Getting Outta Dodge

Posted on Wed Nov 26th, 2025 @ 2:50pm by Lieutenant Mark Cross

Mission: Aeon's End
Location: -Unknown-
Timeline: When Hope Faded...
1136 words - 2.3 OF Standard Post Measure

The enemy were relentless. Indefatigable. Indescriminate killers, or so it seemed.

A famous boxer from the 20th Century once said that everyone has a plan until they're punched in the face. The Federation showed a united front, Starfleet stayed true to it's principles, but as chains of command began to erode, it was a sign that maybe the writing was on the wall.

"Calm down, I'm trying to help you!"

Mark had to physically shake off the scared civilian who had clung to his Starfleet uniform, and by extension, him, so he could go back to re-routing the EPS conduit in front of him. His fix was far from permanent, and even further from what would be considered textbook, but it would hold, and that was all that mattered.

No sooner had he completed the connection, another hand tugged at his sleeve. This time he whirled around on his heels.

"I'll get you to safety, but you NEED to let me work."

He understood, of course. The Final Imperitive had stricken this civilian transport and seemingly left the people within to drift until life support failed. They were beyond scared, panic-stricken, and all they wanted was to get home. They had families, lives they wanted to get to. This ship had no tactical importance. That was, of course, unless they knew Starfleet would be come to their rescue.

The USS Athena heeded the call, and he was their boots on the ground.

"Lieutenant, what can I do next?"

The young Andorian, Telar, was tasked with keeping the ship together hadn't trained for this extent of damage, and to his credit, nobody should have expected him to need the skills either. Mark took out his tricorder, tapping away at the buttons to adjust the settings.

"See how I've bypassed this conduit? Take my tricorder, follow the power lines, and copy my configuration if it gets blocked. I'm going to get the warp drive back online."

The warp core was a sickly beast. Mark had gotten to the point now where he thought even looking at it funny might make it give up entirely. Plasma flow flickered in uneven pulses, the reaction chamber groaning under the strain in a way he'd only ever heard during training simulations, usually right before the instructor paused the program and cheerfully announced that everyone was now dead.

"Alright, old girl," he muttered, sliding down the ladder into the cramped engineering pit. "Just give me ten minutes of not dying. That’s all I’m asking."

The core didn’t answer, unless a worrying sputter counted as an objection.

He cracked open an access panel and winced. Burned-out regulators. Half-melted plasma constrictors. A coupling that looked like it had been installed by someone with mittens on. It'd be a miracle if the whole assembly didn't blow them into atoms the moment he’d tried powering it up.

Mark reached in, hands steady because someone had to be, and began stripping scorched components, dropping them onto the deck with metallic clatters that echoed louder than they should have. A low buzz vibrated through the chamber. The pressure was building. Too fast.

“Come on… come on…” He glanced toward the bulkhead as another distant impact shuddered through the hull. The attack had stopped some time ago, the impact he suspected was former parts of the ship colliding with it, as if trying to reattach themselves, but with the shields gone, each hit was significant.

He tore out a fused coil, replaced it with a spare ripped from a secondary junction, then manually forced the magnetic interlocks back into alignment. Sparks spat at him, prickly heat against his skin, but he ignored them, pressing on.

“Mark!” Telar’s voice called down from the hatch. “We’ve got hull breaches on decks three and four! Whatever you’re doing-”

“I’m keeping us alive, that’s what I’m doing!” Mark snapped back, more harshly than he intended. Working under strain was part of the job, but he knew this was a race against time. He took a breath, softened his tone. “Just keep those conduits clear. If you see plasma leaking, don’t touch it. Don’t even look at it too hard.”

The Andorian disappeared again. Good kid. Terrified out of his mind, and very much out of his depth, but he wasn't giving up either.

Mark patched the last connection, bridging it with two power couplings and what amounted to the engineering equivalent of paper clips and bubble gum. The readings stabilised, barely, but stabilised nonetheless. He slapped the side of the chamber, as if reassuring a skittish animal.

“Okay. Now… let’s see if she actually wants to move.”

He scrambled back up the ladder, slid into the half-melted control station, and keyed in a manual start-up. The core rumbled, lights flickered, and an angry klaxon screamed at him to reconsider his life choices.

“Not helpful,” he muttered, silencing the alarm. The warp coils engaged with a reluctant thrum, like they were insulted by the very idea of functioning.

Then, mercifully, the drive steadied. The steady, almost hypnotic thrum he was used to returned.

Soothing, even in such dire consequences.

A shallow, shaky breath escaped him.

“We’ve got warp,” he called out, more to convince himself than anyone else. “I think. Telar? Meet me on the bridge.”

The 'bridge' was a short hop from engineering. A short hop from most everywhere on the small transport, allowing access to ship functions for a barebones crew to operate. The crew, either injured or killed, had vacated, and when the young man scurried up behind Mark, they found themselves alone.

"You got it working? How."

"Improvisation. And a prayer or two..." Mark admitted, as he wiped his grubby hands on his uniform jacket. "Enough to limp us to safety."

"Thanks, Mark."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Telar. Cross to Athena. One to beam up. I'm sorry about this, buddy."

Telar shot Mark a quizzical look, followed by sudden surprise. Cross ripped off his comm badge, clapping the young man firmly on the shoulder, leaving the badge in place. The Lieutenant watched as the Andorian began to dematerialise in front of his eyes, effectively taking his place, before immediately reaching over the nearest console, punching the transport to warp.

"I did say limp 'us' to safety, not you..."

He assumed the Athena would find a job for Telar. He'd been useful, and if Starfleet doesn't completely fall apart? He'd go far.

He hoped the distraction would give them enough time to get away.

He hoped even more they had bigger fish to fry than chasing down one lone deserter at a time like this.

Was it the right call? Probably not. But he knew a sinking ship when he saw one, and he wanted off...