Star Trek: Erin

Part 7: Trying Not to Die

     Engines was a fascinating area. Plenty of dangerously flashing buttons that looked like candy and engineers that usually said things like 'don't touch anything' and 'what did I just say' and 'if you touch that one more time I'm feeding you to my son's tribble.' Today it was silent, save for a chime-like whirring and the squeak of shifting boots.

     "How many do you think?" I whispered, crouching behind a control panel with Sprite and a time-locked redshirt.

     "Operatives? I'd hope they're not stupid enough to leave less than two."

     "Great. I'll loop around that big fan-looking thing, you go right around the barrel." I drew my phaser. "On stun." I crouch-ran away before he could argue. Hopefully he would comply.

     Sprite was spot-on. Two operatives, each lazily holding cool-looking phasers. Their laxness was irritating, but understandable. Who would resist in a ghost-ship of statues? I got pretty close before they tensed, and by then Sprite was in position. We fired and had two unconscious Section 31 operatives in a matter of seconds.

     I poked what was apparently the time-lock device while Sprite dragged the operatives a bit away. He returned to me. The device was vaguely circular and made of a patchwork of twisted and smooth metal. A couple levers and three buttons—red, blue, and purple—studded the surface. Seems simple, but you wanna be careful with experimental tech. I considered it. Sprite paced to check the hall and back. "Well, you're a redshirt, figure it out."

     "Not all redshirts are engineers."

     "What bloody use are you then?"

     I resisted the very strong urge to punch him in the nose and bent over the device. "Damn. You'd think they'd label it."

     Sprite snorted unkindly.

     I whirled on him. "Look. I don't care about your history with Section 31 or whatever problems you have with me. If you're mature enough to do your duty as a Starfleet officer, shut your face and help me save the damn ship."

     The device whirred for a minute while Sprite watched me. "Fine."

     "Good." I turned back to the time-lock device. Staring at it won't do anything. I pressed the purple button. The device beeped twice and continued whirring. "Damn." There was a thud behind me. I swore again. "For the last time, Sprite—" I stopped.

     A cold blade was pressed to my throat. "Don't move," said a voice I didn't recognize.

     Time seemed to slow. Must be an operative. Cold knife means Sprite wasn't stabbed, but he could still be dead. I must assume I'm on my own. "Really?" I said. "A knife? There's more effective ways to kill someone."

     "True." The knife left my throat. "But—"

     I didn't let them get any further before throwing back my head, connecting with their face, and throwing myself away, putting the time device between us. Sprite was unconscious at the feet of a woman—no. A yellowshirt. She must be the traitor.

     Her hand came away bloody from her nose. "That wasn't very nice." Her voice was nasally, probably because of the dripping nose.

     "Is Sprite dead?"

     "I wouldn't kill my apprentice, but I didn't want him hearing this."

     Pieces clicked together. "You're Tetra."

     She nodded slowly. "You don't seem surprised."

     "I thought it was strange why a random lieutenant would be the exception from this thing." I patted the time-lock device. "Now it makes sense." I gestured at her. "So, you have a knife, I have a phaser." She didn't move as I drew it. "How did you think this was going to go?"