A Fine Mess- Ch. 6

A Fine Mess

By Chianna

PG - Action/Adventure/Romance
Disclaimers in part one

Chapter 6

Problems Left Unsolved Can Come Back and Bite ‘Ya...

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Tucker had tried just about everything he could. He and Malcolm had been up and down every inch of the relays and power grids for the three phase cannons. They just had to be missing something. Enterprise had experienced two more power fluctuations and the intensity of the power drain was increasing.

He distractedly wiped the sweat that was threatening to run into his eyes. At times like this he felt like a tunnel rat crawling around the cramped Jeffries tubes. Chasing down these phantom fluctuations like looking for some elusive cheese. Malcolm was not in much better shape. It was fairly easy to tell when the Lieutenant was getting to the end of his tether.

Malcolm...would...start...to...talk...in...very...clipped...precise...sentences. Trip could almost hear his friends voice in his head. Wait. Nope, he thought, I think that’s the real thing coming.

"Bloody...Damn... Hell... Haven’t you found the problem yet? We’ll reach the rendezvous point in less than an hour."

Tucker realized that Malcolm, pushed beyond the point of "clipped & precise," had achieved just plain caged-bear-poked-with-stick irritated. Probably not good to get caught with the stick in his hand. Probably better to play this straight - the whole, empathetic caring senior officer bit. Maybe he could avoid let’n Malcolm in on the fact that he was at his wit’s end too.

"Mmmm, actually no such luck. I take it there’s no clue in the system’s diagnostic reports?" Trip questioned as he inched his way back down the tube to the opening near engineering. He’d willingly follow any clue now. He was flat out‘ta ideas himself.

Malcolm heard the exhaustion in the chief engineer’s voice. He felt even worse when Tucker backed out of the tube opening and faced the armory officer. His hair was stuck in sweat-wet spikes to his forehead. Dark circles were evidence of the commander’s relentless pursuit of the problem.

Frustration and commiseration were more the order of the day, Malcolm reflected. He took a deep breath and reviewed the exasperating path of his and T’Pol’s lack of progress.

"We simply can not find a common denominator. Sometimes the engines are accelerating or decelerating, or maybe we’re changing heading. And the combinations of ships systems being utilized are never the same. One time the environmental system had kicked into an air purifying cycle, the next time it was when we opened the shuttle bay doors to deploy a sensor buoy. It defies any logical explanation"

"Don’t tell me T’Pol said that?" Trip quipped. He’d smile if he didn’t think it ‘a make his face hurt like the rest of him.

"No. Actually she said that once we eliminated all the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, must be the truth." Malcolm could see Trip’s grin widen. The lieutenant followed this up with exaggerated annoyance, which earned him a tired chuckle from the commander, "Can you believe that she quoted Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to ME?"

"Hell." Trip replied. "If Sherlock Holmes could find a clue to what’s wrong, I’d gladly hand him a spanner and tell him to have at it." Drawing his hand shakily through his hair, Tucker added, "I’m gonna get cleaned up a bit. Meet ya’ on the bridge to look over those reports. Maybe what this problem needs is a few irrational human-type leaps in logic."

On the bridge, Ensign Mayweather was checking sensor readings. The captain had ordered reduced speed so as to not draw any unwanted attention to their approach. Travis estimated that they were about ten minutes away from meeting with the San’Jeen. Hopefully the Vulcan’s would pick up on why the Enterprise chose to approach without the customary hail.

Soon, the San’Jeen was picked up on the bridge’s view screen. Archer could not hold back a whistle of shock at the condition of the San’Jeen. They were obviously still venting plasma from one of the warp propulsion units. Scorch marks were starkly evident on the rust red hull of the Vulcan science vessel. The evidence was plain that the smaller vessel had put of a valiant defense. It simply was not designed for a fight.

As Travis smoothly pulled even with the San’Jeen, Archer noted that Trip had returned to the bridge and was making his way to the remote engineering station. Archer sent a wordless query to his friend who replied with a simple resigned shake of his head.

Damn, Archer thought. They had yet to nail down the phase cannon problem. Events were moving too fast right now. They’d have to concentrate on what the San’Jeen’s captain needed them to do. He’d take Trip with him to the San’Jeen, even though they might refuse his services. Malcolm and T’Pol would have to carry on until at least they were underway again toward their final destination.

Archer briskly requested over the comm. "Archer to sickbay."

"Phlox here, Captain"

"Dr. Phlox, I’d like you to join Trip and I in the shuttle bay. I’m think’n your expertise will be called on before we’ve left the San’Jeen. Archer out."

"Acknowledged, Captain."

Trip waited until they were off the bridge before he questioned Jon. He had occasionally challenged the Captain and when thinking it over worried sometimes that he took advantage of their friendship and more often then not, the captain’s patience.

"Capt’n, don’t ya’ think that T’Pol would be more appropriate than me, ta’ go over to the San’Jeen?" Trip had seen T’Pol’s raised eyebrow when the captain had named his team. Course, she rarely ever interrupted or questioned Jon’s decisions. Maybe she concluded that I couldn’t do any more damage to the Vulcan ship than what had already been done, he mused.

Archer’s reply interrupted Trip’s thoughts on the subcommander’s motives. "Trip, you’re my chief engineer. We’ll make the gesture even if it’s not appreciated. Besides, if we’re ever going to prove to the Vulcan’s that we’ve grown up, we can’t always use T’Pol as our buffer." They proceeded to their destination, little aware that events were leading them to a rescue of planetary, rather than simply ship, proportions.

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Continued in Chapter 7
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