Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic (14 page)

“Flame out?”

“Aye.”

“So you’re telling me we need some rubbish dilithium,” Vol said dubiously.

“Aye. And since there’s not enough left of
Intrepid
’s own supply, we’ll have to make some of that as well.” Scotty
ran a thumb through his mustache as he thought. “We can’t just replicate dilithium, but if we run some of our reserves through a transporter buffer and purposely allow the pattern to degrade, say by . . .” He turned to Rasmussen. “How pure was dilithium back in your day? In mine it was refined to 99.25% but it must have been more impure before.”

“I haven’t a clue,” Rasmussen admitted. “Never worked with the stuff. But I imagine you have historical files with all those handy-dandy details.”

“We do,” Brahms said.

“I think it would be wiser if Geordi and Leah looked into this downgrade,” Scotty said decisively. “You two go back to
Challenger
and give me dilithium of the appropriate impurity. Then get down to engineering so you can keep an eye on the power we’ll need to transfer to this warp core.”

“A jump-start?” Rasmussen commented appreciatively. “Nice.”

La Forge tapped his combadge.
“La Forge
to
Ente—Challenger.
Two to beam over.”

Brahms and La Forge materialized on the
Challenger
’s transporter pad, and nodded to the ensign on duty. “I think this should work,” La Forge was saying. “We direct suitable energy directly into the
Intrepid
’s power distribution system, and her own warp core should be able to take over pretty quickly.”

“Don’t count your chickens, Geordi. Let’s focus on the task at hand, and celebrate later.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic, Leah.”

“There is when it’s too far ahead. That’s always been your problem.” La Forge merely grunted. She was right about that. “When we get a response from
Intrepid
’s systems, then we can become hopeful.”

They walked into engineering, and La Forge called up the specs for twenty-second-century dilithium use. “98.47% purity ought to do it.”

Leah nodded. “I’ll get a supply of dilithium and adjust the transporter buffer settings.”

When the dilithium matrix materialized in
Intrepid
’s engine room, it took Vol only a few moments to install it. Having so many arms, Scotty reflected, was an advantage for an engineer. It would have taken him at least ten minutes. “There you go, Guv. All is smooth and sweatless.”

Scotty looked over the main board. “We’re receiving power from
Challenger.
Switch on the inducers, Reg. Let’s get that power cleared through into the new matrix.”

“Aye, sir.” As Vol pulled himself up to squat on top of the warp core, Barclay gently moved the main switches into their first position. Scotty listened expectantly for the sounds of a starship in good health, while Barclay and Rasmussen looked up, waiting. Nothing happened. “It’s not working.”

“Because you’re being as timid as a dormouse,” Vol said pointedly.

“I’m being cautious.”

“This doesn’t need caution, mate, it needs a boot up the backside.”

“You don’t have any boots,” Barclay mumbled.

“Look, mate, that’s neither here nor there. I’m telling you it’s all about power. Come on, give it some welly! More power!”

“I’m giving it all she’s got!”

“No, you bloody aren’t.” Vol reached a tentacle down and yanked the main switches. “Maximum power! Let’s shock her back to life.”

“You’re crazy! You could blow the whole—Oh, hang on, something’s happening.”

Vol turned a smug beige. “I told you. Power.”

“The master circuit’s showing energy . . . I’m getting some power flow . . .”

The lights set into
Intrepid
’s corridor walls at floor, ceiling, and middle height fluttered, beginning to glow dimly.

In engineering, a dull light, as gray and flickery as a cloudy sky before a storm, suffused the two-storey chamber and the long flattened cylinder of the main engine.

Sickbay brightened, becoming a little closer to the pristine white that it had once been, back when the ship was in service.

On the bridge, a few of the monitors that were still intact on the walls of the communications and engineering stations flashed into static-filled life.

Throughout the ship, gravity began to take hold, and objects that weren’t properly balanced began to fall, as did loose wall panels. The occasional bang and clatter through the corridors made people jump as if ghosts and specters had leapt out at them.

In engineering, Scotty slapped his combadge. “She’s alive, Geordi! And what a beauty she is!”

La Forge and Brahms could see what was happening in the master systems hologram, and Geordi had to agree that
Intrepid
was a beauty. So was Leah, he thought, as was the beatific smile that beamed across her features as she watched.

He was debating whether to give her a celebratory hug when she spun on her heel and hugged him first. It was
only for a second, but it felt like a day. “Is that a response, I see?” he asked.

“It’s a typical human response to a happy situation.”

“Okay.”

Scotty called everyone together for a quick lunch aboard the
Thames,
bringing La Forge, Brahms, and Qat’qa across. “What’s our first priority, Captain?” Barclay asked eagerly. He put his hands together, fingers interlocked, and cracked his knuckles like a concert pianist about to attempt a particularly difficult concerto.

“We’ll want access to the main computer, so that we can download their flight records, logs, anything that can shed a light on what happened to her back in 2161.”

“What about warp speed?”

“Let’s hang fire on that for now, Reg, just in case some kind of warp malfunction played a part in whatever it was that happened to her.”

“Uh, yeah, yes, sir.” Reg nodded, clearly embarrassed at not thinking of that particular caution himself.

“The main computer core cuts through D and E decks, if I remember correctly,” Rasmussen said, finally breaking his silence. Scotty and Barclay looked at him dubiously. While Scotty locked eyes with Rasmussen, Barclay glanced at his padd, scrolling through files. “Adjacent to the transporter on D deck, and in the center of the science labs on E deck, I think you’ll find it, Mister Barclay. On what I presume is a handy little schematic you’ve got in your files.” He smiled winningly.

Barclay looked up, nodding. “That’s right. The schematics on file agree with Mister Rasmussen.” Rasmussen smiled, and Scotty wondered if he was only imagining the hint of superiority ghosted through the expression. He hoped so,
because otherwise it looked like some of the arrogance La Forge had reported in him was starting to show through. “Well, Mister Rasmussen, it’s time to earn your keep.”

“My pleasure, Captain.”

Rasmussen led them through the cold and Spartan corridors, pointing out where the escape hatches and access panels were. In the armory, he was able to lift out some phase pistols and rifles, none of which worked. Scotty immediately had them transported back to the
Challenger.

The EV suits were looser than the ones used nowadays, but not too different. When it came to the catwalk over the warp coils, however, Rasmussen was less sure of himself, and it showed. “This section doesn’t look like anything I’d see without clearance, and I suspect it’s probably something that’s been borrowed from the Vulcans.”

“If that’s the case,” La Forge said, “there’ll be records in the Vulcan science archives. We shouldn’t have a problem requesting copies of the specs.”

“It won’t be Vulcan,” Brahms said immediately. “It’ll be a Harker-Wade patterned coil. They were used in all the later warp-five vessels.”

“But the plasma injectors will be of the T’Lani Bureau type,” La Forge said. “That’s a Vulcan design.”

“Only fitted to vessels in the 2164 refit,” Scotty added. “So they aren’t going to be on
Intrepid.”

Vol glowered a vague red. “I could arrange that, Guv. A full set of T’Lanis. And maybe replace the core with a new—”

“Vol,” Geordi said, “the object of the exercise is to restore
Intrepid—”

“Yeah, better than new, mate. Come on, Captain,” he urged, “let me at least upgrade the—”

“I’m sorry, Vol. Geordi’s right, we want to be restoring this beautiful old lady to her original condition, not turnin’
her into some kind of hybrid.” Vol turned a patchy gray, but didn’t say anything else.

When they reached the bridge, Qat’qa looked around. There were still no seats, and a lot of dented and missing control sections. “Are you going to want me to fly this?”

“If we can get the drive systems operational,” Scotty said.

“And how likely is that?”

“Columbia
’s systems were operable, but her condition was pretty different than this, going by the
Aventine
’s reports. But if we can, then, yes, you’d get first dibs to fly her.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

Geordi was surprised at her downbeat tone. “You don’t think it’d be pretty interesting to fly her? A challenge?”

“Interesting, yes, but a challenge? Hardly. Even at full spec she has no power compared to today’s vessels. A Korvallen freighter could outrun her.” The Klingon woman flicked a few switches on the battered helm, trying to gauge how complex—or otherwise—the controls were, and how comprehensive the range of maneuvers might be. “And don’t even get me started about what we could expect from the handling. It’d be easier to fly a brick.”

Scotty clapped her on the shoulder, and nodded sagely. “And since when did you ever fly anything easy?”

I
t was the morning briefing in main engineering aboard
Challenger,
and various engineering teams had been working all night on the
Intrepid.
“All right,” Brahms asked, presiding over the briefing, “what have we got so far?”

Barclay stepped forward. “We’ve got basic minimal
power generation from the warp matrix. Enough for lighting, environmental control, and intra-ship communications if the connectors weren’t fused. The computer is powered up, but not active.”

“Priorities? Apart from computer recovery.”

La Forge called up a hologram of the
Intrepid
and pointed out the headway they had been making. “I suggest we make drive startup our next priority. Aside from giving more security to the life support and environmental systems, it’ll be handy if we need to move the ship.”

“We’re also going to have to replace a lot of parts,” Barclay added, “especially on the bridge. Very few screens survived, and they’ll have to be replaced.”

“All the specs are in the database, so we should be able to replicate them.”

“Excellent.” Brahms turned off the display and handed everyone a padd. “Geordi, if you and Reg could take charge on the
Intrepid,
that’d be ideal. I’ll ask Mister Rasmussen if he has anything to add about the replication of replacement parts.”

As the group of engineers broke up, La Forge drew Brahms aside. “Leah, keep an eye on Rasmussen.”

“I’m old enough to choose my own clothes, Geordi, which means I’m old enough to decide who to talk to. Besides, he’s a surprisingly charming man.”

La Forge most definitely did not like the sound of that. “Well, after you’ve been charmed I’d recommend you check to make sure you still have all your belongings.”

“He’s reformed, Geordi.”

“I hope so.”

Geordi headed for the turbolift, and found Rasmussen already in it when it arrived. “Good morning, Commander La Forge!”

“Morning.” Rasmussen exited the turbolift, letting
La Forge in. Barclay and a few other engineers were waiting by the runabout
Clyde
when he reached the shuttlebay, as was Lieutenant Nog. La Forge was delighted to see the Ferengi, and walked straight over to him.

“Nog.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Are you taking a tricorder with you?”

“Yes, sir. I may be security chief, but I’m also an engineer at heart.”

“I’d like you to do something for me.”

“What kind of something?”

“Well, it’s not exactly an order, but . . .”

“It’s about Rasmussen, right?”

La Forge was relieved that Nog understood where he was going. “I’d like you to scan him for technological devices, both on leaving the
Challenger,
and returning.”

“You think he might steal something.” It wasn’t a question.

“I have to say he was something of a kleptomaniac when he visited the
Enterprise.”

“He has been rehabilitated.”

“If you can say that like you actually believe it, I’ll rescind my request.”

“I don’t believe it, sir. Not with him. I mean, I know rehabilitation has a good record, and a person is innocent until proven guilty, but . . .”

“But . . . ?”

“He reminds me of my uncle Quark’s business associates.” Nog looked around, as if afraid of an eavesdropper. “To tell you the truth, sir, I’ve already been scanning him discreetly, every trip.”

“Has he kept his nose clean?”

“As far as I can tell. I scanned him several times, and he hasn’t stolen anything.” Nog looked uncomfortable. “Sir, I . . .”

“Go on.”

“I feel a little . . . guilty about this. It’s exactly the kind of harassment that Security Chief Odo used to put my father and my uncle under on Deep Space 9. I’m not sure I can keep on doing it.”

“Thanks anyway, Nog.”

Berlinghoff Rasmussen was a little disappointed that the
Challenger
’s engineers hadn’t replicated any of the phase pistols, which looked a lot more businesslike than the phasers their security teams carried, but he was impressed by how perfect the replacement panels and chairs for
Intrepid
were. They looked like they had slid off a production line in 2160.

He debated with himself whether to try to impress Doctor Brahms with his adulation of the work, but decided against it. Geordi La Forge disliked him enough as it was, and he didn’t want to give the guy any more excuse to keep an eye on him. He settled instead for electing to accompany the new furniture to
Intrepid.