Main Bridge 08:33 hrs Stardate 79631.1

“All decks reporting in, all personnel at battle stations and awaiting orders, sir,” the operations officer reported to the command officers as she acknowledged a plethora of notifications on her console. Ahead of her, the viewscreen was set to forward view. It was almost a calming sight, the emptiness of space ahead and the lensing of starlight across the warp field; one could be forgiven for forgetting for a moment that the Fairfax was alive with activity.

The bridge was no different, with about a dozen or so officers all incredibly busy with their individual tasks. The ship was still at Red Alert, and had been all night as a precaution against any Nausican interdictions. It was the first time Fairfax was put into action since she returned to active service, but the majority of the crew were seasoned officers ready to stand to their duties without question. That being said, it had been a long night for everyone.

Captain Dubois activated a communication channel from his chair console, “Bridge to sickbay, Doctor Harper, what’s your status?” he asked.

“Sickbay here, we’re ready. I’ve got triage set up in transporter room 2, porters ready to direct wounded to the most appropriate areas, and I broke out my good china just in case! Unfortunately, we couldn’t find a magician to keep our guests entertained on short notice, so they’ll have to settle for some of that depressing doctor’s lounge music!” Conrad jested over the comms system.

At any other time, Alex might have found his quips funny, but right now it was time to get serious. “I need your game face on, Doctor. Be ready for anything. Bridge out!”

Wallace adjusted himself in his chair. It had been some time since he’d seen any real action aboard a starship, and he was keen to live up to expectations. “Anything new on sensors?” he asked.

“I have been scanning continuously, as were your orders, Commander. No other ships in sensor range, though I will not be able to make a detailed scan until the Fairfax secures from warp,” Sovek chimed in, focused on his readings.

“Coming up on the freighter’s position now, sir,” said Lt Sato, her hand hovering over the throttle, waiting for the order to decelerate.

“Slow to impulse, lieutenant, as soon as we have a visual, put the freighter up on the main viewer!” Alex ordered. He hadn’t slept much all night; he never could during a crisis, as his mind always turned to the pressures of command and the decisions he might have to make. He quickly swept his hair back with his hand and straightened up his jacket as he watched the viewer like a hawk. His tactical mind forced him to search for landmarks and any indication of a threat. Pretty soon, the freighter appeared on the viewscreen.

She looked in a bad way; disruptor burns and hull breaches scarred her hull. Debris littered the immediate area around her, like flies infesting a carcass, and there were all sorts of vapours and gases leaking from her bulkheads. “Sovek, anything?” Alex said.

Sovek continued to interrogate his console for a moment, but he gave no initial response, as logic dictated that he would be far more effective in spotting details if he maintained his focus on the task and delayed any response until he had completed his scans. Moments later, he responded, “Captain, the situation appears worse than anticipated. I am only detecting two lifesigns aboard the Azurak vessel; they are faint, however, ionising radiation is interfering with the ship’s sensors. I am attempting to compensate.”

“Can we beam them aboard?” Wallace asked, trying his best to temper his tone and let the Vulcan focus.

“I would not recommend it, Commander. It appears there is severe damage to the Azurak’s warp core; the radiation is certain to be more intense on the freighter itself.” Sovek replied, repeatedly trying new calibration settings but consistently receiving error alarms when he attempted to initiate scans. “Captain, I am unable to resolve my sensor analysis any further.”

Wallace turned towards Alex, taking a brief sidebar, “Limited sensors, no transporters, I don’t like this, it reeks of a trap!”

“I don’t like it either, but there may still be survivors; we’ve got to help”, Alex responded, his gaze still fixated on the viewscreen, waiting for the Nausicans to show up at any moment.

“If we send a shuttle, Fairfax can stand guard while we mount a rescue. It’s risky, but I don’t think we’ve got any other choice,” Wallace suggested,  look of deep concern on his face. They both knew this was a situation indicative of well-known pirate tactics, but they couldn’t just give up because they didn’t like how the cards were currently being dealt.

Alex nodded in agreement, “Helm, orbit the freighter at a safe distance. Sovek, maintain a continuous sensor sweep of the area. Number one, assemble an away team and have Conrad join you, radiation protocol, so he should prepare some inoculations!”

Wallace wasted no time; he tapped his communicator and began briefing the doctor on his way to the turbolift. If there were survivors, time was critical and the less time Fairfax spent as a sitting duck, the better.

Shuttle Bay 08:45 hrs

K’vagh’s hand snatched the Hypospray out of Conrad’s grasp as he growled with frustration. He found the Doctor’s bedside manner irritating at best and didn’t appreciate being injected with drugs without him first explaining their purpose.

“Easy, big fella, just a little inoculation to fight the radiation, don’t worry, it won’t affect your charming personality,” Conrad quipped. Even when faced with a towering, angry Klingon, he couldn’t help his sense of humour.

“And how do I know this is not one of your practical jokes?” K’vagh snarled. Since joining the crew, he had personally been subjected to Conrad’s pranks on at least a dozen occasions. They were usually of a harmless nature, such as putting salt in his drinks at the lounge. Nonetheless, K’vagh found little trust in the human.

“Because I ordered them, lieutenant, now give the Doctor the hypospray so we can get underway,” Wallace said as he began powering the shuttle’s systems. He wasn’t in the slightest bit amused at either of them. This was a critical situation that didn’t afford the luxury of childish behaviour. “Now, Lieutenant K’vagh!” he barked.

K’vagh wasn’t about to refuse an order, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He slammed the hypospray into the Doctor’s palm and held still to receive his injection.

Conrad reached up and pressed the nozzle against the Klingon’s artery and dispensed a measure directly into the bloodstream, “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, how about a lollipop to make things all better?” Conrad pushed further. Something about pushing K’vagh’s buttons really got him excited, and he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins with every cocky remark.

“Knock it off and strap in! T’Lira, get us clearance.” Wallace stepped in a second time, making a note to address the issue between the two when they returned, but this was no time to air it out. He was wholeheartedly focused on the mission as his co-pilot began talking to the control room on comms.

“Flight control, Shuttlecraft Rutland is on maintenance elevator with information, Charlie, requesting start clearance,” T’Lira transmitted, standing by to copy control’s readback

“Shuttlecraft Rutland, Flight control, read you Five by Five, maintenance elevator with charlie, start clearance approved, taxi into position and hold for bay doors. Report when ready”

“Start approved, taxi into position, hold for bay doors, will report ready, Rutland out,” T’Lira read back the instructions from control and nodded to the XO to begin the startup sequence. “Pre-start sequence complete, securing hatch, raising elevator,” she reported, tapping away at her console.

The entire shuttle shuddered briefly as the maintenance elevator began its ascent upwards into the main hangar. Fairfax shuttle bay comprised of three levels in total, Flight control in a control room on deck 16, with large windows overlooking the main flight deck on deck 15. This area was the bulk of the Shuttlebay, with multiple pads marked out on the deck as authorised points of takeoff and landing. There were also several parking spots for some craft off to the sides and the single maintenance elevator in the centre of the hangar, which led down to the maintenance bay and several other parking spaces on deck 17.

Once the elevator completed its travel, it became flush with and part of the flight deck. A loud metallic clang telegraphed that the elevator was locked into position, as several massive bolts slid and locked into place beneath the deck.

T’Lira looked up out of the cockpit canopy. Ahead of them, forcefield generators began igniting, generating a wall of energy to maintain pressurisation. The two massive hangar doors then began to retract, another loud metallic clang as the locking mechanisms disengaged and a brief whoosh of air venting through the gap; the void between the forcefield and the doors being ejected into space.

Meanwhile, Wallace had completed the start sequence, the Type 8 shuttle’s sublight engines were now coming to life, and all systems were beginning to report green status across the board. “Start sequence complete, departure clearance please,” Wallace requested.

“Flight control, Rutland, in position maintenance elevator, ready for departure,” T’Lira transmitted.

“Rutland, Flight control, Orientation is 2-1-6 mark 0-1-5, rotation, 0-1-8 degrees, cleared for immediate departure, fly and maintain current heading at 1-5-0 kph until clear of the controlled zone. Godspeed!” 

T’Lira read back the departure clearance and updated the shuttle’s orientation in the navigational computer, then nodded to Wallace that she was ready to go.

“Here we go,” Wallace said as he engaged the vertical thrusters and began gently coaxing the shuttle through the hangar doors. As the enclosure receded behind them and the blue glow of the nacelles cast across the console, he activated the impulse engines and felt the push back into his seat as the inertial dampeners lagged for a moment to compensate for the acceleration.

Rutland maintained a steady course for a short distance before banking hard to port and making directly for the stricken freighter, adjusting her approach every so often to avoid debris.

“I’m picking up a docking port on sensors bearing 1-8-9 mark 2-0-4, should be compatible with the dorsal hatch commander,” T’Lira reported, her antennae appearing to follow her eyes in scanning her console as she interrogated her navigational scans.

Meanwhile, Wallace’s eyes were fixed outside the shuttlecraft on his flightpath. He had learned to fly on visual cues, only taking a moment now and then to scan his instruments, but primarily piloting with his eyes.

In the back, K’vagh was performing a weapons check. He removed a Phaser pistol from the weapons locker, inserted the power magazine into the grip, and primed the weapon whilst pointing it in a safe direction, towards the back of the shuttle. He was disciplined, as he verified the calibration of the sights; his finger rested along the side of the pistol, well away from the trigger. Once he was satisfied, he activated the safety and securely holstered the weapon before performing similar checks on sidearms for his crewmates.

Conrad remained seated, his knees together and almost embracing his med-kit like a pillow as he tried to avoid capturing a glimpse of their motion through his peripheral vision. He was never fond of flying in shuttles; he could never really adjust to not being able to feel the motion of the craft, yet being able to see it out of the cockpit canopy. He began to turn green.

“Perhaps I can offer you…a barf bag, Doctor?” K’vagh grinned, recognising the signs of the Doctor’s nausea.

Conrad just closed his eyes tightly shut and leaned back against the bulkhead, trying not to think of the sensation of vomit rising in his throat.

With some skilful piloting, Wallace manoeuvred Rutland into position and gingerly secured the shuttle with the freighter’s docking hatch. A low rumble confirmed physical contact as T’Lira verified the integrity of the seal and the validity of the environment beyond the hatch. “Seal is secure, reading a viable atmosphere inside. Radiation readings are 10,000 milirems per hour.”

“10,000 millirems per hour? Not great, but not terrible, the inoculations should provide us sufficient protection, but I wouldn’t recommend we plan on staying for dinner…..you know, that is if, like me, you’d rather avoid having your skin melt off and your insides leak out of every orifice,” Conrad joked, his tone a little more nervous than usual.

Wallace activated his communicator to check in, “Away team to Fairfax, We’ve successfully docked with the Azurak freighter, proceeding to board and begin search and rescue.”

Meanwhile – Main bridge U.S.S. Fairfax

Alex heard the transmission from his first officer over the comm system as he glanced over at the tactical station; still nothing on sensors. The situation was tense, every fibre in his being told him something was not right, but every moral as a Starfleet officer, as a Human being, told him the rescue had to proceed.

“Acknowledged, Commander, we’re keeping this channel open, maintain communication as you proceed,” he responded.

“All received, sir. We’ll be in touch, Jones out”

“Sovek, anything on long range?” Alex asked as he approached the science station; the anxiety now had him pacing about the bridge like a cadet waiting for his final exam results.

“No sign of any vessels, though it may be prudent at this point to mention I am detecting some anomalies.” The Vulcan explained stoically.

“What sort of anomalies?” Alex quickly interrogated, his demeanour shifting from anxiety to concern.

“It appears to be residual interference from the ionising radiation, captain, but I will continue to closely monitor,” Sovek replied, his emotionless report conveying confidence.

Alex was even more on edge; he knew if he was planning an ambush, then that would be the best tactical approach. To wait for the target to wander into the trap, become distracted, then strike from the shadows without warning. Hiding behind sensor echoes is an effective tactic. “Don’t hesitate if there’s any change, every second might count!” he said.

As he turned around, his eye caught sight of a new visitor to the bridge, the retired Veteran, Commander Trask;  who was hobbling his way onto the bridge with the aid of his cane.

“Commander!” Alex said angrily, demanding the old man’s attention. “You know full well the bridge is off limits to civilians during alert status. Why aren’t you in your quarters?”

The old man didn’t seem surprised about his reception, but remained humble, like a child about to ask a favour. “Forgive the intrusion, Captain, I’m not used to being confined to my cabin during Red Alert, and if I’m honest, it’s hard to be on my own at a time like this.”

“I appreciate that this is a new perspective for you, but this really is not the time—”

The old man interrupted Alex to make his case, “Please, Captain, I’m an old man, don’t deny me the chance to be useful again. I beg you.”

Protocol aside, Alex couldn’t help but feel a little compassion and pity for the gentleman. It couldn’t be easy being confined to quarters when everything he’d been taught and trained for over his years of service told him to go and perform his duties. Alex sighed, “I’m sorry, Commander, you’re an observer and I am personally responsible for your safety.”

A look of devastation began to filter through the old man’s face, which soon turned to relief as Alex followed up his statement, “But…I suppose the safest place for you is to sit next to me on the bridge, so take a seat. And don’t touch anything.”

“Thank you, Captain, I’ll stay out of the way, you won’t even know I’m here!” The old man said with excitement as he hobbled over to the mission advisor’s chair to the left of the Captain’s. Not looking to overextend his welcome, he took a seat and kept quiet, feeling a little more comforted being surrounded by the bridge crew.

Alex turned and shared a glance with Sovek, while Alex’s face showed immediate regret, of the kind that says ‘I know this is a mistake’, Sovek simply raised an eyebrow; perhaps he was about to remind the Captain of the bridge protocol that prohibits the presence of civilians, but he could tell from the Captain’s expression that he was well aware of the deviation from the rules.

Meanwhile – Away Team

The four members of the away team moved as a unit through the cramped corridors of the freighter, dimly lit by emergency lighting and smouldering embers of debris. Their progress was slow but methodical.

On point, K’vagh moved with his sidearm drawn, ever disciplined, finger off the trigger and his weapon just lowered to the periphery of his vision, allowing for minimal movement in order to obtain a sight picture. His responsibility was the safety of the team, which he took very seriously, particularly when they had no way of knowing if they were wandering into a trap. Tricorders might have been able to guide them to a point, but there were plenty of ways to obscure oneself from such scans. He cautiously and methodically moved forward, clearing his corners and scanning thresholds for possible threats.

Supporting him, Wallace maintained an overlapping field of fire with his weapon. Perhaps not as tactically skilled as the Klingon, but effective enough to assist him in clearing angles of danger.

The Doctor and T’Lira followed behind, both with Tricorders in hand. T’Lira was busy calling out radiation levels and scanning the layout of the interior up ahead, while Conrad focused on scanning for lifesigns.

“Main engineering should be just up ahead, looks like the radiation is constant for now,” T’Lira reported. She kept glancing back at the route they had taken every so often and shining her torch down the empty corridor. Her senses didn’t detect anyone, but occasionally she couldn’t help getting a creepy feeling like something was going to come up behind her.

“That’s where I’m picking up the life readings. They’re very faint!” Conrad added, preparing himself for the experience of having to triage acute radiation poisoning.

“I see the hatch!” Wallace said as he slid past K’vagh to take up the breacher position, “Stack up!” he instructed, shifting the Doctor and T’Lira to a position of relative safety behind him. K’vagh took up the other side of the hatch and readied himself to clear the room.

“Centre fed, 19 by 18 metres, the warp core should be situated against the far wall according to these readings,” T’Lira reported. As a pacifist, she was not armed; she had declined to carry a sidearm when offered by K’vagh back on the shuttle. The Doctor also had reservations about violence, but only in the sense that his Hippocratic Oath forbade him from harming another being; it was somewhat more flexible about stunning them, however. Conrad maintained security at the rear, drawing his Phaser in a much less disciplined stance than K’vagh or Commander Jones. Had he been on the range at the academy, he would likely have picked up a number of safety warnings already.

K’vagh nodded to the Commander; he was ready to breach. Wallace activated the door panel, exposing the threshold to the team. Quickly but with accuracy, K’vagh pied part of the threshold and made entry, followed closely by Wallace, who proceeded to the opposite corner. Once inside, both officers skillfully collapsed their sectors of fire to overlap and clear the room of any threats. “Clear!” K’vagh called out as he now took up position covering the entrance to the room, immediately after T’Lira and Conrad entered.

As T’Lira began examining the Warp Core, Conrad rushed to start triage, and Wallace activated his communicator to provide a situation report. “Away team to Fairfax, we’ve reached the warp core, two casualties, the Doctor is working on them now, standby.”

“Acknowledged!”

Conrad began scanning both casualties with his medical Tricorder; both male and their anatomy appeared similar to humans, with a few minor differences. He performed a primary triage, checking for serious wounds. He was joined shortly by Wallace, who knelt beside him, offering to assist, “How are they doing?” he asked.

“Some minor plasma burns, this one has two broken ribs, internal bleeding and a fractured skull…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he fell from that gantry up there,” replied Wallace, noting a catwalk above them some 15-20 metres overhead.

“Both seem to be suffering acute radiation poisoning, but the other seems to only have a minor contusion. I need to get them both back to Fairfax and I’ll need to operate on the more critical patient,” Conrad added, closing his tricorder, having completed his triage.

“Can you wake one of them?” Wallace asked.

“I can, but only briefly. I have to consider their comfort, and this level of radiation poisoning can be extremely painful.” Conrad retrieved a hypospray from his medkit, loaded the cartridge first with an analgesic for pain, and, having administered it, then a stimulant to wake the patient. He then began monitoring again with his tricorder.

It took a few seconds for the patient to rouse; the pain was clearly significant, and the analgesic was doing little to help as he groaned in discomfort.

“Commander Wallace Jones, United Federation of Planets. We responded to your distress call. Can you tell me what happened?”

The Azurak patient took a few more seconds to orient himself, absorbing the commander’s words. “We were attacked by Nausican pirates, our warp core was damaged and began flooding the compartment with Theta radiation…”

“How many crew are there onboard? Can you tell me where we might find other survivors?” Wallace pressed.

The Azurak was becoming ever more distressed, his voice becoming raspy and breathing laboured. “We’re all that’s left…the others… didn’t…make…it.” Just then, Conrad’s Tricorder began to signal an alert for respiratory distress.

“That’s enough, Commander, Theta radiation has begun to degrade his lung tissue, I’m going to have to sedate him again!” Conrad interjected, administering a sedative to counteract the stimulant. “The sooner we get them back to the shuttle, the better.”

Wallace agreed, “You and K’vagh start working on a way to get them back to the shuttle, carry them if you have to—”

“Commander, it looks like the transkinetic assembly took some damage in the attack. It’s probably what’s causing the radiation leak!” T’Lira reported from the engineering station across the room.

“If that’s the case, it’s probably going to take a few hours to repair, that’s assuming there’s no setbacks in understanding the vessel’s configuration. Probably best to shut down the core and purge the reaction chamber… that should start to lower the contamination.” Wallace commented, his years of experience as an engineer required no explanation to interpret the situation.

“Away Team to Fairfax, Sir, only two survivors…and there’s something else…confirmed by one of the Azurak crew, this was a Nausican raid,” Wallace reported once again.

Meanwhile – Main bridge U.S.S. Fairfax

Alex was not surprised at the commander’s update, though he found a little comfort in knowing what they were up against.

“Understood, Commander—”

“Captain!, The anomalous readings I detected, I have compensated for the interference, and I believe I am now detecting a warp signature!” Sovek interupted.

“Distance and bearing?” Alex requested, his head now firmly in the game.

“1-6-0 mark 2-5, approximately 15,000 kilometres off our starboard stern….And closing…time to intercept…..3 minutes!” replied Sovek.

“Bridge to Away Team! Commander, we’ve just picked up a vessel on an intercept course, estimate you’ve got about 2 minutes to R.T.B, Acknowledge?” Alex signalled to his number one. He knew they’d have to drop shields to allow the shuttle to dock, and he didn’t like the chances of the shuttle surviving an engagement with a tactically superior vessel.

“Understood, we’re en route! Away team out”

“Helm, reposition the Fairfax between the Away Team and the approaching vessel, give them as much time as we can to cover their return. Tactical, Arm photon torpedoes and ready phasers! Standby to lower sheilds for shuttle recovery as soon as they’re on final approach!” Alex gave his orders, planting himself firmly back in the centre chair. It was now a race against the clock to pack up and leave. While he was confident in his vessel’s tactical capability, he knew a good Captain picks his battles, and once the shuttle returned, there was no sense in fighting over a shipwreck.

TO BE CONTINUED