I said I'd be submitting a story for the contest under the theme of "One Last Mission", so here it is. Based on an idea from @Sgt_G, it sees a few familiar faces on a special ops assignment in the midst of the Dominion War (near the end of 2374). It clocks in at just under 10,000 words, so I've managed to stick to my own limits. As mentioned previously, I fancied submitting a story but won't be putting it forward for voting, as I don't think I can stand the pressure of having to think of another topic (at least not with Christmas on the horizon and all I've got to do between now and then).
Enjoy!
* * * * *
“Over the last month, nearly every cloaked ship along the front lines in sector 43327 has been attacked by Dominion forces,” stated Commander Grey, who stood at the large display screen before the assembled flag officers from Starfleet, the Klingon Defence Force and Romulan Imperial Navy. In the group, he noticed a couple of the foreign officials nod whilst one Romulan admiral’s brow pinched as she scowled at him, no doubt wondering just how he’d come to know that fact. The Romulans had only been fighting alongside the Federation and Klingons for three months, so there was still a great deal of animosity between the three great powers—not something that would fade quickly even with a common foe.
“The information we’ve been able to extrapolate is that the Dominion are utilising some new sensor array that can penetrate cloaking fields, something based on the anti-proton scan they’ve previously used, but we have no data on just what that new sensor is or how to combat it.”
“That means all our ships are vulnerable!” blurted out General Kjagah.
Just like all of Starfleet’s ships, Grey thought though kept it to himself. “Yes General,” he said aloud. “There was no sign of data recorders amid the debris of the ships lost, so we cannot begin to analyse what their own sensors may have registered prior to the attack. But one think we are sure of is that the attacks are being carried out solely by Jem’Hadar vessels, so whatever this technology is it is clearly very new and not something the Dominion is keen to share with the Cardassians.”
“How does that help us?” asked Admiral Tal’Aarn, the Romulan whose scowl deepened the longer the briefing continued.
“Because we can narrow down the facility it was designed at to one outpost, the solitary Dominion-only facility in all of Cardassian territory.” He tapped a panel on his PADD that zoomed the display into one star system, four light-years away from the front. “Charos II.”
He noted some within the room shuffle or lean forward. “Ever since the Dominion arrived in Cardassian space, they took control of the small facility there and fortified the system, turning away all non-Dominion ships. Intel has been monitoring high-energy output, as well as several other unusual signals and emissions coming from that base, unlike anything else we’ve seen. It is also the closest facility to where most of the cloaked ships have been lost.”
“To punch through those defences we’d need a fleet of at least two hundred ships, but they’d need to travel through Dominion-controlled space for days before they even reached their target,” pointed out Admiral Toddman.
“That is correct, sir,” Grey admitted.
The briefing had been the easiest part. What came next, the plan proposed by Starfleet Intelligence and given the approval by Fleet Admiral Nechayev to put before the joint military command council, was where things would get more difficult.
“Our proposal is to send in one ship to destroy the outpost.”
“One ship!”
“Preposterous!”
Grey knew that wouldn’t go down well, but it was their only option. He waited for the outbursts and proclamations from the admirals and generals to quiet down before he continued. He tapped another control on his PADD and brought up the schematics for a single Klingon Bird-of-Prey, which refocused all of their attention.
“Two weeks ago, a cloaked Klingon troop transport near the Engotti System was attacked by the Jem’Hadar. This transport was assigned a single escort ship, the I.K.S. Grok, an old D10-Class vessel which has been largely retired from service but some have been drafted back in for the war effort. A Starfleet long-range sensor array was just able to pick up on the attack, which shows that the Jem’Hadar, rather than target the escort, went straight for the transport. It was only when the Grok decloacked that the Jem’Hadar seemed to notice them. Unfortunately, both ships were lost in the battle and no emergency broadcasts or signals were sent out.”
“What is different about the Grok that the Dominion didn’t detect it?” enquired Kjagah.
“We believe it was her age. Like all other technology cloaks develop over time, especially as the ships they need to conceal get larger and more powerful. The D10 Bird-of-Prey was developed in the late 2280s and was retired by the 2330s, and the Grok was built in 2292. When she was reactivated her cloak remained untouched and this could’ve been what kept her from being detected.”
“A Bird-of-Prey doesn’t have the firepower to take out a station like that on its own,” pointed out Tal’Aarn, clearly reviled at the thought of having to trust the Klingons with the fate of Romulan ships.
“You’re right, it’s not. Nor can we transfer the cloak from a D10 into a newer ship, because it won’t be powerful enough to hide them. We need an older cloak and an older ship in order to pull this mission off.”
Toddman leaned forward. “I’m guessing you’ve got both, or you wouldn’t be standing here right now, Commander.”
“We do, Admiral,” he replied, tapping his PADD for the last time and bringing up a split screen. On the left side was the image of a cloaking device that had been ‘secured’ from a Romulan battlecruiser by an undercover Starfleet operation over a century ago, which now stood in a classified Intel vault. On the right was the image of a Saladin-Class destroyer from the same era, securely berth at the Starfleet museum, though the single-nacelle ship had played a key role in events of the time her legacy was overlooked by modern day tourists now however, the fate of the Allied Forces now rested upon her weary shoulders.
* * * * *
The marina, filled with pleasure craft and yachts of all shapes and sizes, was quiet. Since Captain Solin Rixx had arrived at the seafront location at South Queensferry just outside Edinburgh, he hadn’t seen another living sole aside from the man he’d come to meet who was tending to his boat. That wasn’t surprising, given that the Federation was engaged in all-out war many on Earth might not have felt up to sailing.
Rixx himself had never engaged in the recreational activity and couldn’t see himself trying it anytime soon, but this was where he needed to be to ensure the success of his new mission, so he’d do whatever was necessary to secure the services of the elderly human who calmly carried on sanding down the wooden siding of his boat.
When Fleet Admiral Nechayev of Starfleet Intelligence contacted him, Rixx had been at Utopia Planitia as his ship, the Ambassador-Class U.S.S. Exeter, was undergoing extensive repairs. He’d been temporarily reassigned to a covert mission, one he couldn’t tell anyone else about. It wasn’t unusual in the time of war to receive last minute orders or transfers, however when he’d been briefed on just what the mission was he’d had to question whether or not someone was pulling a prank on him.
The U.S.S. Ajax had been retired from active duty in 2275, after almost four decades of service, and had been in the Starfleet Museum ever since. Though she was still intact, with her original warp reactor, computer core, environmental processors, shield generators, not to mention her untouched decor from the 2260s, the ship itself hadn’t been under her own power in over a century. Her fuel tanks were empty and none of her onboard systems had been tested under her own steam since she was decommissioned. Starfleet had assigned this ship to a mission that could very well determine the progress and direction of the war.
However, compared to the specifics of the mission, getting the old starship up and running again was proving to be a mountain no one could concur. He’d had three of the best engineers he’d served with try and get the ship’s main reactor online, but each of them had failed. He’d needed to think outside the box and made enquiries about one person he knew of who he hoped would be able to do the trick—if only he could convince the man to take on the challenge.
“Ye must be daft, lad!” the rotund human said, looking down from the deck of the yacht.
“Given this mission there are many who’d agree with you, Capt-ah-Scotty.”
Montgomery Scott, who’d insisted he be addressed by the age-old nickname instead of his former rank, gave him an amused smirk then returned to sanding down the wooden railing of his sailing boat. “Ye’ll need tae find someone else, my days o adventuring are ower.”
“Scotty, I’m not asking you to sign on for the mission, but just to come on as a ‘technical advisor’ to help get the ship ready. The longer we waste in dry-dock the more people are dying out there.”
The old engineer paused and looked off into the distance, his eyes clouding over. “Aye, war is a savage thing nae matter what time yir in.”
“Once you’ve got her fired up and put the engineering crew through its paces, then you can return here.”
“Saladin’s were tricky beasts back when they were being used daily, after so long gathering dust I’m no sure ye’ll get much oot o her.”
“I know we’ll be asking a lot of her but I’m sure the Ajax—”
Scotty’s head snapped towards him. “Ye never said it was the Ajax. That wis the first ship I ever served on.”
“How would you feel about getting her ready for one more mission then?”
The temporally-displaced human looked at the wooden deck he stood on once more, set down the sandpaper and clapped his hands together to rid them of dust. “Aye lad, I think it’s the least I could do for the auld girl.”
* * * * *
“C’mon lassie,” Scotty repeated as he stroked the reinforced housing of the dilithium chamber, willing the ship to do what was asked of her.
“Captain, the intermix ratio is way off! There’s no way she’ll get to warp!” exclaimed Lieutenant j.g. Harris, who clung to the console he stood at. Though a self-proclaimed expert in ‘antique warp drives’ the bairn didn’t seem to know much of anything that wasn’t written in some obsolete technical manual.
“Steady as she goes,” Scotty assured the kid, who shared concerned looks with a those nearest him.
“Bridge to engineering, we’re getting a lot of vibration here. Hull stress is starting to increase.”
Scotty slapped the companel beside him. “I told ye she’d be a tricky beast, Cap’n. Hold it steady for just a few more seconds.
“Shevash,” he called back to the Andorian lieutenant commander who would become the chief engineer for the mission, “increase antimatter flow by point-zero-two.”
“Point-zero-two, aye,” she replied without question.
“That’s even more out of balance!”
“Patience laddie, patience.”
Seconds ticked by as Shevash made the slight adjustment to the matter-antimatter streams that were meeting within the dilithium chamber, where the two opposites annihilated one another and all that energy was captured by the delicate crystals within and harnessed to produce the power the ship needed to accelerate to FLT speeds. Scotty had reached five before the shuddering suddenly stopped and the roar of the reactor core dulled to a contented purr.
He looked around and saw all the monitors, which had been flashing orange or red warnings, were now all healthier shades of green or yellow. He locked eyes with Shevash.
“Nicely done, Commander.”
“You’re the miracle worker here, Captain.”
He chuckled and tapped the intercom panel again. “How’s that looking now, Cap’n?”
“I don’t know what you did, Scotty, but we’re showing nominal power readings across the board. Let’s run a few diagnostics then have our first warp trial.”
“Aye, we’ll be ready.”
“I know you will. Rixx out.”
Shevash, a statuesque shen, stepped around her console and over towards him. “Captain, how did you know that would work? Everything was saying that the intermix was so far off spec that it would breach containment if we left it any longer.”
“Back in my day, lassie, what happened in the reactor chamber was always done more by instinct than design—it was always a worry when working with actual dilithium crystals, not like those matrices ye use now.”
“So there’s no tricks of the trade you can let me in on.”
“Listen tae her,” he said, patting the housing affectionately, “and trust yer gut.”
“I’ve got a century worth of experience to gain in less than a week. I’m not ashamed to say it, Scotty, but I wish you were coming with us—I don’t know if I can manage all the nuances of a ship like this.”
“Ye’ll be fine.”
“Fine maybe, but with a mission like this on the agenda then we need to be exceptional.”
Scotty felt his cheeks flush. He was always susceptible to a pretty lass flattering his talents as an engineer. He had to admit, as he’d worked on the Ajax he’d found himself enjoying the challenges she presented—not to mention the familiar surroundings of the bold-yet-simple aesthetics of the design, even if it did make him remember all that he’d left behind.
Before he could say anything more to the ship’s chief engineer, the doors parted and perhaps the most challenging member of the ship’s small crew marched in. One of three non-Starfleet crew onboard, who were present to install and operate the old cloaking device, Sub-Commander T’Rul was always someone who made sure her opinion could be heard—even when no one particularly wanted to hear it.
“Commander sh’Tharu,” she said as she stopped before them, “now that you’ve finally initialised internal power, perhaps we could finally connect the cloak to the power grid and begin tests.”
“Of course, Sub-Commander.”
“Rixx to Shevash,” the intercom interrupted.
Scotty tapped the panel next to him once more for her. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Commander, I need to see you on the bridge, ASAP.”
“Understood. On my way. Shevash out.” The channel closed and she looked at him her eyes quickly darted to the Romulan and back again, to which he gave a little smirk—there was no way he could say ‘no’ to the woman.
She turned back to T’Rul. “I’m needed on the bridge; in the meantime I can leave you with our expert consultant, Mr Scott.”
T’Rul finally looked at him, her eyes quickly assessing him before failing to hide her frustration. “Very well then.” Without another word she turned on her heel and headed for the exit.
Scotty looked at Shevash. “Ye’ll owe me for this.”
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate: 51916.1.
With Captain Scott’s help the Ajax is once again under her own power and our warp trials have been finalised with the ship performing far better than simulations predicted. The cloak has also been successfully installed and tested, but without more information on just what the Dominion has waiting for us then we won’t know if it’ll be enough. Commander Valentine informs me we’ll need another twenty-eight hours for the installation of the quantum torpedo launchers, which is the most significant alteration that has been made to the Ajax for the mission.
Once we take on the supplies and ordnance we will need and the last few members of the crew then we’ll be ready for launch. Regarding the crew, after discussions with Lieutenant Commander sh’Tharu and Captain Scott, he has finally agreed to join us as the new Chief Engineer, with sh’Tharu as his assistant. I have to admit, I feel better about our chances with Scotty onboard, someone who actually knows how this ship ticks.
* * * * *
“We have cleared the outer edge of the system, sir, ready to proceed on your order,” announced Lieutenant Commander Osall. Scotty wasn’t the only temporally displaced officer onboard, the Tiburonian had been the helmsman onboard the U.S.S. Bozeman before which he’d previously served on the destroyer Tamerlane.
“Thank you, Commander,” Rixx said then slowly looked around the bridge.
Osall sat at what had been the helm on his left whilst Lieutenant Commander Adele Valentine, his weapons officer, was at what had once been navigation on his right. Around the upper level, most of the consoles were dark, with power reduced as much as possible so as to not overtax the system until it was needed—also with only sixty-two aboard then they didn’t have the bodies to spare filling every post. Lieutenant Jharta, his ops manager, sat at the science console whilst Commander Grey their resident expert from Starfleet Intelligence (and his temporary first officer) manned communications, whilst on the opposite side of the bridge sat Sub-Commander T’Rul at the engineer’s post, from which she could control the cloak.
Well, here goes nothing, he quipped himself.
“Commander Grey, secure all arrays for silent running.”
“Silent running, aye,” he responded immediately.
“Sub-Commander, engage the cloak.”
T’Rul nodded and tapped in the sequence on the brightly coloured control panel. A moment later, everything dimmed. “Cloak is operating within established parameters.”
“Mr Osall, lay in course to Charos II.”
“Course locked into navcomp.”
“Warp factor seven. Engage.”
The computer chirped as the helmsman tapped the activation stud and the old ship leapt to warp, heading out on her last mission, one she could very well never return from—a fact that all of those aboard knew and understood. Everything was against them, the mission they were on, the enemy they faced, even the ship they were on, but every single person onboard understood what was being asked of them and what it would mean if they failed.
May whatever benevolent deities exist out there, bless this ship and her crew, Rixx silently prayed.
* * * * *
Enjoy!
* * * * *
“Over the last month, nearly every cloaked ship along the front lines in sector 43327 has been attacked by Dominion forces,” stated Commander Grey, who stood at the large display screen before the assembled flag officers from Starfleet, the Klingon Defence Force and Romulan Imperial Navy. In the group, he noticed a couple of the foreign officials nod whilst one Romulan admiral’s brow pinched as she scowled at him, no doubt wondering just how he’d come to know that fact. The Romulans had only been fighting alongside the Federation and Klingons for three months, so there was still a great deal of animosity between the three great powers—not something that would fade quickly even with a common foe.
“The information we’ve been able to extrapolate is that the Dominion are utilising some new sensor array that can penetrate cloaking fields, something based on the anti-proton scan they’ve previously used, but we have no data on just what that new sensor is or how to combat it.”
“That means all our ships are vulnerable!” blurted out General Kjagah.
Just like all of Starfleet’s ships, Grey thought though kept it to himself. “Yes General,” he said aloud. “There was no sign of data recorders amid the debris of the ships lost, so we cannot begin to analyse what their own sensors may have registered prior to the attack. But one think we are sure of is that the attacks are being carried out solely by Jem’Hadar vessels, so whatever this technology is it is clearly very new and not something the Dominion is keen to share with the Cardassians.”
“How does that help us?” asked Admiral Tal’Aarn, the Romulan whose scowl deepened the longer the briefing continued.
“Because we can narrow down the facility it was designed at to one outpost, the solitary Dominion-only facility in all of Cardassian territory.” He tapped a panel on his PADD that zoomed the display into one star system, four light-years away from the front. “Charos II.”
He noted some within the room shuffle or lean forward. “Ever since the Dominion arrived in Cardassian space, they took control of the small facility there and fortified the system, turning away all non-Dominion ships. Intel has been monitoring high-energy output, as well as several other unusual signals and emissions coming from that base, unlike anything else we’ve seen. It is also the closest facility to where most of the cloaked ships have been lost.”
“To punch through those defences we’d need a fleet of at least two hundred ships, but they’d need to travel through Dominion-controlled space for days before they even reached their target,” pointed out Admiral Toddman.
“That is correct, sir,” Grey admitted.
The briefing had been the easiest part. What came next, the plan proposed by Starfleet Intelligence and given the approval by Fleet Admiral Nechayev to put before the joint military command council, was where things would get more difficult.
“Our proposal is to send in one ship to destroy the outpost.”
“One ship!”
“Preposterous!”
Grey knew that wouldn’t go down well, but it was their only option. He waited for the outbursts and proclamations from the admirals and generals to quiet down before he continued. He tapped another control on his PADD and brought up the schematics for a single Klingon Bird-of-Prey, which refocused all of their attention.
“Two weeks ago, a cloaked Klingon troop transport near the Engotti System was attacked by the Jem’Hadar. This transport was assigned a single escort ship, the I.K.S. Grok, an old D10-Class vessel which has been largely retired from service but some have been drafted back in for the war effort. A Starfleet long-range sensor array was just able to pick up on the attack, which shows that the Jem’Hadar, rather than target the escort, went straight for the transport. It was only when the Grok decloacked that the Jem’Hadar seemed to notice them. Unfortunately, both ships were lost in the battle and no emergency broadcasts or signals were sent out.”
“What is different about the Grok that the Dominion didn’t detect it?” enquired Kjagah.
“We believe it was her age. Like all other technology cloaks develop over time, especially as the ships they need to conceal get larger and more powerful. The D10 Bird-of-Prey was developed in the late 2280s and was retired by the 2330s, and the Grok was built in 2292. When she was reactivated her cloak remained untouched and this could’ve been what kept her from being detected.”
“A Bird-of-Prey doesn’t have the firepower to take out a station like that on its own,” pointed out Tal’Aarn, clearly reviled at the thought of having to trust the Klingons with the fate of Romulan ships.
“You’re right, it’s not. Nor can we transfer the cloak from a D10 into a newer ship, because it won’t be powerful enough to hide them. We need an older cloak and an older ship in order to pull this mission off.”
Toddman leaned forward. “I’m guessing you’ve got both, or you wouldn’t be standing here right now, Commander.”
“We do, Admiral,” he replied, tapping his PADD for the last time and bringing up a split screen. On the left side was the image of a cloaking device that had been ‘secured’ from a Romulan battlecruiser by an undercover Starfleet operation over a century ago, which now stood in a classified Intel vault. On the right was the image of a Saladin-Class destroyer from the same era, securely berth at the Starfleet museum, though the single-nacelle ship had played a key role in events of the time her legacy was overlooked by modern day tourists now however, the fate of the Allied Forces now rested upon her weary shoulders.
* * * * *
The marina, filled with pleasure craft and yachts of all shapes and sizes, was quiet. Since Captain Solin Rixx had arrived at the seafront location at South Queensferry just outside Edinburgh, he hadn’t seen another living sole aside from the man he’d come to meet who was tending to his boat. That wasn’t surprising, given that the Federation was engaged in all-out war many on Earth might not have felt up to sailing.
Rixx himself had never engaged in the recreational activity and couldn’t see himself trying it anytime soon, but this was where he needed to be to ensure the success of his new mission, so he’d do whatever was necessary to secure the services of the elderly human who calmly carried on sanding down the wooden siding of his boat.
When Fleet Admiral Nechayev of Starfleet Intelligence contacted him, Rixx had been at Utopia Planitia as his ship, the Ambassador-Class U.S.S. Exeter, was undergoing extensive repairs. He’d been temporarily reassigned to a covert mission, one he couldn’t tell anyone else about. It wasn’t unusual in the time of war to receive last minute orders or transfers, however when he’d been briefed on just what the mission was he’d had to question whether or not someone was pulling a prank on him.
The U.S.S. Ajax had been retired from active duty in 2275, after almost four decades of service, and had been in the Starfleet Museum ever since. Though she was still intact, with her original warp reactor, computer core, environmental processors, shield generators, not to mention her untouched decor from the 2260s, the ship itself hadn’t been under her own power in over a century. Her fuel tanks were empty and none of her onboard systems had been tested under her own steam since she was decommissioned. Starfleet had assigned this ship to a mission that could very well determine the progress and direction of the war.
However, compared to the specifics of the mission, getting the old starship up and running again was proving to be a mountain no one could concur. He’d had three of the best engineers he’d served with try and get the ship’s main reactor online, but each of them had failed. He’d needed to think outside the box and made enquiries about one person he knew of who he hoped would be able to do the trick—if only he could convince the man to take on the challenge.
“Ye must be daft, lad!” the rotund human said, looking down from the deck of the yacht.
“Given this mission there are many who’d agree with you, Capt-ah-Scotty.”
Montgomery Scott, who’d insisted he be addressed by the age-old nickname instead of his former rank, gave him an amused smirk then returned to sanding down the wooden railing of his sailing boat. “Ye’ll need tae find someone else, my days o adventuring are ower.”
“Scotty, I’m not asking you to sign on for the mission, but just to come on as a ‘technical advisor’ to help get the ship ready. The longer we waste in dry-dock the more people are dying out there.”
The old engineer paused and looked off into the distance, his eyes clouding over. “Aye, war is a savage thing nae matter what time yir in.”
“Once you’ve got her fired up and put the engineering crew through its paces, then you can return here.”
“Saladin’s were tricky beasts back when they were being used daily, after so long gathering dust I’m no sure ye’ll get much oot o her.”
“I know we’ll be asking a lot of her but I’m sure the Ajax—”
Scotty’s head snapped towards him. “Ye never said it was the Ajax. That wis the first ship I ever served on.”
“How would you feel about getting her ready for one more mission then?”
The temporally-displaced human looked at the wooden deck he stood on once more, set down the sandpaper and clapped his hands together to rid them of dust. “Aye lad, I think it’s the least I could do for the auld girl.”
* * * * *
“C’mon lassie,” Scotty repeated as he stroked the reinforced housing of the dilithium chamber, willing the ship to do what was asked of her.
“Captain, the intermix ratio is way off! There’s no way she’ll get to warp!” exclaimed Lieutenant j.g. Harris, who clung to the console he stood at. Though a self-proclaimed expert in ‘antique warp drives’ the bairn didn’t seem to know much of anything that wasn’t written in some obsolete technical manual.
“Steady as she goes,” Scotty assured the kid, who shared concerned looks with a those nearest him.
“Bridge to engineering, we’re getting a lot of vibration here. Hull stress is starting to increase.”
Scotty slapped the companel beside him. “I told ye she’d be a tricky beast, Cap’n. Hold it steady for just a few more seconds.
“Shevash,” he called back to the Andorian lieutenant commander who would become the chief engineer for the mission, “increase antimatter flow by point-zero-two.”
“Point-zero-two, aye,” she replied without question.
“That’s even more out of balance!”
“Patience laddie, patience.”
Seconds ticked by as Shevash made the slight adjustment to the matter-antimatter streams that were meeting within the dilithium chamber, where the two opposites annihilated one another and all that energy was captured by the delicate crystals within and harnessed to produce the power the ship needed to accelerate to FLT speeds. Scotty had reached five before the shuddering suddenly stopped and the roar of the reactor core dulled to a contented purr.
He looked around and saw all the monitors, which had been flashing orange or red warnings, were now all healthier shades of green or yellow. He locked eyes with Shevash.
“Nicely done, Commander.”
“You’re the miracle worker here, Captain.”
He chuckled and tapped the intercom panel again. “How’s that looking now, Cap’n?”
“I don’t know what you did, Scotty, but we’re showing nominal power readings across the board. Let’s run a few diagnostics then have our first warp trial.”
“Aye, we’ll be ready.”
“I know you will. Rixx out.”
Shevash, a statuesque shen, stepped around her console and over towards him. “Captain, how did you know that would work? Everything was saying that the intermix was so far off spec that it would breach containment if we left it any longer.”
“Back in my day, lassie, what happened in the reactor chamber was always done more by instinct than design—it was always a worry when working with actual dilithium crystals, not like those matrices ye use now.”
“So there’s no tricks of the trade you can let me in on.”
“Listen tae her,” he said, patting the housing affectionately, “and trust yer gut.”
“I’ve got a century worth of experience to gain in less than a week. I’m not ashamed to say it, Scotty, but I wish you were coming with us—I don’t know if I can manage all the nuances of a ship like this.”
“Ye’ll be fine.”
“Fine maybe, but with a mission like this on the agenda then we need to be exceptional.”
Scotty felt his cheeks flush. He was always susceptible to a pretty lass flattering his talents as an engineer. He had to admit, as he’d worked on the Ajax he’d found himself enjoying the challenges she presented—not to mention the familiar surroundings of the bold-yet-simple aesthetics of the design, even if it did make him remember all that he’d left behind.
Before he could say anything more to the ship’s chief engineer, the doors parted and perhaps the most challenging member of the ship’s small crew marched in. One of three non-Starfleet crew onboard, who were present to install and operate the old cloaking device, Sub-Commander T’Rul was always someone who made sure her opinion could be heard—even when no one particularly wanted to hear it.
“Commander sh’Tharu,” she said as she stopped before them, “now that you’ve finally initialised internal power, perhaps we could finally connect the cloak to the power grid and begin tests.”
“Of course, Sub-Commander.”
“Rixx to Shevash,” the intercom interrupted.
Scotty tapped the panel next to him once more for her. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Commander, I need to see you on the bridge, ASAP.”
“Understood. On my way. Shevash out.” The channel closed and she looked at him her eyes quickly darted to the Romulan and back again, to which he gave a little smirk—there was no way he could say ‘no’ to the woman.
She turned back to T’Rul. “I’m needed on the bridge; in the meantime I can leave you with our expert consultant, Mr Scott.”
T’Rul finally looked at him, her eyes quickly assessing him before failing to hide her frustration. “Very well then.” Without another word she turned on her heel and headed for the exit.
Scotty looked at Shevash. “Ye’ll owe me for this.”
* * * * *
Captain’s log, stardate: 51916.1.
With Captain Scott’s help the Ajax is once again under her own power and our warp trials have been finalised with the ship performing far better than simulations predicted. The cloak has also been successfully installed and tested, but without more information on just what the Dominion has waiting for us then we won’t know if it’ll be enough. Commander Valentine informs me we’ll need another twenty-eight hours for the installation of the quantum torpedo launchers, which is the most significant alteration that has been made to the Ajax for the mission.
Once we take on the supplies and ordnance we will need and the last few members of the crew then we’ll be ready for launch. Regarding the crew, after discussions with Lieutenant Commander sh’Tharu and Captain Scott, he has finally agreed to join us as the new Chief Engineer, with sh’Tharu as his assistant. I have to admit, I feel better about our chances with Scotty onboard, someone who actually knows how this ship ticks.
* * * * *
“We have cleared the outer edge of the system, sir, ready to proceed on your order,” announced Lieutenant Commander Osall. Scotty wasn’t the only temporally displaced officer onboard, the Tiburonian had been the helmsman onboard the U.S.S. Bozeman before which he’d previously served on the destroyer Tamerlane.
“Thank you, Commander,” Rixx said then slowly looked around the bridge.
Osall sat at what had been the helm on his left whilst Lieutenant Commander Adele Valentine, his weapons officer, was at what had once been navigation on his right. Around the upper level, most of the consoles were dark, with power reduced as much as possible so as to not overtax the system until it was needed—also with only sixty-two aboard then they didn’t have the bodies to spare filling every post. Lieutenant Jharta, his ops manager, sat at the science console whilst Commander Grey their resident expert from Starfleet Intelligence (and his temporary first officer) manned communications, whilst on the opposite side of the bridge sat Sub-Commander T’Rul at the engineer’s post, from which she could control the cloak.
Well, here goes nothing, he quipped himself.
“Commander Grey, secure all arrays for silent running.”
“Silent running, aye,” he responded immediately.
“Sub-Commander, engage the cloak.”
T’Rul nodded and tapped in the sequence on the brightly coloured control panel. A moment later, everything dimmed. “Cloak is operating within established parameters.”
“Mr Osall, lay in course to Charos II.”
“Course locked into navcomp.”
“Warp factor seven. Engage.”
The computer chirped as the helmsman tapped the activation stud and the old ship leapt to warp, heading out on her last mission, one she could very well never return from—a fact that all of those aboard knew and understood. Everything was against them, the mission they were on, the enemy they faced, even the ship they were on, but every single person onboard understood what was being asked of them and what it would mean if they failed.
May whatever benevolent deities exist out there, bless this ship and her crew, Rixx silently prayed.
* * * * *
