Star Trek: Erin

Part 15: The Makings of a Huge Mess

     I missed it. The Enterprise went BACK IN TIME and I missed it. A few lieutenants, including Marple, thought it would be a terrific idea to coordinate shore leave among their teams, so while the Enterprise was mucking about in the freaking 1960s, Nowak and I were lounging on Glock V, drinking margaritas and discussing Vulcan and Klingon philosophies. Getting to know Nowak a bit more was great—that Vulcan intellect combined with human insight makes for some pretty incredible debates—but the 1960s would've been so cool.

     However, the main reason it pissed me off was because I needed that break. Ever since the incident with Section 31 I'd been feeling like—and I know it sounds stupid—like someone was reaching for my throat. It wasn't like they were strangling me. More I could see it coming, the intention. The murder was in their nonexistent eyes. And I thought it was nerves after being nearly stranded in an evil dimension, so I said hell yes to the shore leave.

     I still don't know if that was the right call.

     We returned to the Enterprise amid zero fanfare, but I needed to gain proper power before that could happen. Sprite greeted me with the cool indifference we were throwing at each other, but I could tell by how other officers behaved around him that he'd found favour from whatever'd happened in the 1960s.

     Feeling like I had to catch up pissed me off too.

     So my stress and annoyance levels were higher than they should've been before any hint of the mess on Starbase 11 even started. I wouldn't be in Starfleet if I couldn't handle stress, but my inclination towards punching people in the face can make things difficult.

     It always starts with a storm. I was on duty when it hit, effortlessly throwing the ship and its occupants. Really makes you feel like you're nothing being tossed around by gods. Yellow alert started as the turbulence got worse. Nowak joined me when the ship switched to red alert. We exchanged a tense look. Any security redshirt knows ion storms were opportune times for mutiny. Hard to notice management changing when you're trying not to die. When the storm took out the gravity buffers, Nowak and I hung onto the hallway handles like windsocks. Something like a pulse of static nearly made me let go, but it was gone a moment later. Engineering got the buffers under control almost immediately—it is their job, after all—and I noticed that twitch of his lips as we dropped back to the floor.

     "Space really hates us lately, huh?" I said.

     "Sharp observation," he said, staring straight ahead as a yellowshirt rushed past.

     "Scared of a little storm?"

     "You know what Vulcans say about fear."

     I smirked. "It isn't real?"

     "It is real, just not rational."

     My head tilted as I considered him. "You were talking to your mom again, huh?"

     His shoulders relaxed, just a little. "It was the usual. I do understand that pressures from her stem from pressures by her family, expecting me to be a Vulcan while disregarding my human side."

     "Maybe she should stop treating you like a full Vulcan and more like... something else. I've heard Romulans are like emotional Vulcans."

     "Cobos, that is exactly what they are."

     My communicator buzzed. Marple's frequency. "Ensigns, remain on high alert. From your post you are to participate in a phase 1 search. If you see Lieutenant Commander Finney, report in immediately."

     I exchanged a look with Nowak. "Sir?"

     "Ion pod was jettisoned while he was on rotation, although it is unsure whether he was inside. Remember to report in if you see him."

     "Acknowledged. Out." I terminated the connection and side-eyed Nowak. "What's with Marple using the big words?"

     "I believe he is trying to appear professional for his advancement."

     "He has to know that doesn't work. You can't disguise inexperience."

     "Says the ensign."

     I snorted. "At least I acknowledge my weaknesses."

     "And talk back to senior officers."

     "Have you ever met an officer who advanced by kissing ass?" Nowak raised an eyebrow. "Fine, dumb question," I said. "But you don't reach captain that way."

     Nowak squared his shoulders, and I followed his lead for the next couple hours, during which time we saw redshirt patrols, all of whom checked whether we'd seen Finney. Soon after the fifth patrol, Marple called again.

     "Did you find—" I started.

     "Lieutenant Commander Finney is presumed dead. Remain on high alert until we reach Starbase 11. Out." The connection went dead.

     "Yessir," I said with a sigh. "Damn. First ion storm death of the year. Think they'll hold the funeral before we reach Starbase 11? I'd like to go, if you want to come. Never met him but someone's gotta care when you go, eh, Nowak?"

     "You have a good heart, Erin."

     "Awww, thanks. But you should stop praising me before my head becomes my centre of mass."

     "Acknowledging your weaknesses, I see." He made an odd gulp-gasp noise and reached to touch his throat. "Im—Impressive."

     A cold pit opened in my stomach. "Are you okay?'

     "I am... unsure." He coughed, the sound a bit too strangled.

     I laid a hand on his shoulder. There was an unmistakable crackle of static. "I can cover for you if you need med bay. Just go. I'll tell Marple."

     Nowak frowned. "Was that static? That is not supposed to build up, especially on a starship."

     "Yes, it's very weird, but you're the priority right now. Are you allergic to something? Is that what's wrong with your neck?" I went to touch it. My fingers were stopped an inch from his throat by something slick and cold I couldn't see. It moved under my fingers. My eyes widened. "Nowak, don't panic, but there's—"

     I saw the skin of his neck twist as it tightened. He startled, slamming against the munitions door.

     I drew my phaser. "Joseph, stay still, okay? Just try not to move." I made sure it was on stun and aimed at his neck. "Just try not to move."

     An icy hand wrapped around my throat from behind. "FUCK!" I screamed, lashing out with my phaser. It was effortlessly plucked from my hand and hurled at the wall. I watched my phaser shatter into a hundred pieces. "No, no, NO, N—" I choked as it tightened. I tried to get my hands under the bind around my neck. My chest bucked. In my fading peripheral, Nowak's head lolled, and he collapsed to the floor.

     My communicator buzzed at my belt.

     "Ensigns, we've reached Starbase 11, but you are to remain on high alert. Captain Kirk is being court-martialled for the death of Lieutenant Commander Finney. This may cause crew instability, so we're keeping Munitions guard at full strength for the time being." His voice briefly softened. I got a grip on the thing around my neck and grinned viciously. "I'm sorry, ensigns," Marple said, still oblivious. "I'll relieve one of you when I can. Over and—"

     I jerked my arms in a frenzied push-pull movement, shoving the bind around my throat and grabbing my communicator long enough to yell into it. "MARPLE, HELP—" The pressure abruptly left my throat and I sagged against the wall, gasping for breath.

     An invisible hand brushed my leg. I lurched to my feet and stumbled to Nowak, kicking wildly and connecting with a nest of unseen hands. What are they waiting for? I clenched my jaw and heaved the half-Vulcan over my shoulder. Whatever this was, it wasn't after munitions. It wanted us. We need to move.