Capt. Shayne: Not Today
Randal Shayne
((Deck 1, Bridge, USS Khitomer))
There was a certain expectation about the manner in which a king sat.
A good king would keep a straight back, arms comfortably and insistently placed upon the rests either side of him. His feet would point forward, and his eyes would sweep across the throne room with effortless, demanding weight.
All of this was to say that Shayne would not make a good king.
He slouched forward like a fleshy amalgamation of The Thinker. His foot tapped impatiently, silently, urging quickness- from the ship, and from the answers they’d be getting soon enough, and yet not nearly soon enough. His face was drawn into a composite of frustration, low brow and hostile eyes giving him an almost australopithecus- esque bearing. His teeth gnashed inside a closed mouth, and he kept his eyes off the chronometer atop the viewscreen, for if he saw he’d only checked a mere ten seconds ago, he’d likely go mad.
MacKenna: Sir, it appears our signal is Starfleet in origin. Are we missing any ships out this way?
MacKenna’s voice separated him from his stewing stupor, though the words carried by that voice took a moment to digest. Starfleet in origin… missing ships…
He was glad that Connor was not on the bridge with them right now. If he’d been on Deck 1, he would have heard that report. He would have looked at the hope he’d drowned to stay functional and focused, and desperately try to resurrect it, regardless of who was actually aboard the vessel in distress. Shayne wouldn’t be able to blame him for it; but there were bigger fish to fry.
Slow, churning thoughts wandered towards the question his fiance had asked.
Shayne: There’s a couple of reports regarding a Starfleet vessel last seen in this area of space. But she was presumed lost decades ago. Constellation class, if I remember correctly. If they’re the ones signaling…
He didn’t want to think about the implications; years and years alone in space, slowly spinning… spinning.
Bridge: Response?
MacKenna: I can't match it with anything in the system that isn't accounted for, but...
MacKenna quietly returned to her work, but Shayne pricked his ears up, and looked over at her, the faintest whiff of possibility blossoming. A Starfleet signal that wasn’t matched to anything in the system- across both the Khitomer’s standard database and the Black Net intel databanks. That suggested a Starfleet signal on a foreign carrier wave, one that lacked any of the automatic markers and decoding sequences normally embedded in subspace or tachyon transmissions.
Unless something very strange was going on, that wasn’t likely to be the lost starship screaming for help. It was coming from someone else.
Someone inventive enough to modify a subspace transceiver, someone with intimate knowledge of Starfleet communication protocols, and someone without access to Starfleet technology.
The captain slowly stood, a quiet, wide-eyed dismay spreading. It couldn’t be.
It wasn’t.
But it fit.
But the odds-!
Were just odds.
And ends were just ends.
Unless they weren't.
The captain spoke in a quiet voice; he rarely shouted to be heard. Others seemed to listen more intently when he spoke softly, both when he was angry, and when every part of his being was being placed into a command. Like now.
Shayne: Mr. Brenner, I want every ounce of speed you can pull out of this ship. Bump it past the red line.
Brenner: Response
He knew that Connor would be highly annoyed with the strain this would put on the ship’s power systems and infrastructure, but that would last just until he explained why it was necessary.
And it had just become extraordinarily necessary.
All around him, the low, aching beauty of straining engines thrummed in their ears, vibrated the decks just so, clocked an octave, then another, then another. The captain sat back down, watching the endless star field before them stretch out farther and farther. It had still been a short time since he’d taken over, so he wasn’t sure what precise sounds meant on the Khitomer in terms of her own foibles. What yowl would she offer when she could take no more? They were going to find out.
((Timeskip, a few minutes))
The gentle vibration had become a judder. The captain ground his teeth and gripped the armrests of his command chair. The stars were shaking too, or was that just his eyes being vibrated out of their sockets?
Brenner: Response
With great care, nearly a million tons of starship was brought back into harmony with local space, though her impulse drive kept her surging forward with purpose.
Shayne: Commander, bring up the signal source.
After a split second, the image on the screen popped up at a slightly different angle. Out of the corner of the screen, the large black void was already visible, despite it being multiple light years away. And there, as little more than a roiling, leaking pinprick.
Shayne: Ensign, set a course for that craft, maximum impulse. Commander, get me a tighter view on that shuttle.
The Khitomer sped itself forward ever harder, the wine of the impulse engines a far more throaty, rebellious noise. As she did so, the view of the craft- a shuttle, now that Shayne could see it properly- was not in top condition. Multiple plasma leaks had erupted on her facing side, an uncontrolled, last ditch effort to vent growing pressures in the primary EPS grid. The stark black coloring of the shuttle stood in opposition to its flared nacelles, which brightened and darkened with random, undulating instability. Two things were abundantly clear.
One, the shuttle was of Sheliak origin.
And two, it was about to blow.
Shayne: Brenner, get us within transporter range. Ash, standby for beam out- and keep the shields down.
Brenner/MacKenna: Response
He’d winced giving the command, but the shuttle’s condition, she didn’t look like she’d survive a crash landing, or someone beaming aboard to salvage her. They had one change, one chance only, to save whoever was inside.
The Khitomer swept closer and closer to the listing, spiraling craft. The captain licked his lips. Almost there… almost there… come on…
Brenner/Bridge: Response
Shayne: Lock onto anything living and beam it aboard!
MacKenna: Response
Shayne whirled around, but in the process of doing so, he realized she had a point.
He tapped his combadge.
Shayne: =/\= Shayne to Commander Ohnari and Ensign Zerva. =/\=
He tried to keep the urgency out of his voice, but failed.
Ohnari/Zerva: =/\= Response =/\=
Shayne: =/\= Report to Transporter Room 1 with a medical and security team. And be ready for anything. =/\=
He didn’t bother waiting for a reply. Instead, he tapped his combadge-
-just as the shuttle detonated.
He waited, breath bated. It felt like an eternity, but less than a second swept past them. He had to give every instant of the transporter’s process a chance to complete. But even a small shuttle would cause grave damage if they faced its unshielded detonation head on. One instant. Another.
Shayne: Shields! Full power!
The slicing, screaming whine of shield capacitors being flooded with energy screeched out of the very bulkheads; the field of debris that expanded around the brief conflagration was encroaching fast. He braced himself, gripping his chair forcefully-
-just as the first particles of matter smacked into the low-powered shield bubble, smashing themselves into even smaller chunks of semi-matter. A small jostling of the deck beneath them was the worst of their impact.
He turned to his Intel Chief.
Shayne: Did we get them?
It took every ounce of restraint to avoid the term “her”.
MacKenna: Response
Shayne: Hold the pattern in the buffer until we get everyone ready down there- give two minutes or until I say the word. Mr. Brenner, set a course for the void and continue, Warp Six. Ash, you have the bridge…!
He spoke speedily, for he was nearly running to the turbolift, and managed to get the last words out an instant before the doors closed.
((Timeskip, Deck 4, Transporter Room 1, USS Khitomer))
Shayne sidled between the slowly-opening transporter room doors to find a crowded scene. Security officers with Mr. Zerva, and medical personnel with Chief Ohnari, joined a very confused transporter officer that Shayne would apologize to at a later time.
Shayne: Everyone ready?
Ohnari/Zerva: Response
Shayne tapped his commbadge.
Shayne: =/\= Commander MacKenna, energize. =/\=
MacKenna: =/\= Response
The telltale whir of a modern transporter sequence provided the shape of a humanoid, but where the process itself should have taken a matter of eye blinks, the seconds were dragging by. The matter compiler was having a hell of a time sussing out what was person, and what was debris, energy discharge or other flotsam caught in the matter stream. The captain’s heart rammed his ribcage, and he swallowed hard. It all came down to…
…her.
A shaved head, lined with small metal plates, made the face that bloomed upon the pad unrecognizable at first. But as the pattern coalesced, Shayne watched as familiar features began to take shape. No… it couldn’t possibly be…
But it was. With every atom that aligned where it ought to, doubt was banished, until…
Lieutenant Jacin Ayemet stood before them.
Jacin: Response
Zerva/Ohnari: Response
Tag/TBC…
Captain Randal Shayne
Commanding Officer
USS Khitomer
NCC 62400
G239202RS0