From: Shawn _ (alamo_nate_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Mon Jun 25 2007 - 14:13:18 PDT
=Training Day, Part 2=
(cont’d from Erik’s “Phase 2”)
LOCATION: Starfleet Academy
SCENE: Holodeck
STARDATE: 2.70625.1412
Lt.’s Halois and Seloran both turned and strode out of the holodeck, leaving Crichton standing alone, holding the PADD. He scanned the PADD a few more times, and was about to leave.
[[One more thing, cadet,]] came Lt. Halois’ voice over the comm. [[This second test will be a little more… realistic than the first.]]
“What do you mean?” Crichton asked, suspiciously.
There came no reply, but Crichton suddenly became aware of his surroundings beginning to change. What was once the runabout suddenly shifted, becoming a darkened, clattered hallway made of a strange-looking metal. Bizarre symbols covered the metal, looking like some kind of alien alphabet. What little light there was shone a deep red, giving the corridors an almost infernal look.
Crichton suddenly realized what Lt. Halois meant.
“Don’t I even get to break for lunch?” he frowned.
[[You’ll find your repair team has been beamed into what appears to be main engineering,]] Halois said. [[They are all competent officers, and I’m sure you’ll be pleased with them. Good luck, cadet.]]
Crichton sighed. He wasn’t happy about being thrust right into another test immediately after completing the first… he hadn’t even attended a class yet. And now he was stuck on some strange ship that had six hours to go before exploding. All in all, it was shaping up to be one hell of a first day.
“Well,” Crichton said, shrugging off his disappointment and putting his game face back one. “Let’s do this.”
------------------------------------
SCENE: Engineering
Lt. Torkal was 6’1 and Vulcan, with jet black, well-groomed hair and an emotionless look that still managed to appear both stern and slightly bored on his face. He was also not real. He was a collection of photons, and he was a tiny chunk of information stored in a computer system. But if he *was* real, his growing impatience with the tardiness of the young cadet who was supposed to be coordinating this mission would have been genuine, rather than just simulated.
So when Jacob Crichton finally walked through the doors to the main engineering section, the computer program that was in charge of Torkal’s mind and personality calculated a 94.286% chance that a real Vulcan lieutenant engineer would approach the young cadet at a deliberate pace and make a remark about the illogic of dilly-dallying, especially in such a serious situation.
And so, Lt. Torkal did just that.
“I would think that an ACT cadet would have a sense of urgency in times such as this,” Torkal lectured. “It is something you would do well to learn, Mr. Crichton.”
“I’ll write that down,” Crichton said, rolling his eyes. “But if it’s all the same to you, why don’t we let the guy who *isn’t* imaginary run things around here, hmm?”
Like the rest of the holographic crew, Torkal’s program did not allow for him to recognize the fact that he was a simulation. If any such information was presented, Torkal and the rest were programmed to simply ignore it… they literally didn’t even hear it. Instead, Torkal’s program had already calculated a 98.998% chance that the next thing a Vulcan lieutenant engineer would do in a situation like this is to give the commanding officer a status report.
“We have completed preliminary scans,” Torkal said. “This is the main engineering section. We have no information as to the origin of this vessel, and there appear to be no life-signs.”
“Any bodies?” Crichton asked, walking past Torkal and into the main part of the room. It was multi-tiered, similar to a Federation engineering section. But rather than being centered around a warp core, this room was shaped like a large cube. There didn’t appear to be any warp core, or any major propulsion system that Crichton could identify.
“None,” Torkal said. “And we believe that several life-buoys have been jettisoned. It would appear that the crew abandoned ship.”
“Maybe they knew about the overload,” Crichton said. “And they weren’t able to stop it.”
“The original crew of this vessel surely had a great deal more knowledge and expertise as to its workings,” Torkal observed. “If they were unable to halt the overload, it is unlikely we will do any better.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t have me,” Crichton smiled.
------------------------------
TIME INDEX: 90 minutes later
“Ensign Michaels,” Crichton said, peeking out from beneath the console he was working on and looking at the young woman standing at a terminal a few feet away. “Status?”
“Making the final connections now,” Ensign Michaels replied.
“Alright… on my mark, I want you to reactivate the terminal,” Crichton said, moving back under the console. He made a few calibrations, rewired a node or two, and then said, “Three… two… one… mark.”
As he said “mark”, Crichton was reattaching a distribution node to the main power supply. Simultaneously, the lovely and virtual Ensign Michaels reactivate her terminal, immediately drawing power through the distribution node- with Crichton’s fingers still on it.
“Ow!” There was a crackle of energy, and sparks showered Crichton’s face. He shook his burnt finger in the air and then sucked on the tip of it, easing the pain only slightly. A little agitated, he quickly tried to sit up, banging his forehead squarely on the console above him. Cursing, he climbed out from beneath the console and moved to stand next to Ensign Michaels. “Did it work?”
“Yes sir,” Ensign Michaels nodded, and Crichton saw that she was right. The terminal began to make a low hum, and the screen flickered on. For a moment, it showed a strange, alien symbol, similar to the ones that lined the walls of the ship. Then, it switched to what appeared to be a menu screen.
“Eureka,” Crichton said, grinning. “We have power.”
[[Cadet Crichton,]] came Torkal’s voice over the communicator.
“Crichton here,” the cadet replied. “Have you got power, lieutenant?”
[[Yes,]] Torkal said. [[Main power appears to have been restored. Several conduits have exploded due to the sudden surge of energy. I recommend we send clean-up teams to Decks 3, 4, and 6.]]
“Do it,” Crichton nodded. “How are things on your end?”
[[Most of the external repairs are complete,]] Torkal said. [[With main power restored, we can begin work on the ship’s computer.]]
“Alright.” Crichton said. “Any luck finding the source of the power overload?”
[[No sir,]] Torkal reported. [[The composition of this ship appears to be having an effect on our tricorders, we can’t get a clear scan.]]
“Well, we’ve got about four and a half hours before this ship goes critical,” Crichton said. “Focus your efforts on restoring this ship’s scanners, we’ll need them to pinpoint the source of the overload. I’ll be heading over to you presently.”
[[Understood. Torkal out.]]
Crichton looked back at Ensign Michaels (and briefly felt a stab of regret that she wasn’t real, for she was certainly attractive) and said, “I want you to join Lt. Porter on tier 3, see if you can’t give him a hand deciphering this alien alphabet. If we understand that, we’ll have a much easier time getting this ship online.”
-----------------------------
SCENE: Corridor, Deck 6
It is difficult to say whether or not any of this “happened”.
If one means, did the holodeck produce photons to actually pantomime the events, then the answer is no. A holodeck is not large enough to actually simulate an entire ship, and even if it were, the computing power necessary to generate such a simulation would be extreme. Instead, the holodeck employs various methods to “trick” the occupant into thinking it’s much larger than it really is.
Thanks to that, nothing actually “happens” anywhere that’s not in Crichton’s immediate view.
But if one means, did the computer program in charge of this simulation set into motion a series of subroutines designed to alter the program, to introduce a new element into the simulation, then yes, this did happen. Simulated characters were deleted, a new obstacle introduced. When set against the framework of the holodeck’s “simulated reality”, these events are as real in the holodeck as real events would be in the real world.
The point of view that one chooses to adopt will determine the answer to the question of whether or not the bodies of Repair Team 3, broken and bloody and strewn about the corridor, were “real”.
-------------------------------
SCENE: Main Engineering, Tier 5
Crichton was just walking up when Lt. Torkal pulled him aside.
“We have a problem, sir,” the Vulcan said.
“What is it?”
“Repair Team 3 isn’t responding to communications,” Torkal said, frowning. “Repairs on Deck 6 remain incomplete, though every other repair team has since reported in.”
“Maybe it’s just a comm-badge on the glitch,” Crichton frowned. He doubted it would be anything so simple, not on a training mission like this. That would be too easy.
“I suggest we dispatch a security team to search for them,” Torkal recommended.
“We can’t spare a full detail,” Crichton said, shaking his head. “You and I will go. Keep everyone else at work getting the internal scanners online. Our first priority is locking down the source of the power overload.”
“Aye sir,” Torkal nodded, and made the necessary orders. A moment later, he and Torkal each strapped a phaser to their belts and headed off in the direction of the turbolift.
-----------------------------
SCENE: Deck 6
The turbolift doors opened slowly, laboriously creaking as they did so. After they had opened about three-quarters of the way, they stopped, and Crichton and Torkal had to force them open by hand.
“Something else to put on the ‘to-do’ list,” Crichton commented as they stepped out of the turbolift and into the corridor. “Where was the team working?”
“I’m receiving a Starfleet comm-frequency approximately 100 meters down this corridor,” Torkal said, looking up from the tricorder in his hand. He frowned. “It’s a stationary signal, they do not appear to be moving.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Crichton said as they started down the corridor. “I’m sure everything is just fine.”
“Your optimism is commendable, but likely misguided,” Torkal said flatly. “We know nothing about this vessel. It is certainly possible that it is booby-trapped against intruders. The repair team could have activated one of these traps.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Crichton admitted.
“And, of course, there is the possibility that the ship is still inhabited,” Torkal continued. “The aliens may simply not show up on any of our scans.”
“Isn’t it illogical to worry so much about things that might not even be true?” Crichton said, glaring at the Vulcan. “I mean, if we’re playing the ‘what if’ game, maybe they suddenly decided to go union and are refusing to work until they get full-dental.”
“I’m sorry?” Torkal said, raising an eyebrow, obviously not understanding the reference.
“Nevermind,” Crichton said, rolling his eyes. “The point is that we don’t know anything right now. And yeah, sure, it’s possible that they all died horribly, and we’ll suddenly walk into a pile of corpses and have no idea what to make of it. But it’s just as likely that it’s a comm-glitch and that everything is hunky-dory. In the meantime, having you play Nervous Nellie the whole time isn’t helping anything, and when we find out that this is just a simple mista-“
Right then, Crichton and Torkal rounded the corner and saw what remained of Repair Team 3. Crichton’s eyes widened as he stopped in mid-sentence. Torkal, if he was as shocked as Crichton, didn’t register it at all. Instead, he merely looked over at Crichton.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the Vulcan said. “You were saying?”
---------------------------
TIME INDEX: 40 minutes later
Crichton and Torkal had examined the bodies. Crichton was not a doctor, but it appeared that the repair team had been attacked by something very large, and very strong. Their bodies were all broken and contorted as though crushed to death by a hydraulic press. And judging from the way they were positioned in the corridor, it looked as though it had happened fast- they hadn’t had much time to run.
Now, Crichton and Lt. Torkal ran through the corridor, headed back towards main engineering. Torkal had already signaled ahead, warning the engineering teams of an unknown threat loose on the ship. They had also attempted to contact the other repair teams, but Repair Team One was no longer responding to communications. Crichton didn’t want to think about what had happened to them.
There was a spot of good news: Ensign Michaels and Lt. Porter had succeeded in decoding part of the alphabet, and it had been enough for the rest of the engineering teams to get several major systems back online- including the internal sensors.
[[We’re currently running a sensor-sweep on all decks,]] Ensign Michaels reported over the comm. [[We should be getting a fix on whatever is causing the overload within a few moments.]]
“Good,” Crichton said. “How much time do we have until overload?”
[[A little over three hours remaining,]] Michaels replied.
“More than enough time,” Crichton said, pleased. Then he remembered Repair Team 3, and a twinge of dread ran through him. “Any news from the other repair teams?”
[[Team 2 just got back,]] Michaels said. [[Still no word from Team 1.]]
“Alright,” Crichton sighed. “We have to assume they’re dead too. From now on, no one leaves Main Engineering without armed escort. Torkal and I will be back in a minute.”
[[Aye sir,]] Michaels said. [[Main Engineering out.]]
“So Torkal,” Crichton asked as he continued down the hall. “Any theories as to what we’re dealing with here?”
When no reply came, Crichton looked up, and saw that Torkal was no longer walking with him. Crichton stopped and turned around, and didn’t see the Vulcan anywhere.
“Dammit,” Crichton frowned, jogging back down the corridor looking for Torkal. He jogged for a minute before finally seeing the Vulcan standing in the open-doorway to what appeared to be a shuttle bay. Crichton came up behind him. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to say ‘hey, Crichton, wait up’.”
The Vulcan did not reply- his attention appeared to be fixed on what was inside the room. Crichton came up closer and was about to say something else when he saw what it was that had captured Torkal’s attention.
The opposite wall of the bay, where one would normally expect to find an opening covered by a force-field that allowed ship’s to enter or depart, was gone. Literally, just gone, as though a huge part of the ship had been blown off. Except that it didn’t look the result of weapons-fire, at least not any weapons Crichton was familiar with. Instead, it looked like (and Crichton realized how insane this sounded even as he thought it) the metal had literally been torn open from the outside.
By hand.
“My God,” Crichton said, his eyes as wide as Torkal’s. “What the hell could have done this?”
“I do not know,” the Vulcan said. “The bulkhead… it looks as though it’s been ripped apart. I can’t think of anything that could do this.”
“Well, I’d rather not stand here and wait to find out,” Crichton said. “Let’s get back to Main Engineering.”
The two of them stood, staring at the twinkling stars that shone beyond the hole. They stood there for several more moments, before finally moving off.
------------------------------
SCENE: Main Engineering
TIME INDEX: 15 minutes later
Crichton wasn’t even fully before the door before speaking.
“Report,” he said.
“We’ve pinpointed the source of the overload, sir,” Ensign Michaels said, falling in step alongside Crichton and Torkal. “There appears to be some power-source independent from the rest of the ship, siphoning power from this vessel. To compensate for the power drain, the ship had been amping up power, and eventually they fried most of their systems. But for some reason, the ship is still trying to compensate for the drain, and so all this power is being generated with nowhere to go, causing the overload.”
“Can we stop it?” Crichton asked.
“We’ve tried already,” Michaels said. “This ship’s computer doesn’t work the same way a Starfleet computer does. The ship won’t stop trying to bring all the systems back online, even the ones that are still fried.”
“Then to stop the overload, we either have to fully restore all systems or shut down the source of the power-drain,” Crichton said, coming to a stop in front of a terminal and examining the screen. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything since the bowl of cereal that morning. To Crichton, that seemed a very long time ago.
“Even with the systems we currently have restored, the power-drain is still working against us,” Lt. Torkal said. “The best course of action would be to stop the power-drain first.”
“I agree,’ Crichton nodded. “You said you have the location of the drain pinpointed?”
“Yes,” Ensign Michaels frowned. “But there’s something strange. The source of the drain… we can only lock it down for a few minutes at a time. After that we lose it, and when we find it again, it’s somewhere else.”
“What, you mean it’s *moving*?” Crichton said. He looked at Torkal. “I have a feeling that all of this is related, lieutenant.”
“I am inclined to agree,” the virtual Vulcan nodded.
“All of what?” Michaels asked, the concern on her face also apparent in her tone.
“There’s something with us on this ship,” Crichton frowned. “And it appears to be very unfriendly.”
--------------------------
SCENE: Corridor
“Are you certain this is the wisest course of action?” Torkal asked. He, Crichton, and several other officers, all armed with phaser-rifles, moved swiftly down the hallway. Next to Crichton, Ensign Michaels walked, holding a tricorder in her hand.
“We have to know what we’re dealing with,” Crichton said. “Best case scenario, we find whatever this is, shut it down, save the ship.”
“And the worst case scenario?” Torkal replied, raising an eyebrow.
**You all die horribly, and I fail the test,** Crichton thought.
“Sir,” Ensign Michaels said, coming to a stop. “I’m picking up the intruder.”
“Where is it?”
“Up ahead,” the young woman said, nodding towards a closed door at the end of the corridor. “In there.”
The team slowed to a stop in front of the door. Crichton’s mind was racing- security was not his specialty, and he certainly wasn’t an expert at leading an assault team into dangerous situations. But he was also the commanding officer, and it was his responsibility to save the ship and keep his crew safe.
“Alright,” Crichton whispered. “Lt. Torkal, you and I move in first. Ensign Jackson, Ensign Powers, you’re immediately behind us. Lt. Porter and Ensign Michaels cover the doorway, make sure it doesn’t get out.”
The team nodded, and positioned themselves. Crichton and Torkal, each on opposite sides of the door, made eye-contact. Crichton could see that the Vulcan was ready, and he nodded.
“Let’s do it.”
--------------------------
SCENE: Mess Hall
The door swished open, and Crichton and Torkal moved in, their rifles ready. The room was obviously the mess-hall, for at the center of it was a long, metal table lined on all sides by chairs. The room was very long, and the lighting was such that Crichton could only faintly make out the far end of the room.
Nothing moved inside the room.
Slowly, Crichton and Torkal inched forward, with the others bringing up the rear. Crichton swept the room with his rifle, his muscles so tense that they ached. Behind him, he heard Ensign Michaels speak.
“It’s in here, sir,” she whispered. “I’m reading something at the far end of the room.”
“Move forward,” Crichton ordered. “Slowly.”
The team split, moving to opposite sides of the table as they moved. With each step, Crichton could see the far end of the room better, but he still could not see any intruder. For a moment, he thought that Ensign Michaels readings must be faulty.
Finally, the reached the end of the table. There, on the floor, Crichton saw what appeared to be a power-conduit, but one that had been dismantled, pieces scattered all over the floor. Wires and tubing were ripped out and sat in a tangled mess, one so bad that Crichton didn’t notice the intruder at first. And finally, he saw it.
It was small, about the size of a bowling ball, but cube-shaped. Its surface was a metal so shiny that Crichton could see his reflection in it. Coming out of the top of the cube was what appeared to be a cable, snaking its way into the disassembled conduit. There was a low humming sound coming from the cube, and Crichton noticed it had a faint, blue aura that surrounded it.
The cube had no reaction to the team. Crichton wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was even expecting; this object didn’t seem threatening at all. In fact, it vaguely reminded Crichton of a toaster.
For a long moment, the team only stood, staring. Finally, Crichton spoke.
“Huh.”
“What is it?” Ensign Michaels asked, still whispering. “Is this what’s draining the ship’s power?”
“So it would seem,” Torkal said, tilting his head slightly. “What does your tricorder read?”
“It’s composed of an unknown metal,” Ensign Michaels said. “It’s reading as completely solid, and doesn’t appear to be emitting any energy signals. In fact, the tricorder appears to be having trouble detecting it at all.”
“This doesn’t look like something that could kill anyone,” Crichton said. “Let alone two teams of people.”
“Perhaps there is another intruder,” Torkal offered.
“No,” Ensign Michaels shook her head. “Internal scans were very thorough, I was only receiving one set of anomalous readings.”
“What do we do?”
“I suppose we should try to disconnect it,” Crichton said. “But I’m not sure that I want to touch-“
A bright flash of blue light suddenly pulsed from the cube, so bright that it blinded Crichton. His vision filled with starbursts of color and darkness, and he heard the sound of phaser-fire exploding off a nearby bulkhead. He hoped the shooter wasn’t as blind as he was.
Instinctively, Crichton took a few steps backwards, but his legs tangled up with the legs of a chair and he stumbled. As he did, he felt a rush of air pass right over his head, through the area his torso had been, followed by a dull “thok!” sound of metal digging into metal. Crichton became aware now that someone nearby him was screaming in pain and terror. Suddenly, there was a sickeningly loud “CRACK!” and the scream abruptly stopped.
Crichton shook his head, blinking his vision clear. His eyes immediately focused on the cube, which now was suspended in mid-air, glowing a deep blue. Long, metallic cables snaked out of it on all sides, waving in the air like menacing tentacles. Attached to the end of each cable was a claw-like appendage, razor sharp. Crichton saw that one of the cables was wrapped around Ensign Jackson several times, squeezing him like a python. By the way Jackson’s head and limbs hung limply, and the vacant expression on his face, Crichton could see the Ensign was dead, his back and neck snapped.
Torkal was on his feet, firing at the cube, but the cube was surprisingly maneuverable, zipping aside to evade the blast. It shot one of it’s tentacles out, knocking Torkal on the side of his head and throwing his next shot off target, but it had to evade several more blasts from Ensign Michaels and couldn’t finish the Vulcan off.
Crichton scrambled backwards, trying to get away from the cube and get his footing at the same time. As he did so, he heard another loud “CRACK!”, followed by a scream and suddenly saw that one of the deadly tentacles had wrapped around Ensign Powers’ leg, snapping it in half so that Crichton could see a nub of bone poking out from the Ensign’s trousers. Powers’ pain was brief, however, as the cube brought one of it’s cables down, spiking it’s razor-sharp claw through the ensign’s chest.
“Fall back!” Crichton shouted, finally getting to his feet. He squeezed off a few shots from his phaser, but the cube easily dodged. It lashed a cable out towards Crichton, trying to smack him across the chest, but Crichton ducked and fired, his shot catching the cable full on and severing it in two.
The cube made a noise, something between a scream and an alarm klaxon, withdrawing what was left of the cable back into itself. It dodged a few more blasts from Torkal and Ensign Michaels, and flew up towards the ceiling.
Crichton watched as the cube shot out four of its cables, each digging into the metal bulkhead of the back wall. To Crichton’s surprise, the cube began to pull back on the cables, and actually started tearing the bulkhead off the wall.
**So that’s what made the hole we found,** Crichton thought absently, as he and the surviving team members raced back towards the door. As Crichton watched, the cube tore a hole through the bulkhead and disappeared through it, shrieking its awful scream as it went.
----------------------------
SCENE: Corridor
Crichton and his team ran, not even looking behind them. They ran and ran until they made it to the turbolift door… and even then, the only thing that kept them from continuing to flee was the fact that the turbolift doors failed to open as they approached.
Finally coming to a stop, panting for breath, Crichton had time to count the survivor. Lt. Torkal was there, breathing heavily (though somewhat less so than Crichton), and Ensign Michaels leaned against the turbolift door, sobbing quietly, while Lt. Porter was bent over, a small puddle of virtual vomit at his feet.
“What… the hell… was that?” Crichton asked between pants for breath.
“It is easier to see how it could have killed the repair teams,” Torkal said, his tone still infuriatingly neutral. For a moment, Crichton had to fight the urge to punch him. But that was just the adrenaline, Crichton knew, and it wasn’t the Vulcan that had just killed two members of his team.
“I couldn’t hit it,” Ensign Michaels murmured. “I tried to shoot it, it was moving too fast...”
“It’s going to kill us all!” Lt. Porter said, looking up suddenly, a look of terror on his face. “We have to keep moving, it’s coming!”
“Calm down,” Crichton said, trying to reason with him. But Porter was growing more agitated.
“We have to go!” he shouted, hysterical. “We need to get the doors open, it’s coming now!”
“It’s not coming!” Crichton shouted, trying to get him under control. In the back of his mind, he hated the holodeck for being realistic enough to simulate panic among his crew. “I saw it go through the hole it tore in the bulkhead!”
“No!” Porter shouted. He suddenly raised his rifle, aiming at the turbolift door, preparing to blow it open, even if that meant vaporizing Ensign Michaels. Crichton shouted for him to stop, but Torkal was already moving. He grabbed Porter by the elbow with one hand and at the base of his neck with the other- a Vulcan nerve-pinch. Porter dropped immediately, the rifle dropping from his hands.
“Thank you, lieutenant,” Crichton said, nodding at Torkal. The Vulcan gave a single nod in return- not so much a “you’re welcome” as a “just doing my job”.
“What do we do now?” Ensign Michaels asked. Crichton noticed that she had stopped sobbing, and was now wiping her face clean of tears and taking a deep breath to compose herself.
“We need to stop that thing,” Crichton said. “I landed a hit on one of the cables, that was enough to drive it away. So it can be hurt. It can be killed. We need to track it down.”
“That may be problematic,” Torkal said. “Before, the cube was not aware that we could damage it. It is both fast and deadly, but we have the advantage of numbers, and our weapons do appear to be a threat to it. I believe that it will now attempt to avoid contact with us as much as possible, and I do not believe that we can keep up with it.”
“Then we need to trap it,” Crichton said. “Let’s get back to main engineering. I want everything we know about this cube, all the data we’ve gotten off it as well as data on the power drain. I want to know what this thing is, what it wants, and how it works.”
“And how exactly do you plan to trap the cube?” Lt. Torkal asked. “Obviously, whatever this thing is, it drove the previous crew off the ship. If they were unable to stop it…”
“We’ve been over this before,” Crichton said. “They didn’t have me. And I don’t know if that toaster from hell has an ass, but I swear to God I’m going to kick it.”
--------------------------
SCENE: Main Engineering
TIME INDEX: 1 hour later
There was just under an hour left before the ship went critical. But Crichton wasn’t thinking about that. His attention was focused on the terminal in front of him. Displayed on the screen was the wavelength of the energy that the cube was collecting from the ship. Crichton might not have been the best scientist, but he knew machines like the back of his hand, and whatever this cube was, Crichton knew it wasn’t invulnerable. For it to be feeding of a ship this size obviously meant it used an awful lot of power. It also meant that it ran off some kind of internal battery.
And that battery could be fried.
Nearby, at another terminal, Ensign Michaels stood with Lt. Torkal. They were tracking the cube’s movement throughout the ship. So far, the cube had moved up several decks and was remaining on the opposite end of the ship, lending credence to Torkal’s theory that the cube was now afraid of them.
Crichton believed he already had a way to destroy the cube- by modifying the ship’s power supply to alter the wavelength of the energy, he could in effect cause the cube to short out its own battery, like eating so much that its stomach exploded. But the trouble was that the cube obviously had some kind of intelligence, and Crichton had a feeling the cube would realize its food-source had suddenly become ultra-high calorie. He needed a way to force the cube to remain connected with the ship, to keep it from simply disconnecting itself and flying away.
And that was the part of the plan that Crichton didn’t feel so good about.
“Sir,” Lt. Torkal said, looking over at him. “We are ready whenever you are.”
“I just need another minute to finish the modifications,” Crichton said, punching in a few commands on his terminal.
“Are you sure about this, sir?” Torkal asked, coming up behind him now. “Your plan places you in a considerable amount of danger.”
“I’m not letting some homicidal microwave-oven kill any more members of my team,” Crichton said, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“May I remind you, *sir*,” the Vulcan replied, “...that as commanding officer here, your responsibility here is to that very crew. How are their interests served if the cube kills you?”
“You seem like you’re more than ready to do my job,” Crichton said, glancing over at him.
“You are young, and inexperienced,” the Vulcan admitted, “..but there is a reason why you were placed in command here. I am not in the habit of deluding myself, cadet, and I can tell you that I would not have been able to lead this team myself. I am a competent engineer, certainly, but you are our best hope for the success of this mission.”
“Right,” Crichton frowned. “My leadership has gotten almost our entire team *killed*.”
“Starfleet officers risk their lives every day,” Torkal said. “Death is always a possibility when facing the unknown. But you cannot allow their deaths to cloud your judgment in this matter.”
Crichton turned to look at him now. “So what are you saying, lieutenant?”
“I am better suited to this task than you,” the Vulcan said plainly. “And the risk is great. If I should fail, you will still be alive to come up with an alternative solution.”
“No,” Crichton said, shaking his head. “You’ve got a point, Torkal, but we have about 48 minutes until this ship goes critical. If this fails, there is no alternative solution.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Torkal said. “But if the time comes, which of the two of us is better equipped to come up with a backup plan?”
Crichton sighed, and nodded. The Vulcan was right, of course- if Crichton got himself “killed”, there would be no one left to lead the crew, and it was likely they would all die. That meant that Crichton would fail this test (Crichton realized that he had stopped thinking of the situation in terms of a holographic sim hours ago).
“Alright,” he said. “You want to do it, you can do it.”
“Sir,” Ensign Michaels reported from her console. “It’s moving.”
Crichton and Torkal moved over to where she was standing. On her terminal, they could see a diagram of the ship, with a pulsing blue dot on the opposite end, representing the cube. The dot appeared and disappeared, proof of the cube’s resistance to tracking, but overall they were able to plot its course fairly effectively. Its movements had become increasingly erratic over the last hour- now it appeared to be zipping back and forth across the ship aimlessly.
“It’s running out of places to drain power,” Crichton said. “Pretty soon, it’s going to have to come back this way, and it doesn’t want to do that. It knows we’re waiting for it.”
“What if this thing is alive?” Ensign Michaels asked, biting her bottom lip. “I mean, shouldn’t we try to communicate with it before destroying it?”
“I do not believe it is alive,” Torkal noted. “From the data we have collected on the cube, it is clearly very sophisticated, but all of its movements seem to indicate that it is simply executing a pre-set program, moving systematically from station to station and draining residual power. The only times its movement pattern has been altered is when we have been in contact with it.”
“But why is it afraid?” Ensign Michaels asked. “If it’s not alive, how can it be afraid?”
But as they watched, the cube’s movement on the diagram suddenly stopped. Crichton saw that it was aboard the ship’s bridge, and he suddenly realized what it must be doing.
“It’s not afraid at all,” he said, eyes wide. “It’s looking for a way to kill us off.”
As if on cue, the lights in main engineering began to flicker, and the atmosphere suddenly began to pump out of the room with an audible hiss. Warning klaxons automatically sounded.
“What’s going on?” Ensign Michaels shouted over the klaxons.
“It shut down life-support!” Crichton yelled. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes to get it back online before we suffocate!”
Lt. Torkal was already moving, punching in commands on a terminal, attempting to restore life-support. Suddenly, the console at which he was standing exploded in a shower of sparks and blue energy. Torkal was sent flying backwards, his back slamming hard into the opposite console. Crichton rushed over to him, seeing the front of the Vulcan’s uniform was charred, and Torkal’s face was a mass of blood. Crichton checked for a pulse and saw that the Vulcan was still alive, but barely.
“Cadet Crichton!” Ensign Michaels shouted over the klaxons. “The cube is heading this way! E.T.A., 4 minutes!”
Everyone in main engineering was moving. Officers worked to rewire connections, fuse wires, pull apart and repair consoles. Crichton, meanwhile, worked feverishly at a terminal, attempting to reroute command codes to override the cube’s work. He realized, with some degree of horror, that he didn’t have enough time before the cube arrived.
“Alright,” he shouted, turning around. “New plan! Everyone, evacuate immediately! I repeat, fall back!”
Ensign Michaels was close by, and she looked over at Crichton with concern.
“You too, Ensign!” Crichton shouted over the klaxons. “Get Torkal out of here as well!”
“But what about you, sir?”
“Go!” Crichton boomed, and Ensign Michaels obeyed, hooking the unconscious Lt. Torkal under the arms and dragging him away.
Alone now, Crichton turned back to the console. His attention was now focused on finishing the modifications to the energy. If he couldn’t restore life-support to main engineering, he could at least follow up with his plan to poison the cube. On another nearby screen, he could track the cube’s progress through the ship- it was only about two minutes away now.
Crichton quickly tapped in a few commands, locking down all the entrances to main engineering. Then, he found and activated a set of blast-doors, obviously designed to contain any explosions in engineering. He knew it wouldn’t slow the cube down for long, but it might buy him just enough time.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of metal scraping metal, and he knew the cube had arrived. Already, it was tearing its way through the bulkhead, shearing off layer after layer. Crichton made a few, final modifications before stepping back, leveling his phaser at the terminal, and firing. The terminal exploded in a shower of sparks. Now the cube couldn’t reverse any of the changes he’d made.
Crichton turned now, moving through main engineering, firing his phaser at terminals and computer consoles, taking away all available sources of energy for the cube. He wanted to limit its options for places to feed.
Behind him, the sound of tearing metal became louder, and Crichton spun around to find that a small hole had appeared in the main doors to the engineering section. He estimated he had maybe 30 seconds before the cube tore itself an opening large enough to get in. Crichton searched around frantically for a pair of engineer’s goggles; he didn’t want the cube flashing him again. He found some hanging from a nearby hand-rail, and quickly pulled them on.
With a mighty crash, the door gave way, and Crichton heard the low, menacing hum of the cube as it floated into the room, its lethal tentacles retracted. It hung in the air near the door for a moment, seeming to weigh Crichton as a potential threat. Crichton realized this might be his only chance to attempt communication with the cube.
“What the hell,” he decided. He holstered his phaser and, very cautiously, began to approach the cube, his hands raised. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
The cube made to movement, but it began to glow faintly blue. Crichton stopped moving, and the cube’s glow slowly faded.
“I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” Crichton said. “We don’t mean you any harm, we were simply curious about this ship. We had no idea you were even aboard.”
The cube began to float towards Crichton, slowly. Crichton took a few steps back.
“Whoa whoa whoa, listen!” he yelled. The cube came to a stop. “We can’t let you continue to drain the power of this ship! You’re going to destroy it, and my people are still aboard!”
The cube seemed to consider this.
“Let me at least get my people off the ship,” Crichton said, beginning to advance on the cube again. “Then you can do whatever you want, just let me assure my team’s safety.”
The cube made a noise, a high-pitched whine followed by a series of chirps. Crichton watched as it floated higher, then lower, then higher again. It appeared to understand.
“So we’re cool?” Crichton asked. He couldn’t believe it would be that easy.
He was now within a few feet of the cube. He was about to step past it, moving towards the door, when suddenly, the cube zipped suddenly to intercept him. It began to pulse blue light again, and in an instant the cube flashed the bright blue light again. Crichton closed his eyes instinctively, and his goggles protected him from temporary blindness. He quickly snatched up his phaser, and as he opened his eyes, he was just in time to see one of the cube’s lethal tentacles shooting towards his chest.
Crichton dodged to the side and fired. The cube dropped altitude suddenly, evading the shot. Several more tentacles suddenly sprang from its sides, but Crichton was already running. The cube made the klaxon-screaming sound and began to give chase. Crichton turned and fired a few shots, but the cube easily dodged each one.
In his head, Crichton calculated the time he had left. He decided he had about 3 minutes before oxygen in main engineering was completely gone, and about 20 minutes after that before the ship overloaded and exploded. He realized he had better wrap this up, and quickly.
Dodging a few more of the cube’s tentacles, Crichton made his way to one of the main power-nodes. The device was so massive it made up an entire wall of the engineering section, but Crichton was only interested in its main control console. He came to a stop in front of it, and turned to face the cube.
The cube slowly approached, seeming to relish the fact that its prey was trapped. Crichton raised his phaser, changing the power setting, and looked up at the cube. His muscles tensed, ready for the attack he knew would be coming.
It came in an instant, almost quicker than Crichton could see. Its front tentacle shot at him suddenly, the razor-sharp claws at the end closed to create a deadly spear. Crichton spun his body to the left, just in time, so that the spear merely grazed his arm. The spear continued its path, slamming into the control console behind him.
Crichton spun around quickly, leveling his phaser and firing. The beam was smaller now, more focused, and it sheared into the control console, welding it to the cube’s tentacle-spear. The cube shrieked in surprise and suddenly tried to yank its cable out from the console, but it was stuck fast.
Crichton rushed over to the console and punched a few commands. The power-node began to hum, and the cube shrieked again and it began to glow a deep blow. Crichton turned to run, ducking under two more of the cube’s tentacle arms, and dashing for the door. Behind him, he heard the cube struggling and squealing in frustration. He turned to look back at the cube, and saw that it was now glowing like a miniature sun. Its cries became more and more intense, and suddenly the cube exploded, pieces of it flying in all directions.
A feeling of joy and accomplishment rushed through Crichton, and he couldn’t contain it.
“Hell yeah!” he cried, pumping his fist and jumping into the air in celebration. “In your face! Yee-haw!”
But he knew he had other problems. Crichton rushed to the nearest non-destroyed console and began rapidly entering commands. He had maybe 1 minute left before the air would be gone.
Finally, Crichton made the final commands, and the warning klaxons ceased. He heard a hiss of air returning to the room, and he took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.
It was over.
------------------------------
TIME INDEX: 30 minutes later
The rest was mostly routine. Crichton and his team (including the newly conscious Torkal, who, although he was unable to do any direct repairs, still coordinated the restoration of main power) shut down the overload with over five minutes to spare. Getting the rest of the systems back online was difficult, but not nearly as hard as anything Crichton had just dealt with.
As the final repairs were being made, Crichton went over to Torkal. The Vulcan was seated, his back leaning against a railing, watching a few ensigns finish repairs on the ship’s propulsion.
“How you feeling?” Crichton asked, sitting down next to him.
“I have been better,” the Vulcan said. “But I believe I will pull through.”
“Good,” Crichton smiled, patting the Vulcan on the shoulder. “Listen, I have to go pretty soon… you think you can finish up here?”
“I believe so,” Torkal nodded.
“Alright.” Crichton stood to leave, but stopped and looked back down at the Vulcan. “Listen, I just want to tell you… I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“No,” Torkal said simply. “You likely could not have. But then, that was my function, sir- to assist you in the completion of this mission. As an officer, you will always have a team to coordinate, to work alongside you… you won’t be expected to tackle every problem on your own.”
“Well, here’s hoping they’re all as competent as you,” Crichton said, smiling. “Thanks a lot, Torkal.”
“Thank you, Cadet Crichton,” the Vulcan said, and then he did something that surprised even his own computerized brain. Torkal the virtual Vulcan smiled.
NRPG: Whew, done!
Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get so long, but once I got started, I wanted to go all the way with the story. Hope you like it!
Shawn
a.k.a.
Jacob Crichton, Cadet
ACT Class 0706
SFA, EARTH
---------------------------------
Take the Internet to Go: Yahoo!Go puts the Internet in your pocket: mail, news, photos & more.
From HyperNews_at_youth.net
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.1.5 : Sun Feb 17 2008 - 03:10:02 PST