Chapter Text
* * *
In Repulse's observation lounge on deck two, adjacent to the captain’s ready room, Leo found himself at the head of the elongated table, his eyes wide with disbelief. “We’re still incapable of warp speed?”
O’Brien’s face was a mask of regret. “The XO's workaround for the subspace field coil damage worked flawlessly. But…” He faltered, as if the truth he carried was too heavy to voice.
“Underestimation of the torsional damage to the nacelle struts is our downfall, Captain,” T’Rel filled in the silence with her usual Vulcan stoicism. “Without an accurate comprehension of our velocity when we were violently jettisoned from warp-”
“More like punted out,” O’Brien interjected under his breath.
T’Rel gave a slight nod in agreement, her stoic demeanor unbroken. “Indeed. The Excelsior-class starship struts are fortified for high-warp stressors, yet it seems whoever set us on this trajectory did so at maximum emergency speed.”
O’Brien let out a sigh that echoed through the room. “My engines had to endure warp fourteen throughout.” His lament quickly morphed into fury. “If I ever lay my hands on that imbecile who did this-”
The Vulcan's throat-clearing cut through O’Brien’s heated words. “Regardless of your sentiments, we cannot risk further FTL stresses on our nacelles without causing irreparable harm.”
Leo exhaled deeply, his mind grappling with their predicament. “Even at low warp?”
A shared glance passed between the chief engineer and executive officer before she answered. "Chief Mazer and her damage control teams are currently conducting a thorough assessment based on preliminary scans from internal sensors."
"Is there any chance Chief Mazer could shore up enough of the damage for us to cross back over the border?" Leo questioned, his voice steady despite the rising tide of concern within him.
O’Brien's response was hesitant. "At this moment, it's uncertain, sir. At best, we might manage a short hop to a nearby star system and lay low." The room fell silent as the gravity of their situation hung heavy in the air.
Lieutenant Commander Vara, the ship's operations officer, absorbed the conversation with a visible expression of dread. Her azure-skinned countenance, normally composed, now reflected her inner turmoil. "What's our next move?" she asked in a voice tinged with resignation. "The Gorn are closing in."
Leo rose from his chair, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Vara, I need you and S’ran to scour the nearby star systems for viable hideouts while the Chief and her teams work their magic," he instructed. "We might not be able to warp out at full speed, but if we can find a safe haven until reinforcements arrive… and hope for the best."
Turning towards T'Rel, the Vulcan executive officer whose stoic demeanor remained unbroken even amidst chaos, he commanded: “XO, get ready to evacuate the secondary hull and prepare for saucer separation if necessary.” As she nodded her understanding, his gaze then shifted to O’Brien. “And Mister O’Brien,” he continued, “perhaps we can use the warp core as a deterrent if push comes to shove.”
O'Brien grimaced at the thought but nodded his agreement. "Aye, sir. Better that than end up as incubators for those bloody reptiles."
Ha-Vatoreii's voice crackled over the intercom system, "Bridge to Captain. We have laser-comms with Reykjavik. It's Commodore Trujillo calling, sir."
Leo's lips spread into a wide grin. "Put her through, Lieutenant. Thank you."
The viewer came to life depicting Reykjavík’s bridge with Trujillo seated in the center. “Commander, we’ve just pulled alongside. The Gorn are ten minutes out, and we’re starting transporter evacuation of the ship. Please order your personnel to stop moving and stand by for emergency beaming. This is going to be damned close.”
"Aye, sir," Leo replied quickly. Slapping his combadge, he spoke, "All hands, this is Verde. Emergency transporter protocol alpha, all decks. The next compartment you'll see will be aboard Reykjavik. Verde, out." He nodded to the screen. "Ready whenever you are."
Everyone around the table rose, preparing to be beamed aboard the other vessel. Under the transport protocol, everyone aboard Repulse came to a halt or to their feet, depending. Within seconds, transporter beams began ferrying the doomed ship's survivors in energy form to their rescuer's starship.
* * *
Reykjavík’s four standard transporter rooms as well as the ship’s cargo transporters began beaming personnel aboard as quickly as the complex devices could cycle. Crew guided the newcomers out of the way, taking them to any area large enough to hold groups of people as Repulse’s crew of roughly seven-hundred was added to Reykjavík’s own three-hundred and fifty.
Things became crowded rather quickly.
Trujillo ordered Verde to the bridge as soon as he came aboard, figuring that the man would likely demand to be the last off the ship.
* * *
“Position of the Gorn fleet,” Trujillo asked, eyeing the displays on her swing-arm console that was currently positioned over her lap as she monitored the progress of the evacuation.
“Six minutes, nine seconds until arrival,” Shukla briefed. “They’re coming in at full speed, so the same subspace chop that gave us issues will be tenfold worse for them unless they decelerate soon.”
“Thank heavens for small favors,” she responded dryly.
Garrett announced, “Evacuation progressing, and Repulse’s shuttle is aboard. We’re tracking the progress of the second shuttle, but she’s taking a course some thirty degrees off that set originally by the other shuttle. And… she’s only making half the speed. I’m detecting radiation leakage in her wake, likely from one of her nacelles, sir.”
“Understood,” Trujillo answered, still engrossed in her displays.
An alarm sounded at the Ops and Science panels simultaneously, but Shukla was the first to say, “Sensor contact… Gorn hunter-class attack ship, bearing one-two-seven-mark-two-four-nine.” He turned half-way in his seat to fix a concerned look on Trujillo. “Sir, it’s on a direct intercept course with the shuttle.”
Trujillo’s head snapped up from the console in her lap. “Why didn’t we detect them earlier?”
Shukla gestured helplessly. “I’m not sure, sir. The craft are built for stealth, and with all the subspace disruption and sensor interference…”
“ETA to intercept with the shuttle?”
“Five minutes, thirty-eight seconds.”
From behind the tactical station, Leo exited the turbolift and stepped onto the bridge. "Sir, Repulse's computer is locked down." He reached into his jacket and pulled out his display device. "Here's the new prefix code for you," he said while holding the display for her eyes.
Trujillo waved off the tablet, pointing to an auxiliary console. “Set her to destruct, Commander. We’re going to have to time this just right.” She glanced back toward the viewer. “And you still have one damaged shuttle out there with a hunter bearing down on it.”
With a quick nod, Leo replaced the device. "Aye, sir. How long do you want me to set the interval for?"
She looked to Garrett. “How long until we’ve got everyone aboard?”
“Another thirty seconds, sir,” the younger woman replied.
Trujillo turned back to Leo. “Set it for forty-five seconds.”
Leo slipped into the auxiliary station and began tapping in a series of commands. "Repulse. This is Verde. Emergency override, authorization: Verde-four-four-eight-one-alpha."
The computer aboard Repulse replied quickly. "Override authorized. Input command."
He muted the input and swiveled around to ask, "Commodore, you want a big boom or a little boom?"
“The bigger the better,” she answered. “Anything to slow them down or blind them.”
"Aye, sir." He keyed the input open once more. "Code Zero-Zero-Zero, Destruct Three. Set interval for forty-five seconds, silent countdown."
"Destruct sequence activated. Forty-five seconds to auto-destruct. There will be no further warnings."
Leo sighed. With a reverent nod of his head and closed eyes, he said, "Thank you, Repulse. Verde, out." He rose from the station and turned back to Trujillo. "Shortest command stint in Starfleet history, eh?"
“The candle that burns half as long burns twice as bright, Rally,” she answered with a hint of a smirk.
He folded his arms and offered a weak smile. "As you say, sir." Leo took a step forward and addressed the next concern. "What's Shuttle Two's location? Do we have comms?"
Trujillo gestured to Shukla and then to the viewer, the lieutenant obediently throwing a two-dimensional course plot for the shuttle and the pursuing hunter up onto the screen. “That’s their location, and so far we’ve been unable to speak with them. They appear to have suffered damage during their launch procedure.”
“Commodore, we have the last of Repulse’s crew aboard.”
“Plot a course for the shuttle, engage at emergency speed. Execute.”
Reykjavík leapt to warp, the ship juddering as it muscled its way through the subspace shear, clawing to escape the onrushing Gorn flotilla.
* * *
As Shuttle One pierced the permeable forcefield erected over the open maw of Reykjavík’s shuttle bay, the craft settled down in a textbook landing, unaided by the bay’s tractor emitters.
The chief of the deck, Senior Chief Wund’rund, thought it a damned fine piece of flying. He tapped his combadge to announce, “Bridge, Shuttle One is safely aboard and secured.”
Dr. Bennett and a team of medics approached the shuttle’s hatch, loaded for bear with all manner of life-support and trauma equipment, most of which rode atop the anti-grav gurney accompanying them.
Deck crew swarmed the shuttle, anchoring the larger-than-average craft to magnetic grapplers to affix it to the deck for safety should Reykjavík experience turbulence.
Both hatches opened seconds later; the large rear door folded down to form a ramp, while a smaller door on the starboard side slid open once a set of steps pushed out to allow passengers to step over the nacelle safely.
A corpsman wearing the Starfleet Caduceus on his upper arm carried a passenger out of the rear door. "I need a little help, here!" He called attention to his patient. "Lost consciousness as soon as we left the ship," he explained to the nearest medical team.
Bennett and two of his medics hurried over to assist the corpsman with placing the unconscious crewmember atop the gurney as the others cleared it of equipment. Bennett began scanning the male human, running the sensor module of his medical tricorder over the man.
The sensor wand tracked up to the man’s head and lingered there near his left ear. “Looks like benign paroxysmal positional vertigo.” Bennett looked at the corpsman. “Was your launch from Repulse a little hot?”
The question elicited a brief chuckle in response. "Definitely. But, non-responsive, so I made sure he was first off the shuttle," the corpsman explained his decision.
Behind them, stepping down from the ramp were three Master-at-Arms holding a Starfleet captain by his elbows to secure him closely. The leader of the guard detail, a chief petty officer, scanned the vicinity to find anyone that shared his role aboard Reykjavik. Within seconds, a security detail joined them. The sight alarming their charge.
"This is outrageous!" Captain Keller twisted within the grip of the muscular guards. "I demand to speak to the officer of the deck, immediately!"
Ensign Timm and Lieutenant Guilla followed shortly after. The former muttering with a shake of her head, "Complained the entire damn trip."
Bennett nodded to the corpsman. “You did the right thing, of course. He’s just very space-sick. We don’t tend to see this very often anymore with our advances in inertial dampening.” He looked around. “Is this your only casualty?”
A junior lieutenant stepped forward from behind a nearby standing workstation in response to Keller’s eruption. “I’m Lieutenant Cambrio, Captain. Officer of the Deck. What seems to be the problem?”
The chief of the detail responded quickly, "Lieutenant, I'm Chief Primmon, USS Repulse. Captain Keller is our prisoner, under close arrest by the order of Captain Verde."
"Absurd!" Keller exploded, again fruitlessly twisting against the grasp of the two guards at his sides. "He's no more a captain than that woman is a commodore! I'm surrounded by morons! Release me, at once!"
Cambrio raised an eyebrow in silent rebuke. “Well, I was going to recommend seeing him to guest quarters and securing him there, but if he wants to insult the commodore on the deck of her own ship…” he jerked a thumb towards the main hatch in the fore bulkhead. “Turbolift’s to the left. Brig’s on Deck Six. Be my guest.”
"Lieutenant, I am a line officer and a captain in Starfleet," Keller growled. "You will order them to release me, this instant. I am ordering you, in case you've forgotten how rank works in this fleet!" He fixed Cambrio with a hard stare as he spoke, utilizing every bit of his will against the man.
Guilla added her perspective to the discussion. From his rear, she told Keller, "You're a captain and you should know better, sir." She stepped forward and turned to the chief, "Do as the lieutenant says and take him to the brig. Let him sit there and think about why it's not a good idea to insult the CO of the ship he's standing on."
Cambrio held Keller’s contemptuous gaze for a moment, then shook his head with a disbelieving expulsion of breath before turning his back on the captain. “Please remove his eminence from my deck.”
Primmon smirked, then snapped his head back to his detail. "Aye, sir. You heard the officers: Deck six, straight away."
All eyes on the deck watched as the guards literally dragged Keller to the lifts while he bellowed his displeasure. "I will report you all to the admiral, I promise you!" Seconds later, the lift doors closed and a calmer atmosphere settled over the flight deck.
Timm joined the group and sighed. "Remind me to send something nice to your brig team, sir," she said out of the corner of her mouth to Cambrio.
Cambrio shook his head sadly. “That’s your captain, Ensign? You have my sympathies.” He looked her up and down. “Was that you on the stick in there?” he asked, gesturing to the shuttle.
Timm scoffed. "He's not my captain. Captain Verde is our commanding officer, now."
As the ensign used a borderline tone with a superior officer, Guilla quickly replied, "Ensign Timm was pilot-in-command, sir. She's one of our best next to Commander Dini, our department head."
“Damn fine piece of flying, Ensign. Innovative approach vector, and a deft hand on the stick as you popped the field and set her down,” Cambrio said with genuine admiration.
Guilla's hands folded behind her back at the base of her spine as Cambrio spoke. "Ensign Timm graduated top of her flight class at the Academy, sir. Unfortunately, she was absent the day they taught protocol and table manners, so she flies and speaks at full impulse."
Timm folded her arms across her chest. "Well, thank you, Lieutenant, sir," she pointedly addressed her comment to Cambrio, ignoring Guilla's words. "It is most gratifying to be recognized for one's skills rather than kissing the ring or etiquette or curtsying or whatever it is you do up in the captain's mess." Though her eyes were on Cambio, the appeal of Guilla's eyes toward the upper bulkhead expressed the beleaguered and long-standing argument between the two.
Guilla wordlessly brought a hand to her forehead.
Cambrio smiled impishly. “I’m not looking to get in the middle of whatever this is, Ensign,” he said, gesturing between Timm and Guilla. “Specialist Gaffney will see your people to the rec deck. Make sure you settle in there, as things might get a bit rough in the next few minutes. Word has it they’re setting Repulse to self-destruct and we’re going to have the Gorn on our ass the whole way back to the border.”
"Sir," Timm said, her tone losing its joviality. "Any word on Shuttle Two? Commander Dini should've been on my six."
He shook his head. “Not yet. They’re not here, and I’ve not been told to stand ready to take another shuttle aboard. Hopefully they’ll have more info for you when you reach the rec deck.” He gestured toward the exit where the rest of those aboard the shuttle were being herded by Reykjavík personnel.
Guilla shot a worried glance at Timm before responding, "Aye, sir. Thank you." With a quick gesture, she said, "C'mon, Kim."
Timm nodded, and as she passed by Cambrio, uttered her own, "Thank you, sir."
* * *