Killing Time

[Chirakis 1]

Killing Time

 

After running in spurts, activity on the bridge of the USS Missouri had resumed a more even pace, and tension eased with a steady, routine flow of data between the station and the ship, even though the data translated onto Missouri’s holographic bridge display as a salvageable station masquerading as a derelict mass.

 

Her image lit by Missouri’s copious viewscreens, Cdr Chirakis relaxed at a station to page through messages, the rate of which had finally slowed from several per second to a more manageable several per minute. The fore-bridge main screen showing a full tactical display of the sector, blips of green indicating friendlies in routine patrol. To the right, a three-dimensional holographic display of Aegis spun lazily mid-air, areas coded as red, blue, and green, depending on the level of damage. There was a hell of a lot of red.

 

Which matched the update from SubCommander Jorahl, station-side, now visible before her.

 

...Nothing is reliable. We could patch many holes with force fields but not without trustworthy operating systems, power, and emitters. Even with patching the holes, life support was put through the wringer and probably can not sustain even part of the station.

 

I recommend turning everything back off and starting restoration from main engineering. First priority is to physically seal all internal sections. Then we secure power and life support on each deck working our way up from engineering. Getting the computer up and running is another project. Not until both the central column of Pylon A and the computers are up do we begin fiddling with any systems besides life support....

 

Hell of a lot of red....

 

“Commander... may I speak with you for a moment?”

 

Chirakis raised her gaze to a barely composed LtCdr Coleridge. Apparently his meeting with the ambassador had not gone well, and, from the look on his face, there was a definite need for the privacy available just aft of the auxiliary station Kirel was putting to good use.

 

“It’s about Ambassador Drankum, sir,” he began as they settled into the vacant area. “It's his prerogative to get involved in the station repairs, of course. I don't mean to suggest otherwise. It's just that . . . he got really worked up about it. And I know his health has been an issue in the past.”

 

“And… you are concerned about him now?” Not only a question, but a definite request for information.

 

The Ambassador had been more reclusive than usual and, though Kirel would not admit it, she was beginning to miss their ######-for-tat conversations. As grating and repulsive as she found his presence, she had gained a certain facility in reading between the lines. She much preferred watching him storm about than wondering what he was doing behind closed doors.

 

“Well, I'm not a doctor.” the engineer continued, “but I don't think the way he addressed me was good for his blood pressure, among other things.”

 

He was being tactful, but the subtext was clear. Drankum was, to put it mildly, beside himself about the condition of his station. Kirel guessed that the full brunt of his rage had descended on Coleridge, the only Aegis engineer left on the Missouri. It explained the sudden flash of purple in d’Ka’s eyes during their last conversation; he never did learn how to block Ferengi.

 

“It's true that he is very experienced when it comes to Aegis,” continued Scott, “…and that knowledge is useful – perhaps invaluable. But this situation is also taking an emotional toll – on all of us.”

 

All of us. Kirel glanced at d’Ka, now conferring with the officer of the watch. To his left, two of Missouri’s engineers bent over Aegis schematics, postulating avenues of approach in coordination with SubCommander Jorahl. A few minutes before, she had overheard the SubCommander calling for all available to help with restoration of the station, so it was a perfect time to grant a strategic exit to a weary engineer.

 

A thoughtful forefinger to her chin, Chirakis ventured, “I’m inclined to believe your talents are better served on the station than on the Missouri. And... if you feel the same, I'm sure Lt Tan can handle requisitions for you.” She ticked her head in his direction, ignoring Tan’s reaction. “Release the drones Mr. Fletcher needs and take a shuttle to Aegis.”

 

His relief was obvious. Drankum’s rants aside, turning an engineer into a requisitions officer was like turning a warrior into a nursemaid. Several minutes later, an Aegis shuttle left Missouri’s bay, merged with existing out-bound traffic, then banked towards the station.

 

=/\=

 

D’Ka’s Second, Lie’ri, vacated his position, PADD in hand, bound for his office. His tall, lean frame pushed the limits of ship construction, forcing his head to tilt to clear the door frame. A wave from d’Ka brought Kirel to his chair, giving her a better vantage than the aft auxiliary position. Several hours had passed, but the interim had been filled with calculations, revisions, and not a little supposition.

 

The holographic display of Aegis continued to revolve. Green, yellow, and red icons blinked dark as systems powered down in preparation for the purge and reboot. Some time later, an area in the vicinity of engineering flickered yellow, then green, eliciting a sigh of relief from Kirel, and echoed by a few others around the bridge.

 

“Encouraging,” said d’Ka - quietly, and with air of caution. Superstition reigned at times like these. An idle word spoken in haste could, according to superstition, doom the operation, so d’Ka reverted to silence.

 

“Twenty-seven ways?” The captain leaned towards her, his expression one of schooled passivity. It was hardly a conversation for the bridge.

 

Her answer came several minutes later. “Twenty-eight. Your point?”

 

“Curiousity. Isn’t one sufficient?” Captain d’Ka turned to receive a PADD, impressed it with his thumb and signed in flowing characters, then returned it.

 

“For you. For me, it depends on the species.” When necessary, Sindar dispatched an enemy quickly and efficiently. One intense, focused psionic burst cut consciousness of the opponent like a laser. Kirel had witnessed it only once, and it had saved both their lives.

 

A few more areas lit green on the station. Tan zoomed in, stopping the station’s rotation periodically to better follow the engineers’ progress. As the definition increased, tactical numbers appeared, marking personnel who were working in and around the engineering levels.

 

“With your bare hands.” Contemplative, as though he were mulling it over in his mind, a grim activity for trying times.

 

Feeling his eyes on her, Kirel shrugged, drained the glass she had been holding and placed it in the armrest. End of conversation.

 

=/\=

 

Hours turned to days, but Kirel remained on the bridge. Knowing her teams were risking their lives, she could not leave. Esprit de corps? Honor? More than that. A commanding officer did not leave her troops in combat, whether with a corporal enemy or the elements, and the sense of unease she felt knowing there were teams on the station kept her awake and alert, as efficiently as if she were in battle.

 

The display spun to new areas lit green as power was restored. The Y-axis angle exposed the damage done to Pylon B. D’Ka’s eyes darkened, returning to a deep blue focus as he swiveled the view towards the X-axis and enhanced the working crew’s positions. He stiffened in his chair, the first indication to Kirel that something was wrong. “Commander.”

 

Following his line of sight, Kirel focused on a lone icon in the void on deck 41, just outside engineering, its designation telling her, “Dabi. He should be in the control tower. Magnify. Increase definition.”

 

Missouri’s sensors responded, revealing an inert, nearly lifeless figure that seemed to be entangled in wires, a sharp gash through the environmental suit.

 

“Mr. Tan, get him out of there.”

 

Way ahead of the captain’s order, Tan’s focus shifted from left to right across his console, his fingers plying the board with adept accuracy. “Already a lock, Captain. Initiated from the standby shuttle on the station. It’s.... Doctor Pavilion and Centurion Dabi. They’re aboard.”

 

“Alert medical. Clear the bay for emergency incoming.”

 

D’Ka’s order came just before the lift doors closed on Kirel. “Shuttle Bay One. Computer, inform the Ambassador. Incoming injured from Aegis.”