Lt. JG David Flint: Rocks n’ Rolls
Robin Hopper
((Type-6A Shuttle Arbutus – Benemite Nebula, 35AU Distance from Amity Outpost))
When David Flint had accepted his commission to Starfleet, he’d imagined himself sitting center conn on a starship, like his grandad had once done aboard the Excelsior. That had been his dream, ever since he’d been a young lad driving his gran’s hover-cart around the Addington golf greens after hours like a maniac – and grandad had always been happy to look the other way, so long as it made Davy smile.
Well, he wasn’t smiling now. He wore his typically-dour expression as he piloted the shuttle – basically a glorified probe – towards a cluster of benamite-infused spacerocks so the scientists could run their scans. His first time behind the helm of a proper ship since he’d been taken by the Collective, along with every other member of the Nimitz’ crew – aboard the USS Independence-B had turned into a nightmare of its own. And now he was back to running shuttles and reissuing pilot’s certifications…
But it was better than the alternative. At least here, in the pilot’s seat of the Arbutus, he was not the subject of scientific study – being poked and prodded and quizzed.
Flint: Entering the funny rock zone… now.
He sighed, waiting for the scientists to do their work. Only, it seemed that the work was not going to be particularly cut-and-dry, judging by the next thing any of them said.
McLaren: Data looking good…. And its dropped off again. This must be the area.
Hopper: This is it, alright. ::To Veers:: Time to put our theories to the test, hmm?
Veers: Game time. ::She’d say smiling::
Flint took a moment to asses their position. Unlike a kuiper belt or planetary rings, the rocks in the Barossa Nebula had only each others’ gravitational pull to keep themselves in order, rather than all running more-or-less the same way ‘round something bigger. As such, their movements were unpredictable. Flying through the benamite fields meant constant vigilance and adjustment to avoid the possibility of collision with the asteroids.
McLaren: Does the shuttle have better scanners then the probe, Robin?
Hopper: Well, yes and no. Aboard a shuttle, we have access to additional power resources – meaning we can run some of the more energy-intensive scans simultaneously, whereas the probe has to ‘cycle’. This lets us get high resolution results. And our onboard sensor array isn’t quite as compact, so, bigger toolkit.
McLaren: Well, let's give it a try.
Hopper: ::To Veers:: Trying running a quantum resonance scan on the surrounding area in a three-dimensional grid pattern. If the benamite in this cluster is reacting to observation at the quantum level, it could be that there’s more here than meets the eye.
Having adjusted their position slightly, Flint tuned back into the conversation – not that he understood even close to half of it. All he knew was, he didn’t love the sound of any of it. Strange spatial phenomena were not his cup of tea, especially after the incident with the gravity well.
Veers: Way ahead of you. Looking for anything in particular?
Hopper: In a nutshell, I’d like to know more precisely where the reaction is propagating from. While it’s sometimes harmless, quantum-level reactions causing widespread energy fluctuations like these can be indicative of macroscopic space-time disruptions, or “quantum fissures”.
Veers: Of course, why hadn’t I thought of a quantum fissure.
oO A what now? Oo He shook his head slightly, feeling his jaw clench with an anxious foreboding.
McLaren: Response
Hopper: Anyways, needless to say, if that’s the case, we want to take action before we find ourselves dealing with a quantum tunnel right in the middle of your mining operation…
McLaren: Response
This was all sounding too familiar. If there was some sort of anomaly brewing near them, he needed to know. He decided to test the waters…
Flint: Quantum fissure? I don’t particularly like the sound of that.
Hopper: I believe Mr. Flint has seen the effects of uncontrolled quantum subspace distortion in an active benamite field up-close and personal.
oO Good God, woman. Oo The way Lt. Hopper had so casually dropped that incident – as though it had been a joke – set him on edge.
Flint: ::Grumbling:: Bloody hell… I knew I didn’t like this.
As if the universe were listening in on their conversation and trying to taunt him, a gentle beeping on his console suddenly sounded, only a moment before the shuttle was suddenly wrenched to the side by some unseen force.
It was all Flint could do to keep from being thrown from his seat, as he grabbed onto the console. As the interior dampers kicked in, he frantically tapped at the helm, trying to regain a semblance of control over the shaking but it flickered, sparked, and then went dark. A moment later, the lights in the cabin followed suit, plunging them into darkness, and the shuttle began listing to the side.
From the darkness beside him, he heard the Ensign’s voice.
Veers: Did we hit an atmosphere?
McLaren: Response
A moment later, emergency backup lighting flickered on. Flint swore at his dead helm console.
Flint: Not this #$%& again… We’ve lost helm control… Comms… Probably half a dozen other systems. ::Looking around:: Is anybody hurt?
McLaren: Response
Veers: I’m in one piece ::Looking backwards, seeing Lieutenant Hopper on the ground:: Lieutenant Hopper!
Instinctively, David leapt from his console – useless at this point, anyways – and rushed to the back of the shuttle where the Chief Science Officer lay, slumped against the wall. This day was quickly taking a turn from mediocre to morbid. He placed his index and middle finger gently on the center of her neck and waited for a second, holding his breath.
oO Thank Christ. Oo
Flint: She’s alive… but unconscious. ::Looking back and forth between the two other women:: And we’re not going anywhere in a hurry.
Veers: Right… First order of business is to restore some sort of power to either controls or radio… ::looks to Flint:: This exciting enough for you yet?
Flint: ::Grumbling:: Excitement was never the issue, Ensign…
Even as he said it, he knew that it was a lie. At least partially a lie. He had been mulling over just how dreary his little ‘ferryman’ job was. Perhaps this was some sort of cosmic karma coming to bite him in the–
Flint: Behind the panel next to you, Ensign Veers, you’ll find a medkit. Grab it and apply the emergency biomonitor to the Lieutenant here, then put her in the recovery position. That’ll have to do for now. Meanwhile, I’ll get started on restoring power to the nacelles.
He glanced between Veers and McLaren, knowing little of either of their skillsets or specialties. At least he could assume they were reasonably competent with relevant systems. Or he hoped he could.
Flint: After you’ve made sure Hopper here isn’t going to die on us without some warning, you two work together on restoring comms so we can radio for help.
Veers/McLaren: Response
As Veers and Flint exchanged places, he immediately set to work on the power relays, opening up a panel and releasing a plume of gas that he waved away.
Flint: Ms. McLaren, you know any basic engineering?
McLaren: Response
Flint: Brilliant, grab a hyperspanner and come help me. This is a two-person job. ::Over his shoulder:: Veers? How are we looking?
Veers: Response
The ship shook again, less violently than before. Flint looked through the front glass of the shuttle at what was beyond.
Flint: Un-@&*@-believable.
Less than 50 kilometers ahead of them, amongst the cluster of unusual benamite, was a forming spatial anomaly. While it was nowhere near the scale of the one they’d encountered aboard the Independence-B, its gravitational pull not yet strong enough to effect the shuttle significantly, it was clearly expanding at a slow, but steady, rate.
Flint: And there’s a ticking clock for us as well, ladies… ::Shaking his head:: Without a proper Engineer on board, it could take hours for us to fix these systems… ::Groan:: I’m not sure we have hours – and trust me, we do not want to get sucked into ::pointing for emphasis:: that bloody thing.
Veers/McLaren: Response
Flint: Between the three of us, we need to figure out how to collapse that thing before it swallows us up.
Veers/McLaren: Response
TBC
