It Wasn't Going to Be That Easy

[Cmdr Ba'alyo 0]

It wasn't going to be that easy.

 

First, he didn't really know what he was doing. It would have been easier if he knew he was Ryan Leslie, a Lieutenant Commander and duty officer in charge of the bridge's night shift. But it wasn't going to be that easy.

 

Two hours ago, he'd woken up, finding himself stretched over a console in front of a large blank viewscreen. The circular room he was in had a lot of computer stations embedded in the walls around him. Most had people slumped over them or in chairs beside them. The room was dark, bathed only in red light. Several displays showed red blinking lights and warnings.

 

Almost immediately, he realized he had no idea where he was. Distracted, he heard someone moan behind him and saw a man getting up from the metal floor, just beyond a curved railing. The man glanced around, looking similarly disoriented, and stumbled down a step into the center of the room. He swiveled a large, empty chair and dropped into it, rubbing his head.

 

It hadn't taken long to determine the other man was just as confused as he was. Only after trying to introduce himself did he finally realize: he didn't know who he was.

 

They tried to take in their surroundings. The large display in the back of the room showed they were on a ship called the USS Challenger. Other lights and warnings made it clear something bad had happened. A few key presses brought the lighting back to normal. It would have been easier if Leslie could remember his many years of sitting at a bridge engineering console. But it wasn't going to be that easy.

 

They did a quick check of the other men and women around them, finding them unconscious, but uninjured. There was a frantic moment when they'd found one who had turned blue, but after trying to clear his airway, they'd found he was still breathing. After finding antenna on his head, noting the coolness of his body, and seeing the deep blueness of his skin they'd come to the conclusion that the man wasn't human. And yet, this didn't seem strange to either of them.

 

The displays around them had titles like "Communications," "Science," and "Engineering," which suggested they were in the ship's control room or command center. The console he'd been laying on turned out to be "Helm" and "Navigation." They tried talking to the computer, but it only told them the memory banks were offline.

 

It was a surprise when the woman showed up. Some kind of access panel popped open on the floor between the helm and the viewscreen, and she emerged, leveling some sort of weapon. She was dressed like they were, in some kind of uniform, which was something he hadn't really noticed about everyone in the room.

 

It seemed like they should do something to get things fixed, but how could they know if they weren't doing more harm than good? They each assessed different consoles. Together, they learned there were multiple hull breaches, compromised shields, and bulkheads isolating damaged areas. Warp power and weapons were offline, but the ship was being powered by something called impulse engines. The computer core and communications seemed to be offline, but thrusters worked.

 

It looked like they'd been attacked, but if so, why was there no sign of intruders? Why was no one shooting at them, trying to finish them off? It was the woman who made the next connection: If someone had crippled them, they might be back; it was up to the three of them to try and get the ship working.

 

The other man had suggested getting warp power online, but the display showed Main Engineering was many levels below them on Deck 19. They would have to split up, but who should go?

 

It was only then they noticed the few things that were different about their uniforms. The man in the center had a shoulder strap and turtleneck that were white, while Leslie's and the woman's were gray. Glancing around, they saw gold and green collars on some of the unconscious people. More importantly, the three of them had a decorative pin on their shoulder, but they weren't the same either. The man in the center had one that was more ornate, with three gold bars across it. Leslie noticed his own was box-shaped, with two inward-pointing chevrons, and a single gold bar. The woman had two small triangles, tipped with gold. There was no way of telling what these meant, but it seemed obvious the man in the center was in charge. That suggested who should stay and who should go.

 

They studied the large Master Situation Display, noticing the pattern of gangways and tubes that interlaced the ship. Going first, Leslie lowered himself onto the rungs that would lead them to engineering. The woman followed. He could only hope that somehow, they could remember what to do, find someone who did, or locate instructions. He had no way of drawing on the extensive cross-training he'd received on almost every engineering and security system of this class. No, it wasn't going to be that easy.

 

Descending as the woman closed the hatch above them, Leslie almost stepped on someone coming up the rungs.

 

"Uh, hello?" came the voice below.

 

Leslie returned the greeting, glad to see another face, even if it wasn't familiar. He had no way of knowing he'd just run into Dr. Michael Poldara, but this time, it wouldn't have made things any easier.

 

And it wasn't going to get that way anytime soon.