Utopia At Last

Posted on Sat 3rd Sep, 2022 @ 4:48pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Captain Jason Harrington & Exo-Comp EXQT

1,223 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: The Hunted
Location: Antero/SB109
Timeline: MD3 0100

Peggy had implored the others to take this time of rest and make repairs to the Antero. Such damage to their clean tidy ship was unacceptable, and the damage to [CAPTHARRINGTON] triggered emotional heuristics in all of them. Poor Zombie had spent a solid day upgrading its power plants and capacitors, feeling its lack of power was to blame for the grievous injury the captain suffered. Banshee thankfully only needed minor repairs, the New Zealand had been charitable enough to replicate replacement parts.

Under tow and emergency power and for the remaining ninety-one hours until they arrived at the starbase, the quad resolved to make things right and worked tirelessly. Nessy had even created a paint sprayer and was re-coating the interior corridors in thermal lacquer, stripping carbon and soot along the way.

There was no fear of attack, Starfleet was the powerful force in the region, even their enemy H'tek recognized this. The New Zealand was more than capable of handling a Klingon cruiser. Debriefing had been difficult, Peggy's memories were not fully restored, and what was able to be gleaned was rudimentary. The Second Sons were an older outfit, thought to be disbanded but this proved they were sneaky and still operating in shadows. They had a few other ships, but the Suv’Wi was a new piece of intel to a cold case thought long dead. For the New Zealand, all that could be done was to send the report off to Starfleet, and repair the damaged vessel.

The name Anslo Tol, however, set off alarms inside Starfleet Security; that one was a most wanted. Almost immediately another missive was sent, to Trill.

Nessy had arrived in Engineering, paint gun at the ready, but the catastrophic damage was not in any condition for paint. The jumbled detritus and fallen bulkheads made it clear, this was real damage, deep cuts into the ship. A clamor alerted Nessy to Miarau Merel, and sounded the greeting chime in reply.

"Oh, Nessy, hi, glad to see you here. I couldn't sleep, so I'm trying to prioritize what needs fixing first." Mia looked around at the damage everywhere, and gave a low whistle. "How are we even moving?"

<{[NESSY]-(Replyto:[MIARAUMEREAL])*(ANTERO hull integrity= 47%)*(IDF(POWERDEF!)PowerSupply/[USSNEWZEALAND])}-{([MIARAUMEREL]*Status?])}

The strand was full of errors, Peggy wasn’t assisting Nessy and speech was difficult on its own. The somewhat garbled syntax passed through the translator in the main computer to produce the result.

"Okaaaay," Mia said, understanding only part of what Peggy was trying to tell her. "Let's see if I got the gist of that. We're being towed by ... someone?"

Nessy tried to locate a functioning wall panel display, but no power to most of the ship made that moot. It took a moment but the speech algorithms processed all the same. Ship's comms weren't working so the bots tried to reach out, but their paltry antennae couldn't pierce the interference from the cracked engine casings leaking ambient energies.

"Affirmation, USSNEWZEALAND performing rescue. Indications of transporter activity on board."

Merel put her hand to the pounding place on her forehead, feeling something dried and crusty. When she pulled her hand back, wincing at even the soft touch, there were blood spots. "I'll bet that looks great," she muttered.

"Thank you, all of you for keeping us as stable as we are. Do we know where we're being towed?" she asked.

Nessy used its Holo display to shine a 23-D image onto the wall. The heading was for a Starbase 109, and it was at warp two.

Peggy sounded off over comms, Banshee had created a workaround using the ship's hull as a resonance channel and interpolating into the UT. "Nessy, health-safety assured, do not move. Refrain from cutting bulkheads, structural integrity is critical. Relay status of MIARAU MEREL?"

"I'm fine," Mia answered for herself. "Where's Jason? Is he all right?"


(New Zealand Sick Bay)

Jason looked down at his new right hand. He was amazed. It felt like his original hand, but was better somehow. He seemed to have more sensitivity in his fingertips and his grip was stronger, much stronger. He had been in Sick Bay ever since they had transported him following the fight with the pirates in which a disruptor blast had taken his hand. He was surprised that his First Officer had not come to check on his condition or to see how he was doing. She was more than likely busy trying to get things up and running again on the Antero. He looked up at the Doctor, "How long do I need to be here? I need to get back to my ship."

"Your ship is in good hands. I need to run a few more tests to make sure that your body won't reject the implant. We have given you a series of injections and have used the finest materials in your implant to make it more accepting of the body, but it can still be rejected. You may have to take the injections for a while," the doctor said.


(SB 109)

On Starbase 109, a message came in to Ops. Paul had the graveyard shift--and had heard all the jokes possible about him being suited for it because of his surname.

"Commander, I'm getting a hail from the USS New Zealand," the communications officer on duty called out to him.

"Put it onscreen, Lieutenant," Paul said and lowered the PADD he'd been reading.

The view screen popped to life with the image of an attractive woman in her early 40s. Her blonde hair was in a neat bun and her blue eyes were soothing and cool. Her uniform was neat and fit well. She was sitting in the center chair and smiled when the view screen activated. =A=This is Captain Amanda Stark of the USS New Zealand, I have in tow the cargo ship Antero. She was attacked by pirates and was heavily damaged. ETA is about 6 hours at current speed.=A=

"Commander Paul Graves, second officer of Starbase 109," Paul said. "We'll have docking bays and repair crews ready for you and Antero by 0700, Captain. How many casualties are incoming? Do you require medical intercept?" Paul began inputting instructions to the flight controller and the harbor master to organize the repair crews and to assign interior docking to the two ships.

=A=New Zealand is fine, Commander. We have four casualties from Antero in our morgue that we will hand over to 109 for final disposition. The captain was injured, but he is being tended to by our medical staff. His ship, however, will need lots of help.=A= Amanda explained.

"Sorry to hear about the casualties. I'll have our CMO or medical staff on-hand to take possession of the remains," Paul said. "If you can forward to our Ops department an inventory of the damage, as well as the ship stats, they can start assembling the needed supplies. What happened to the pirates?"

=-^=It seems that our arrival chased them off. An old Bird of Prey is no match for a Galaxy Class starship. We will send a report of the damage along with our sensor readings of the incident.=^= she said.

"Thank you, Captain. We'll await your arrival in six hours," Paul said.

 

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