"L"

[Joe Manning 0]

"Eleventh of August, 2405, 1300 hours ... "

 

"The Monitor continues to drift through the Corpsis asteroid field on minimal and rapidly dwindling backup power reserves. The medical staff is distributing emergency oxygen tanks among the crew to supplement the ship's failing supply, and we are utilizing our phasers to heat the ship's gel packs for warmth. In light of the extraordinary circumstances which my crew now faces, I have made a very difficult and undoubtedly controversial decision ... "

 

Captain Marie Gilardi surveyed the faces of the gathered crew -- the bridge staff as well as ranking officers from below decks -- as she emerged from the Ready Room. Many were concealed behind the hoods of parkas that had been taken from the away mission lockers. Shadows fell across their features as the lights flickered for lack of sufficient power. For Captain Gilardi, the looks on those faces did not need to be clearly visible. She could sense the concern of every member of her crew; it was echoed in her own concern.

 

Commander Worden stood from the command chair and took his place beside the Captain. There was tense silence as the crew waited for news. Hope was dwindling fast; they needed a positive development to hold onto.

 

"As many of you are already aware," the Captain began. "The senior staff has convened to discuss our current situation and a consensus has been reached. At exactly 1242 hours, Monitor's distress beacon was activated ... "

 

A wave of gasps and mumbles made its way through the assemblage. The command staff waited for the din to settle down before Commander Worden continued, "It was the judgment of the senior staff that this was our only recourse. The last engagement crippled us. We do not have the capability to survive a warp jump to the nearest friendly outpost, and our engineers will not be able to affect the needed repairs before our life support runs out ... "

 

"In short," Captain Gilardi said. "We need help. We've put the call out for a rescue and we're confident that one of our own ships will arrive to transport the crew before the life support fails. Unfortunately, Monitor herself will very likely be beyond retrieval." For the first time, the Captain allowed the pain of the situation to reflect itself on her face. Even under the most favorable of circumstances, the ship that she had commanded for twelve years would be lost.

 

One of the officers tentatively stepped forward from the rest -- Ensign Torul, an assistant tactical officer. He asked the one question that was on every officer's mind. "Captain ... Commander ... what if the enemy picks up our distress signal first?"

 

"That is the risk involved in our decision, Ensign," the Captain replied. "And it is a risk we have decided we are willing to take. Lieutenant Jensen will be overseeing the placement of our remaining torpedoes throughout the surrounding asteroid field. If the enemy approaches, we will detonate them to give ourselves a chance at survival. It is a slim hope ... but, at the worst, we will at least take a few of them down with us ... "

 

The officers all looked as if they were attending their own funerals. They were Starfleet, however, and would remain resolute. These were the officers who joined the Fleet after the war began, or the few pre-war recruits who remained even as so many resignations and transfers were taking place around them. They were here because of their beliefs in the ideals they were fighting for, and those beliefs would not be shaken even by the realization that they may have to die for them. Captain Gilardi was proud of every one of them, and if Monitor was to make an end here, she would be glad to count herself among them.

 

* * * * *

 

Captain Gilardi handed the PADD back to the young engineer and dismissed her with an encouraging nod. She looked over at her first officer, Commander Worden, seated to her right. He was staring ahead at Monitor's viewscreen, but there was a distant expression on his face. He wasn't frightened; Gilardi knew enough about her young first officer to know that much. But as she observed the deep contemplation in his eyes, she was reminded of how little she knew about Kevin Worden.

 

Worden had only been assigned to Monitor five months ago -- crew manifests were anything but steady these days -- and he never offered much about his personal life. There was no question he was a fine officer, and he was brave in battle without being reckless or emotional, good qualities in these bleak times. There wasn't much point to inquiry beyond the professional assets, what with the increasingly turbulent nature of Starfleet rosters. This war, perhaps more than any other in the Federation's history, had a tendency to ensure that friendships did not last long.

 

Still, as the inevitable crept upon the Corpsis asteroid field and the crew of 118 hiding within, the Captain wondered if she would never get the chance to know her first officer better. "What's on your mind, Kevin?" she asked, drawing a surprised look. She only used first names when she wanted to make it clear that the discussion was to be personal and off the record; she deeply regretted that such informality had become increasingly rare in recent years. "Family back home?"

 

"No family," Worden answered, humoring his commanding officer -- no doubt she'd reviewed such information in his personnel files -- but thankful for the opportunity to talk in any event. "There was never time to settle down even before all this started. Raised to be an officer and all; Fleet runs in the family. Actually ... I was thinking about my sister just now."

 

Gilardi smiled. "She an officer as well?"

 

"No," Worden chuckled. He loosened the top of his parka and reached inside to pull out a thin gold chain with a locket on the end. He opened the locket and showed Gilardi a picture of a young woman; the resemblance between the siblings was noticeable. "She became a businesswoman, against our father's wishes. She was interning with a corporation that was going to spearhead a big colonization movement when ... " A shadow fell over his face. "This was recovered from the wreckage at Aldebaran. She and her fiance were there when the Beholders attacked."

 

The Captain was legitimately surprised. Worden's file mentioned a deceased sister, but none of the details were provided. "Aldebaran was one of the first colonies hit. Kevin, I had no idea you had family there. I'm sorry."

 

"I've kept her close ever since," Worden smiled at the Captain, closing the locket and tucking it back inside his parka. He looked back at the blank viewscreen. "I can't help but think ... how would she feel about all of this? About this war? Seeing as how she was there at the beginning ... how she lost her life to the Beholders."

 

Gilardi stared silently at her first officer. There were no easy answers to questions like that. The Commander's was even more difficult. Knowing he had a sister who'd lost her life on Aldebaran, she was surprised that he was here on Monitor ...

 

A console at the back of the Bridge beeped loudly and everyone looked up from their stations and back at the tactical officers, Jensen and Torul. "Proximity alert sounding, Captain," Jensen reported. Gilardi and Worden were both on their feet. "Three ships on approach."

 

"On screen," Gilardi ordered and looked at the viewscreen. Three vague shapes could be seen beyond the cloud of asteroids. Every pair of eyes on the Bridge was trained on the viewscreen, the tension mounting as they awaited judgement. "Zoom in, Mr. Jensen, let's get a clearer picture."

 

"Diverting as much power to sensors as I can spare," Jensen replied. The view slowly focused on the three ships, almost near the edge of the asteroid field already, sweeping the field with their own sensors to locate the source of the distress signal.

 

They were all Starfleet ships. Two Akira class, one showing minor amounts of hull damage, flanking a mighty Sovereign class cruiser. Commander Worden inhaled sharply at the sight.

 

"Can we make out the designation on that Sovereign, Jensen?" the Captain asked.

 

"It's the ... " the tactical officer tapped his console several times, then looked up slowly. "Constantine."

 

Gilardi looked back at the tactical station. She immediately noticed the look on young Ensign Torul's face. Torul was the one who'd asked about the contingency no one wanted to face -- what if the enemy picked up the distress signal. For Torul, the contingency was more personal than anyone could have imagined. "Constantine ... " he feebly repeated Jensen. "Th ... that's the ship my brother is on."

 

The Captain looked back at the viewscreen. The three ships were well within the boundary of the asteroid field, navigating the celestial debris even as they scanned the crippled Monitor. In these times, it just didn't pay to ask officers about their personal lives. Loyalty issues aside, it just made hard decisions even harder. She looked at Worden standing beside her. He simply nodded back at her with a look of grim acceptance on his face. "Lieutenant Jensen," she said without looking away.

 

" ... Captain ... "

 

"Detonate the torpedoes."