Fic: Containment (1/2)
Title: Containment
Fandom: Star Trek: Enterprise
Characters: Ensemble plus OCs
Rating: PG
Length: ~8200 words
Beta: The indomitable explodedpen and Sita Z, who both seriously rock.
Spoilers: 2.09 "Singularity"
Author's Note: Written for Volley for the entficathon, who wanted Archer/Reed centred genfic with angst or other conflicting emotions, and set within the first two seasons. I mostly managed to meet her requests, although I did go in other directions here and there. Hope you like it, Volley! :)
“I think if I read any more passive subjunctives my eyes are going to cross.”
Travis looked over at the communications station. “And this would be a bad thing... why?” he asked innocently.
Hoshi pulled a face at him. “I think I’ve done as much as I can for the moment. The rest can wait until Sub-commander T’Pol and the Away Team get back.”
“Going to turn in for the night?” Travis asked.
“No, I have to stop by Engineering first,” Hoshi replied. “Lieutenant Hess wanted me to update her on some of the translations the Away Team sent up.”
“At this hour?”
“She’s on the night shift this week,” Hoshi explained, getting up from her station and heading to the turbolift. She grinned slightly. “Shuttlepod One will just have to have Crewman Inviere greet them.”
Travis chuckled. “Okay. Night, Hoshi.”
“Goodnight.”
As the turbolift door closed behind her, Travis turned back to the helm. Although the early birds for the night shift - including Ensign Anders at science and Crewman Kopleck at tactical - had already begun arriving, Hoshi’s replacement as well as his own, Ensign Tanner, hadn’t made it up to the bridge yet. The rest of the senior staff had already gone their own ways, either for a meal or straight to bed. It had been a long few days cataloguing everything from the abandoned Vulcan outpost the High Command had asked Enterprise to detour to. With all available hands working almost nonstop on the data and artefacts brought back from the outpost, it was rare that anybody showed up the unofficial few minutes before the shift changeover; instead people were running so late as to be precisely on time.
A couple of minutes later, Crewman Inviere hadn’t arrived, and the communications console started to beep. Turning slightly in his seat, Travis nodded to Ensign Anders to move over.
“Enterprise, this is Shuttlepod One,” T’Pol’s voice announced. “We have docked with the ship and are ready to disembark.”
“Acknowledged,” Anders replied. He cut the comm. and opened another channel. “Bridge to Sickbay; the Sub-commander’s team has returned and will be proceeding to decon.” After the on duty crewman replied in the affirmative, Anders hesitated for a moment before returning to his station.
As it was, he needn’t have bothered. An alarm sounded from somewhere at the back of the bridge, deafeningly loud.
“What was that?” Travis demanded, already working at his own console.
“I don’t know!” Kopleck replied, barely audible over the alarm. “I can’t access anything!”
A few seconds later Anders reported: “Me either!”
Travis realised quickly that he couldn’t get to anything from his console either. “Someone shut that noise off!” he yelled, rather than confirm the apparent malfunction. From the corner of his eye he saw Kopleck work feverishly at the computers in front of her until finally - thankfully - the noise stopped. In the odd silence that followed, his ears ringing slightly, Travis turned around in his seat just in time to see Ensign Anders wonder out loud: “What’s going on?”
o o o o o
By the time that Hoshi arrived in Main Engineering, the night shift was about to officially begin. She nodded at some of the second shift crew leaving, and grinned when she spotted Ensign Baker running diagnostics on the upper level, making a mental note to speak to him before heading back to her quarters.
“Ensign Sato!” a voice bellowed from the other side of the warp engine. “Back here!”
Hoshi followed the voice around to Lieutenant Hess, doing something with a plasma coil on one of the workstations. “Lieutenant,” she greeted.
“Yeah.” Hess’ attention was focused completely on the plasma coil. “Update me, I am listening.”
“Okay.” Hoshi began to give her a run down of the manuals and reference works that had been part of the secluded research post they’d been surveying, but she’d barely got started before a piercing alarm sounded through the engine room. Acting on instinct Hoshi ducked down behind Hess’ workstation while the night shift burst into action, checking the engine and all its connections as well as any available computer readouts. All the while the alarm continued blast out, seeming to get louder and louder until quite suddenly, without warning, it stopped, leaving a slight almost-ringing in its wake.
Dazed, Hoshi stood up slowly. She watched the engineers’ movements and actions slow down from frenetically fast to something approaching normal. She hesitated before stepping out from behind the workstation and approaching the nearest crewman. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“Not sure,” the crewman muttered, stabbing at the computer console and display in front of him. “Some kind of protocol, but I’m having a hard time accessing anything.”
“You’ve been locked out?” Hoshi asked, but before he could reply there was a noise from the other end of the engine room that got everyone’s attention.
“What’s going on, Rostov?” someone yelled from the upper level; Hoshi distantly registered the voice as belonging to Lieutenant Hess.
From beside the engine door, Crewman Rostov turned to look up at Hess. “It’s sealed, sir.”
“What’s sealed?”
“The door,” Rostov explained. “It’s sealed. I can’t get it open.”
Hess paused before replying. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Rostov said. “It’s not opening.”
Still with a faint ringing in her ears and the beginnings of a bad headache forming, Hoshi tried to process this new information; a moment later it clicked into place.
They were trapped in Engineering.
o o o o o
“So what you’re tellin’ me is that Malcolm’s not in the armoury?”
Trip tried to smother a smile as the two crewmen in front of him traded confused looks and tried to find something to say. “I know, I know, even the good lieutenant has to sleep sometime,” he joked, noting the relief that washed over the crewmen. “Tell you what,” he continued, holding up a PADD, “how ‘bout you take this for me and let Malcolm get back to me in the mornin’.”
“Okay, sir,” the nearest crewman - O’Malley - replied, taking the PADD. “You did just miss him though; he was going to deliver a report to Captain Archer before turning in for the night.”
“Duly noted,” Trip nodded. He turned to leave, intending to hit his own bunk after having pulled a double shift over the Vulcan outpost, but he hadn’t taken more than two steps to the door when an alarm started ringing out, sounding impossibly loud in the relatively small space. Trip reacted immediately, moving straight to the nearest computer and trying to raise Engineering, the bridge, the Captain - hell, anyone - but in between the repetitive high and low pitches of the alarm he was only barely aware that none of his comms were getting through. To his left Zabel - the second of the armoury’s night shift crew - looked like he was swearing furiously at the weapons readouts, and he had no idea where O’Malley was.
The alarm kept up for a couple of minutes, although to Trip it felt like a lot longer. The comm. system wasn’t working at all by now despite his best efforts, which wasn’t really saying much since the piercing alarm made it difficult to concentrate much at all.
And then it just stopped, without warning, leaving Trip feeling dangerously light headed as the computer screen in front of him started to come out of and into focus. He took a few deep breaths, and when he felt sufficiently oriented again tried to speak. “O’Malley, Zabel? You two okay?”
“Yessir,” Zabel replied curtly. “The weapons are another story.”
“Huh?” Trip turned around.
Zabel waved a hand at the console he’d been insulting just a few moments before. “I’m completely locked out of the computers. As far as I could tell, the torpedo and cannon systems shut themselves down just before I was shut out.”
“Comms aren’t working either,” Trip said, trying to process the new information underneath a growing headache. He turned around again, looking around the rest of the armoury. “Where’d O’Malley go?”
“Phil?” Zabel called out loudly. “Phil!”
A dark blond head popped up from behind the diagnostics consoles on the self-contained upper level. “Right here,” O’Malley replied.
“What have you got up there?” Trip asked.
O’Malley shook his head. “Something in the computer’s shut out all access. I managed to get a protocol number before I was blocked, but it’s not one I recognise.”
Fighting a growing feeling of trepidation, Trip nodded. “What protocol?”
O’Malley recited the number, and the trepidation Trip had been feeling turned into something else altogether.
o o o o o
“And then the Ikbari zoologist said to the Vulcan exobiologist -”
“- that wasn’t a soil sample, that was his lunch!”
Phlox let himself chuckle at the atrociously bad pun, smiling fondly as he remembered the first time his third wife had told him that joke, and made a mental note to write to her before the next batch of letters was sent out via subspace.
Across the table from him Elizabeth Cutler giggled a little before blowing lightly on her plomeek broth, a human habit Phlox understood was meant to cool the surface temperature of food or liquids. “And the soil sample was one of a batch taken that proved the use of the Pyrithian bat in determining the toxicity of certain iron based fluids.”
“Precisely,” Phlox beamed.
Elizabeth grinned. “So you think I’m good enough to try for the Denobulan Higher Medical Bar yet?” she asked.
Phlox pretended to think about this for a moment. Since the incident with the Valakians the previous year he had learned to better discern his friend’s vocal tones, and he recognised the joking, unserious tone Elizabeth had employed just now. But that was no reason not to carry on the game a little further. “Perhaps with a little more study and time for research,” he allowed. “Say, half a dozen human years of very intensive study.”
“Okay, okay,” she acquiesced, and started to eat her broth.
Pausing to savour the smell of his pasta and meatballs, a recent favourite, Phlox’ next thoughts were drowned out by the very sudden and very loud alarm that rang out across the mess hall, stunning almost everyone in there into paralysis for a split second before they started moving. The security team who had been dining together in the far corner split into two groups and moved towards the galley door and the main door, ostensibly to cover Chef as well as the entrance to the mess proper. From behind them two engineering ensigns joined the security team at the door, who had begun taking the opening circuitry next to the door apart. The reaction of most of the people in the room though, mostly enlisted science department personnel based on the most recent shift changes, was to stay in their chairs, out of the way of the engineering and security crews; some of them were showing visible distress at the continuing alarm.
Elizabeth was one of the people who had frozen in the first instant but now was moving along the tables, trying to communicate visually with some of the more distressed crewmembers. Phlox got up as well, and after gently pushing his medical assistant in the direction of the more affected people, tried to begin tending to his own possible patients as well. He had no idea just how bad the alarm was to the human crew, but he found that if he concentrated hard enough he could marginalise the alarm’s volume, making it a little easier for him to focus on what was going on around him.
Phlox knelt down to a young woman with an enlisted insignia and blue piping on her shoulders whose eyes were tightly shut and with a grip on the table’s edge so tight her knuckles were beginning to pale. Realising that he wouldn’t be able to speak loud enough for her to hear him, Phlox instead rested a hand on her leg, stilling her motion as her eyes jerked open and slowly focused on him. Using his other hand he tried to mime to her to breathe deeply to prevent a possible panic attack, nodding when she began to do so. Her grip on the table began to loosen, although she still appeared distressed from the volume of the alarm. Satisfied that he had done all he could for the moment, Phlox leaned on the table to stand up; by the time he got to his feet the alarm had ceased to sound, leaving a very odd silence behind.
Fighting the disorientation that threatened to overwhelm him, Phlox turned to the security and engineering personnel working on the mess door. He wasn’t the only one, either; virtually everyone else had begun to turn their attention to the doors as well. The silence did not last long, as a quick buzzing of voices undercut each other to create almost as much confusion as the alarm had. The new noise quickly grew louder as everyone’s individual confusions had.
In amongst the voices Phlox heard questions of what was happening, beginnings of theories being vocalised, and increasingly loud demands of the crew working on the doors.
“Hey, everybody - cut it out!” someone bellowed above the din. It was Elizabeth, who by this time was in the centre of the mess, arms spread and turning to face as many people as possible. “Thank you,” she said, once everyone fell quiet again. “Until whatever’s going on has been dealt with, I suggest you all remain as quiet and as calm as possible. Okay?” Her tone this time was authoritative and brooked no argument; Phlox was sure she would make a magnificent department head one day.
Satisfied that everyone was indeed calm, Elizabeth turned to the people at the mess door. “We do know what’s going on, right?” she asked.
o o o o o
“Contact Ensign Yarris when he reports for duty on the bridge to co-ordinate the power transfers from communications back to auxiliary weapons and general backup.”
“Yessir.” Zabel tried not to grin at his commanding officer’s barely visible distaste; two days earlier when Ensign Sato had announced that in order to deal with the increased comm. traffic from the various teams dispatched to catalogue the Vulcan outpost power from several of Enterprise’s secondary systems would have to be rerouted, Lieutenant Reed’s reaction had been... memorable, to say the least.
“And -” Malcolm broke off suddenly, and looked around. “Where is Ensign Rose?”
“Spent most of the last shift manually checking the power flow between auxiliary weapons and the comm. systems,” Zabel reported. “I don’t know where exactly, but he’s around here somewhere, sir.”
“Alright,” Malcolm replied. “When he emerges, he’s got the armoury, and I’ll expect a full report on the power transfer status in the morning.”
“Yessir,” Zabel nodded. He waited for Malcolm to nod before moving off to start running more diagnostics. For his part Malcolm picked up a PADD containing the report that Captain Archer had requested be delivered as soon as the shift had ended. At this time of evening, the Captain would most likely be in his quarters, and it was there that Malcolm headed first, bypassing several frazzled looking crewmembers on the way.
And sure enough, when he rang the door chime to the Captain’s quarters, Archer answered promptly. He was already in civilian clothes, and rubbing a towel against his hair. “Evening, Malcolm.”
“Sir,” Malcolm nodded. After the briefest hesitation he proffered the PADD. “The report you wanted.”
Archer took the PADD and smiled slightly. “Why don’t you come in for a moment?” he offered, stepping back from the door.
“Very well, sir.” Malcolm stepped over the threshold; as the door closed behind him he heard a quiet whine from the far corner of the room.
Following his attention, Archer smiled again. “Porthos is sleeping off a minor stomach infection,” he explained. “The painkillers Doctor Phlox prescribed for him don’t work perfectly, but it was either that or the blood worms.”
Malcolm nodded. “I quite understand, sir,” he replied, biting back a smile of his own. Unsure of what to do next he stayed by the door, clasping his hands behind his back.
For a moment Archer looked as though he was going to comment on Malcolm’s posture and positioning, but appeared to think the better of it. Instead he switched on the PADD and began reading the first of the reports Malcolm had managed to prepare in between the dozen or more other things he had had to juggle during his shift. Before he could make any comment on the report, or indeed anything else for that matter, a piercing, high-pitched alarm started blaring from the communications panel right behind Malcolm’s head, practically reverberating in the enclosed space.
Malcolm instinctively ducked forward, away from the alarm, a hand flying straight to the empty space on his hip where a phase pistol would have been. He tried to focus, and turned back towards the door, slamming his hand against the opening mechanism and again, and again, when the door didn’t open.
After several tries the door still hadn’t opened and Malcolm stepped back from the door; his ears had begun to pound in time with the alarm, and he was faintly aware of the damage perforated drums could cause.
Behind him he heard a high pitched whine briefly cut into the sound of the alarm. Turning around to follow the second noise, Malcolm saw that Archer had moved straight for Porthos’ dog bed. He looked like he was trying to provide reassurance and comfort, but it also looked like the dog was having none of it, cowering further into the bed in an effort to get away from the alarm.
It was a sentiment Malcolm was easily beginning to empathise with, but with the door seemingly out of commission and no other viable means of communication with any other part of the Enterprise his options appeared severely limited.
Until of course, the alarm ceased to sound, almost at the same time he completed that last thought process. Malcolm closed his eyes briefly, mentally trying to ward off the headache he knew would be kicking in any moment now. When he opened his eyes, Archer was looking up at him from next to the dog bed, Porthos by now in his arms. “What was that?” the Captain asked.
“I don’t know,” Malcolm replied slowly. He turned back and went over to the communications panel next to the door. “Reed to the bridge.”
There was no response.
Malcolm thumbed the control again. “Reed to the armoury.”
Still nothing.
Malcolm tried one last time. “Reed to Commander Tucker. Commander, please respond.”
There was still no answer; in fact, there was nothing to suggest the comm. panel was even working. Out of interest, and some latent adherence to the scientific method, Malcolm tried the door control again, acutely aware that Archer was following his every action.
The door, as it had done while the alarm was blaring out, remained very much shut. Malcolm stared at the door control, like sheer force of will could make the bloody thing work.
“I think,” Archer began tentatively, and when Malcolm turned around he saw the Captain had a still agitated-looking Porthos in his arms, and an open communicator on the edge of the bed in front of him, “that we’re trapped in here.”
Malcolm stared at the communicator for a few seconds until Archer helpfully supplied: “I just tried; it’s not working either.”
Frowning, Malcolm turned back to the door again, but before he could do anything else, Archer continued. “It would seem that we’re trapped in here.” He raised his eyebrows briefly before turning his attention to Porthos. “But the crew’s going to work to get us out, aren’t they, boy? Yes, they are. They’re gonna get everything sorted out.” Archer glanced up at Malcolm and smiled slightly. “I have complete faith in my crew, Lieutenant,” he said. “Whatever’s going on, they will find a way to fix it.”
Malcolm stared.
Porthos whined.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
By the time that Hoshi had found a ladder and climbed to the upper level, Hess had begun working on the computers dotting the walkway at the back of Engineering. She skirted around two other engineers that had begun working and comparing notes in audibly nervous tones to reach the lieutenant.
Hess glanced up as Hoshi got closer, then went back to what she’d been doing without missing a beat.
“I -” Hoshi stopped herself, realising that anything she’d been going to say would be deeply inappropriate, all her questions moot. Whatever the emergency that had caused the alarm to go off and some of the computer systems to go offline, the engineering team wouldn’t find any answers with her constantly hovering over their shoulders pressing for information, or even inclusion.
She didn’t belong down here. She should be back up on the bridge, or somewhere she could be -
“Ladies.” An arm snaked between Hoshi and Hess, reaching for the pile of data chips on the workstation.
“Meredith,” Hoshi replied, belatedly realising who the owner of the arm was.
Meredith Baker scowled. “Don’t call me Meredith.”
“Sure thing, Baker,” Hess cut in. She turned to face him. “Something you wanted?”
“Just these.” Baker held up a handful of the data chips. “I’m going now.”
Hess nodded even as she turned back to her work.
Baker just nodded. He glanced at Hoshi and he started to head back along the walkway, then stopped. “Come on,” he said.
Hoshi blinked. “Me?” she asked stupidly.
“Yeah,” Baker nodded, none of his usual sarcasm present. “Come on,” he repeated.
Hoshi followed him down to a small alcove overlooking the midsection of the warp engine. It was clearly Baker’s own personal operation centre; there were a couple of PADDs stacked against a couple of paperback manuals, and handwritten notes strewn across the small work surface.
“Are you okay?” Baker peered at her, and Hoshi realised her attention had wandered.
“What? Yes, I just...” She trailed off. “I don’t really know what -”
“S’okay,” Baker interrupted. “I get it.” He sounded sincere.
Hoshi nodded, and watched Baker remove one of the PADDs from behind the manuals and hold it in front of her. “Now whatever’s going on here, we have to assume that it’s shipwide,” he informed her, using his pr0fessional voice, and calm, almost clipped tones to emphasise his words. “Therefore our first priority is to re-establish communications with the rest of the ship.” He jiggled the PADD around a little and sensing her cue, Hoshi took it. Hess must have given the crew their orders after the alarm had stopped, but for the life of her Hoshi couldn’t remember hearing any orders being given. “And I don’t know anyone down here better suited to working with the communications systems than you,” Baker continued. He patted the small stool wedged in the alcove beside the two of them, and indicated the small computer just visible behind the manuals. “Take a seat; see what you can come up with. If you need anything, yell.”
Hoshi smiled, clutching the PADD, and slid onto the stool. “I can do that,” she said.
Baker nodded, and left her to it.
o o o o o
“You may as well sit down, Malcolm. I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere just yet.”
Malcolm stared at his commanding officer, who had quite clearly been driven insane by the alarm. “I’ll stand,” he replied shortly. Never mind that the only real options for sitting were the low sofa, which Archer and Porthos had moved to, and the Captain’s bed. A small part of him could only imagine what his father would make of him idly sitting on Jonathan Archer’s bed while there was an emergency taking place on the rest of Enterprise.
Part of him - okay, almost all of him - was itching to be in the armoury, or on the bridge; anywhere he could actually be doing something instead of... idling in the Captain’s quarters. It was fast becoming a circular train of thought, and one that Malcolm did not want to get himself caught up in.
Unable to help himself, he fidgeted slightly and glanced at the unresponsive communications panel again. Neither motion went unnoticed by the Captain. Out of the corner of his eye Malcolm saw Archer smile slightly.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m being very calm about this, Malcolm.”
Malcolm blinked. “Sir?”
Archer smiled again. “I do know a bit about you by now,” he explained, “just like I can tell you can’t quite believe that I’m sitting here with my dog, trying to keep him calm instead of worrying about the state of Enterprise.”
For lack of a better reaction, Malcolm inclined his head slightly.
Archer smiled yet again. “If there was an alien threat to Enterprise, I would have been notified, and you would have been delivering your report on the bridge, or somewhere on the way. And if there was anything wrong with Enterprise herself, I would have again been notified and this conversation would be happening someplace else.”
“Which only suggests that whatever caused the alarm was completely unexpected, which means there could be a bigger threat to Enterprise than some alien ship crossing paths with us,” Malcolm replied quickly. Too quickly?
Archer nodded, conceding the point. “But there was no sensor activity of anything outside the ship. Otherwise -”
“You would have been notified,” Malcolm acquiesced.
“Exactly,” Archer replied. “Which leads me to believe that the cause of the alarm is something internal - and as you and I both know, Enterprise’s crew is some of the best and the brightest, and not only will they deal with it, they will just have to do it without their Captain and Armoury Officer this time.”
Malcolm sighed mentally. There was no refuting the Captain’s logic this time around.
“Now,” Archer said, drawing Malcolm’s attention back to him again, “are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”
o o o o o
“First things first; we gotta get communications back online. Even if this is just a localised thing, once the comms are up we can get a better grasp of the situation.”
Trip saw the two crewmen either side of him nod, neither of them taking their eyes off the partially disassembled consoles and computer systems. He and had to hand it to Malcolm - the guy knew how to run a tight-knit, highly efficient team. There was probably a joke in there somewhere, but now wasn’t the time for that. Either way though, almost immediately after reporting what little had been gleaned from the computers before they’d shut out, O’Malley and Zabel had turned their attentions to getting those computers functioning again. Given the circumstances, Trip really appreciated that.
Without access to the main database, there was no way to confirm or deny the suspicions he’d begun to harbour about the protocol number O’Malley had rattled off just a few minutes before. And regardless of his suspicions, Trip had no intentions of shooting off at the mouth, and panicking anyone else before he got confirmation one way or the other of what -
A loud banging noise from the far end of the armoury jerked Trip out of his thoughts, and he whirled around. O’Malley now on his right had already whipped out a phase pistol from... somewhere and had it aimed in the general direction of the disturbance, already stepping out in front of Trip to act as cover.
There was another bang, and Zabel came up from behind Trip, fanning out across the armoury. He was armed as well.
As the three men edged closer to the source of the noise - the cover of a maintenance conduit as far as Trip could tell - the noises continued, accompanied by something more muffled.
Trip held up a hand to signal O’Malley and Zabel to stay where they were, and went up to the panel. One of them started to say something, but quickly stopped as Trip began to loosen the cover, eventually prying it away from the wall proper. Before he removed it completely, Zabel came up and aimed his pistol directly at the panel.
Slowly, Trip pulled the panel away - and was greeted with a pair of Starfleet regulation boots. Stepping back at the same time, he and Zabel left enough space for a mass of limbs and torso to come out in a continuous, but slightly awkward motion, to reveal...
“Nice one, Matt.” Zabel holstered his pistol and stepped forward again to offer an arm up.
Accepting the help to get to his feet, Matthew Rose scowled. “You try being stuck in a cramped crawl way when an alarm goes off, smart ass,” he retorted. He then spotted Trip standing behind Zabel, and paled slightly. “Commander.”
Trip nodded. “Ensign.” He eyeballed Rose for a moment. “You okay?”
Rose considered this for a moment. “Well as can be expected, sir,” he replied. “What’s going on?”
“We’re in the process of figurin’ that out,” Trip said. “Doors are sealed, comms are down, and most systems are online but inaccessible.”
Rose nodded. “Might be able to do something about accessing the systems, sir,” he said quickly, already moving across the armoury.
“By all means,” Trip muttered, not a little redundantly. Then, louder: “An’ what would that somethin’ be?”
Rose waved a hand around above his head as he rummaged around in a small locker, pulling out a small toolkit. He pointed at the access panels that led down to the conduits that supplied power to the weapons systems.
Trip thought he understood. “Go right ahead, Ensign,” he said.
If Rose heard Trip, he gave no indication of it; rather he stopped in front of the port access panel that led down to the conduits and parked the toolkit next to him long enough to open the panel and manoeuvre himself inside. He winced a little as he did so, probably from being trapped in the conduit, and hung precariously from the contained ladder as he reached back for the toolkit. That more or less safely in hand, he climbed downwards and out of sight.
Nodding to Zabel and O’Malley to get back to their own work, Trip could only hope that Rose’s plan - whatever it was - worked.
o o o o o
Under the direction of Crewman Cutler and one of the junior lieutenants who had come in for a late meal, the majority of the crew in the mess hall had returned to their seats. One team remained gleaning what they could from the computer panels they could reach with their bare hands, and a few crewmen, mostly with science blue piping on their uniforms, had migrated to the windows, looking as best they could for any external threats to Enterprise.
Phlox had to admire these people’s restraint though. Under any other circumstances, and perhaps much earlier in the ship’s voyage, many of the crew, particularly the younger and less experienced in regards to long term space travel, would have begun to panic by now. He believed it spoke to the experiences the crew had had as a collective, and the relative authority of Elizabeth and Lieutenant Bathurst, that the atmosphere in the mess hall was as calm as it now was.
Despite the severity of the situation however, Phlox also couldn’t help but think that he’d been to pre-mating preparation parties that had been less tense than this - but no less crowded. The comparison was so absurd as to be almost funny, and Phlox couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. The small noise got him a few odd looks from the nearby crewmen, but no doubt they would assume it to be another Denobulan eccentricity and not ask him to explain the joke. He doubted they would find it amusing.
“I guess this isn’t what you had in mind when I suggested catching dinner.”
Looking up Phlox saw Elizabeth standing next to the table, her hand on an empty chair. He motioned for her to take it, and she sat down, breathing a little heavier than normally.
“Lieutenant Bathurst and the other engineers think they’re close to hacking the door mechanism,” she told him without preamble, and without any of the light humour she had carried earlier. “But these are the same people who tried to equip an escape pod with impulse engines, so I’ll wait to see any results before passing judgement.”
“An escape pod?” Phlox frowned.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “You remember a few weeks ago, when that micro-singularity made everyone crazy obsessive?” Phlox did, and he inclined his head to communicate this. “Well, my bunkmate was one of the engineering staff running worst case scenarios at the time, and...” She waved her hand around, an indication that Phlox should continue the train of thought.
“I see,” he said, though he really only thought he did. “But an escape pod?”
She shrugged. “They’re engineers,” she said, as if that explained everything.
Phlox smiled slightly. Just as he was about to say something else, a loud noise from the other end of the mess drew everyone’s attention.
With a few inglorious sputters and screeches, the comm. system had come to life. “I repeat - this is Commander Tucker, is anyone reading me?”
Onto Part II
Fandom: Star Trek: Enterprise
Characters: Ensemble plus OCs
Rating: PG
Length: ~8200 words
Beta: The indomitable explodedpen and Sita Z, who both seriously rock.
Spoilers: 2.09 "Singularity"
Author's Note: Written for Volley for the entficathon, who wanted Archer/Reed centred genfic with angst or other conflicting emotions, and set within the first two seasons. I mostly managed to meet her requests, although I did go in other directions here and there. Hope you like it, Volley! :)
“I think if I read any more passive subjunctives my eyes are going to cross.”
Travis looked over at the communications station. “And this would be a bad thing... why?” he asked innocently.
Hoshi pulled a face at him. “I think I’ve done as much as I can for the moment. The rest can wait until Sub-commander T’Pol and the Away Team get back.”
“Going to turn in for the night?” Travis asked.
“No, I have to stop by Engineering first,” Hoshi replied. “Lieutenant Hess wanted me to update her on some of the translations the Away Team sent up.”
“At this hour?”
“She’s on the night shift this week,” Hoshi explained, getting up from her station and heading to the turbolift. She grinned slightly. “Shuttlepod One will just have to have Crewman Inviere greet them.”
Travis chuckled. “Okay. Night, Hoshi.”
“Goodnight.”
As the turbolift door closed behind her, Travis turned back to the helm. Although the early birds for the night shift - including Ensign Anders at science and Crewman Kopleck at tactical - had already begun arriving, Hoshi’s replacement as well as his own, Ensign Tanner, hadn’t made it up to the bridge yet. The rest of the senior staff had already gone their own ways, either for a meal or straight to bed. It had been a long few days cataloguing everything from the abandoned Vulcan outpost the High Command had asked Enterprise to detour to. With all available hands working almost nonstop on the data and artefacts brought back from the outpost, it was rare that anybody showed up the unofficial few minutes before the shift changeover; instead people were running so late as to be precisely on time.
A couple of minutes later, Crewman Inviere hadn’t arrived, and the communications console started to beep. Turning slightly in his seat, Travis nodded to Ensign Anders to move over.
“Enterprise, this is Shuttlepod One,” T’Pol’s voice announced. “We have docked with the ship and are ready to disembark.”
“Acknowledged,” Anders replied. He cut the comm. and opened another channel. “Bridge to Sickbay; the Sub-commander’s team has returned and will be proceeding to decon.” After the on duty crewman replied in the affirmative, Anders hesitated for a moment before returning to his station.
As it was, he needn’t have bothered. An alarm sounded from somewhere at the back of the bridge, deafeningly loud.
“What was that?” Travis demanded, already working at his own console.
“I don’t know!” Kopleck replied, barely audible over the alarm. “I can’t access anything!”
A few seconds later Anders reported: “Me either!”
Travis realised quickly that he couldn’t get to anything from his console either. “Someone shut that noise off!” he yelled, rather than confirm the apparent malfunction. From the corner of his eye he saw Kopleck work feverishly at the computers in front of her until finally - thankfully - the noise stopped. In the odd silence that followed, his ears ringing slightly, Travis turned around in his seat just in time to see Ensign Anders wonder out loud: “What’s going on?”
o o o o o
By the time that Hoshi arrived in Main Engineering, the night shift was about to officially begin. She nodded at some of the second shift crew leaving, and grinned when she spotted Ensign Baker running diagnostics on the upper level, making a mental note to speak to him before heading back to her quarters.
“Ensign Sato!” a voice bellowed from the other side of the warp engine. “Back here!”
Hoshi followed the voice around to Lieutenant Hess, doing something with a plasma coil on one of the workstations. “Lieutenant,” she greeted.
“Yeah.” Hess’ attention was focused completely on the plasma coil. “Update me, I am listening.”
“Okay.” Hoshi began to give her a run down of the manuals and reference works that had been part of the secluded research post they’d been surveying, but she’d barely got started before a piercing alarm sounded through the engine room. Acting on instinct Hoshi ducked down behind Hess’ workstation while the night shift burst into action, checking the engine and all its connections as well as any available computer readouts. All the while the alarm continued blast out, seeming to get louder and louder until quite suddenly, without warning, it stopped, leaving a slight almost-ringing in its wake.
Dazed, Hoshi stood up slowly. She watched the engineers’ movements and actions slow down from frenetically fast to something approaching normal. She hesitated before stepping out from behind the workstation and approaching the nearest crewman. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“Not sure,” the crewman muttered, stabbing at the computer console and display in front of him. “Some kind of protocol, but I’m having a hard time accessing anything.”
“You’ve been locked out?” Hoshi asked, but before he could reply there was a noise from the other end of the engine room that got everyone’s attention.
“What’s going on, Rostov?” someone yelled from the upper level; Hoshi distantly registered the voice as belonging to Lieutenant Hess.
From beside the engine door, Crewman Rostov turned to look up at Hess. “It’s sealed, sir.”
“What’s sealed?”
“The door,” Rostov explained. “It’s sealed. I can’t get it open.”
Hess paused before replying. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Rostov said. “It’s not opening.”
Still with a faint ringing in her ears and the beginnings of a bad headache forming, Hoshi tried to process this new information; a moment later it clicked into place.
They were trapped in Engineering.
o o o o o
“So what you’re tellin’ me is that Malcolm’s not in the armoury?”
Trip tried to smother a smile as the two crewmen in front of him traded confused looks and tried to find something to say. “I know, I know, even the good lieutenant has to sleep sometime,” he joked, noting the relief that washed over the crewmen. “Tell you what,” he continued, holding up a PADD, “how ‘bout you take this for me and let Malcolm get back to me in the mornin’.”
“Okay, sir,” the nearest crewman - O’Malley - replied, taking the PADD. “You did just miss him though; he was going to deliver a report to Captain Archer before turning in for the night.”
“Duly noted,” Trip nodded. He turned to leave, intending to hit his own bunk after having pulled a double shift over the Vulcan outpost, but he hadn’t taken more than two steps to the door when an alarm started ringing out, sounding impossibly loud in the relatively small space. Trip reacted immediately, moving straight to the nearest computer and trying to raise Engineering, the bridge, the Captain - hell, anyone - but in between the repetitive high and low pitches of the alarm he was only barely aware that none of his comms were getting through. To his left Zabel - the second of the armoury’s night shift crew - looked like he was swearing furiously at the weapons readouts, and he had no idea where O’Malley was.
The alarm kept up for a couple of minutes, although to Trip it felt like a lot longer. The comm. system wasn’t working at all by now despite his best efforts, which wasn’t really saying much since the piercing alarm made it difficult to concentrate much at all.
And then it just stopped, without warning, leaving Trip feeling dangerously light headed as the computer screen in front of him started to come out of and into focus. He took a few deep breaths, and when he felt sufficiently oriented again tried to speak. “O’Malley, Zabel? You two okay?”
“Yessir,” Zabel replied curtly. “The weapons are another story.”
“Huh?” Trip turned around.
Zabel waved a hand at the console he’d been insulting just a few moments before. “I’m completely locked out of the computers. As far as I could tell, the torpedo and cannon systems shut themselves down just before I was shut out.”
“Comms aren’t working either,” Trip said, trying to process the new information underneath a growing headache. He turned around again, looking around the rest of the armoury. “Where’d O’Malley go?”
“Phil?” Zabel called out loudly. “Phil!”
A dark blond head popped up from behind the diagnostics consoles on the self-contained upper level. “Right here,” O’Malley replied.
“What have you got up there?” Trip asked.
O’Malley shook his head. “Something in the computer’s shut out all access. I managed to get a protocol number before I was blocked, but it’s not one I recognise.”
Fighting a growing feeling of trepidation, Trip nodded. “What protocol?”
O’Malley recited the number, and the trepidation Trip had been feeling turned into something else altogether.
o o o o o
“And then the Ikbari zoologist said to the Vulcan exobiologist -”
“- that wasn’t a soil sample, that was his lunch!”
Phlox let himself chuckle at the atrociously bad pun, smiling fondly as he remembered the first time his third wife had told him that joke, and made a mental note to write to her before the next batch of letters was sent out via subspace.
Across the table from him Elizabeth Cutler giggled a little before blowing lightly on her plomeek broth, a human habit Phlox understood was meant to cool the surface temperature of food or liquids. “And the soil sample was one of a batch taken that proved the use of the Pyrithian bat in determining the toxicity of certain iron based fluids.”
“Precisely,” Phlox beamed.
Elizabeth grinned. “So you think I’m good enough to try for the Denobulan Higher Medical Bar yet?” she asked.
Phlox pretended to think about this for a moment. Since the incident with the Valakians the previous year he had learned to better discern his friend’s vocal tones, and he recognised the joking, unserious tone Elizabeth had employed just now. But that was no reason not to carry on the game a little further. “Perhaps with a little more study and time for research,” he allowed. “Say, half a dozen human years of very intensive study.”
“Okay, okay,” she acquiesced, and started to eat her broth.
Pausing to savour the smell of his pasta and meatballs, a recent favourite, Phlox’ next thoughts were drowned out by the very sudden and very loud alarm that rang out across the mess hall, stunning almost everyone in there into paralysis for a split second before they started moving. The security team who had been dining together in the far corner split into two groups and moved towards the galley door and the main door, ostensibly to cover Chef as well as the entrance to the mess proper. From behind them two engineering ensigns joined the security team at the door, who had begun taking the opening circuitry next to the door apart. The reaction of most of the people in the room though, mostly enlisted science department personnel based on the most recent shift changes, was to stay in their chairs, out of the way of the engineering and security crews; some of them were showing visible distress at the continuing alarm.
Elizabeth was one of the people who had frozen in the first instant but now was moving along the tables, trying to communicate visually with some of the more distressed crewmembers. Phlox got up as well, and after gently pushing his medical assistant in the direction of the more affected people, tried to begin tending to his own possible patients as well. He had no idea just how bad the alarm was to the human crew, but he found that if he concentrated hard enough he could marginalise the alarm’s volume, making it a little easier for him to focus on what was going on around him.
Phlox knelt down to a young woman with an enlisted insignia and blue piping on her shoulders whose eyes were tightly shut and with a grip on the table’s edge so tight her knuckles were beginning to pale. Realising that he wouldn’t be able to speak loud enough for her to hear him, Phlox instead rested a hand on her leg, stilling her motion as her eyes jerked open and slowly focused on him. Using his other hand he tried to mime to her to breathe deeply to prevent a possible panic attack, nodding when she began to do so. Her grip on the table began to loosen, although she still appeared distressed from the volume of the alarm. Satisfied that he had done all he could for the moment, Phlox leaned on the table to stand up; by the time he got to his feet the alarm had ceased to sound, leaving a very odd silence behind.
Fighting the disorientation that threatened to overwhelm him, Phlox turned to the security and engineering personnel working on the mess door. He wasn’t the only one, either; virtually everyone else had begun to turn their attention to the doors as well. The silence did not last long, as a quick buzzing of voices undercut each other to create almost as much confusion as the alarm had. The new noise quickly grew louder as everyone’s individual confusions had.
In amongst the voices Phlox heard questions of what was happening, beginnings of theories being vocalised, and increasingly loud demands of the crew working on the doors.
“Hey, everybody - cut it out!” someone bellowed above the din. It was Elizabeth, who by this time was in the centre of the mess, arms spread and turning to face as many people as possible. “Thank you,” she said, once everyone fell quiet again. “Until whatever’s going on has been dealt with, I suggest you all remain as quiet and as calm as possible. Okay?” Her tone this time was authoritative and brooked no argument; Phlox was sure she would make a magnificent department head one day.
Satisfied that everyone was indeed calm, Elizabeth turned to the people at the mess door. “We do know what’s going on, right?” she asked.
o o o o o
“Contact Ensign Yarris when he reports for duty on the bridge to co-ordinate the power transfers from communications back to auxiliary weapons and general backup.”
“Yessir.” Zabel tried not to grin at his commanding officer’s barely visible distaste; two days earlier when Ensign Sato had announced that in order to deal with the increased comm. traffic from the various teams dispatched to catalogue the Vulcan outpost power from several of Enterprise’s secondary systems would have to be rerouted, Lieutenant Reed’s reaction had been... memorable, to say the least.
“And -” Malcolm broke off suddenly, and looked around. “Where is Ensign Rose?”
“Spent most of the last shift manually checking the power flow between auxiliary weapons and the comm. systems,” Zabel reported. “I don’t know where exactly, but he’s around here somewhere, sir.”
“Alright,” Malcolm replied. “When he emerges, he’s got the armoury, and I’ll expect a full report on the power transfer status in the morning.”
“Yessir,” Zabel nodded. He waited for Malcolm to nod before moving off to start running more diagnostics. For his part Malcolm picked up a PADD containing the report that Captain Archer had requested be delivered as soon as the shift had ended. At this time of evening, the Captain would most likely be in his quarters, and it was there that Malcolm headed first, bypassing several frazzled looking crewmembers on the way.
And sure enough, when he rang the door chime to the Captain’s quarters, Archer answered promptly. He was already in civilian clothes, and rubbing a towel against his hair. “Evening, Malcolm.”
“Sir,” Malcolm nodded. After the briefest hesitation he proffered the PADD. “The report you wanted.”
Archer took the PADD and smiled slightly. “Why don’t you come in for a moment?” he offered, stepping back from the door.
“Very well, sir.” Malcolm stepped over the threshold; as the door closed behind him he heard a quiet whine from the far corner of the room.
Following his attention, Archer smiled again. “Porthos is sleeping off a minor stomach infection,” he explained. “The painkillers Doctor Phlox prescribed for him don’t work perfectly, but it was either that or the blood worms.”
Malcolm nodded. “I quite understand, sir,” he replied, biting back a smile of his own. Unsure of what to do next he stayed by the door, clasping his hands behind his back.
For a moment Archer looked as though he was going to comment on Malcolm’s posture and positioning, but appeared to think the better of it. Instead he switched on the PADD and began reading the first of the reports Malcolm had managed to prepare in between the dozen or more other things he had had to juggle during his shift. Before he could make any comment on the report, or indeed anything else for that matter, a piercing, high-pitched alarm started blaring from the communications panel right behind Malcolm’s head, practically reverberating in the enclosed space.
Malcolm instinctively ducked forward, away from the alarm, a hand flying straight to the empty space on his hip where a phase pistol would have been. He tried to focus, and turned back towards the door, slamming his hand against the opening mechanism and again, and again, when the door didn’t open.
After several tries the door still hadn’t opened and Malcolm stepped back from the door; his ears had begun to pound in time with the alarm, and he was faintly aware of the damage perforated drums could cause.
Behind him he heard a high pitched whine briefly cut into the sound of the alarm. Turning around to follow the second noise, Malcolm saw that Archer had moved straight for Porthos’ dog bed. He looked like he was trying to provide reassurance and comfort, but it also looked like the dog was having none of it, cowering further into the bed in an effort to get away from the alarm.
It was a sentiment Malcolm was easily beginning to empathise with, but with the door seemingly out of commission and no other viable means of communication with any other part of the Enterprise his options appeared severely limited.
Until of course, the alarm ceased to sound, almost at the same time he completed that last thought process. Malcolm closed his eyes briefly, mentally trying to ward off the headache he knew would be kicking in any moment now. When he opened his eyes, Archer was looking up at him from next to the dog bed, Porthos by now in his arms. “What was that?” the Captain asked.
“I don’t know,” Malcolm replied slowly. He turned back and went over to the communications panel next to the door. “Reed to the bridge.”
There was no response.
Malcolm thumbed the control again. “Reed to the armoury.”
Still nothing.
Malcolm tried one last time. “Reed to Commander Tucker. Commander, please respond.”
There was still no answer; in fact, there was nothing to suggest the comm. panel was even working. Out of interest, and some latent adherence to the scientific method, Malcolm tried the door control again, acutely aware that Archer was following his every action.
The door, as it had done while the alarm was blaring out, remained very much shut. Malcolm stared at the door control, like sheer force of will could make the bloody thing work.
“I think,” Archer began tentatively, and when Malcolm turned around he saw the Captain had a still agitated-looking Porthos in his arms, and an open communicator on the edge of the bed in front of him, “that we’re trapped in here.”
Malcolm stared at the communicator for a few seconds until Archer helpfully supplied: “I just tried; it’s not working either.”
Frowning, Malcolm turned back to the door again, but before he could do anything else, Archer continued. “It would seem that we’re trapped in here.” He raised his eyebrows briefly before turning his attention to Porthos. “But the crew’s going to work to get us out, aren’t they, boy? Yes, they are. They’re gonna get everything sorted out.” Archer glanced up at Malcolm and smiled slightly. “I have complete faith in my crew, Lieutenant,” he said. “Whatever’s going on, they will find a way to fix it.”
Malcolm stared.
Porthos whined.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
By the time that Hoshi had found a ladder and climbed to the upper level, Hess had begun working on the computers dotting the walkway at the back of Engineering. She skirted around two other engineers that had begun working and comparing notes in audibly nervous tones to reach the lieutenant.
Hess glanced up as Hoshi got closer, then went back to what she’d been doing without missing a beat.
“I -” Hoshi stopped herself, realising that anything she’d been going to say would be deeply inappropriate, all her questions moot. Whatever the emergency that had caused the alarm to go off and some of the computer systems to go offline, the engineering team wouldn’t find any answers with her constantly hovering over their shoulders pressing for information, or even inclusion.
She didn’t belong down here. She should be back up on the bridge, or somewhere she could be -
“Ladies.” An arm snaked between Hoshi and Hess, reaching for the pile of data chips on the workstation.
“Meredith,” Hoshi replied, belatedly realising who the owner of the arm was.
Meredith Baker scowled. “Don’t call me Meredith.”
“Sure thing, Baker,” Hess cut in. She turned to face him. “Something you wanted?”
“Just these.” Baker held up a handful of the data chips. “I’m going now.”
Hess nodded even as she turned back to her work.
Baker just nodded. He glanced at Hoshi and he started to head back along the walkway, then stopped. “Come on,” he said.
Hoshi blinked. “Me?” she asked stupidly.
“Yeah,” Baker nodded, none of his usual sarcasm present. “Come on,” he repeated.
Hoshi followed him down to a small alcove overlooking the midsection of the warp engine. It was clearly Baker’s own personal operation centre; there were a couple of PADDs stacked against a couple of paperback manuals, and handwritten notes strewn across the small work surface.
“Are you okay?” Baker peered at her, and Hoshi realised her attention had wandered.
“What? Yes, I just...” She trailed off. “I don’t really know what -”
“S’okay,” Baker interrupted. “I get it.” He sounded sincere.
Hoshi nodded, and watched Baker remove one of the PADDs from behind the manuals and hold it in front of her. “Now whatever’s going on here, we have to assume that it’s shipwide,” he informed her, using his pr0fessional voice, and calm, almost clipped tones to emphasise his words. “Therefore our first priority is to re-establish communications with the rest of the ship.” He jiggled the PADD around a little and sensing her cue, Hoshi took it. Hess must have given the crew their orders after the alarm had stopped, but for the life of her Hoshi couldn’t remember hearing any orders being given. “And I don’t know anyone down here better suited to working with the communications systems than you,” Baker continued. He patted the small stool wedged in the alcove beside the two of them, and indicated the small computer just visible behind the manuals. “Take a seat; see what you can come up with. If you need anything, yell.”
Hoshi smiled, clutching the PADD, and slid onto the stool. “I can do that,” she said.
Baker nodded, and left her to it.
o o o o o
“You may as well sit down, Malcolm. I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere just yet.”
Malcolm stared at his commanding officer, who had quite clearly been driven insane by the alarm. “I’ll stand,” he replied shortly. Never mind that the only real options for sitting were the low sofa, which Archer and Porthos had moved to, and the Captain’s bed. A small part of him could only imagine what his father would make of him idly sitting on Jonathan Archer’s bed while there was an emergency taking place on the rest of Enterprise.
Part of him - okay, almost all of him - was itching to be in the armoury, or on the bridge; anywhere he could actually be doing something instead of... idling in the Captain’s quarters. It was fast becoming a circular train of thought, and one that Malcolm did not want to get himself caught up in.
Unable to help himself, he fidgeted slightly and glanced at the unresponsive communications panel again. Neither motion went unnoticed by the Captain. Out of the corner of his eye Malcolm saw Archer smile slightly.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m being very calm about this, Malcolm.”
Malcolm blinked. “Sir?”
Archer smiled again. “I do know a bit about you by now,” he explained, “just like I can tell you can’t quite believe that I’m sitting here with my dog, trying to keep him calm instead of worrying about the state of Enterprise.”
For lack of a better reaction, Malcolm inclined his head slightly.
Archer smiled yet again. “If there was an alien threat to Enterprise, I would have been notified, and you would have been delivering your report on the bridge, or somewhere on the way. And if there was anything wrong with Enterprise herself, I would have again been notified and this conversation would be happening someplace else.”
“Which only suggests that whatever caused the alarm was completely unexpected, which means there could be a bigger threat to Enterprise than some alien ship crossing paths with us,” Malcolm replied quickly. Too quickly?
Archer nodded, conceding the point. “But there was no sensor activity of anything outside the ship. Otherwise -”
“You would have been notified,” Malcolm acquiesced.
“Exactly,” Archer replied. “Which leads me to believe that the cause of the alarm is something internal - and as you and I both know, Enterprise’s crew is some of the best and the brightest, and not only will they deal with it, they will just have to do it without their Captain and Armoury Officer this time.”
Malcolm sighed mentally. There was no refuting the Captain’s logic this time around.
“Now,” Archer said, drawing Malcolm’s attention back to him again, “are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”
o o o o o
“First things first; we gotta get communications back online. Even if this is just a localised thing, once the comms are up we can get a better grasp of the situation.”
Trip saw the two crewmen either side of him nod, neither of them taking their eyes off the partially disassembled consoles and computer systems. He and had to hand it to Malcolm - the guy knew how to run a tight-knit, highly efficient team. There was probably a joke in there somewhere, but now wasn’t the time for that. Either way though, almost immediately after reporting what little had been gleaned from the computers before they’d shut out, O’Malley and Zabel had turned their attentions to getting those computers functioning again. Given the circumstances, Trip really appreciated that.
Without access to the main database, there was no way to confirm or deny the suspicions he’d begun to harbour about the protocol number O’Malley had rattled off just a few minutes before. And regardless of his suspicions, Trip had no intentions of shooting off at the mouth, and panicking anyone else before he got confirmation one way or the other of what -
A loud banging noise from the far end of the armoury jerked Trip out of his thoughts, and he whirled around. O’Malley now on his right had already whipped out a phase pistol from... somewhere and had it aimed in the general direction of the disturbance, already stepping out in front of Trip to act as cover.
There was another bang, and Zabel came up from behind Trip, fanning out across the armoury. He was armed as well.
As the three men edged closer to the source of the noise - the cover of a maintenance conduit as far as Trip could tell - the noises continued, accompanied by something more muffled.
Trip held up a hand to signal O’Malley and Zabel to stay where they were, and went up to the panel. One of them started to say something, but quickly stopped as Trip began to loosen the cover, eventually prying it away from the wall proper. Before he removed it completely, Zabel came up and aimed his pistol directly at the panel.
Slowly, Trip pulled the panel away - and was greeted with a pair of Starfleet regulation boots. Stepping back at the same time, he and Zabel left enough space for a mass of limbs and torso to come out in a continuous, but slightly awkward motion, to reveal...
“Nice one, Matt.” Zabel holstered his pistol and stepped forward again to offer an arm up.
Accepting the help to get to his feet, Matthew Rose scowled. “You try being stuck in a cramped crawl way when an alarm goes off, smart ass,” he retorted. He then spotted Trip standing behind Zabel, and paled slightly. “Commander.”
Trip nodded. “Ensign.” He eyeballed Rose for a moment. “You okay?”
Rose considered this for a moment. “Well as can be expected, sir,” he replied. “What’s going on?”
“We’re in the process of figurin’ that out,” Trip said. “Doors are sealed, comms are down, and most systems are online but inaccessible.”
Rose nodded. “Might be able to do something about accessing the systems, sir,” he said quickly, already moving across the armoury.
“By all means,” Trip muttered, not a little redundantly. Then, louder: “An’ what would that somethin’ be?”
Rose waved a hand around above his head as he rummaged around in a small locker, pulling out a small toolkit. He pointed at the access panels that led down to the conduits that supplied power to the weapons systems.
Trip thought he understood. “Go right ahead, Ensign,” he said.
If Rose heard Trip, he gave no indication of it; rather he stopped in front of the port access panel that led down to the conduits and parked the toolkit next to him long enough to open the panel and manoeuvre himself inside. He winced a little as he did so, probably from being trapped in the conduit, and hung precariously from the contained ladder as he reached back for the toolkit. That more or less safely in hand, he climbed downwards and out of sight.
Nodding to Zabel and O’Malley to get back to their own work, Trip could only hope that Rose’s plan - whatever it was - worked.
o o o o o
Under the direction of Crewman Cutler and one of the junior lieutenants who had come in for a late meal, the majority of the crew in the mess hall had returned to their seats. One team remained gleaning what they could from the computer panels they could reach with their bare hands, and a few crewmen, mostly with science blue piping on their uniforms, had migrated to the windows, looking as best they could for any external threats to Enterprise.
Phlox had to admire these people’s restraint though. Under any other circumstances, and perhaps much earlier in the ship’s voyage, many of the crew, particularly the younger and less experienced in regards to long term space travel, would have begun to panic by now. He believed it spoke to the experiences the crew had had as a collective, and the relative authority of Elizabeth and Lieutenant Bathurst, that the atmosphere in the mess hall was as calm as it now was.
Despite the severity of the situation however, Phlox also couldn’t help but think that he’d been to pre-mating preparation parties that had been less tense than this - but no less crowded. The comparison was so absurd as to be almost funny, and Phlox couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. The small noise got him a few odd looks from the nearby crewmen, but no doubt they would assume it to be another Denobulan eccentricity and not ask him to explain the joke. He doubted they would find it amusing.
“I guess this isn’t what you had in mind when I suggested catching dinner.”
Looking up Phlox saw Elizabeth standing next to the table, her hand on an empty chair. He motioned for her to take it, and she sat down, breathing a little heavier than normally.
“Lieutenant Bathurst and the other engineers think they’re close to hacking the door mechanism,” she told him without preamble, and without any of the light humour she had carried earlier. “But these are the same people who tried to equip an escape pod with impulse engines, so I’ll wait to see any results before passing judgement.”
“An escape pod?” Phlox frowned.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “You remember a few weeks ago, when that micro-singularity made everyone crazy obsessive?” Phlox did, and he inclined his head to communicate this. “Well, my bunkmate was one of the engineering staff running worst case scenarios at the time, and...” She waved her hand around, an indication that Phlox should continue the train of thought.
“I see,” he said, though he really only thought he did. “But an escape pod?”
She shrugged. “They’re engineers,” she said, as if that explained everything.
Phlox smiled slightly. Just as he was about to say something else, a loud noise from the other end of the mess drew everyone’s attention.
With a few inglorious sputters and screeches, the comm. system had come to life. “I repeat - this is Commander Tucker, is anyone reading me?”
Onto Part II