Just playing with myself a little
---
A simple mission to move a museum ship to safe harbour had just turned deadly.
The Ensign in Command of the Enterprise punched a few parameters into the console of the Captain's chair. The words didn't come to his lips naturally.
The computer, it's databanks having access to the combined histories of a hundred Federation worlds, thought a moment, before delivering a speech with the required parameters. Something inspiring, something which reflected the gravity of their situation, and which could call on the legacy of the ship's name itself to do what needed to be done.
All he had to do was key open the 1MC, and broadcast it to the ship with the sort of confidence a true captain could muster.
And not an ensign from Jadotville who thought he'd lucked into a cushy cruise in a famous museum ship.
"All decks. This is the Bridge. We've just received word from Starfleet. Three Dominion raiders have been sighted, heading in our direction. They're expected within the hour. We cannot outrun them. They will catch us before Starfleet can arrive. I don't need to tell you what that means."
He took a breath.
"I've discussed it with the other Captains. The museum fleet will continue to Starbase 8 as planned at their best possible speed, along with the New Jersey. We will not be joining them. We will turn around. We will engage the Dominion and we will buy time for the fleet to escape and rescue to come."
The entire ship turned silent as a tomb, only the faint whirr of air moving through the ventilation ducts and the chirp of the computer giving any hint of life.
"This will be a fight against overwhelming odds and survival is not likely. But every minute we stay in the fight is another two billion kilometres the fleet is closer to help."
The computer recommended he firm up his tone. Be more certain.
"The Enterprise is an old ship with a long and storied legacy. So there is no misunderstanding, we are writing the last chapter in that legacy today. Let us make this an ending worthy of her name. Bridge out. "
For the first time, he found himself able to sit in the Captain's chair.
The last arse to sit in the chair a century before had belonged Captain James T. Kirk, Starfleet legend. The last log entry remained in the console, waiting for the next crew to carry on its legacy. Ensign Felix Tchombe felt the megaton weight of it all settle on his shoulders. He would be the one who brought it all to an end.
A single message from Starfleet had turned a simple mission to move a museum ship to a safer harbour, into certain death for all involved. What would Kirk have done? Something smarter then he could manage, maybe. Something that could save the ship, the crew, the entire fleet? He only knew the Enterprise was the one ship with active phaser banks.
It felt right.
It meant their doom.
Kobayashi Maru, he thought.
"I was thinking of my son," said Sergei, snapping him out of it. "What he would say if he were here."
Felix looked at the old Chief manning the tactical console, still in his civilian clothes.
"Today would be a good day to die." Sergei said, a wry smile crawling across his lips. His expression saddened. "Of course, it will be hard on his mother. She was why I left Starfleet in the first place. Now, that's a story for another time and...." he took a breath. "I guess it will have to wait."
Sergei would not ask to leave the ship. Sergei would stay. All the way.
"Thank you, Sergei," Felix said, after a moment. He could think of nothing else to say.
"It's no great thing," the man shrugged. "I've known men who were ordered to their deaths," he said. "It's part of the life in Starfleet. When it comes down to it, the order is just a formality, to confirm what that man already knew in his heart and what he already knew he would have to do, and would've done anyway. The order is just permission to go, and an absolution from wondering if there ever was a better option."
"I've no such absolution."
"That is the burden of command."
Felix took a breath. A little more certain this was the right course of action. A little more convinced of its necessity. He thought, maybe, he'd have time to write a short message to explain himself.
The comm panel on the Captain's chair chirped.
"Engineering. Standing by for orders, Captain." The absolute certainty in the engineer's voice set Felix on course. This was the right thing to do. An old engineer still new how to babysit the occupier of the big chair. "And if you care to listen to an old retired engineer who has a passing familiarity with Constitution class starships, I might have a way to make this battle a wee bit less hopeless."
Of course Montgomery Scott might have an idea.
---
A simple mission to move a museum ship to safe harbour had just turned deadly.
The Ensign in Command of the Enterprise punched a few parameters into the console of the Captain's chair. The words didn't come to his lips naturally.
The computer, it's databanks having access to the combined histories of a hundred Federation worlds, thought a moment, before delivering a speech with the required parameters. Something inspiring, something which reflected the gravity of their situation, and which could call on the legacy of the ship's name itself to do what needed to be done.
All he had to do was key open the 1MC, and broadcast it to the ship with the sort of confidence a true captain could muster.
And not an ensign from Jadotville who thought he'd lucked into a cushy cruise in a famous museum ship.
"All decks. This is the Bridge. We've just received word from Starfleet. Three Dominion raiders have been sighted, heading in our direction. They're expected within the hour. We cannot outrun them. They will catch us before Starfleet can arrive. I don't need to tell you what that means."
He took a breath.
"I've discussed it with the other Captains. The museum fleet will continue to Starbase 8 as planned at their best possible speed, along with the New Jersey. We will not be joining them. We will turn around. We will engage the Dominion and we will buy time for the fleet to escape and rescue to come."
The entire ship turned silent as a tomb, only the faint whirr of air moving through the ventilation ducts and the chirp of the computer giving any hint of life.
"This will be a fight against overwhelming odds and survival is not likely. But every minute we stay in the fight is another two billion kilometres the fleet is closer to help."
The computer recommended he firm up his tone. Be more certain.
"The Enterprise is an old ship with a long and storied legacy. So there is no misunderstanding, we are writing the last chapter in that legacy today. Let us make this an ending worthy of her name. Bridge out. "
For the first time, he found himself able to sit in the Captain's chair.
The last arse to sit in the chair a century before had belonged Captain James T. Kirk, Starfleet legend. The last log entry remained in the console, waiting for the next crew to carry on its legacy. Ensign Felix Tchombe felt the megaton weight of it all settle on his shoulders. He would be the one who brought it all to an end.
A single message from Starfleet had turned a simple mission to move a museum ship to a safer harbour, into certain death for all involved. What would Kirk have done? Something smarter then he could manage, maybe. Something that could save the ship, the crew, the entire fleet? He only knew the Enterprise was the one ship with active phaser banks.
It felt right.
It meant their doom.
Kobayashi Maru, he thought.
"I was thinking of my son," said Sergei, snapping him out of it. "What he would say if he were here."
Felix looked at the old Chief manning the tactical console, still in his civilian clothes.
"Today would be a good day to die." Sergei said, a wry smile crawling across his lips. His expression saddened. "Of course, it will be hard on his mother. She was why I left Starfleet in the first place. Now, that's a story for another time and...." he took a breath. "I guess it will have to wait."
Sergei would not ask to leave the ship. Sergei would stay. All the way.
"Thank you, Sergei," Felix said, after a moment. He could think of nothing else to say.
"It's no great thing," the man shrugged. "I've known men who were ordered to their deaths," he said. "It's part of the life in Starfleet. When it comes down to it, the order is just a formality, to confirm what that man already knew in his heart and what he already knew he would have to do, and would've done anyway. The order is just permission to go, and an absolution from wondering if there ever was a better option."
"I've no such absolution."
"That is the burden of command."
Felix took a breath. A little more certain this was the right course of action. A little more convinced of its necessity. He thought, maybe, he'd have time to write a short message to explain himself.
The comm panel on the Captain's chair chirped.
"Engineering. Standing by for orders, Captain." The absolute certainty in the engineer's voice set Felix on course. This was the right thing to do. An old engineer still new how to babysit the occupier of the big chair. "And if you care to listen to an old retired engineer who has a passing familiarity with Constitution class starships, I might have a way to make this battle a wee bit less hopeless."
Of course Montgomery Scott might have an idea.
I love the smell of rotaries in the morning. You know one time, I got to work early, before the rush hour. I walked through the empty carpark, I didn't see one bloody Prius or Golf. And that smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole carpark, smelled like.... ....speed.
One day they're going to ban them.