Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
Note: This story takes place before the opening of the episode "Much Ado About Boimler".
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Grid and Bear it
“Coil spanner, ODN recoupler, phase decompiler,” Rutherford carefully checked the contents of his toolkit. “Sonic driver, gravitic caliper and handy-dandy P-38. Okay, I’m all set.”
“Me too,” Boimler said closing his own kit. “Ready and willing to tackle any engineering problems that come our way.”
“Ooo, whoopie,” Mariner drawled twirling a finger in the air. “Great to hear you guys have all your fancy little wrenches and whatnot in order, but don’t ya think you ought to pack a phaser or three along too in case we run into some real trouble?”
“We don’t need to pack phasers,” Boimler rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re a Security team beaming down to an unknown, potentially hostile planet or anything. We’re simply one of several away teams going over to Eta Tau Station to perform restoration, resupply and maintenance work.”
“In order words, repairing a repair station,” Mariner said. “Talk about ironic.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Rutherford grinned as the three ensigns made their way to Transporter Room One. “I heard Kula mention the station had been hit by a sudden ion storm which knocked their main grid offline so now the Cerritos gets to go patch it up. This is gonna be fun!”
“Yay, thrilling,” Mariner mocked cheered. “Okay, I can see Ruthy and the other tech types being assigned to fix-it duty, but why are Boims and I going?”
“Because I volunteered us,” Boimler informed her.
“You what?” Mariner did a take. “Why? Neither of us are engineers. We’re Command division for crying out loud!”
“Technically yes, but it’s important that all Starfleet officers be able to perform basic engineering work and repairs,” Boimler pointed out. “Keeping one’s generalized training and technical skills up to date is a good, healthy way to demonstrate one is a dedicated, well-rounded officer.”
“Translation: you signed us up in another vain attempt to pad your service record and impress the senior officers,” Mariner gave him a look.
“Well, yes. That too,” Boimler admitted. “But also for the chance to perform some repair work. It’s a break from our usual duty assignments and gets us off the ship. Plus, you’ve ‘volunteered’ me for all kinds of crazy side missions and stuff in the past, so this helps make us even.”
“Eh, whatever,” Mariner waved. “Though I wouldn’t exactly call this assignment crazy. It’s more likely to turn into a complete and utter snore-fest.”
“One can only hope,” Boimler muttered under his breath as they joined the line of waiting repair teams standing outside Transporter Room One.
“So, why isn’t Tendi joining us on this little engineering excursion?” Mariner asked. “I would’ve thought she’d jump at the chance to come along considering all the other non-medical stuff she often volunteers for.”
“She’s busy helping tend to the station’s evacuated personnel in Sickbay,” Rutherford explained. “They took shelter in the station’s emergency pods when the grid went down and are being treated for exposure and other hazardous effects from the ion storm. Tendi also mentioned some side project she wanted to finish up…”
“Lucky her,” Mariner commented as they entered the transporter room and stepped onto the platform. “At least she won’t be bored. Unlike us. Well, let’s get this techy cyber show on the road.” She glanced over at Chief Lundy. “Energize.”
“Why do you always get to say that?” Boimler frowned as the transporter whisked the trio away. “Why can’t I ever give the command to energize and look cool for once…ahhhhhh!”
“Whoa!” Mariner yelped as the three ensigns found themselves floating inside a cold, darkly-lit corridor. “Man, somebody turn up the heat. It’s freezing in here!”
“Huh, looks like the station’s artificial gravity grid is offline,” Rutherford noted. He tossed his toolkit to Boimler and used the resulting momentum vector to grab onto a bulkhead. “The only systems functioning right now are the emergency lights and emergency life support.”
“Dude, aren’t lights and artificial gravity part of the emergency life support system?” Mariner asked. “Not to mention air recyclers and heat?”
“Yeah, but they’re usually set to a minimum in order to conserve energy,” Rutherford explained opening a wall panel. “Emergency life support settings are calibrated for just above the average environmental threshold which allows most humanoids to function.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call this a functional environment,” Boimler grumbled tossing Rutherford back his toolkit while latching onto the opposite bulkhead. “Oh man, we should’ve brought some EV boots.”
“Yeah, Ransom really should’ve mentioned that little detail during the mission briefing,” Mariner snorted. “Of course, I did tune out most of it, so maybe he did…”
“Don’t worry, guys. This is an easy fix,” Rutherford assured pulling out a tool. “All I have to do is realign the relays, restore the local power grid and…”
THUD!
“Ow!” Boimler yelped as the lights and gravity quickly came back on to full causing him to unceremoniously fall to the floor in a heap. “Oh, my bones…”
“Great. Nice job, Ruthy,” Mariner praised while barely managing to avoid landing on her head. “But how about a little more warning next time?”
“Oops,” Rutherford gulped. “Sorry.”
“Eh, it’s okay. No harm done,” Mariner waved.
“Speak for yourself,” Boimler groaned getting to his feet.
“Okay, the good news is this section of the station’s power grid has been repaired,” Rutherford said running a tricorder inside the open control panel. “Unfortunately, the station’s sensor grid is still offline so we can’t use it to locate any other disruptions. We’ll have to scan the rest of the station’s conduits manually.”
“Sensor grid?” Boimler blinked in confusion. “I thought it was the power grid that needed repairs.”
“It does,” Rutherford explained closing the panel. “But the station’s other grids were obviously also affected by the ion storm. They’re possibly offline or damaged in some way. Like the power transfer grid, the sensor grid, the artificial gravity grid…”
A series of high-level forcefields suddenly blazed into existence around them. “The security grid?” Mariner ventured.
“Uh, yes,” Rutherford blinked as a pair of turret-mounted phasers dropped from the ceiling.
“Oh no,” Boimler gulped. “RUN!”
PHWZZZT! PHWZZZT!
“AAAHHHHHH!” The three ensigns screamed as the station’s automated defenses immediately opened fire.
“Oh man!” Rutherford yelped as they quickly ran off down the lone unblocked corridor. “The station’s security and internal weapons grids must be malfunctioning!”
“No, ya think?!” Mariner snapped ducking a blast. “Ugh! What kind of repair station has automated internal phaser turrets? Even the Enterprise isn’t this well-armed!”
“Who cares?!” Boimler shouted racing ahead. “Less talking, more sprinting…oooph!”
“Oh great!” Mariner cursed seeing Boimler run straight into a force field. “Now what?”
“Uh oh. It must be an effect of the station’s malfunctioning internal sensor grid,” Rutherford realized noticing the dark, unpowered corridor beyond the force field. “The sensors are probably reading the corridor ahead as being uninhabitable and have sealed it off to protect us.”
“What?!” Boimler yelped rubbing his face. “So instead of letting us die from an imaginary exposure to space, the station is going to kill us by mistakenly identifying us as intruders? Agggh, this can’t be happening!”
“Don’t worry! I’ll fix it!” Rutherford declared swiftly opening another panel. “All I have to do is repair the power grid in this section of the station and restore full life support to the corridors beyond.”
“So let me get this straight,” Mariner hissed while dodging more incoming phaser beams. “In order to work around the station’s messed up sensor and weapons grids we have to repair the station’s damaged power grid only to have the station’s whacked out weapons grid target us again the second the local power grid is online?”
“Yep, pretty much,” Rutherford confirmed. “It’s a real Red Queen scenario.”
“There’s gonna be a lot more red around here if we don’t get outta this Corridor of Doom fast,” Mariner groaned as a phaser blast singed part of her uniform. “I told you guys we should’ve packed some phasers!”
“We’ll be sure to do it next time!” Boimler yelled as Rutherford quickly repaired the local power grid causing the force field to fizzle out. “Right now, we need to focus on staying alive until then!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Mariner admitted as they ran off once again. “‘C’mon guys! Let’s book it!”
“Oh man. I shouldn’t have had that third deep fried, chili-avocado burrito for breakfast,” Rutherford gasped sprinting alongside his crewmates. “On the other hand, all this sprinting is helping us stay warm. Wonder if any other repair teams are running into problems like this?”
“Call them and find out,” Mariner hissed weaving in and out amongst the renewed phaser barrage. “Better yet, contact the Cerritos and have them get us the heck outta here!”
“Ensign Boimler to Transporter Room One!” Boimler panted slapping his combadge only to receive no response. “Ensign Boimler to Cerritos! Ensign Boimler to anybody!”
“Uh oh,” Rutherford struggled to study his tricorder while on the run. “Looks like the station’s communication grid is still offline.”
“Of course it is,” Mariner grumbled. “Every grid aboard this stupid station is messed up in some way!”
“But that doesn’t explain why our combadges aren’t working!” Boimler protested. “Communications to and from the Cerritos should work just fine!”
“Hmmm, you have a point,” Rutherford frowned as they rushed through the station’s phaser fire-filled corridors. He quickly ran a new scan. “Aha, got it! All communications are being jammed due to interference from the station’s deflector grid.”
“The deflector grid?!” Mariner yelled. “That doesn’t make any sense! A repair station doesn’t need a deflector grid! All it does is sit in the middle of space!”
“Not exactly,” Rutherford pointed out. “Every station needs some kind of deflector grid to deter fast moving space debris, micro-asteroids, high-energy particles and other random objects that may be passing through the local cosmos.”
“If only the deflector grid wasn’t also deterring us!” Boimler cried as a phaser blast scorched his pants. “YEEEOW! THAT HURTS!” He blinked as the latest corridor they were dashing through abruptly came to an end. “Uh oh. This can’t be good.”
“Oh great. We’re trapped,” Mariner groaned coming to a halt. “Shot down like Cardassian voles by a malfunctioning security grid. What a humiliating way to die.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re complaining about?” Boimler yelped gaping at her incredulously. He desperately pounded against a nearby viewport. “Agggh, this is ridiculous! The Cerritos must realize something is wrong with the station by now! Why don’t they just beam us back?”
“Aha! That’s it!” Rutherford exclaimed in epiphany. He quickly tore open the nearest bulkhead and tapped on a control panel. “Computer, three for emergency transport! Energize!”
“What…AAAHHHHHH!” Boimler screamed as the three ensigns disappeared just before they could be vaporized by the station’s security grid. “Oh, yet another missed opportunity for me to say ‘energize’…”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re complaining about?” Mariner mocked as they rematerialized prone and uncomfortably close together. “Ugh, where the heck did you have the Cerritos send us, Ruthy?”
“The Cerritos didn’t transport us. Eta Tau Station did,” Rutherford explained. “Good thing the station’s transporter sensors weren’t malfunctioning or offline.”
“Yay, lucky us,” Boimler moaned pushing Mariner’s elbow out of his ear. “But where did we end up?”
“I dunno. Feels like a utility shaft of some kind,” Rutherford commented glancing around at their confined, dimly-lit surroundings. “Dark, cramped, filled with the faint smell of photon exhaust…”
KA-THUNK!
“We’re inside a torpedo tube, aren’t we?” Mariner deadpanned.
“Oh yeah,” Boimler whimpered as a lowered torpedo casing quickly neared the open end of the tube.
“Figures,” Mariner groaned. “RUTHERFORD!”
“AAAHHHHHHHHH!” The three ensigns scrambled like mad to escape from the tube. They emerged right before the torpedo casing entered it and blasted out into space.
“Huh, guess the station’s transporter rematerialization sensors are a little off,” Rutherford coughed sheepishly. “Along with the station’s external weapons grid.”
“No, ya think?!” Mariner snapped staggering to her feet. “Please tell me the stupid station didn’t just shoot a photon torpedo at the Cerritos.”
“Nope, looks like it fired a Class Six probe instead,” Rutherford said checking a nearby console readout. “Aimed towards the southern pole of the rocky, uninhabited planetoid Eta Tau Station orbits around.”
“Thank goodness,” Boimler sighed sprawled out on the Torpedo Room floor. “It’s about time we managed to catch a break…”
RUMMMBLE!
“AAAHHHHHH!” Everyone yelled as the station suddenly lurched to the side causing them all to roll and spill out into the corridor.
“You had to say that, didn’t you?!” Mariner snapped.
“Oh no,” Boimler moaned feeling the deck ominously shake beneath them. “What now?”
“Yikes!” Rutherford yelped as the station’s floor and bulkheads appeared to spin about. He quickly consulted his tricorder. “Oh man! All the control thrusters just fired! There must be a problem with the station’s navigation grid!”
“The navigation grid?!” Mariner yelled. “Why the heck would a repair station need a navigation grid? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“It does in order for the station to coordinate incoming and outgoing vectors for ships in need of repair or resupply,” Boimler wailed rolling across the floor. “And to maintain a consistent orbit around the neighboring planetoid without crashing into it which may be happening right now!”
“Don’t worry. The station isn’t falling out of orbit,” Rutherford assured checking his tricorder. “The active control thrusters are causing the station to spin around one of its central axes. The station’s internal dampers aren’t fully compensating or coordinating with the artificial gravity grid which is why it feels like the whole place is spinning.”
“Great, we’re stuck aboard a big ol’ space merry-go-round,” Mariner griped clinging to a bulkhead. “What else can possibly happen to us?”
“Attention all repair teams,” Lieutenant Commander Billups’ voice was heard over their combadges. “A potentially hazardous situation has arisen aboard the station.”
“I had to ask,” Mariner moaned.
“Hey, Billups’ team must’ve repaired the station’s communication grid and cut through the remaining interference from the deflector grid,” Rutherford realized. “Way to go, sir!”
“As some of you may be aware, there have been a few minor hiccups with repairing the station’s power grid,” Billups announced sounding somewhat dizzy. “Along with the other associated grids.”
“A few hiccups?!” Mariner yelped.
“Minor?!” Boimler cried.
“But do not be alarmed. The situation is well in hand,” Billups continued. “Teams have managed to repair the damage to the station’s weapons, sensor, communication, deflector and security grids. Also, all of the station’s phaser banks and turrets have been taken offline.”
“Thank goodness,” Boimler sighed in relief.
“However, we’re still working on fixing the problem with the station’s malfunctioning navigation grid,” Billups went on while sounding out of breath. “Repairs to it should be completed within the next few minutes. Or a few hours…”
“HOURS?!” The Lower Deckers yelped.
“Just continue with your assigned repair assignments until then,” Billups ordered. “Though you may need to sprint and probably run in place in order to complete them.”
“Oh no,” Boimler whimpered.
“Keep up the good work, people. Billups out,” A gurgling Billups finished. “Ohhh, does anyone have a motion sickness receptacle? I feel queasy…oooh…”
“Gee, Commander Billups really doesn’t sound very good,” Rutherford noted worriedly while fingering his torn uniform. “He must be working really hard. I hope he’s able to get some rest soon.”
“He’s not the only one,” Boimler gasped. “Once we get back to our bunks I’m gonna plop down and sleep for a week!”
“I swear, this is the last time I let ya volunteer us for some tech-focused duty assignment, Boims,” Mariner glared at her friend while struggling to fight off the effects of the spinning station. “And people say my side missions are ridiculous!”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
Note: This story takes place before the opening of the episode "Much Ado About Boimler".
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Grid and Bear it
“Coil spanner, ODN recoupler, phase decompiler,” Rutherford carefully checked the contents of his toolkit. “Sonic driver, gravitic caliper and handy-dandy P-38. Okay, I’m all set.”
“Me too,” Boimler said closing his own kit. “Ready and willing to tackle any engineering problems that come our way.”
“Ooo, whoopie,” Mariner drawled twirling a finger in the air. “Great to hear you guys have all your fancy little wrenches and whatnot in order, but don’t ya think you ought to pack a phaser or three along too in case we run into some real trouble?”
“We don’t need to pack phasers,” Boimler rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re a Security team beaming down to an unknown, potentially hostile planet or anything. We’re simply one of several away teams going over to Eta Tau Station to perform restoration, resupply and maintenance work.”
“In order words, repairing a repair station,” Mariner said. “Talk about ironic.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Rutherford grinned as the three ensigns made their way to Transporter Room One. “I heard Kula mention the station had been hit by a sudden ion storm which knocked their main grid offline so now the Cerritos gets to go patch it up. This is gonna be fun!”
“Yay, thrilling,” Mariner mocked cheered. “Okay, I can see Ruthy and the other tech types being assigned to fix-it duty, but why are Boims and I going?”
“Because I volunteered us,” Boimler informed her.
“You what?” Mariner did a take. “Why? Neither of us are engineers. We’re Command division for crying out loud!”
“Technically yes, but it’s important that all Starfleet officers be able to perform basic engineering work and repairs,” Boimler pointed out. “Keeping one’s generalized training and technical skills up to date is a good, healthy way to demonstrate one is a dedicated, well-rounded officer.”
“Translation: you signed us up in another vain attempt to pad your service record and impress the senior officers,” Mariner gave him a look.
“Well, yes. That too,” Boimler admitted. “But also for the chance to perform some repair work. It’s a break from our usual duty assignments and gets us off the ship. Plus, you’ve ‘volunteered’ me for all kinds of crazy side missions and stuff in the past, so this helps make us even.”
“Eh, whatever,” Mariner waved. “Though I wouldn’t exactly call this assignment crazy. It’s more likely to turn into a complete and utter snore-fest.”
“One can only hope,” Boimler muttered under his breath as they joined the line of waiting repair teams standing outside Transporter Room One.
“So, why isn’t Tendi joining us on this little engineering excursion?” Mariner asked. “I would’ve thought she’d jump at the chance to come along considering all the other non-medical stuff she often volunteers for.”
“She’s busy helping tend to the station’s evacuated personnel in Sickbay,” Rutherford explained. “They took shelter in the station’s emergency pods when the grid went down and are being treated for exposure and other hazardous effects from the ion storm. Tendi also mentioned some side project she wanted to finish up…”
“Lucky her,” Mariner commented as they entered the transporter room and stepped onto the platform. “At least she won’t be bored. Unlike us. Well, let’s get this techy cyber show on the road.” She glanced over at Chief Lundy. “Energize.”
“Why do you always get to say that?” Boimler frowned as the transporter whisked the trio away. “Why can’t I ever give the command to energize and look cool for once…ahhhhhh!”
“Whoa!” Mariner yelped as the three ensigns found themselves floating inside a cold, darkly-lit corridor. “Man, somebody turn up the heat. It’s freezing in here!”
“Huh, looks like the station’s artificial gravity grid is offline,” Rutherford noted. He tossed his toolkit to Boimler and used the resulting momentum vector to grab onto a bulkhead. “The only systems functioning right now are the emergency lights and emergency life support.”
“Dude, aren’t lights and artificial gravity part of the emergency life support system?” Mariner asked. “Not to mention air recyclers and heat?”
“Yeah, but they’re usually set to a minimum in order to conserve energy,” Rutherford explained opening a wall panel. “Emergency life support settings are calibrated for just above the average environmental threshold which allows most humanoids to function.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call this a functional environment,” Boimler grumbled tossing Rutherford back his toolkit while latching onto the opposite bulkhead. “Oh man, we should’ve brought some EV boots.”
“Yeah, Ransom really should’ve mentioned that little detail during the mission briefing,” Mariner snorted. “Of course, I did tune out most of it, so maybe he did…”
“Don’t worry, guys. This is an easy fix,” Rutherford assured pulling out a tool. “All I have to do is realign the relays, restore the local power grid and…”
THUD!
“Ow!” Boimler yelped as the lights and gravity quickly came back on to full causing him to unceremoniously fall to the floor in a heap. “Oh, my bones…”
“Great. Nice job, Ruthy,” Mariner praised while barely managing to avoid landing on her head. “But how about a little more warning next time?”
“Oops,” Rutherford gulped. “Sorry.”
“Eh, it’s okay. No harm done,” Mariner waved.
“Speak for yourself,” Boimler groaned getting to his feet.
“Okay, the good news is this section of the station’s power grid has been repaired,” Rutherford said running a tricorder inside the open control panel. “Unfortunately, the station’s sensor grid is still offline so we can’t use it to locate any other disruptions. We’ll have to scan the rest of the station’s conduits manually.”
“Sensor grid?” Boimler blinked in confusion. “I thought it was the power grid that needed repairs.”
“It does,” Rutherford explained closing the panel. “But the station’s other grids were obviously also affected by the ion storm. They’re possibly offline or damaged in some way. Like the power transfer grid, the sensor grid, the artificial gravity grid…”
A series of high-level forcefields suddenly blazed into existence around them. “The security grid?” Mariner ventured.
“Uh, yes,” Rutherford blinked as a pair of turret-mounted phasers dropped from the ceiling.
“Oh no,” Boimler gulped. “RUN!”
PHWZZZT! PHWZZZT!
“AAAHHHHHH!” The three ensigns screamed as the station’s automated defenses immediately opened fire.
“Oh man!” Rutherford yelped as they quickly ran off down the lone unblocked corridor. “The station’s security and internal weapons grids must be malfunctioning!”
“No, ya think?!” Mariner snapped ducking a blast. “Ugh! What kind of repair station has automated internal phaser turrets? Even the Enterprise isn’t this well-armed!”
“Who cares?!” Boimler shouted racing ahead. “Less talking, more sprinting…oooph!”
“Oh great!” Mariner cursed seeing Boimler run straight into a force field. “Now what?”
“Uh oh. It must be an effect of the station’s malfunctioning internal sensor grid,” Rutherford realized noticing the dark, unpowered corridor beyond the force field. “The sensors are probably reading the corridor ahead as being uninhabitable and have sealed it off to protect us.”
“What?!” Boimler yelped rubbing his face. “So instead of letting us die from an imaginary exposure to space, the station is going to kill us by mistakenly identifying us as intruders? Agggh, this can’t be happening!”
“Don’t worry! I’ll fix it!” Rutherford declared swiftly opening another panel. “All I have to do is repair the power grid in this section of the station and restore full life support to the corridors beyond.”
“So let me get this straight,” Mariner hissed while dodging more incoming phaser beams. “In order to work around the station’s messed up sensor and weapons grids we have to repair the station’s damaged power grid only to have the station’s whacked out weapons grid target us again the second the local power grid is online?”
“Yep, pretty much,” Rutherford confirmed. “It’s a real Red Queen scenario.”
“There’s gonna be a lot more red around here if we don’t get outta this Corridor of Doom fast,” Mariner groaned as a phaser blast singed part of her uniform. “I told you guys we should’ve packed some phasers!”
“We’ll be sure to do it next time!” Boimler yelled as Rutherford quickly repaired the local power grid causing the force field to fizzle out. “Right now, we need to focus on staying alive until then!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Mariner admitted as they ran off once again. “‘C’mon guys! Let’s book it!”
“Oh man. I shouldn’t have had that third deep fried, chili-avocado burrito for breakfast,” Rutherford gasped sprinting alongside his crewmates. “On the other hand, all this sprinting is helping us stay warm. Wonder if any other repair teams are running into problems like this?”
“Call them and find out,” Mariner hissed weaving in and out amongst the renewed phaser barrage. “Better yet, contact the Cerritos and have them get us the heck outta here!”
“Ensign Boimler to Transporter Room One!” Boimler panted slapping his combadge only to receive no response. “Ensign Boimler to Cerritos! Ensign Boimler to anybody!”
“Uh oh,” Rutherford struggled to study his tricorder while on the run. “Looks like the station’s communication grid is still offline.”
“Of course it is,” Mariner grumbled. “Every grid aboard this stupid station is messed up in some way!”
“But that doesn’t explain why our combadges aren’t working!” Boimler protested. “Communications to and from the Cerritos should work just fine!”
“Hmmm, you have a point,” Rutherford frowned as they rushed through the station’s phaser fire-filled corridors. He quickly ran a new scan. “Aha, got it! All communications are being jammed due to interference from the station’s deflector grid.”
“The deflector grid?!” Mariner yelled. “That doesn’t make any sense! A repair station doesn’t need a deflector grid! All it does is sit in the middle of space!”
“Not exactly,” Rutherford pointed out. “Every station needs some kind of deflector grid to deter fast moving space debris, micro-asteroids, high-energy particles and other random objects that may be passing through the local cosmos.”
“If only the deflector grid wasn’t also deterring us!” Boimler cried as a phaser blast scorched his pants. “YEEEOW! THAT HURTS!” He blinked as the latest corridor they were dashing through abruptly came to an end. “Uh oh. This can’t be good.”
“Oh great. We’re trapped,” Mariner groaned coming to a halt. “Shot down like Cardassian voles by a malfunctioning security grid. What a humiliating way to die.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re complaining about?” Boimler yelped gaping at her incredulously. He desperately pounded against a nearby viewport. “Agggh, this is ridiculous! The Cerritos must realize something is wrong with the station by now! Why don’t they just beam us back?”
“Aha! That’s it!” Rutherford exclaimed in epiphany. He quickly tore open the nearest bulkhead and tapped on a control panel. “Computer, three for emergency transport! Energize!”
“What…AAAHHHHHH!” Boimler screamed as the three ensigns disappeared just before they could be vaporized by the station’s security grid. “Oh, yet another missed opportunity for me to say ‘energize’…”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re complaining about?” Mariner mocked as they rematerialized prone and uncomfortably close together. “Ugh, where the heck did you have the Cerritos send us, Ruthy?”
“The Cerritos didn’t transport us. Eta Tau Station did,” Rutherford explained. “Good thing the station’s transporter sensors weren’t malfunctioning or offline.”
“Yay, lucky us,” Boimler moaned pushing Mariner’s elbow out of his ear. “But where did we end up?”
“I dunno. Feels like a utility shaft of some kind,” Rutherford commented glancing around at their confined, dimly-lit surroundings. “Dark, cramped, filled with the faint smell of photon exhaust…”
KA-THUNK!
“We’re inside a torpedo tube, aren’t we?” Mariner deadpanned.
“Oh yeah,” Boimler whimpered as a lowered torpedo casing quickly neared the open end of the tube.
“Figures,” Mariner groaned. “RUTHERFORD!”
“AAAHHHHHHHHH!” The three ensigns scrambled like mad to escape from the tube. They emerged right before the torpedo casing entered it and blasted out into space.
“Huh, guess the station’s transporter rematerialization sensors are a little off,” Rutherford coughed sheepishly. “Along with the station’s external weapons grid.”
“No, ya think?!” Mariner snapped staggering to her feet. “Please tell me the stupid station didn’t just shoot a photon torpedo at the Cerritos.”
“Nope, looks like it fired a Class Six probe instead,” Rutherford said checking a nearby console readout. “Aimed towards the southern pole of the rocky, uninhabited planetoid Eta Tau Station orbits around.”
“Thank goodness,” Boimler sighed sprawled out on the Torpedo Room floor. “It’s about time we managed to catch a break…”
RUMMMBLE!
“AAAHHHHHH!” Everyone yelled as the station suddenly lurched to the side causing them all to roll and spill out into the corridor.
“You had to say that, didn’t you?!” Mariner snapped.
“Oh no,” Boimler moaned feeling the deck ominously shake beneath them. “What now?”
“Yikes!” Rutherford yelped as the station’s floor and bulkheads appeared to spin about. He quickly consulted his tricorder. “Oh man! All the control thrusters just fired! There must be a problem with the station’s navigation grid!”
“The navigation grid?!” Mariner yelled. “Why the heck would a repair station need a navigation grid? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“It does in order for the station to coordinate incoming and outgoing vectors for ships in need of repair or resupply,” Boimler wailed rolling across the floor. “And to maintain a consistent orbit around the neighboring planetoid without crashing into it which may be happening right now!”
“Don’t worry. The station isn’t falling out of orbit,” Rutherford assured checking his tricorder. “The active control thrusters are causing the station to spin around one of its central axes. The station’s internal dampers aren’t fully compensating or coordinating with the artificial gravity grid which is why it feels like the whole place is spinning.”
“Great, we’re stuck aboard a big ol’ space merry-go-round,” Mariner griped clinging to a bulkhead. “What else can possibly happen to us?”
“Attention all repair teams,” Lieutenant Commander Billups’ voice was heard over their combadges. “A potentially hazardous situation has arisen aboard the station.”
“I had to ask,” Mariner moaned.
“Hey, Billups’ team must’ve repaired the station’s communication grid and cut through the remaining interference from the deflector grid,” Rutherford realized. “Way to go, sir!”
“As some of you may be aware, there have been a few minor hiccups with repairing the station’s power grid,” Billups announced sounding somewhat dizzy. “Along with the other associated grids.”
“A few hiccups?!” Mariner yelped.
“Minor?!” Boimler cried.
“But do not be alarmed. The situation is well in hand,” Billups continued. “Teams have managed to repair the damage to the station’s weapons, sensor, communication, deflector and security grids. Also, all of the station’s phaser banks and turrets have been taken offline.”
“Thank goodness,” Boimler sighed in relief.
“However, we’re still working on fixing the problem with the station’s malfunctioning navigation grid,” Billups went on while sounding out of breath. “Repairs to it should be completed within the next few minutes. Or a few hours…”
“HOURS?!” The Lower Deckers yelped.
“Just continue with your assigned repair assignments until then,” Billups ordered. “Though you may need to sprint and probably run in place in order to complete them.”
“Oh no,” Boimler whimpered.
“Keep up the good work, people. Billups out,” A gurgling Billups finished. “Ohhh, does anyone have a motion sickness receptacle? I feel queasy…oooh…”
“Gee, Commander Billups really doesn’t sound very good,” Rutherford noted worriedly while fingering his torn uniform. “He must be working really hard. I hope he’s able to get some rest soon.”
“He’s not the only one,” Boimler gasped. “Once we get back to our bunks I’m gonna plop down and sleep for a week!”
“I swear, this is the last time I let ya volunteer us for some tech-focused duty assignment, Boims,” Mariner glared at her friend while struggling to fight off the effects of the spinning station. “And people say my side missions are ridiculous!”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
