Chapter Text
The shipyards at Antares loomed before her inside of the long-range shuttle. Following the orders to report aboard the Malinche, January packed up a few recreated personal items that were lost aboard the Roosevelt and requisitioned the shuttle for personal transportation to her new ship.
Malinche was an older vessel, built a couple of years before she was even born, and with the threat of the Borg, it had halted its refit and rushed back into service as it was. As the refit yard drew closer and closer within the forward viewport of the shuttle, Jan seemed to want to take an exterior tour of the ship by pulling it up and over the top of the saucer and noticing that the nacelles were recently attached to the pylons, and they looked nothing like the nacelles that would typically be found on an Excelsior-class starship. In fact, the nacelles were shorter and stubbier, almost as if they were meant for a Galaxy-class, though not quite as ugly looking.
She frowned for a moment, understanding the need for the ship to be put back into service, but maybe the aesthetics of the ship were not to her satisfaction.
"This is Antares Shipyard Operations to Shuttle Gonzales. Please respond on yard approach."
Jan keyed open the communications frequency they wanted her to use, even though they hailed her on the Starfleet guard frequency. "This is Lieutenant McKenna aboard the Gonzales. Go ahead, Antares Control."
"Alter course to one-eight-zero mark zero and return to approach lane. Do not alter your course any further. New orders from Starfleet require all yards to be clear of unnecessary traffic."
Well, shit, she thought to herself. "My apologies about that, Antares Control. I am returning to the approach lane." Which she did, taking the long way around and moving underneath the keel of the ship to get as long of a look as permitted despite the orders to leave the yard.
Once approach control seemed to be satisfied with the shuttle's progress and closed the channel, January guided the shuttle into the approach lane and saw exactly why they were uptight: a long line of approaching craft had built up at the entrance of the primary landing bay. With the ships not receiving any direct traffic due to the stepped-up security, it was causing a traffic jam.
"Fuck." That was her only comment to the delay. She punched up a commlink to the Malinche, but the ship wasn't responding, alluding to the fact that perhaps the ship's communications system wasn't online or responding. Trying a few more times, she finally gave up on contacting the ship altogether, but not more than five minutes later she was receiving an incoming call from the Malinche.
"Malinche to Gonzales. Do you read us?" asked the speakers within the shuttle's cockpit.
Jan was slightly startled for a moment. "Uh, yes, this is the Gonzales. To whom am I addressing?"
"Sorry, this is Lieutenant Tom Donner, chief engineer. Do I have the honor of addressing our new executive officer?"
"Lieutenant Jan McKenna, at your service." She smiled, "I've been making attempts to contact you guys, but I got no response."
"That's probably because our frequency receptors are undergoing replacement. We're speaking through the good folks at Antares Control, presently."
"I see." She noticed that there were a few shuttles moving ahead in the line, and throttling up to maintain her place, she commented, "Well, I'll try and make my personal appearance as soon I can."
"Of course, sir. The new captain hasn't made it to the ship, just yet, but we've received word he's en route and should be here within forty-eight hours."
Jan nodded, although Donner couldn't see her over an audio-only channel. "Very well. Listen, Lieutenant do you think perhaps there would be anyway for me to divert this craft directly to the Malinche?"
There was a long pause. "Well, sir, it's sort of a standing order from the yardmaster for all incoming traffic to go through the main landing bay, but uh I think we can arrange something. Could you stand by for a moment, sir?"
"Sure thing."
The channel seemed to crackle as the officer switched frequencies. After a few minutes, the crackle was heard once more and Lieutenant Donner's voice called over the channel. "Sir, you've been cleared for direct approach to the Malinche."
It didn't take another word. In fact, once the words 'direct approach' were mentioned, she Gonzales went to full throttle on the starboard maneuvering thrusters to weave to the left and toward the shipyard where her ship was being stored. By the time Donner finished the statement, she was well on her way. "Thanks, Lieutenant. What did you say to them?"
"I simply told them you were carrying some vital supplies for the engineering department and it couldn't wait. The approach control officer is an old Academy buddy of mine."
The drydock yard pylons went overhead the shuttle once more, she replied, "Well, thanks, Lieutenant. You sure know how to get on the exec's good side. I'm making my final approach and will be landing in sixty seconds."
"Acknowledged. The bay doors are already open, as we are accepting quite a bit of shuttle traffic ourselves, but we'll clear a window for you." There was a pause; obviously he was opening up a channel to the shuttle bay, marking her as a priority landing. "You're next in line, sir. I'll meet you at the shuttlebay. Malinche, out."
And with that, the channel was closed and she nudged the shuttle forward to get within the doors and set down the craft gently onto the deck.
"Lieutenant, junior grade, Thomas J. Donner, sir. Pleasure to meet you in person, finally. Let me introduce the other senior officers that have been assigned to our fair ship." Donner moved to a man in a marine uniform, he was standing at attention, ramrod straight. "This is First Lieutenant Norman Yamaguchi, he's been assigned here as our security chief, courtesy of the Starfleet Marine Corps."
She nodded toward him, he offered a quick salute, but said nothing. Tom Donner moved to another officer, this one a Vulcan female junior grade lieutenant. "Lieutenant T'Sten, our operations chief." Jan gave her a nod, but avoided a handshake, as was the Vulcan custom.
Donner himself was almost the typical engineer. Reddish blonde hair, a thin stature, and smudges all over his uniform and arms. The arms of the uniform rolled up and showing off the hard work he's put in to getting the Malinche into operation. "I'm afraid our other officers haven't shown up just yet, sir."
"Okay," Jan said. "Well then, let's get to work. Lieutenant T'Sten."
T'Sten replied, "Yes, sir?"
"Current crew compliment status. If we were to depart dock right now, would we be short-handed?"
"Yes, sir, we would be short by one hundred if we were to depart at this moment," T'Sten returned quickly.
"I see. Then, I would like to see a timetable over the next forty-eight hours. By the end of the day, I want to know what the arrival times are for every single crewmember with the exception of the captain. Lieutenant Yamaguchi?"
"Yes, sir," said the marine.
"Put out an order to the yardmaster. The captain's shuttle is to be cleared for direct approach to the ship upon his arrival. Find out how he's getting here, and then I don't care who you have to kill, but I don't want him to have to wait any longer than I did to get here. All we need is for him to have his patience tried."
"Aye, aye, sir. You can count on me."
"Good. Mister Donner, I want a ship's status report in two hours. I'd like to know where we stand and exactly how long we have until we're fully operational. Admiral Ross wants this ship battle-ready within three days, and I'd like to shoot for two, if possible."
"I think we can manage that, sir," smiled Donner.
Jan nodded. "Great. Have an ensign get my things from the shuttle and have someone assign me some quarters, please?"
Settled in and with a fresh uniform on, Jan finally reached the bridge through the service crawlways. The turbolift shaft was under heavy maintenance above deck three. She made a mental note to have a talk with the chief engineer about that. By the time she made it to the bridge, she realized exactly how much of a bigger problem they had.
The bridge was nothing as she had pictured it, but then again, under the current state of the ship, she really shouldn't have expected anything less. Pulling herself out of the crawlway entrance and onto the bridge, she noticed that Lieutenant T'Sten was already seated at her station, making computer repairs with an engineering tool. Jan instantly liked her. Unlike some of the other Vulcans she had served with, this one seemed a lot less aristocratic and more grounded.
T'Sten, to her credit, noticed the arrival of the ship's executive officer and gave a small nod before returning to her work. Unfortunately, unlike the operations console, the others were missing. They typically act as input devices, with a multilayered covering by which crewmembers can tap in commands. It also allowed the computer to redisplay consoles in whatever pattern was needed, which made this type of console very useful. If, for example, the helm and operations went inoperable, the other stations could take over by reconfiguring the display using these covers.
Well, those covers were gone, exposing the output and input nodes underneath. Some of the node weren't even there, from what she could remember. But the real shock came when she looked for the captain's chair. "Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Three days from now, this bridge has to be ready to go. Why is this bridge looking like... well, this?" asked Jan, trying to keep the incredulity out of her voice.
"Before this morning, sir, there was no bridge module installed. The reason for the state of the bridge is because the shipyard crews have not finished installing the module completely," T'Sten said, not moving from her position and continuing to make repairs to her console.
Jan was stunned, wishing there was a captain's chair to fall in to. "Oh."
The first thoughts that ran though her mind while just staring at the brown-haired and dark skinned Vulcan was abut what her captain might think of this ship and its crew, to see the bridge in such a state of disrepair. As for chairs, she found the helm position rather available, and turned the seat around to plop down into it. "Please tell me the intercom works."
"The intercom works, sir," said T'Sten.
Jan punched the communications panel at the side of the operations console and called out, "McKenna to Engineering."
There was no response.
She tried once more. "McKenna to Engineering."
Once again, the only sound was the repair tool against the inside of the operations console.
"Why aren't they responding?"
T'Sten replied, "The bridge intercom is offline, sir."
Jan just gaped at her. "But you said it was working."
"You asked me to tell you that it was. I follow orders, sir."
The executive officer just buried her head in her palms. She should have seen that coming. But, instead of dwelling on it, and remembering the literal nature of T'Sten, she tapped her commbadge, instead. "McKenna to Engineering."
"Engineering. This is Donner, sir."
"Donner, I'm sitting on the bridge, and uh well, I'm really hoping someone will be along here and help T'Sten on getting it operational."
"Oh, yes, sir. It's on our list of things to do, sir."
"Let's bump it up to the top, right underneath turbolifts, okay?"
"Uh, yes, sir. My apologies about that, that's our top priority right now."
"Very good. McKenna, out." The commbadge chirped once more, to close the channel.
Lying on top of her bunk in her new stateroom, Jan look at the light baggage taken from the shuttle from Starbase Nine was sitting still packed on the deck near the exit out into the corridor on deck six. Most of the senior officers found their quarters on that deck, although the captain's cabin was down two levels and forward, to give a nice expansive forward view of the Malinche. The executive officer's cabin wasn't anything to shake a stick at, either, a lot bigger than what she was used to aboard the Roosevelt, but then she was a simple chief helm officer, rather than an exec. With a nice desk from which to work on right next to the exit, moving around the room one would find the dining area right next to it. The replicator was offline, unfortunately, but that was to be expected. She would take her meals in the wardroom with most of the other officers. A small alcove right next to the restroom partitioned her bunk area, which was also offline. In fact, the entire section of deck six had to use the vacant quarters aft to the portside of the corridor until the primary janitorial systems were brought online.
Her hands were stacked atop each other under the mane of hair. It was getting to be something of a bother to her, now that it was getting longer as a few strands from her bangs fell down to touch at her nose. She supposed space duty might've done something to the rate of growth, but pushed it aside, thinking that she would be more apt to lose hair due to the stress of the past few days.
Sitting up suddenly, she walked over to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, while removing the barrette that the late Ensign Kim Dawes had loaned her for that fateful day's duty and placing it upon the small vanity provided there. With a single hand, she shook out the formerly bunched up hair and watched as it fell back behind her all the way down to the small of her back. Wide eyes seemed to not quite understand how or when it got that long. But then again, it just seemed like she had been wearing her hair like that ever since her ships was destroyed.
"Engineering to Lieutenant McKenna." Donner's voice seemed to echo through the quarters. Jan slapped her commbadge immediately.
"McKenna, here."
"Sir, the Borg are en route to Andor. Starfleet is ordering us to retreat from the sector."
January's mouth dropped for a moment, but she recovered. "A-Acknowledged, Lieutenant. What's our status?" Retreat was the last thing she wanted to do. But orders were orders.
"We're taking on as many engineers and other personnel from the shipyards, and that'll help get the warp drive online. The ship should be ready to escape within twenty minutes."
"All right. Is the bridge ready for use?"
"As ready as we can make it, sir."
January reached down for the barrette and drew her black hair back into a barely regulation ponytail, while heading out of her quarters and up to the bridge to take command. "Turbolift is functioning?"
"Yes, sir. Available on all decks."
"Good work. Contact me in fifteen minutes with a status report. McKenna, out." She entered into the nearest turbolift and called out, "Bridge."
The turbolift responded once, and then held still for a moment. She was about to call out her destination once more before the lift shook violently for a moment and then proceeded upward. "Damn," she said to herself, pulling her hand away from the side of the lift.
The bridge was almost a completely different animal than when she first arrived. All of the panels had been replaced and most of the consoles were manned and functioning just like she had wanted out of a ship ready to go into war. Lieutenant T'Sten was seated at the operations console immediately to the right of the flight controller (helm). The marine lieutenant Yamaguchi was seen on the bridge hovering over the tactical station, speaking very clipped-like to the ensign seated there. Everything looked great.
But there was still a hole in the middle of the bridge. January contemplated it for a full minute before just deciding to ignore it. The captain's chair wasn't all that necessary, and she was as capable of a pilot as anyone else. Dismissing the helmsman to one of the secondary stations on the bridge, she took her seat and then opened up the shipwide intercom.
"Attention all hands. This is the executive officer, Lieutenant McKenna. Starfleet has informed us that the Borg are en route, and will arrive within the hour. The Malinche is to depart the yards and retreat. I" she stopped, looking around at the bridge. Every single pair of eyes were staring right back at her. She blushed very quickly. "I realize that retreating is the last thing we would want to do. I don't think falling back and letting the Borg run over us is correct. But we have no choice. We would be no match for them." Her voice sounded very thick, she was holding back a lot of things she would like to say, and perhaps she said too much already.
"So we're going to make sure we carry out our orders. In the best interests of the fleet and the Federation. All hands, man your battle stations. Stay sharp. McKenna, out." She tapped the channel closed.
"Engineering to Bridge. Nice speech. Ship's status is reporting at nominal levels. Warp speed is at your disposal but I wouldn't recommend doing too many evasive maneuvers."
McKenna frowned. "Recommended speed?"
"No higher than warp six, sir. These are new engines, and I'm being forced to field test them with very real circumstances. I would've liked at least a week of shakedown, but I guess the Borg are making that very difficult. I'll do what I can to keep her in one piece, just make sure we don't have too many bumps in the road. Engineering, out."
January nodded absently to the engineer who couldn't even see her face. She continued to monitor her console before the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end for a moment. Everyone was still staring at her waiting for orders. Whoops.
"Uh, prepare to depart dock. Communications, can you get a status report on our captain?" Like, who is it?
The ensign at the communications console nodded with a quick, "Aye, sir," and began to talk to his station. January looked to T'Sten for a moment, "Mister T'Sten, coordinate your efforts with tactical. Find out what our defensive capabilities are and report back to me in two minutes. If we should fall into battle, I want to know exactly how long we could hang in a firefight."
But T'Sten didn't need two minutes. "We would be destroyed, sir."
Jan winced. She walked right into that one. "Thank you, Lieutenant. However, I'm hoping that perhaps that keen Vulcan intellect of yours might be able to produce some options other than simply dying."
T'Sten nodded, and moved toward the tactical monitor to converse with the officer seated there while McKenna just took a deep breath.
"Lieutenant McKenna?" asked communications.
"What is it, Ensign?" McKenna nearly bit off.
"Sir, I have received word from Starfleet Command. The Borg destroyed the ship that met the captain's shuttle en route from Starbase 33. Admiral Ross is ordering you to assume command until they have confirmed the report," the ensign replied. "We're to rendezvous with the Twelfth Fleet at Starbase 147, flagship is the Venture."
Jan cleared her throat, quietly thanking the ensign for the report. "Signal all decks, prepare for immediate departure. Clearing all moorings, and sealing the airlock. Secure shuttlebay." She looked around one last time before giving the order. "Ahead thrusters to full."