Ensign Roy Bancroft - Microfusion Protocol
Carter Schimpff
(( Holodeck 3, Deck 222, DS 224 ))
Tho’Bi looked at the assembled officers expectantly.
Imril gave a thumbs-up. Meris followed suit, then added a quick gesture aimed directly at Bancroft.
Roy slapped the chestplate of his radiation suit twice in rapid succession – a gesture of camaraderie – then returned the thumbs-up. Solidarity.
It was just a simulation. He knew that – in the rational, academic part of his brain that read the test parameters and nodded along.
But the holodeck didn’t just show you a crisis. It immersed you in it. The sparks, the heat, the urgency – all of it pressed against his senses like the real thing.
And more than that, it was the reason they were here. Because this exact scenario could happen.
His heart didn’t care that it wasn’t real. Neither did the sweat on his neck or the buzz in his ears. This simulation didn’t just test your skill – it asked what kind of officer you’d be when everything was on fire and no one could hear you scream.
He wasn’t going to walk through this like an Academy lecture. He was going to run.
They ran.
The deck trembled beneath their boots – not subtly, but with a growl like that from something ancient and dying. A mortally-wounded starship didn’t just fail. It howled. It thrashed. And if you weren’t fast or smart enough, it would easily take you with it.
Sparks tore through the air. A blown conduit to his left screamed open in a blast of plasma, and Roy ducked reflexively. The sizzle echoed inside his helmet. Engineers called it “plasma acupuncture.” He’d thought it was funny the first time he’d heard it. It wasn’t funny now.
Tho’Bi dropped to one knee beside a recessed deck plate – heavy, with dual locking mechanisms. Roy crouched.
He watched intently. If this was going to work, he needed Tho’Bi’s instructions – and fast. Fortunately, the Andorian’s body language was just as precise as his technical work.
Tho'Bi: ::points at the opposite locking mechanism::
Roy nodded, dropped into position, and waited.
Tho'Bi: ::kneels down:: ::gloved fingers around locking grip:: ::turns 180° anti-clockwise::
Roy mirrored the motion exactly. Twist. Click.
The panel released with a pneumatic hiss.
Tho’Bi ripped it from its housing like it weighed nothing – despite the fact it was probably the same heavy composite alloy used for hull plating. Roy had treated his share of Andorians before. That strength was so real.
And so was the adrenaline.
Blue light spilled up from the well below, harsh and clinical, splashing across Roy’s visor.
There they were – the antimatter pods. Three of them, silent, waiting to either save the ship with their departure – or end it entirely. The ejection system was simple and effective: a manual primer code input, followed by a pair of locking mechanisms that needed to be twisted free.
Thirty seconds’ work, probably.
In a lab. With proper communications, and maybe a latte.
Tho'Bi: ::gestures with three fingers::
Roy stole a second none of them had to look closer at Tho’Bi. The fracture in his visor had worsened significantly – a spiderweb now. Roy’s medical instincts flared.
Breach the seal, and the Andorian would start cooking from the inside out.
There was no time for a prophylactic hypospray. They either succeeded right now, or everyone – everyone – was dead anyway.
Bancroft: ::holding up three fingers, then a thumbs-up confirmation::
Tho’Bi knelt over the first pod and input the primer sequence with careful, practiced hands. It was almost like watching a skilled surgeon at work.
Tho'Bi: ::gestures to Bancroft to watch:: ::enters primer sequence:: 8 1 2 8 7 2 4 0 2 0 8 2 0 ::presses confirm button::
The microfusion initiators hummed to life, sending a tremor through the pod. Roy felt it come up through his boots.
Tho'Bi: ::presses and twists retaining cylinder 360° anti-clockwise:: ::removes cylinder:: ::points at cylinder nearest Bancroft::
Roy scrambled into position and mirrored his actions.
Nothing happened.
His stomach dropped. Had he twisted the wrong way? Missed a step? He looked up – alarmed, unsure – but before he could process his failure–
HISSS-CLUNK.
The pod vanished down its ejection chute.
Roy exhaled. No time to celebrate.
Tho'Bi: ::points at one of the two remaining Pods:: ::starts working on the other pod::
Roy rolled to the unclaimed pod. His fingers flew across the primer’s small input pad.
8 1 2 8 7 2 4 0 2 0 8 2 0
He marveled – distantly – that he’d remembered that code. But adrenaline was a hell of a drug.
The pod shuddered under his palms as the initiators activated.
Twist the first canister. Remove. Twist the second. Gone.
The pod ejected two heartbeats later.
Roy turned and threw a double thumbs-up at Tho’Bi.
Tho’Bi: Response
Roy crossed to join him, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in.
He locked eyes through the cracked visor and mouthed the words “WHAT NEXT?”
Tho’Bi: Response
He hoped – desperately – that Tho’Bi was decent at lip reading.
TAG/TBC!
===
Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1