Stepping down to the captain’s chair: “Lieutenant King reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Welcome Mack. It is a beautiful world, isn’t it?”
“No doubt there sir. I think there is nothing more beautiful in the entire universe than a newly discovered Class M world.”
Captain Louis nodded his head and stared at his visitor with eyes like Jim Kirk. “No doubt indeed.”
“Captain, I take it that you don’t know if there was contamination?”
Commander Elion spoke up: “Sadly, Captain and Lieutenant, there was. We found most of the computer memory of the Hesperus. She had beamed aboard samples of most of the terrestrial life on the planet, including two ‘samples’ of the main sentient species. The ‘samples’ did not make out alive, of course, and they were beings of some note on the planet. They disappeared during a public function, which is exactly the way a group of slavers would try to show their dominance of the locals.”
Chief El-Barodi cut in from Communications” Sirs, I can also confirm Commander Elion. The public broadcast bands seem to be just normal types of communications. But once we cracked their military communications, we found there is some real panic going on. The beaming by the other ship spooked the beings on the planet.”
“So Mack, you not only saved your crew, you saved a planet. And as a side benefit you cleaned out the vermin of another small corner of the Federation. I for one am glad that we have no one left for trial on Starbase 62, but I will hope neither Commodore Iveco nor anyone at Command hear about such things on this bridge coming from me.”
Your secret’s safe with me, thought Mack.
“You have one last job right now Lieutenant. Tradition dictates that the commander of a mission that finds a new Class M world has the honor to name the system. Since for better or worse, it was Le Bourget under your command that stumbled on this new find, it is your call.”
“Well, sir, it was not I who first saw it. Ensign Gerrard was running the sensors when she found the system. She discovered the planet after we got into the system. Since it was her doing, I request we call it Gerrard sir.”
“Captain, the Library computer reports there is no such named system in the catalogue.”
Well then, I will register the name at Starbase 62, and they will forward it on to the Federation Geophysical Union for approval. An interesting choice, Lieutenant, may I ask why?”
“Well sir, as one of my Academy instructors constantly reminded me, ‘Excellent results deserve recognition.’ Ensign Gerrard was out of her area of expertise, I believe, and did wonderful work in a tight spot. Her conduct deserves a commendation, and as her commanding officer in the mission, this is all I can offer to her.”
“Good call Lieutenant. Not what I expected, but good call. ”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now that our business is done here, I want to hear your report in my ready room at 2100. You will be glad to know we brought in Le Bourget, or what is left of her, and she is on the Hanger Deck. We also have its records of your trip in tact, and we are going through an analysis now. I am looking forward to this debrief Lieutenant. My yeoman will be waiting to escort you to quarters on Deck 3 when you get off the lift.
“See you at 2100 hours sir.”
‘I am looking forward to this debrief Lieutenant.’ As Mack got to the bridge lift doors, that sentence shot off alerts in his head like a D7 on a ship’s sensors. Junior officers learn early in their careers that trips to see the Captain in private are not social calls. And this captain knows only that anytime he sees Mack King there is a mile of trouble behind him. Since it was a short trip on the lift to deck 3, he realized he could worry about it later. First, the Yeoman.
“This way, sir. I hope you find these quarters adequate, we are overstaffed at the moment with all the extra people on board.”
“It will be fine, I’m sure.” Even Mack saw the cynicism dripping off the yeoman, always a good sign.
The yeoman stopped in front of the VIP suite. Smiling, he said: “You are the first occupant, so let us know what needs repaired. We have had to fix the rest of the ship at least once. I also placed your folio in these quarters on the desk. Call me anytime you need something.”
After Mack reattached his jaw that dropped on the floor, he stopped the yeoman. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Shoot sir.”
“First, where is the Captain’s ready room?”
“Currently, most people call it his office, 5 doors down to the left from here.”
“Who is the Chief of the Boat, and where can he be found?”
“He is off shift right now, so he is probably holding court in the Deck Seven crew lounge. But it is not officers’ territory.”
“I’ll take my chances, yeoman.”
“Lastly, can you get me a new duty uniform? I must smell so bad I am surprised I have not been put in quarantine.”
“Well sir, that is, ah, not necessary. You have been cleaned and pressed already.”
“Yeoman?”
“Well, sir, it goes like this. Dr. Vermeille has a very acute olfactory sense. Because of that, he has been working on some new ideas for caring for the “needs” of his patients, and his nose. He had just finished his latest invention, and he needed to test it on someone.”
“So he chose me as his first test subject?”
“Ah, yessir.” The yeoman started speaking faster, as if he was uncomfortable. “You were the first non-crew member in his Sick Bay since he finished the cleaner, and he figured if he messed up the experiment, Dr. McCoy could fix you up on Enterprise. He called me down to Sick Bay, gave me your uniform and asked me to clean and fix it up.”
“Did he say anything about his experiment when you brought my uniform back?”
“No, not really, though I did hear him say ‘… that if he starts itching in the next 24 hours, I will know we had the chemical level too high.’ He also had a strange name for his cleaner. Do you know what a ‘car wash’ is, sir? ”
Oh Lord, no.
“Not really yeoman. But if you look it up, the library computer will tell you.”
“I’ll do that, sir. Do you need anything else?”
“No yeoman, thank you very much.”
“Have a good rest sir.”
