Part Four holds a special place in my heart. I had been looking forward to writing this one for a long time because the story centers around an XO falling in love with his CO, which is due to the fact that they occasionally sleep together. This is prelude to my FSA writing, where I get more into that aspect of starship life with Ariel and her escapades.
Oh, and a Captain from a previous TQB makes a special guest appearance.
Here's Dallas:
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The Quarterdeck Breed
By Michael D. Garcia
Part Four: Dallas
NCC-31357 (USS Dallas)
Dominion-held territory relative to Federation Sector 117-Gamma
En route to Starbase 375
Stardate 51901.54
The siren of the battlestations klaxon filled the air as the atmosphere on the bridge matched the heightened state of alert all over the ship. Scarlet light from the emergency systems fell across the faces of the bridge crew at their stations, monitoring the flight of their ship as it sped between the stars at one thousand five hundred sixteen times the speed of light. Evasion and maneuvering appeared the only way to win against their attacker, and with the minor damage sustained in the last confrontation, it seemed as though all hope was lost that day.
Commander Emoni Lau gripped the edges of the arms of her chair in the center of the bridge as she watched the aft view from the main viewscreen. It had been fifteen minutes since she gave the order to retreat from the sector, but the single Jem’Hadar attack cruiser decided to be tenacious about its quarry. Its image was at the center of the sensor output on the screen, reminding them that it would be a difficult task to evade and return to fight tomorrow.
Lau looked to her acting executive officer, seated at the bridge operations console between her and the viewscreen. He was a lanky full lieutenant named Ken Ushiyama, thrust into the role by the death of his predecessor. Like her, he was weary of running every time they were outnumbered, often voicing his desire to stand and fight their way out of the situation. It was the order of the sector admiral that they evade capture, as the information they were bringing back to the starbase was of vital importance to the effort against the Dominion.
“Maintaining speed at warp nine, sir,” said the officer at the helm in a very thick alto tone. The tall and willowy Lieutenant Phendara was the only Andorian officer aboard the ship, and her reputation preceded her as one of the fleet’s finest pilots. Her efforts over the past forty-eight hours had solidified that reputation, as she manipulated the flight controls of the light cruiser with such amazing skill. The decision to name her as the ship’s chief helmsman was a sound one given her innate talents.
From the engineering monitoring station, the short and chubby young lady with the short black hair reminded the captain, “At our present speed, with the damage we’ve sustained, we will have to do a cold shutdown of the warp core in twenty-seven minutes.” Petty Officer Second Class Odessa McComas was standing in as one of the assistant engineering chiefs, despite her junior enlisted rank, as manpower grew shorter and shorter with each and every mission.
Emoni did not look at the petty officer to acknowledge her, “Understood.” It would mean that they would fall short of their destination by a large margin. If they lost warp capability or slowed to allow the Jem’Hadar to catch up, the ship would be lost. She pushed up from her chair and put a sweaty hand on top of her exec’s shoulder, “Might as well pull out all the stops, Ken. Let’s see if we can get in touch with the Agamemnon. I want to see Hank Grayum’s face on the viewscreen.”
The risk was indeed a great one. Though the Jem’Hadar was pursuing them and no doubt the Dominion knew exactly where they were, the fact that they were alone and intruding that far into enemy territory was something known only to Starfleet Command and Rear Admiral Ross. Contacting another Federation starship would be in direct contravention to their orders. Emoni Lau knew it would probably end her career, even under these circumstances, but the safety of her ship and the information they risked their lives for had to be paramount above raising suspicion among their peers.
Not wasting any time, Ken keyed in the secured channel onto his station and began to encrypt the transmission. “USS Dallas to USS Agamemnon, Captain Lau sends her compliments to Captain Grayum. Come in, Agamemnon.”
Phendara nodded to the screen, “I think our pursuers have raised the stakes, sir. They’ve increased speed and will overtake us in ninety seconds.” The image of the enemy craft began to loom a little larger as the distance between the ships shortened.
“Odessa, stoke the fires. We’re going to need everything you can give us,” Lau said as she released Ken’s shoulder and returned to her seat, her motion suggesting that her presence there would will the ship to outrun the Jem’Hadar. Before the engineer could offer any protest, she looked at Odessa and made it clear, “No complaints, just get it done.”
Ushiyama decided to make his suggestion, after reporting that there was no response from the Agamemnon. “Sir, it’s just one cruiser. We should make a stand here.”
“Much as I want to, Ken. We have our orders,” Emoni’s soprano tone was as apologetic as she could make it under the circumstances. As the ship appeared to grow in size on the viewscreen, a plan formed in her mind. “Perhaps we can slow them down a bit. Mister Kirk, let’s throw a little bit of a jolt to them. Ready a salvo of quantum torpedoes, maximum yield and stand by to fire them at our friends over there.”
The tactical officer, a junior grade lieutenant who had the misfortune of studying at the Academy with the same surname as the legendary Starfleet officer, Jonas Theodore Kirk, nodded at the order, “Readying torpedoes, sir.” Once the display satisfied his commands, he turned to the captain from his station and replied that the projectiles were ready to be launched. “Target, sir?”
“Proximity fuses, Lieutenant. I want them to detonate as close to their shields as possible without touching. I need them blinded by a series of wide radius explosions,” the captain ordered. She crossed over to Kirk’s console and explained a little more clearly, “It should blank out the sensors with interference for a few minutes, enough time for us to alter course. Phendara, what’s around here that we can use for cover?”
Her blue hands danced across her computer console as she plotted courses to various stellar bodies. “I have a star system within five minutes travel. It’s a white star, with three planets… and an asteroid field. It’s the closest option.” Phendara tapped her console a few more times, “But we have to move fast.”
Ken suggested, “We should also divert as much power to the aft shield generators as a precaution. Those torpedoes are not going to direct their energy at the Jem’Hadar.” In fact, the blast pattern was likely to be a lot closer than he would like, given the recent acceleration of the attacking cruiser. Moments after voicing his concern, the sensor information on his display alerted him to the fact that, “The Jem’Hadar have acquired a weapons lock. They’re charging weapons and are preparing to fire.”
Lau ordered, “Reconfigure shield power as Ken suggested. Fire torpedoes.”
Twin dots of blue-white light flew away from the lower portion of the main viewscreen out toward the Jem’Hadar. Within seconds, they traversed the distance between the two ships and when the warheads split from their respective housings into the desired number of eight, they exploded in such a brilliant light that it filled the screen entirely and brought the bridge from the dim scarlet into bright sapphire.
Ken called out, “Brace for impact!” His warning gave the others a couple of seconds to do just that as the shockwave impacted against the reinforced shields on the aft quarter. Warnings and alerts from the various bridge stations began to go off as Dallas endured the energy output.
The deck vibrated slightly at first, and then the vibration became furiously violent. Emoni tried with all of her might to maintain her standing position against the tactical station, gripping the edge of the console with white-knuckled hands. She turned her head to see that the other officers had not fared as well; Ken had failed to maintain his grip on the operations station and lay less than a meter away from his chair while Phendara had decided to rest her upper body against the helm.
Once the shockwave had passed, she called out, “Is everyone all right?” Relaxing her hands and walking over to help Ken up from the deck and back into his seat, everyone on the bridge appeared to only suffer some minor bumps and bruises as they mumbled their well being to her. “McComas, I need a damage report. Phendara, are we still on course?”
“Stand by, Captain,” the helmsman said, looking at her display. “This is a little difficult to tell, but I’m showing we’re on course toward that star system based on our position before the shockwave hit. We’re maintaining our speed at warp nine.”
“Status of the Jem’Hadar?”
Ken scanned the ship to aft, “Sensors are having a hell of a time getting through that interference, but they’re proceeding on the same trajectory toward Federation space, as far as I can tell.” He moved to the side to show Emoni exactly what he was seeing. The captain leaned over to witness the interference pattern playing across his screens.
“I have a preliminary damage report, sir,” said McComas. Not waiting for Lau to respond, she listed the affected systems as quickly as possible, “The shield generators took the biggest hit, the power feedback shorted the deflector grid on the aft quarter. The primary structural integrity field generators are offline. The long-range communications transceiver array has been destroyed. The rest of this is mostly physical hull damage across the aft sections of decks four through ten.”
Lau said, “Thank you.” Returning to her chair while gripping her left fist with her right hand, she tried not to dwell too much on the dent she just put in their chances of a safe return. Hiding out within the asteroid field in enemy territory to make repairs sustained from torpedoes fired from her own tubes! She decided that now was not the time for her to begin admonishing herself for her mistakes. Emoni looked at Ken’s back, taking a deep breath in relief that he was not wounded or worse. Losing her executive officer during the first attempt to gather information was bad enough, to lose two of her senior officers in a single mission was unthinkable to her.
Lieutenant Kenneth Ushiyama had become a fast friend among the bridge crew, with the captain in particular. He proved himself to be competent as the operations officer, while knowing when to take things seriously and when not to. Ken’s sense of humor seemed to be his trademark, and it was very well received on the bridge. The previous executive officer had not fit in so quickly with everyone, due to the fact that she was a Vulcan who maintained her distance on a personal level, seeking solitude in her off hours and interfacing with the crew so long as it was of a professional nature. Emoni did not wish to think ill of the dead, but she was beginning to prefer Ken’s personality to T’Nala’s lack of one. In the six months he had been assigned to the ship, she had come to know and respect Ken a great deal, and when it was time to let her hair down, they engaged in a far more intimate relationship that was agreed between them would have no further development than mutual satisfaction.
It was probably a violation of protocol, she had tried to caution herself when they decided to pursue that kind of relationship, but some of the missions and risks they took on behalf of Starfleet and the Federation put them above those constraints in her eyes. Barring that, they were both adults, and how they spent their off-duty hours was of their concern and no one else’s. Emoni did not fool herself into believing that the crew was ignorant to their activities, but then they also had never flaunted that knowledge. So long as they maintained a modicum of respect for that, she did not care. There was one fact she was sure of, and that was that the other members of Dallas’ crew were also finding pleasure in entertaining themselves in a similar vein.
“What’s our ETA?” Emoni asked of Phendara.
“Two minutes, sir.”
“Status of our friends?”
“Still unable to get a clear picture, but they’re pulling away from us. I’d give it another five minutes before the interference clears up enough for them to realize we pulled a Houdini right in front of them,” replied Ken.
Emoni looked up at the bulkhead, “Bridge to Engineering.”
“Engineering,” replied the bulkhead in a gravely male bass, “this is Whitaker. Lieutenant Lindh was wounded, she’s been taken to sickbay.”
“Senior Chief,” she said, not wanting to waste any time, “we’re about to take up a position in an asteroid field, and as soon as we secure from flight operations, I want you to start making repairs. You’re cleared for EVA ops.” Emoni intended to allow her engineering crews to use the ship’s three workbees and other equipment necessary to make repairs to the exterior of the ship. Under the most ideal circumstances, they would be able to use the field long enough without being detected and then make a run for Federation space at maximum warp without having to worry about shutting the engines down.
Whitaker’s tone was one of gratitude, “I hear that, sir. We’ll do the best we can as soon as we get our gear set up.”
“How long do you need to get us back into shape?”
“Better part of a day, Captain,” came the reply. “Twenty hours, maybe less if I cut some corners.”
Lau shook her head, “Don’t cut any corners. Twenty hours is reasonable, so long as we don’t draw any attention to ourselves.”
“Now entering the star system, sir,” said Phendara. “With your permission, I’d like to power down the warp drive and proceed on guided inertia.”
“Permission granted.” No sooner had the captain said it that the ever-present hum of the warp drive faded away.
Whitaker’s voice spoke up, “We can get a head start on the engines this way. Thanks, Lieutenant.”
“I want a report on your progress every hour, Senior Chief,” Emoni ordered. “Bridge, out.”
---- Scene Change ----
Senior Chief Petty Officer Harold Leslie Whitaker was the stereotype of every engineering chief petty officer they told stories about in the Academy’s cadet barracks. He was large, barrel-chested, and spoke with a gravely voice that reverberated off of the bulkheads. When he spoke to you, you had no choice but to be intimidated by his rank and experiences. Ensigns and some junior grade lieutenants trembled whenever he walked into the room. At times, even the chief engineering officer took her cues from his suggestions.
When Tammy Lindh suffered injuries falling from the second engineering level due to the shockwave, the assistant chief engineering officer, Lieutenant (junior grade) Walter Rabbitt, did not make any attempt to assume command of the engineering section. He fell in line with the senior chief’s orders, carrying them out as he believe that if they were going to get out of this situation in one piece, it would be by Whitaker’s decisions based on his years of experience in the field. The others followed by the lieutenant’s example, not questioning Whitaker’s authority even once.
Following the order to maintain station within the asteroid field, the warp core was taken offline. The Miranda-class light cruiser was essentially defenseless without primary power online, but the fusion generators accepted the increase in load as they were designed to do. Whitaker wasted very little time in assigning the high priority tasks to his teams, sending a third of his section to make direct hull repairs as efficiently as possible.
In the tenth hour of making repairs to Dallas, the bad news was relayed from the bridge to Whitaker; Lieutenant Tammy Lindh’s injuries were too severe to save her, and she died in the surgical unit. He had to break the news to the staff, but only after they had completed the job they set out to do. He assembled group of officers, commissioned and non-commissioned, near the large master systems display on the main engineering deck.
“All right, listen up,” the senior chief said, addressing the assembled team leaders. “So far, we’ve patched up the hull as much as we can afford to in twenty hours. Mister Rabbitt assures me that the damage to the long-range transceiver will be repaired well in time. Odessa, where are we with the warp drive?”
Everyone trained his or her eyes on the short woman, who wore her charcoal uniform unzipped and hanging off of her shoulders. Patches of coolant exposure appeared in white streaks across the mustard yellow turtleneck, undoubtedly from the repair efforts to the plasma injectors. She looked at Whitaker for a moment before responding in a muted voice, “Behind schedule, Senior Chief. I’m afraid that we will not have the warp drive back online for another eighteen hours. We made our repairs to the plasma injectors just fine, but we also found severe fatigue in the starboard power transfer conduits. I’m recommending that we use this time to do a full replacement of the conduit in question, or else risk a breach later on down the line.” McComas left the rest unspoken, for if another cruiser out there caught them, another hit would spell disaster for the Dallas.
Lieutenant (jg) Rabbitt looked at the others with a look of relief on his face. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said in a cheerful voice.
“I’m not finished,” said McComas, fixing the lieutenant with a glare. “The magnetic constrictors are on manual control right now, and held in the locked position to prevent the flow of antimatter into the chamber. We were lucky that the ship was at warp when we took that hit, because before we shut down the warp core, Ensign Hines had to force the constrictors into place. I don’t want to have to rely on manual control for warp speed.”
Whitaker frowned, “I don’t, either. Tell Ensign Hines that I’ll be down as soon as we’re done here and I’ll give him a hand with the magnetic constrictors. Was that all?”
Odessa shook her head, “One more problem. I’ve taken the liberty of sending a team into each of the nacelles to do a visual inspection of the warp coils. That shockwave shook us up pretty badly, and I’m sure that we’re all right, but I did not want to take any chances.” She looked at Whitaker, “I apologize if I stepped out of line on that.”
The senior chief decided not to say anything to her right then, instead optioning to address everyone at once, “You heard her, we’ve started the inspection and we’ll finish it. Send whatever people you can spare to help speed that process up. Other than that, I think we’re making some good progress here. You’re dismissed.” He looked to McComas, “Odessa, you’re with me.” He pointed toward the turbolift door, to indicate exactly where he intended to go.
“Aye, aye, Senior Chief,” she said, trying to keep the worry out of her tone.
Once within the confines of the lift, Whitaker decided to take more dramatic tack with the young woman, looking at her with a slight frown on his face. “Odessa,” he began, with the tone of his voice presenting difficulty in trying to see if a storm was about to come in the form of one of his famous lectures. “Odessa, I think that you have proven yourself as a very capable non-comm time and time again. Your decision to send teams into the nacelles proves that.”
Odessa allowed herself to breathe again, “Okay, whew.”
“Whew?” he asked, the look on his face expressing his puzzlement.
She wore wearing a relieved smile on her face as she admitted, “I thought you were going to chew my ass off.”
Whitaker harrumphed, “I’ve been known to say a good word from time to time, you know.”
“Not in my lifetime,” she was unable to keep from replying.
The senior chief shot a look toward her, “What was that?”
“Why, nothing, Senior Chief. Nothing at all.”
---- Scene Change ----
Emoni closed her eyes as Ken expertly massaged her shoulders within the confines of her quarters. She rolled her head from side to side as he relieved her of the tension of the last three days, and she was grateful for his attention to her in that moment. Their moments together had been fleeting since the mission to provide long-range tactical data of the Monac star system. “Remind me to recommend Phendara for promotion,” she said, her voice almost a moan. “It’s not quite Federation territory, but I’m sure glad to not be running for a while.”
Ken continued to move his hands over her shoulders and back as the captain lay on her couch, face down. As she spoke to him, he looked up at the viewport that showed the asteroid field in front of the ship and admitted his fears, “I don’t want to be the one to break it to you, but how exactly did this system go unnoticed by the Jem’Hadar?” The truth was told, ever since they arrived, he felt as though something weren’t right. There were so many places the ship could travel to in the short amount of time that the interference blinded them, and with the methodical nature of the military forces of the Dominion, it seemed rather miraculous that they had been able to take nearly sixteen hours of uninterrupted rest.
“I’d be lying if I said that thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” Emoni said, her tone serious.
“How long before the next progress report from engineering?” asked Ken.
The captain gave a slight shrug in response, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
“Look, Emoni, I don’t think we should be relaxing our guard here.”
Pushing herself to flip over on her back, she looked at him before speaking, “Not that I need to explain my orders to you, but there’s not much choice in the matter.”
Ken rested on his haunches as she moved, and when there was an opportunity to do so, he rested an elbow upon her thigh as she explained what they were doing. His presence in the captain’s quarters was a part of their routine on those days where anything resembling off-hours presented itself.
“We need to be able to nurse the wounds that we’ve taken so far. We were damned lucky to make it out of that system with the lumps the Jem’Hadar handed out,” Emoni began. “With the warp core less than a half hour away from shutting down, it was either we pull a disappearing act or we try to outmaneuver them on impulse power.”
“Which we could have done,” he pressed.
Her eyes betrayed her anger, “Damn it, Ken. I’m tired of having to go over our orders with you every time you decide you want to prove that you have a bigger penis than the other guy.”
Ken blanched, “That hurt, Emoni.”
“That was my intention.” She sighed, “Look. This mission calls for discretion, not heroism. We’ve done this hundreds of times. Starfleet Intelligence orders us to go out, get information, and bring it back. We’re not here to earn kills.”
He sighed, this time taking a deep breath in a mimicking gesture. “I’m beginning to feel as though you don’t think much of my opinion.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
Emoni opened her mouth to say something, but instead she closed it and shook her head in frustration.
“I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment of shared silence. “I don’t mean to come off sounding like an asshole. What I am trying to say here is that I would feel better knowing that there was one less cruiser out here looking for us.”
“I can appreciate that.” She sat up, moving her thighs out from under his arm. “But this is where I get to point that I’m in command. I made the decision and I’ll stick by it.”
Ken stood up, folding his arms and looking very much like a child, “Why do you always have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Throw your rank in my face to win an argument.”
“Because sometimes you forget your place, Lieutenant,” she said, emphasizing his rank.
He turned around, staring at her intently, “And what exactly is my place, Captain?”
“To carry out my orders,” she replied, her voice growing tense.
“That’s not what I mean.”
She looked at him and asked, “What do you mean, then?”
Unsure of his emotional footing, Ken seemed to take his time before answering that question. He knew full well that their relationship was purely physical, but that was in the past, during a time when they had discussed it as though it were merely an academic issue rather than a real one. He was so certain of his ability to keep his heart reigned in that he decided to involve himself personally with her. In looking at her seated on her couch, he felt his heart jump within his chest.
Ken remembered how excited he was to have been granted his transfer request to the Dallas six months ago. He had come up through the ranks aboard the Fearless, in the operations department, and with his knowledge and experience as the assistant department head, he felt it was his turn to step up and take the opportunity to prove his leadership ability beyond any doubt. He had been grateful to Captain Simpson’s recommendation to Commander Lau, but when he stepped aboard ship for the first time he had not been so certain as so how he would fit in.
He reported in to her and he remembered feeling tongue-tied in her presence, as though he were a newly commissioned ensign making his report to his first assignment rather than a full lieutenant with over six years of service on his record. She was beautiful beyond words, he said to himself. Emoni Lau regarded him with two of the darkest brown eyes he had ever seen, and spoke with a warm, yet regal tone. He could not believe she was his commanding officer, wanting so much to be able to approach her without having to worry about the consequences. He had convinced himself that the brief exchange in her ready room would be the extent of their interaction, until he served his first bridge shift. But that was not the case.
From the start of his tenure as a bridge officer, he noticed that there was a relaxed nature about everyone. It proved to be a very stark contrast to the strict environment he had come to appreciate aboard the Fearless. He felt as though he had transferred to a cruise ship rather than a Starfleet vessel. Gone was the discipline, all of the adherence to the protocol that his former captain drilled into his officers and crew. By the second day, Ken began to feel as though that his decision to transfer was fueled more by his ambition.
In the end, it was Emoni who had a hand in making him feel comfortable. The executive officer, T’Nala, was a Vulcan, and she made sure he was aware of her personal boundaries from the beginning. The others had not turned such a cold shoulder to him, within days of his arrival, he had been known to crack up the bridge crew with a few carefully crafted remarks and maintained a sense of levity about him. Officers like Phendara and the late Tammy Lindh had grown to like him a great deal. Even Senior Chief Whitaker warmed up to him, which was an unprecedented move by the older non-commissioned officer. One month later, Ken found himself amidst a new group of friends and colleagues whose company he enjoyed a great deal more than he had on the Fearless.
When Emoni had approached him with an invitation to share meals with her on a regular basis, he had no idea what to expect. The first meal was spent discussing ship’s business, and he set his expectations accordingly. It was not unusual for her to reach out to him like that, given T’Nala’s demeanor, she would wish to have contact with the next officer in her command structure. After the first day, he felt he had gotten to know her a little better. A week passed, and then a month. By then, they had discussed everything they felt necessary, going through personal history and exchanging anecdotes that had relevance to their conversations.
One evening, Emoni cancelled their dinner plans due to a personal matter. Feeling slighted by that explanation, he began moping about the ship and being generally unresponsive to his friends. They had been docked at Deep Space Nine at the time, and without warning, she took emergency leave and returned to Earth. With T’Nala in command, and the ship enjoying an extended period of relaxation on the converted Cardassian mining station, he found the opportunity to seek solitude without calling any more attention to himself. T’Nala obliged his request for extra duties, and she even made her approval known with only a few choice words in the corridor, breaking her months-long off-bridge silence.
When Emoni returned to the ship one week later, her first order of personal business following the report from T’Nala was to seek Ken out and explain what had happened. The officers and crew of the starship Exeter had lost their lives in an attempt to evacuate a Federation colony near the demilitarized zone near the Cardassian border. She explained that a great number of her classmates ended up serving together on that ship, and she used what clout she had with Starfleet Intelligence to make the voyage to Earth in time for the memorial services. She felt as though she had lost a family, rather than a single person, and in her moment of remorse, she told him she had regretted shutting him out so suddenly.
That night, over dinner and wine she had brought back with her, she made a resolution. To all of those friends around her that she felt close to, she would make sure that she did not lose touch with them. They ate, they drank, she cried, and he tried to do his best to console her. He offered his arms to embrace his captain, and she settled into his arms and continued to weep openly. He had never felt as close to anyone as he had with her, and it was in that moment of surging emotions that he dared to lean down and kiss her.
The next morning, she made it clear that what had happened was the result of the loss of inhibitions and the emotionally charged atmosphere. They had gotten lost in the moment, she said to him, it won’t happen again. But it did happen again, the next night and the night after. It was dinner, conversation, and physical intimacy. Ken’s demeanor could not help but change dramatically, and the other officers and crew began to speculate about what went on behind those closed doors. Nothing was ever said, despite their actions both Emoni and Ken were well-liked, and it took a motion from Harry Whitaker to simply turn a blind eye and prevent the lower decks from speaking ill of their captain and second officer.
Tonight, on the other side of the border yet again, he stared into those brown eyes and wondered if he should tell her how he felt about her. The questions began to dance in his mind; was this the right time? Should he wait until they got back to the Starbase? What if they never got back to the Starbase? No, he could not bear to think that, but it raised a point about seizing the moment.
Emoni looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to her question.
Ken finally came to a decision. “Never mind,” he said lamely. “Forget I said anything about it. Why don’t we go see if engineering has a better idea of where we are.”
---- Scene Change ----
It was the heat of the arc welder that was causing him to sweat profusely. His officer’s jacket had already been discarded on the floor in a heap of cloth and the large wet patches from his armpits and back turned the mustard yellow turtleneck a discolored brown. As he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, he figured that the reason why there were so many dry patches were because all of that moisture was now outside of his body. His body demanded that he replenish what he expended, but if he stopped his welding now, he knew he would be behind schedule.
Though not a regular member of the engineering team, he felt useless sitting in his quarters. With limited knowledge in repairs, he was pressed into service where he would do the most good; welding fatigued spots of the superstructure, and placing new hull patches over worn ones to reinforce them. It was not much, nor as big a contribution as some of the other well trained engineers aboard ship, but it was the least he could do.
“Whitaker to Kirk,” said the ship’s internal communications system.
Jonas did not stop welding. “Yes, Senior Chief?” his tone was loud, over the noise the welder made. He was glad he did not have to touch his commbadge to acknowledge the signal.
“How much longer are you going to be patching up that hole in my hull?”
“I’m almost done, Senior Chief. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“You have ten. Whitaker, out.”
He cursed inwardly, stealing a glance up at the rest of the tritanium hull patch. Ten minutes would be doable, if he could get a tricorder down here in time. “Kirk to Phendara,” he called out.
“Phendara, here,” she replied in an annoyed tone.
“Hey, where are you?”
A pause. “I’m in my quarters.”
“Are you up to doing me a favor?” he asked.
There was another pause, as she considered his question.
Kirk stopped welding, sitting back on his feet as his knees screamed in agony from being abused. “Phendara, all I need is a tricorder and some water.”
She did not find that to be unreasonable, “Very well. I shall arrive shortly. Is that all?”
“Yes. Thank you very much.”
“Phendara, out.”
It always started like that with her; he noticed that she regarded him with contempt. He did outrank her, but that was not the source of their unease. But he tried not to think about it he waited for his tricorder and his water.
---- Scene Change ----
Lieutenant Ushiyama’s eyes scanned over the PADD containing the latest engineering report. Despite the captain’s order that they would remain within the asteroid field for twenty hours, it was now over twenty-four hours since they arrived. The report in his hand showed that while the discovered problems with the warp drive were identified and corrected, they were requesting an additional two hours to complete the repair process.
“Harry…” Ken’s voice trailed off with a warning tone.
Whitaker shrugged, “We took some serious hits, Ken.” He was unapologetic about it, as he always was about such matters. “I supposed we could go right now, do what we can en route.”
The executive officer was not buying it. “I feel one of your famous doomsday lectures coming on.”
“No need. I think we’re about waist-deep in it already,” replied the senior chief.
Ken could not disagree with him, “I hear that. All right, we do it en route, because I do not want to be sitting out here with our pants rolled up around our ankles, waiting for the next Jem’Hadar ship to shove their gun up our asses, and pull the damned trigger.”
Whitaker laughed loudly, “We’ll wrap up what we’ve got going in ten minutes. Half that to pull the EVA crews back in.”
“I’ll inform the captain,” nodded Ken, and the impromptu meeting in the ready room was over. The executive officer handed the PADD back to Whitaker and departed to return to the captain’s quarters, where she was asleep.
---- Scene Change ----
There was a decided advantage to serving on a ship assigned to Starfleet Intelligence, and that was in the fact that whenever possible, the ship would find itself at the head of every upgrade list. Most of the Miranda-class light cruisers serving within the tactical fleets were pressed into service from the mothball fleet, or recommissioned into active service to replace ships lost in the first six months of the Dominion war. Dallas was one of those vessels, having been put into the mothball fleet just shortly after the end of the Cardassian war, as one of fifty ships that Starfleet determined to be no longer needed to maintain a peacetime fleet. Once pressed back into active service, however, it was retasked from the tactical fleets that would engage the Dominion, and into a smaller fleet that was operated by Starfleet Intelligence.
Dallas received a series of upgrades to its weapons systems, and modules, including the main bridge. The main bridge module that was installed contained a ready room for the captain; a luxury not enjoyed by her sister ships. Along with the other advanced systems came the installation of the long-term emergency medical holograph, the prototype developed by Doctor Lewis Zimmerman. Rather than assigning a chief medical officer, the holograph fulfilled that role very capably, and his ability to escape the confines of sickbay, thanks to the shipwide holographic emitters, added to his value among the members of the crew.
“Good morning, Odessa,” said the Doctor, looking up from his desk within the now-empty sickbay; he addressed her by her preferred method of address he had on file. “What can I do for you?”
Odessa smiled, “Nothing, Doc. I’m here to take care of some power node repairs.” She indicated this by raising her repair kit up. As the exterior repairs were cut short and the warp core about to be brought online, many of the repair teams found themselves reassigned to the next critical system. “We’re going to switch to the secondary network in a minute so we can finish repairs on our way back home.”
The Doctor took on a worried look, “I hope this doesn’t take too long.”
McComas could not help but smile at his programmed responses. Her assignment to the ship came only four months ago, and in that time she had come to learn a great deal about the systems that worked on the ship. Odessa’s favorite system to maintain was the LMH’s holographic generator. As the other engineers tended to not wish to interact with the program, she reveled in the opportunity to talk and discuss various topic with the program. It was as if she melded her work and her hobby into one, with being an engineer and working with holography. The programmed emotional responses fascinated her the most, and when she encountered those subroutines, it always amused her. “We’ll try and get this done as soon as possible, Doctor,” she assured him.
“I should hope so,” he replied. The Doctor turned away from her to return to his work.
She opened her toolkit, removing her instruments and tools to begin using them. When both of her hands were free, she opened one of the large access panels against the starboard bulkhead and connected a monitoring device to it. “That’s odd,” said Odessa, once the small display on the device lit up and began to provide her with information.
“What’s odd?” the Doctor asked, his attention divided between continuing their conversation and his medical scans.
Odessa frowned at the device once more, resetting the sensors to make sure what she was seeing was accurate. “I think I’m reading a low-level energy drain.”
“A damaged node, perhaps?”
“If it were a damaged node, it wouldn’t be returning a signature like this,” she shook her head at the results. “I wonder…” her voice trailed off. Odessa brought her right hand up to tap at her communicator, “McComas to Senior Chief Whitaker.”
The familiar gravely voice carried into sickbay, “Go ahead.”
“Check the primary power grid on deck five, section five-baker-eleven. I’m reading an energy fluctuation in this area.”
“Stand by.” The sound of computer commands being entered in the background could be heard before Whitaker replied, “That’s very interesting. Stay where you are, I’m coming up to…” The transmission was terminated without warning, followed by the lights switching off.
“Chief?” she called out, looking around at the dimly lit room. Her eyes searched for the Doctor, and she watched him approach her.
“What’s going on?” was his question.
“I’m not sure.” She checked her device once more, scrutinizing it. “This is really strange. I’ll wait until the Senior Chief gets up here, because I can’t make heads or tails of these readings.”
Before the Doctor could reply, the doors to sickbay slid aside. Odessa looked over; expecting Harry Whitaker to be there, ready to provide his assistance in solving this mystery. In the second immediately following her movement to look at the doors, she reacted on instinct as the weapons fire shot through the Doctor’s image and over her head as she hit the deck and rolled behind the biobed. Grabbing her phaser from its holster on her hip and bringing it to bear on the intruders, she fired short bursts in a quick pattern through the open areas of the biobed’s legs.
She kept her phaser at the ready, approaching the edge of the biobed slowly in an attempt to maintain her cover. Odessa peeked around that corner to look at the three intruders closely, through the dim lighting of sickbay. To her right, the Doctor had already opened his medical tricorder and began to run scans of the deceased. Within moments, he verbally confirmed her suspicions.
It was the Jem’Hadar.
“Holy Kolker,” she whispered as the extremity of the situation replayed in her mind. She had to push aside her shock and disbelief in order to press on and perform her duty. Slapping her communicator, she called out, “McComas to Bridge. Intruder alert.” There was no response to her call. In the silence of sickbay, she looked at the Doctor and said, “Can you transfer your program to the bridge and warn them?”
“I have already tried, it’s part of my program. The sickbay systems appeared to have been isolated,” he said immediately.
Odessa moved for the doors, “I’m going to have to hoof it, then.”
“Wait! What if there are more of them?”
She never had an opportunity to reply. As soon as she was within three feet of the doors, they slid aside once more. Automatically, she brought her phaser up in defense, rolling to the side again. She hit the ground, but kept her eyes and her weapon trained on the person coming through the door.
That person brought both of his hands up and called out, “Stand down!” It was Whitaker, his own phaser at the ready after seeing her threaten him, though inadvertent as the action was. “Jesus, have you lost your mind?”
The Doctor indicated toward the bodies, “Under the circumstances, I hope you can forgive her jumpiness, Senior Chief.”
McComas drew herself up from the ground, apologizing for her actions, “Sorry about that.”
“It’s all right,” he said, after getting a good look at the Jem’Hadar. “Have you tried contacting the bridge?”
Odessa spoke up first, “The communications system isn’t responding to my commands.” She walked over to the other two, keeping her phaser in her hand. Her heart was already beating rapidly; she had no intention of dropping her guard any more.
Whitaker reached down for the rifles that the Jem’Hadar carried into sickbay, and handed one to Odessa. He offered the other to the Doctor, who refused it.
“I’m a doctor. I swore an oath to do no harm.”
“Fine,” he said. “Can I count on you to prevent any more of these uglies from accessing sickbay? We might be sending you some wounded.”
The Doctor seemed to think about that, “I can seal the room, but for that I require primary power online.”
The senior chief guided the petty officer toward the crawlway access panel very near the open panel that Odessa was preparing to work on. He swung open the door and allowed her to go first. “Fair enough. We’ll try to accommodate you, Doc. Try not to let these sons of bitches push you around.” Once she was through, he dove into the crawlway after her.
The LMH activated his tangibility subroutine and used his suddenly solid hand to close the door behind them.
---- Scene Change ----
The door chimed for the third time, but it was the first time she had heard it. The audible chirping noise penetrated a dream that she already forgot by the time she was on her feet. Ken had told her he would wake her once the engineering report had been made, and as always, he was quite punctual. Actually, she thought to herself as she noticed the time, he was early. That could only mean one of two things, good news or bad news. She reached over to her uniform jacket to put it on before the door chimed a fourth time, allowing it to hang freely rather than zipping it up in front. Her phaser dangled from its holster, which was attached to the lower part of her tunic. Emoni opened the door.
Ken noticed that she looked as though she had woken up. His concern was the fact that it took her four chimes before she answered the door. Usually she was a light sleeper, but it seemed lately that she had not been getting enough sleep. He felt a little guilty about waking her for something that he could easily handle himself, but her orders were very clear on the subject. As he walked into her the living area of her stateroom, he said with an indifferent tone, “Sorry. Harry says we can move, now, but he doesn’t recommend it. He wants two more hours to complete some more repairs.”
As the doors slid closed behind Ken, Emoni smiled as she envisioned the conversation between the acting chief engineer and the acting executive officer, “I’ll wager you told him that you’re going to recommend that we leave immediately.”
“With all due respect, sir,” he said. “Hell, yes. We’ve been here long enough.”
The lights dimmed suddenly. Emoni had her mouth open as she was about to reply, but instead she looked up at the lights as though the reason were inscribed upon them. “Computer, restore illumination.”
“Unable to comply,” replied the computer. “Primary power is offline.”
Lieutenant Ushiyama shot Commander Lau a look of warning, “They are doing some quick repairs to the primary grid, but the secondaries should’ve come online pretty quickly.”
It was agreed then, something was wrong. The captain fastened the bottom of her jacket and zipped it up to the top. Tapping her communicator, she got a hold of the bridge. Or at least, she tried to.
Ken did the same, seeing Emoni’s failure to contact anyone. “Ushiyama to Bridge.”
She darted a glance at him in annoyance, as he repeated her action in futility. “It’s probably just a down power node.”
He was not as dismissive, “What if it’s not?”
“Good point,” she said, looking down at her type two phaser. “Heavy stun, and be prepared for anything.”
The lieutenant put his hand upon her shoulder, to prevent her from being the first to leave her quarters. He touched the door control on the bulkhead to the right, and when it slid open, he poked his head out to make sure there were no ambushers lying in wait. The corridor was too dark for him to truly see anything, but he seemed to be satisfied that it was clear. With a gesture to her, he led the way down the corridor, noticing that it was unusually devoid of anyone, including the Dallas’ crew compliment.
Once they left the section that her quarters were in, the lighting appeared in the next section, confirming Emoni’s supposition that the power node in her section of the deck had indeed been faulty. Holstering her phaser, she smirked at him for being so cautious, and entered the turbolift ahead of him and called out their destination of the main bridge.
When they arrived at the main bridge, Emoni’s position within the turbolift did not give her enough time to see the main bridge when the doors parted. Ken slammed into her from her left side and pushed her against the turbolift wall. She got a yelp of surprise out, and angry before she realized that blue-white bolts of energy had discolored the turbolift wall in front of her, and her quick-acting executive officer had already ordered the turbolift to auxiliary control.
Ken’s view of the devastation on the main bridge was unforgettable. The third shift personnel were all dead, from what he could see. They ripped apart the officer of the deck, Ensign Nystrom, along with the other four members of the bridge crew. From what he could determine, at the time that the lift doors opened, two of them were making attempts to gain access to the ship’s computers. Nystrom, he guessed, must have locked down control of the ship as soon as he saw the bridge was taken.
“The Jem’Hadar have taken the bridge,” he informed Emoni of the obvious, checking his phaser charge and despite her order earlier to set it to heavy stun, his rage forced his weapon to full. “I recommend you localize command function, sir.” There was no longer any more time for anything other than duty.
It was his best recommendation, and she took it with a nod. Tapping her communicator to open up a communications link, she addressed the main computer directly. “Computer, sound intruder alert. All orders regarding command function are only to be accepted from auxiliary control. Authorization: Lau-alpha-one-one-three-zero.” She had effectively disabled the main bridge, or any other location aboard the ship, from accessing any command that would alter the ship’s state. Powering up the warp core, changing course, activating the weapons systems, any order would be refused unless the order originated from auxiliary control.
Shortly after the public address system called the attention of the ship’s security teams, the computer replied, “Orders acknowledged.”
The turbolift doors opened out onto deck five within seconds. Across the corridor was the auxiliary control room, from where all of the bridge functions were duplicated in situations exactly as a hostile boarding. To prevent unauthorized access, entry into the control room was restricted to members of the senior staff. From inside, the captain and first officer would be able to conduct ship’s business.
“First things first, we need to get the hell out of here,” Emoni said, taking the helm. She motioned for Ken to take the operations position. “Status of the warp core?”
He had barely logged himself into the console when she asked. Taking a moment to redirect his reading on the engineering systems, he reported, “According to this, we can initiate the startup sequence at any time.”
“Do it. Raise shields. Bring the lateral sensor array online and let’s see if we have any long-range company.” Her cursory check of the short-range scans showed that they appeared to be alone. But where had these Jem’Hadar come from?
“Shields online. Seventy-three percent fore, fifty-six percent aft,” reported Ken.
Emoni looked at him, “More than enough to stop any transporters from setting more Jem’Hadar on the deck.”
Whitaker and McComas made their entry into the room not long after, both carrying the rifles they had taken from the fallen Jem’Hadar in sickbay. The senior chief was the first to report, “We just got out of a firefight on deck eight. They’re trying to take the impulse deck. I’ve got Rabbitt and a few others defending main engineering.” He tossed the third rifle he had been carrying to Ken, who took it and holstered his phaser to let the rifle strap hang over his shoulder.
Ken nodded to him, “Harry, I’ve already started up the warp core. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“No shit, Lieutenant,” he said as he placed himself before the engineering station and engaged the link to the warp core. “Three minutes until we have warp speed available.”
Captain Lau pointed Odessa toward the helm as she took the command station in the center of the room. “What have we got on long-range sensors?”
“Scanning,” replied Ushiyama. “I’m not picking up anything, sir.”
Emoni looked toward Harry, “I want to release anesthezine on every deck.”
“Sir, we’re not sure if the Jem’Hadar are affected by anesthezine. We’d be putting our own people at risk,” cautioned Ken.
Emoni hesitated after hearing his warning. That much was for certain, though the information gathered on the Jem’Hadar was limited, it was never fully understood what weaknesses they had. If she did use anesthezine, it would certainly put her own crew to sleep, and if it failed to bring down the Jem’Hadar, then she would be sending her crew to their deaths. With their enemies down, they would brutally murder them without hesitation or sense of fair play. They would have to fight them hand-to-hand. “Belay my last. Get a hold of Lieutenant Kirk, and tell him to coordinate his teams to defend key positions. Sound general quarters, and tell all personnel who have not already reported to their duty station to remain in their quarters and to arm themselves.”
Whitaker called from his station, “Warp core online now, sir.”
“Odessa, take us away from the field at full impulse power,” ordered Lau. “Once we’re clear, resume course and take us away from the system at warp nine.”
The helm answered her commands, and with the computer’s help, she brought Phendara’s previous course onto her screen. “Uh, system departure in two minutes, we can engage the warp engines once we clear the gravity well.”
“Very good,” Emoni looked at the command display before her. It was one of the nicer things about commanding the ship from the control center. A full computer station that allowed her to watch the ship’s status change in real time replaced the captain’s chair. Twin inputs on the arms of the chair on the bridge could not compare to the ability to configure a large display with the vital information she needed to make decisions. “Ken, I need you to put a call to Jonas. We need to nail a lid on these intruders.”
---- Scene Change ----
The call to all security teams to repel boarders came only seconds after he had finished welding that hull patch. Sharing a strange look of surprise with Phendara, Jonas believed it to be a drill when he heard several of those intruders storming down the corridor, approaching their position. In either case, as the tactical officer, he had a duty to perform. With his phaser drawn, he was ready to face whomever it was that felt the need to come sprinting.
“Identify yourselves!” called Kirk, trying to search and watching the shadows as they advanced around the bend.
A female voice replied back, “It’s Corporal Quinn and Private Watters.” They came into view, both of them wearing phasers on their belts and carrying Jem’Hadar rifles.
Phendara eyed them both while also eyeing their rifles and putting the situation together. “We have to get to the bridge, immediately.”
“No can do,” said Quinn, a little winded. She was a tall woman, with dark red hair and a muscular build. Private Watters was as equally muscular, but with blonde hair and average height. Both of them were members of the Marine contingent that the Dallas carried, led by Gunnery Sergeant MacDougal. “They’ve taken the bridge. The CP has been set up in cargo bay four, and the captain’s transferred command to auxiliary control.” The marine command post or CP, Jonas knew, was only enabled when hostile forces had compromised at least fifty percent of the ship.
Kirk acted quickly, “Corporal, continue on your assignment. Phendara and I will try and reach auxiliary control. Good luck.” The full realization of the situation invigorated him, he felt the stress of the invasion and he felt as if he had just been awoken from a slumber. It was a chance to fight back, to make a difference, to do something other than run. “Armory, deck seven,” he ordered, once they entered the turbolift.
The call from Ushiyama came through, telling Kirk what he already knew, and what his duty was. He informed the executive officer that he and Phendara were together, and that they were going to do what they could to comply with the captain’s orders.
Phendara took up a position against the right side of the lift door, while Jonas moved to the left. With their phasers pointed up toward the deck, they were ready for anything to come through that door once they arrived.
The doors parted, and a barrage of phaser and rifle fire crisscrossed the corridor in front of them. Starfleet personnel had set up a barricade using empty cargo containers brought in from the lower decks. Marines and regular fleet security were holding the line against the Jem’Hadar. Kirk shouted over the noise, “Go ahead! I’ll cover you!”
She moved out of the doorway, firing her phaser wildly in an attempt to force them to take cover. Kirk whipped around with his arm and began to fire as well, striking one of the soldiers in the chest. “Move! Move!” he shouted, not wanting her to take the time to aim let alone fire her phaser.
Phendara tucked in her arms and rolled after leaping behind the barricade. The doors to the turbolift had opened in the middle of the fight, with the Starfleet side only a few feet to the left. The Jem’Hadar took position over twenty feet to the right.
Satisfied that she made it through safely, he ran from the doors, firing in the same fashion as she had. Once he reached the barricade, he leapt over containers. The storm of rifle fire seemed to increase as he did so, and after rolling over, he lost control over his movement and spun into the bulkhead, clutching at his arm. One of the rifle hits had found its mark on the upper part of his right arm, smoldering from the point at where his uniform and flesh melted away.
Kirk cried out in tremendous pain, dropping the phaser to the floor. He was far enough away from the fight to not worry about stray fire hitting him.
Crawling over to him, Phendara took a look at the hit he took, and began to drag him by his good arm down the corridor and out of the range of fire completely. She was strong, he noticed, much stronger than her physique let on. Once clear, she continued to drag him the other four feet into the ship’s armory. The two security crewman defending that station helped her get him onto one of the empty desks, as she grabbed the field medical kit from its housing and opened it to begin treating Jonas’ wound.
“Hold still,” she asked him. Outside, the fight continued, as the sound of weapons fire penetrated the bulkheads. The medical tricorder told her it was a third degree plasma burn, and that the fibers of the uniform had fused itself it his skin. The most she could do for him was to sedate him, but she knew he would not want to be asleep when the fight was so close. Phendara looked to the other two crewmembers, “He needs to be moved to sickbay. Can we do a site-to-site transport?”
The shorter of the two wore the rank of a senior crewman, the equivalent of a marine sergeant. “Transporters are offline right now. Last I heard, they just did the warp core startup sequence. We’re leaving the system.”
Phendara asked the question everyone else appeared to be asking, “Where did the Jem’Hadar come from?”
“We don’t know,” came the reply.
Jonas grimaced, “I’m all right. You need to get to aux control, Phendara. They’re going to need you at the helm.”
“As you wish.” She pushed away from him and turned to the other two, “Please look after him.”
“Now exiting the system,” reported Odessa from the helm position. She looked down at her display and ran a navigational scan of the sector. “I’m not reading any further stellar bodies between here and our destination, sir. Estimated time of arrival to Federation territory is just under two hours.”
Emoni had already done that from her station, pulling the latest sensor reports from every type of scan. “Thank you, Odessa. Harry, how’re we doing on the warp drive?”
“Holding up just fine, Skipper.”
“Good to hear. What’s the word from the fight in the halls, Ken?”
Ken’s security report flashed on the operations display again, updating. “Looks like we have them on the run. Contained on decks five through seven, but they still have control over decks one, three, and eight.”
“How many of our personnel are on the decks that the Jem’Hadar have control over?”
“Showing fifteen on deck three, and thirty-one on deck eight,” replied Ken.
Emoni looked over at Ken, “The Bridge is under their control, still?”
“Technically, yes.”
She duplicated that information on her screen, showing the decks that were in contest with more detail. “Ken, can you run a forcefield pattern to keep them contained to certain sections?”
Ushiyama looked at his screen again, trying to anticipate her order by paying attention to the locations of the intruders. The difficult part was that the internal sensors tended to not get a good lock on the Jem’Hadar. “I can try, but I can’t guarantee I’ll get them all.”
“Your best shot will be good enough,” Emoni did not move her eyes from the display in front of her. “Let’s also erect forcefields around the critical areas: Main Bridge, Main Engineering, Impulse Deck, Armory, Computer Core, and Sickbay. That’ll prevent them from getting in, and keep the ones on the bridge contained. Once you get that done, flood the Bridge with anesthezine. I want to run a little experiment.”
Whitaker chuckled, off to her right. “If you want to call it that.”
Ken stifled a laugh, “Running a forcefield pattern, now. I think I have roughly eighty-seven percent of the intruders contained behind the containment fields. We’re showing that they’re trying to shoot their way through, but the fields are holding.” He reconfigured his display to bring the Bridge’s life support systems controls. “Standing by to release anesthezine, sir.”
Emoni shared in the humor of the statement, inadvertent as it was. “Five parts per million, Ken. Monitor their lifesigns, and let’s see if we can take back my bridge.”
“Aye, sir. Releasing anesthezine,” replied the executive officer.
Emoni realized the danger in having a screen like this in front of her. There was so much information she wished to see; it was impossible to devote enough time to it all. Grateful for her officers, she leaned back in the chair and kept her eye on the readout. There was no change. “Increase to six parts per million.”
The order was obeyed, and still the Jem’Hadar did not take much notice to the increase in airborne anesthetic gas. She shared a look with Ken, silently acknowledging that his earlier warning had been dead on the money. Emoni took a deep breath, asking quietly, “Are we still working on the transporters?”
Harry Whitaker explained, “Transporters are still offline right now. They were not high on the priority list, sir.”
“Understood. We’re just going to have to do this the hard way.” Emoni entered in commands on her screen and called up the engineering status. “If we can’t put them to sleep, then we’re going to have to use a little more force. They can breathe anything, but I’ll bet they can’t breathe vacuum. Disable deck one life support.”
The senior chief had been expecting that command, because it was something he would do, had he been in command. “Aye, sir. Overriding each independent safety system will take about five minutes.” There were seven in total, to prevent a single life support system from failing, the other six would be on stand by to compensate for the failure. Since the systems were automatic by design, the acting chief engineer needed to switch each safety to manual; thereby preventing it from engaging once the primary was taken offline. Eventually, the atmosphere would bleed out into space and with any luck, the Jem’Hadar would lose consciousness and die.
Off
