“Don’t count your chickens, Geordi. Let’s focus on the task at hand, and celebrate later.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic, Leah.”
“There is when it’s too far ahead. That’s always been your problem.” La Forge merely grunted. She was right about that. “When we get a response from Intrepid’s systems, then we can become hopeful.”
They walked into engineering, and La Forge called up the specs for twenty-second-century dilithium use. “98.47% purity ought to do it.”
Leah nodded. “I’ll get a supply of dilithium and adjust the transporter buffer settings.”
When the dilithium matrix materialized in Intrepid’s engine room, it took Vol only a few moments to install it. Having so many arms, Scotty reflected, was an advantage for an engineer. It would have taken him at least ten minutes. “There you go, Guv. All is smooth and sweatless.”
Scotty looked over the main board. “We’re receiving power from Challenger. Switch on the inducers, Reg. Let’s get that power cleared through into the new matrix.”
“Aye, sir.” As Vol pulled himself up to squat on top of the warp core, Barclay gently moved the main switches into their first position. Scotty listened expectantly for the sounds of a starship in good health, while Barclay and Rasmussen looked up, waiting. Nothing happened. “It’s not working.”
“Because you’re being as timid as a dormouse,” Vol said pointedly.
“I’m being cautious.”
“This doesn’t need caution, mate, it needs a boot up the backside.”
“You don’t have any boots,” Barclay mumbled.
“Look, mate, that’s neither here nor there. I’m telling you it’s all about power. Come on, give it some welly! More power!”
“I’m giving it all she’s got!”
“No, you bloody aren’t.” Vol reached a tentacle down and yanked the main switches. “Maximum power! Let’s shock her back to life.”
“You’re crazy! You could blow the whole—Oh, hang on, something’s happening.”
Vol turned a smug beige. “I told you. Power.”
“The master circuit’s showing energy . . . I’m getting some power flow . . .”
The lights set into Intrepid’s corridor walls at floor, ceiling, and middle height fluttered, beginning to glow dimly.
In engineering, a dull light, as gray and flickery as a cloudy sky before a storm, suffused the two-storey chamber and the long flattened cylinder of the main engine.
Sickbay brightened, becoming a little closer to the pristine white that it had once been, back when the ship was in service.
On the bridge, a few of the monitors that were still intact on the walls of the communications and engineering stations flashed into static-filled life.
Throughout the ship, gravity began to take hold, and objects that weren’t properly balanced began to fall, as did loose wall panels. The occasional bang and clatter through the corridors made people jump as if ghosts and specters had leapt out at them.
In engineering, Scotty slapped his combadge. “She’s alive, Geordi! And what a beauty she is!”
La Forge and Brahms could see what was happening in the master systems hologram, and Geordi had to agree that Intrepid was a beauty. So was Leah, he thought, as was the beatific smile that beamed across her features as she watched.
He was debating whether to give her a celebratory hug when she spun on her heel and hugged him first. It was only for a second, but it felt like a day. “Is that a response, I see?” he asked.
“It’s a typical human response to a happy situation.”
“Okay.”
Scotty called everyone together for a quick lunch aboard the Thames, bringing La Forge, Brahms, and Qat’qa across. “What’s our first priority, Captain?” Barclay asked eagerly. He put his hands together, fingers interlocked, and cracked his knuckles like a concert pianist about to attempt a particularly difficult concerto.
“We’ll want access to the main computer, so that we can download their flight records, logs, anything that can shed a light on what happened to her back in 2161.”
“What about warp speed?”
“Let’s hang fire on that for now, Reg, just in case some kind of warp malfunction played a part in whatever it was that happened to her.”
“Uh, yeah, yes, sir.” Reg nodded, clearly embarrassed at not thinking of that particular caution himself.
“The main computer core cuts through D and E decks, if I remember correctly,” Rasmussen said, finally breaking his silence. Scotty and Barclay looked at him dubiously. While Scotty locked eyes with Rasmussen, Barclay glanced at his padd, scrolling through files. “Adjacent to the transporter on D deck, and in the center of the science labs on E deck, I think you’ll find it, Mister Barclay. On what I presume is a handy little schematic you’ve got in your files.” He smiled winningly.
Barclay looked up, nodding. “That’s right. The schematics on file agree with Mister Rasmussen.” Rasmussen smiled, and Scotty wondered if he was only imagining the hint of superiority ghosted through the expression. He hoped so, because otherwise it looked like some of the arrogance La Forge had reported in him was starting to show through. “Well, Mister Rasmussen, it’s time to earn your keep.”
“My pleasure, Captain.”
Rasmussen led them through the cold and Spartan corridors, pointing out where the escape hatches and access panels were. In the armory, he was able to lift out some phase pistols and rifles, none of which worked. Scotty immediately had them transported back to the Challenger.
The EV suits were looser than the ones used nowadays, but not too different. When it came to the catwalk over the warp coils, however, Rasmussen was less sure of himself, and it showed. “This section doesn’t look like anything I’d see without clearance, and I suspect it’s probably something that’s been borrowed from the Vulcans.”
“If that’s the case,” La Forge said, “there’ll be records in the Vulcan science archives. We shouldn’t have a problem requesting copies of the specs.”
“It won’t be Vulcan,” Brahms said immediately. “It’ll be a Harker-Wade patterned coil. They were used in all the later warp-five vessels.”
“But the plasma injectors will be of the T’Lani Bureau type,” La Forge said. “That’s a Vulcan design.”
“Only fitted to vessels in the 2164 refit,” Scotty added. “So they aren’t going to be on Intrepid.”
Vol glowered a vague red. “I could arrange that, Guv. A full set of T’Lanis. And maybe replace the core with a new—”
“Vol,” Geordi said, “the object of the exercise is to restore Intrepid—”
“Yeah, better than new, mate. Come on, Captain,” he urged, “let me at least upgrade the—”
“I’m sorry, Vol. Geordi’s right, we want to be restoring this beautiful old lady to her original condition, not turnin’ her into some kind of hybrid.” Vol turned a patchy gray, but didn’t say anything else.
When they reached the bridge, Qat’qa looked around. There were still no seats, and a lot of dented and missing control sections. “Are you going to want me to fly this?”
“If we can get the drive systems operational,” Scotty said.
“And how likely is that?”
“Columbia’s systems were operable, but her condition was pretty different than this, going by the Aventine’s reports. But if we can, then, yes, you’d get first dibs to fly her.”
“Be still my beating heart.”
Geordi was surprised at her downbeat tone. “You don’t think it’d be pretty interesting to fly her? A challenge?”
“Interesting, yes, but a challenge? Hardly. Even at full spec she has no power compared to today’s vessels. A Korvallen freighter could outrun her.” The Klingon woman flicked a few switches on the battered helm, trying to gauge how complex—or otherwise—the controls were, and how comprehensive the range of maneuvers might be. “And don’t even get me started about what we could expect from the handling. I
t’d be easier to fly a brick.”
Scotty clapped her on the shoulder, and nodded sagely. “And since when did you ever fly anything easy?”
8
It was the morning briefing in main engineering aboard Challenger, and various engineering teams had been working all night on the Intrepid. “All right,” Brahms asked, presiding over the briefing, “what have we got so far?”
Barclay stepped forward. “We’ve got basic minimal power generation from the warp matrix. Enough for lighting, environmental control, and intra-ship communications if the connectors weren’t fused. The computer is powered up, but not active.”
“Priorities? Apart from computer recovery.”
La Forge called up a hologram of the Intrepid and pointed out the headway they had been making. “I suggest we make drive startup our next priority. Aside from giving more security to the life support and environmental systems, it’ll be handy if we need to move the ship.”
“We’re also going to have to replace a lot of parts,” Barclay added, “especially on the bridge. Very few screens survived, and they’ll have to be replaced.”
“All the specs are in the database, so we should be able to replicate them.”
“Excellent.” Brahms turned off the display and handed everyone a padd. “Geordi, if you and Reg could take charge on the Intrepid, that’d be ideal. I’ll ask Mister Rasmussen if he has anything to add about the replication of replacement parts.”
As the group of engineers broke up, La Forge drew Brahms aside. “Leah, keep an eye on Rasmussen.”
“I’m old enough to choose my own clothes, Geordi, which means I’m old enough to decide who to talk to. Besides, he’s a surprisingly charming man.”
La Forge most definitely did not like the sound of that. “Well, after you’ve been charmed I’d recommend you check to make sure you still have all your belongings.”
“He’s reformed, Geordi.”
“I hope so.”
Geordi headed for the turbolift, and found Rasmussen already in it when it arrived. “Good morning, Commander La Forge!”
“Morning.” Rasmussen exited the turbolift, letting La Forge in. Barclay and a few other engineers were waiting by the runabout Clyde when he reached the shuttlebay, as was Lieutenant Nog. La Forge was delighted to see the Ferengi, and walked straight over to him.
“Nog.”
“Yes, Commander?”
“Are you taking a tricorder with you?”
“Yes, sir. I may be security chief, but I’m also an engineer at heart.”
“I’d like you to do something for me.”
“What kind of something?”
“Well, it’s not exactly an order, but . . .”
“It’s about Rasmussen, right?”
La Forge was relieved that Nog understood where he was going. “I’d like you to scan him for technological devices, both on leaving the Challenger, and returning.”
“You think he might steal something.” It wasn’t a question.
“I have to say he was something of a kleptomaniac when he visited the Enterprise.”
“He has been rehabilitated.”
“If you can say that like you actually believe it, I’ll rescind my request.”
“I don’t believe it, sir. Not with him. I mean, I know rehabilitation has a good record, and a person is innocent until proven guilty, but . . .”
“But . . . ?”
“He reminds me of my uncle Quark’s business associates.” Nog looked around, as if afraid of an eavesdropper. “To tell you the truth, sir, I’ve already been scanning him discreetly, every trip.”
“Has he kept his nose clean?”
“As far as I can tell. I scanned him several times, and he hasn’t stolen anything.” Nog looked uncomfortable. “Sir, I . . .”
“Go on.”
“I feel a little . . . guilty about this. It’s exactly the kind of harassment that Security Chief Odo used to put my father and my uncle under on Deep Space 9. I’m not sure I can keep on doing it.”
“Thanks anyway, Nog.”
Berlinghoff Rasmussen was a little disappointed that the Challenger’s engineers hadn’t replicated any of the phase pistols, which looked a lot more businesslike than the phasers their security teams carried, but he was impressed by how perfect the replacement panels and chairs for Intrepid were. They looked like they had slid off a production line in 2160.
He debated with himself whether to try to impress Doctor Brahms with his adulation of the work, but decided against it. Geordi La Forge disliked him enough as it was, and he didn’t want to give the guy any more excuse to keep an eye on him. He settled instead for electing to accompany the new furniture to Intrepid.
When the runabout Clyde docked with Intrepid, he paused before exiting, and slid a padd under a seat cushion, where nobody would look for it. Then he went out into Challenger’s shuttlebay, and let the deceptively diminutive security chief run a tricorder scan to be sure he hadn’t pilfered anything. He didn’t mind that they did this, but it amused him all the same.
They thought he still needed to steal things, when, well, things were different now than they had been fifteen years ago. He had told them often enough, but of course he wasn’t believed. He didn’t particularly care whether they believed him or not, because he was having too much fun.
On the cramped bridge, which was pooled with deep shadows, La Forge was for once actually glad to see Rasmussen. He reflected that, for one thing, Rasmussen’s presence on Intrepid meant he wasn’t bothering Leah, Guinan, or anyone else on the Challenger. For another thing, Geordi had gotten the ship’s computer powered up, but still had no access to its files.
La Forge had a way with modern computers, but this one was so dated that it might as well use punch-cards, and his knowledge simply didn’t go that far back. Rasmussen, on the other hand, would surely see this computer as state of the art, and have more chance of being familiar with how to access its data.
“Mister Rasmussen,” he called out, “I could really use your help here.”
“Really?” Rasmussen sounded delighted. He threaded his way past a couple of ensigns who were fitting the center seat and console panels that the Clyde had just brought across.
“Really.” Geordi tapped the top of the master display table that stood at the back of the bridge. “I have computer power, but no way to access the files.”
Rasmussen came over, and looked down at the tabletop screen. “The operating system has probably degraded over time. But if I can get a command prompt . . .” He tapped a long series of instructions into the computer, and its screen went suddenly blank.
“Hey!” La Forge exclaimed. “You’ve shut it down. We need that computer online.”
“It still is.” Rasmussen kept typing, and text began to flicker across the screen. Only one line showed, constantly replaced a new one line, but now Geordi saw what Rasmussen was doing with it, and his momentary sense of panic subsided. “If they used the same file setup as most of the universities and private industry did, I should be able to navigate to the logs.”
“Any records the captain and crew made would be handy.”
Rasmussen frowned, that high forehead of his creasing up. “I don’t think this is a simple captain’s log.”
Geordi looked at the string of numbers Rasmussen had pulled up. “It looks more like it’s some sort of file dump from elsewhere in the ship’s network. Could be part of their operating system, or anything.”
“Not quite anything. From its position in the computer’s file tree, I’d say it’s most likely sensor logs.”
“Can we decrypt them?” Both men knew he didn’t really mean we.
“If you can get the workstations online with those new screens and the power grid we already installed, they should replay perfectly well here on Intrepid.”
“I can do that,” La Forge said firmly, and moved across to the science station, where he began moving circuits around. “The main viewer should be online in a
second.” True to his word, the recently repaired screen flickered, buzzed, and then showed the Challenger, hovering nearby. “There we go,” he whispered. “Can you feed that log, or whatever it is, through to here?”
“I think so.”
After a moment, the main viewer flashed to static again, and then a man appeared on it. The image was grainy, with pixel artifacts running up and down the recording, but it was unmistakably a blond-haired man in a blue jumpsuit. “Jason,” a voice said from somewhere. “What’s troubling the Intrepid?”
“That must be Captain Lambert,” Rasmussen said, his astonishment clear in his voice. “And the voice we heard is Admiral Collins.”
“Romulan mines, Admiral,” Lambert began. “Lieutenant al-Qatabi is transmitting our position back to you now. We’ve observed the detonation of a Class Four cloaked mine, about thirty thousand clicks away. Harry is looking out to see whether there are any more—”
“They don’t usually go solo,” Collins said with a sigh. “There’s probably a field.”
La Forge found he was glued to the screen. It was as if they were really having this conversation right here, and right now. At the same time, he was very glad that this was only a recording, because he already knew how it ended.
Lambert nodded. “I wanted to check with you whether there had been any communication from the Rommies that might throw a light on the mines here. For one, how does their presence tie in with the new treaty?” Rasmussen looked as if he was seeing a ghost.
“Well, under the terms of the armistice, they agreed to disable any mines in disputed territories specified in the treaty, and that certainly includes your location.” Admiral Collins paused. “The detonation wasn’t near enough to you to do any damage?”
“No, sir, but it’s still brown trousers time knowing they’re out there.” La Forge couldn’t disagree with Lambert’s sentiment.
“Sirs,” a pretty Eurasian girl, presumably al-Qatabi, broke in. “Some types of mines are given a finite life span, and others have had remote detonators for decommissioning after a conflict. Is it possible that what we’ve seen here is actually part of the process the Romulans are using to disable their mines? We know they’d rather destroy their materiél than let us take it.”
Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic Page 11
