What Have You Done to My Ship???

Posted on Tue 20th Jul, 2021 @ 3:10am by Voareth Darqaron
Edited on on Tue 20th Jul, 2021 @ 3:16am

1,613 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Waging Peace
Location: Quays, Secure Docking Bay, Starbase 109
Timeline: MD 4, 0810 hours

Voareth was inside her ship, lounging in her living area, looking at her newly purchased PADD, replacing her PDA which was still not syncing properly with the station computer’s public profile. She learned the name of the race of her most recent prey. She had called him ‘P’Taq’ because that was the last thing he had said with his dying breath. Looking up the term, highly misspelled (but her PADD corrected her) proved that to be an insult in ... “Klingon,” she said out loud. She smiled at the thought that she was cursed as he died.

Voareth took another bite of his jerked meat. She recalled not having to hunt too hard for him. These Klingons have an awful pungent smell about them. Taking him down was the interesting part. He thus proved to be a very worthy prey. Though his meat did not taste all that well, the spiritual effects of eating the meat of a worthy prey made up for that.

She chewed and gnawed at another bite as she minimized that bit of information and turned the PADD to her ship. It had finally synced and displayed a full rundown. Dilithium was down to less than 5%, there was not enough power to fire an effective report of her phasers, shields would probably not take even one direct hit, warp was no longer possible, life support would last maybe a couple more days and, if she had any torpedoes, there was only enough power to spit one out and leave it to drift through space.

She still had some power running constantly here in ship though. The refrigeration unit was still powered and, with her waning levels of dilithium, she could power that for another few weeks, given that Voareth didn't take her ship out for a spin before refueling. She kept the refrigeration unit running so the remaining Klingon meat would not spoil. There was enough for another few days and she certainly did not want to carry that on into the station. The scanner at the refugee processing center could perhaps pick up bits of Klingon in her storage container. She was not wanting to try to find a method to explain that away, so she kept it aboard her ship, hoping to eat it all before anyone found out.

From what people ate aboard this station, and from what she gathered after having several casual conversations, it seemed the people here were not very willing to accept the consumption of the meat of deceased sentient beings.

A proximity alert was flashing on her bedside console. It was not uncommon for it to go off as people moved to and fro, in and out of their respective vessels, but this one was hanging around, perhaps taking in Voareth’s ship longer than anyone else had done. Perhaps this person was simply taking in this new and unusual vessel or perhaps there was a profound interest. Feeling about with her empathic ability, Voareth felt a sense of interest and a willingness to help. She had, however, put in a work request to have her ship looked at, but she certainly did not expect such a quick response. Perhaps the manner of craft proved to be too enticing for whomever came calling to put it off for later.

After putting the Klingon jerky away, Voareth also placed some of her trophies (a.k.a. skulls) into a storage container, sealed it and then moved to the hatchway and punched in the sequence to open.

Emmie Walker had trained to be a shuttle craft engineer, and that was technically her job, but the department was short-handed enough, and had enough repair and maintenance orders stacked up, that she was often called on to use her extended knowledge to work other jobs and ships. She'd never seen a ship quite like the one she stood outside, though computer schematics identified it as Hirogen, a race not seen commonly on SB109.

Walking around the exterior, Emmie took in the sleek lines that would allow the vessel to slide through space. It appeared to be a craft that could be handled by one person, or could have a small crew. It was well used and old, but had been maintained above the basic minimal requirements. Looking back at the work order, she saw she had a little exploratory leeway to see just what the ship needed most. Returning to the entrance, she looked for some way of contacting anyone inside. She didn't want to surprise the owner, nor be surprised herself.

The hatch before her began to open. "Yeah, see, that's what I'm talking about," she muttered. "An invitation to a bumped head or a smashed bone." The ship’s owner, as she came into view, certainly did not appear to be Hirogen.

Voareth noticed a woman standing near the hatchway as it opened. Her uniform was not pristine but it was not overly soiled either. Given a grease smudge on her chin, Voareth immediately recognized her as a mechanic of sorts. Though Voareth had managed to work on her own ship and would rather keep it that way, dilithium was the one thing she could not just find anywhere. Additionally, it had been a little over what the population here would call two decades since her ship had undergone time in a docking area being worked on.

“Are you Starfleet?” Voareth asked, eyeing the woman’s uniform.

"I am. Crewman Emmie Walker, at your service. I've received a work order for your ship, but there's nothing specific listed as the problem. What can you tell me?" She eyed the woman opposite her. There was something familiar about her looks, but Emmie couldn't pin it down. She figured it would come to her later.

Starfleet. That was part of the Federation. There was no way anyone could have known her intentions of revenge against the Federation. After putting in a work request aboard a Federation starbase, of course personnel with said allegiances would come calling.

“And they make you wear that uniform?” Voareth asked as she stepped down the short ramp to the dock floor. She was not expecting an answer and segued straight into an introduction.

“I am Voareth vix Darqaron.” That was the name she submitted when docking. It would have been counterproductive to give a different name now. “You may call me Voar. And this…” she turned to her ship. “This is Vedek, my ship. Most of his issues can be rectified by a dilithium resupply. Most of my power is shot. Low life support, de-energized phaser banks, failing shielding, zero supply of torpedoes…not that you deal with arms specifically.

"That, and I am sure there are plenty of microfractures along the frame and hull. It has been a long time since Vedek has seen a well-skilled mechanic. I have been keeping him together, but I admit that even my engineering skills have limits.”

"That's why I'm here," Walker said cheerfully. "With a list that long, I'll be busy for a while. Is there anything I need to know about your ship's systems that could cause me problems ... like getting fired on by one of those weapons if I touch something it thinks I shouldn't? I'm only planning engineering tasks, but I want to be sure I'm safe with your systems."

“I recently purchased one of these things,” Voareth displayed her new PADD. “It finally synched with Vedek’s computer and is communicating smoothly. I have disabled all my intrusion detectors and powered down my security lockouts. You will be able to move about and perform your work without Vedek harassing you in any way.” Voareth stood to the side allowing the Emmie to enter.

Emmie nodded, glancing at the PADD in question, "Excellent, then I'll get started with my evaluation, and it sounds like I need to arrange fueling before anything else. Did you establish an account with the base supply lines for anything needed? Do I have a limit to be juggling what's most necessary?" In spite of the fact that there was an aura of deep secrets around the woman with whom she was conversing, the engineer felt a certain kinship with her. She couldn't quite decide why, but she acknowledged its presence.

“I will establish an account straight away,” Voar said. “I shall deposit currency as well, once I find out what I have is worth, that is. Worry not, however. I do not foresee you having to ‘juggle’, as you say, with a small budget. Perform what work you deem necessary.” With a sound of utter confidence, “I will be able to cover any extra accrued costs.”

Voar brought her PADD up before her. Tapping away at it, she called up the Vedek’s security parameters. She handed the PADD to Emmie. “Please speak your name, provide a retina scan, fingerprint and input a personalized access code. This will give you full access to my ship without delay nor harassment from my security systems.”

Walker did as instructed, giving the PADD back to its owner. "Sounds perfect. I'll prioritize the fuel for you, and then give you a list of what I find most critical."

“Understood,” Voar gave a nod. “And,” she started, “do work alone. At least…if you bring anyone else in, please clear it with me first. You may have guessed that I am…from very far away.” She was thinking of the polished skull trophies and the Klingon’s jerked meat stored away inside her ship. “So, our cultures are probably vastly different. If you find anything out of, what you would consider the norm, please keep that in mind.”

 

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