Saving Sato

             She cried out, falling to the ground face first. Jonathan ducked behind the table and concentrated on Hoshi’s injury. She’d been hit in the back.

            “Hoshi!”

            “I can’t move, Admiral,” she uttered. He hustled off his jacket and covered her injury.

            “Stay still.”  He dug his communicator out of a pocket but before he could signal Endeavour it beeped in his hand. “Archer.”

            “Admiral, there’s a ship in orbit that we didn’t detect before.” He didn’t recognize the voice. Jamison? French? “It’s an Orion vessel.”

            “Damn. Damn! There’s been phaser fire down here, Commander Sato is injured. She needs medical attention, now.”

            “I’ll have her transported up now, Admiral.”

            “No, she can’t be moved. Get a medic down here now! And disable that Orion ship. I don’t want them getting away. We’re trapped here, Shran, Subin, we’re taking fire!”

            “Understood!”

            The Vulcans transported out a few moments later. Archer heard Shran give the order to transport them all.

            “Shran, we can’t go, my commander is hurt.”

            “You can’t stay here, Archer. It’s an ambush!”  More phaser fire streaked across the room blasting some rock to small bits that flew up and rained down.

            “Get out of here,” Archer insisted, crouched below the table for protection. “And get those Orions if you can!”

            “Orions?!?” Shran shouted.

            More phaser fire, and suddenly a small grenade lobbed through a decayed part of the wall behind the Andorians. Orange and red flames lit the room for a split second, knocking everyone to the ground who wasn’t already there. In a couple moments, the Andorians had transported out. A moment passed, and the silence was more disturbing than the clamor and blasts. A faint, shrill buzz of electricity accompanied a sparkle of blue and white light.

            “Get down!” Archer shouted, not realizing that it was Riaan’s arm he’d grabbed until after he’d wrenched her to the ground. “What are you doing here?”

            “You called for a doctor!”

            “Yes, but-” nevermind that! “She’s been hit, she can’t move.”

            “Hoshi, where do you hurt?” Riaan asked the only other mother on Endeavour. Riaan gently tapped her along the spine from her shoulders down until she reacted with a yelp. In the light of a dying flame, Jonathan and Riaan gently slid Hoshi under the table, keeping more stone fragments from falling on her.

            “Archer, Archer, at last I’ve found you, and alive.”

            The admiral looked up from his corner behind the table. Harrad-Sar stood looming tall in his leather clothes and assorted metal components, some jewelry, some bionic fittings. More than 200 cms tall, and at maybe even 200 kilos heavy, his grin nearly spanned his whole face as he raised a phase pistol to Archer’s face.

            Harrad-Sar was more of an inconvenience than a threat to Archer. While Riaan and Hoshi stayed low, he rose to his feet, standing tall but still only reaching the green man’s chin.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “I heard you were on that little planet, a couple of my associates, of course, are quite astute. The Syndicate still wants your head, Archer. I could traipse dilithium and thorium for a year for the kind of money you can buy for me.”

            “You’ve injured my officer, and I need to get her back. So if you are looking for money there’s an easier way-“

            “It’s not the money, Archer. There’s a reputation at stake. Yours, of course, and mine.”

            “I don’t have time for this.” He raised his phase pistol at Harrad-Sar’s chest, touching the tip right to his solar plexus. At least he suspected that might be where the damage would be. A second later, four more Orions appeared behind Harrad-Sar, each bearing a phase rifle pointed at Archer.

             “Let them go back to the ship, take me where you want to take me, but let them go back to the ship,” he half pleaded, half insisted.

            “I think not,” Harrad-Sar replied with a grin.

            “Why not?”

            “Because you wish it,” the black-green lips said.

            “I thought you were a bigger man than that, Harrad-Sar.” Archer shook his head slowly. Behind him Commander Sato lay on the ground half paralyzed; Riaan held Hoshi’s hand, tightly.

            “I’m a reasonable man, Archer. I understand you care about your crew. You can always get another doctor, another officer for your ship.”

            “Your compassion is underwhelming.”

            “Your injured crewman can go. You and your doctor stay.”

            “They go together!” he insisted, lifting his phaser. Four green thugs each took a step closer to Archer, holding their weapons at the ready. Each rifle glinted a little despite the dim lighting.

            “I suppose I don’t have to let any of you go,” Harrad-Sar declared.

            “Jonathan, I can stabilize her for transport.”

            “You see, Archer, your doctor understands.”

            Defeated, at least temporarily, Archer nodded to Riaan and she quickly took a few items from her medical kit and attended to her closest friend. The Orions waited patiently, weapons trained on both Archer and Riaan. After a couple of injections, Riaan nodded to Jonathan and he carefully took out his communicator. It made a few chirps when he flipped it open.

            “Archer to Endeavour.”

            “Endeavour, Admiral, go ahead.”

            “Mitchell?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Good to hear your voice. Please transport Sato to the ship and have a medical team standing by.”

Subin and Shran

Demilitarization

            “You really didn’t expect me to hold a negotiation on Andoria after being attacked by Orions?”

            “This planet is a virtual wasteland.” Subin, the Vulcan negotiator, stood in front of Archer while they waited for the Andorian representative to join them on the surface. “We are not in the habit of making treaties in the middle of nature.”

            “You marry in the outdoors, you hold your religious ceremonies outdoors, don’t tell me this place is any less suitable than Vulcan or Andoria. It also has the distinction of being private and neutral.”

            “Very well. I have no objection to these ruins for our conference. I would like some appropriate furniture, however, to be beamed down. I’d prefer not to sit on a rock.”

            “By all means,” Archer replied. He knew Subin from the Coalition of Planets charter conferences; he had one associate with him. Archer stood with Commander Sato, and after a few moments, while the furniture beamed in, two Andorians also transported to the surface. Commander Shran and Archer had known each other more than a decade. The Andorian had helped Starfleet when the Vulcans didn’t during the Xindi War. Archer had helped Shran rescue his child who’d been kidnapped. Although there had been some unpleasant situations early on, they soon realized that they were two of a kind, and working together had been an advantage to both of them.

            Given few choices, the party set up in a large abandoned structure, only a single story high. It appeared as if it might get sunlight for most of the daytime, however long that might be. The orange star gave off enough light and heat, but humans and Vulcans both brought additional outerwear. The Andorians felt it was tolerable, and thus the process began.  And it went on. And it went on all day into the night.   

“That’s the concession. It may not happen tonight, or tomorrow, or even next year. But both worlds must abandon their militaries for 10 Earth years. The Federation will be your neutral military.”

“It’s preposterous!” Shran insisted, pounding his fist on the table. “You know that the Imperial Guard will never agree.”

“You have to convince them, “Archer insisted, sitting calmly at the end of the table. “Didn’t you come prepared to negotiate on their behalf?” He looked over at Subin. Raising his brows and tilting his head, he waited to hear if cooperation would come from their government through Subin.

“Since the dissolution of the High Command, I believe this might be a solution Vulcan can embrace. However, a 10 year hiatus may leave our technology far behind compared to other worlds.”

“Really,” echoed Shran’s sarcastic remark. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“With the High Command dissolved,” Archer said to Shran, “we’ve seen a significant change in the cooperation and transparency of the Vulcan government. I think this might be the only solution. I am authorized to speak on behalf of Starfleet. This is it, or you two can just keep fighting and forget about the Federation - .”

“We have had a space militia for centuries, Archer! You can’t possibly expect that to be a reasonable solution for us. For the emotionless scientists, of course they can, but this is our way of life. There would be no Earth right now if it wasn’t for our military.”

“We haven’t forgotten. We’ve also come a long way in 10 years.  Militia was Earth’s way of life, too. And if Vulcans can agree to disarm, Andorians can also.  On Earth there are ruins, just like these we sit in,” he explained, spreading his arms as if encompassing the stones and ruins. “Civilizations must change, or, over and over, they will die out, be taken over by disease or war, ad infinitum.”

            “I will take proposal this to the Imperial Command. I’m not sure how it will be received, but I am willing to take it, if they are.” Shran sat down, slowly.

            “I will recommend Starfleet’s suggestion, if it will result in the neutral border we desire.”

            “What about the border Andoria wants?”

            “Gentlemen, please, we’ve made progress. Let’s not start all over again.” Archer covered his face with his hand, hoping both of them would just call it a night. “Can we break open something to celebrate and get back to the ships? I’m starting to get a chill down here.”

            “It’s quite comfortable for us,” Shran said with a wicked smile. His antennae peered forward, and he nodded at his associate. He looked at Subin.

            “I am ready-“

            Blaster fire discharged outside the building and blasted into the room! Splotches of fire burned on and around the table. Everyone jumped from their chairs and scattered while another round of fire penetrated through the windows. No longer was the room cool but hot with flames.  Smoke and sparks filled the room. Laser fire shot through the middle of the room. Archer and Sato hit the ground. Another volley of fire seemed aimed at them. Archer pulled his sidearm and scanned the chamber from behind the table. A streak of light shot across the table hitting Commander Sato.

Caffeine and Constellations

            “So what now? We are on our way to a new planet, the injuries are being treated, the engines are under repair.”

            “Yes, so now I prepare for a negotiation between Andorians and Vulcans. Must find something they have in common and go from there. Border dispute.” He spoke absentmindedly, looking at Riaan, wishing the table was not covered in plates and food that separated them. “In the meantime, it’s just a matter of recreation and ship repairs, maintenance – movies, games, reading. The crew will take us where we need to go at the best speed they can.”

            The two ate in silence for a short time. Archer thought about the border dispute. Vulcans and Andorians squabbling again over something they should be able to resolve without him having to spend his time playing parent to these children yet again. They wanted a neutral, demilitarized zone, but an Andorian space station was in the zone the Vulcans wanted. Five light years from Vulcan, a white dwarf supported a single comet with a 60 AU orbit. An ice world, the Andorians had some unfathomable interest in it that Archer didn’t understand.

            “We can’t go to Andoria,” Archer said aloud to himself. “We can’t go to Andoria,” he repeated, to Riaan this time. He stood up and tapped the intercom to the bridge.

            “Archer to the bridge.”

            “Bridge, Admiral,” Sato answered.

            “All stop. Locate the nearest star with planets and set a course. I’m on my way.”

            “Well, actually, after you left Akal I found myself intrigued by the stars, and space. I wanted to study it, but there just wasn’t much to learn in our library, or even at the University. I am just a scientist of geology, biology, astronomy; I can’t stop learning. ”

            “Since I was younger than Brannigaan the only thing I ever thought about was going to deep space. My father was the engineer at Earth’s Warp Five complex. My family was very close with the man who developed transporting, and his whole family. It was the only choice for me.”

            Riaan and Jonathan talked over their dinner in the captain’s dining room. Brannigaan had become quite fond of Commander Sato’s daughter, Mai. The eight-year old was precocious, and quite a fixture on the ship. Until Brannigaan arrived, she was the only child on Endeavour.

            “I cataloged all the things I could map in the sky. Once I started looking, it was almost as if I couldn’t stop looking!”

            “The sky looks different on Earth than it does on Akal. All kinds of myths and stories are told about the patterns the stars make in the sky. People believed that the stars showing when you were born determined your personality. They used to think that the planet was the center of the universe. But people kept looking, and started to figure it out. It’s a big galaxy; it takes a lot of time to figure it all out.”

            The steward brought a pot of coffee into the dining room and cleared away the remaining dishes.

            “I’m not so fond of this drink, even though it smells as if it should taste good. Why do so many of you like it?” she asked Jonathan.

            “It’s an acquired taste. More of a social beverage, I think” He tapped a button on the intercom behind him. “Would you bring in a pot of black tea, please?” He gave Riaan a wink from across the table, and poured a coffee anyway for himself. “It has a chemical that raises the blood pressure, helps keep people awake when their body would rather sleep.”

            “Caffeine. I’ve read about it.” The steward brought in a pot of steaming hot water and several assorted black teas in a basket. “I can see why it might be helpful. It’s addicting, though.”

            “Yes, and there’s caffeine in black tea, as well, but not as much,” Jonathan told her. He leaned over the table a little closer to Riaan. A faint smile appeared on her face.

            “’Bridge to Admiral Archer,” came a voice from the intercom. He leaned back and opened the channel.

            “Go ahead.”

            “We’re coming up on that K star system.”

            “Drop out of warp, find an M class and put us in orbit. I’m on my way,” he answered. Archer arrived on the bridge in three minutes. “Mr. French?”

            “Not much choice, sir, but the second planet is M class. Can’t confirm the atmosphere just yet, but temps should be about 20 at one AU.”

            “Life signs?”

            “Yes, sir,” the second shift science officer reported. “Plants, higher animals, nothing that appears technologically advanced. It actually appears as if there might have been a mass extinction in the last century as the variety of life seems limited. About half the planet is water. I can confirm an ambient temperature of 18, nitrogen, oxygen about 22%.”

            “Any humanoid life?”

            “Scanning.”  Archer waited for the answer. “There are primitive, unnatural geometric stone structures. But the scanners don’t’ find humanoid life signs.”

            “Sounds like a winner. Mr. French, put us in a low orbit. ”

            “Aye, sir.”

            “Archer to Commander Sato,” he said into the intercom.

            “Sato, sir.”

            “Report to the bridge. I have a message for Starfleet and I want it on a secure channel.”

Dr Riaan

            “I’m keeping him sedated until the swelling around his brain subsides.”

            “Are you sure you aren’t a doctor?” he said to her, still surprised at her instinct and abilities.

            “Been reading a lot the last couple of days, especially since the attack. Commander Sato ran the medical texts through her translator and it’s much faster than trying to read them in English. The staff is quite helpful. I’m sure they could do equally as well as I. Between the three of us we make one doctor.”

            “Have you had a break in the last two days?”

            “We’ve released two crew men back to duty, and whoever could recuperate in their quarters is doing so. The others are just here for observation, not quite ready to send them all away. Commander Jamison said he’d be okay without them for now. I’m worried about Ensign French. He’s been hurt twice in the last week, first his hands, and now he’s fighting from the smoke in his lungs. At least we didn’t have anything that needed major surgery.”

            “Yes, our helmsman,” Archer acknowledged aloud. He looked over at French in bed next to Mitchell. The man was sedated, or asleep. They walked away from Mitchell towards the doors. A moment later Branni bounded towards them from the lab.

            “Admiral Jon, I mean, Jon,” he paused “no one else calls you that; it seems wrong.”

            “I think you’re right. If you’re wearing that uniform, you should call me admiral or sir, okay?”

            “Okay, sir.”

            “What is it?” Archer asked him.

            “Oh, nothing. Hello, sir.”

            “Helping your mother here?”

            “He’s been a big help, Admiral. He makes a great nurse assistant. Branni, stay here and make sure the Ensign and Lieutenant have whatever they need,” Riaan told him. “I’ll bring you back something to eat, okay?” He bounded off back towards the lab station without even a goodbye. With a smile and a frown Jonathan pushed the button to open the doors and they left the bright lights of sick bay for the calming lights of the corridor.

            “Did I even see you yesterday?” Riaan asked. They headed for the mess for something to eat since it was already mid-day.

            “I think that depends on what you call a day. I’ve been patching up circuits and monitors on the bridge, welded an EPS conduit in Engineering with Jamison, talking to Starfleet. We’re still several days from Andoria unless we get our warp engines up to speed.”

            “I don’t think Branni and I have left sick bay except to eat. We both slept there last night. But I think the worst is over. Burns, contusions, lacerations, but surprisingly nothing worse than that.”

            “Captain Mitchell?”

            “The concussion is his worst problem. He also had a few burns and cuts. Those are healing fine. I wish I could tell you when he will be ready for duty, but brains are funny things. They do whatever they want no matter what the medical text says.”

            “Like the human heart,” Jon said quietly. They came to the mess hall.

            “The heart?”

“Just an expression. Humans, over the centuries, came to feel the spirit is in the heart, not the brain.” They wandered from the doors to the captain’s private dining area. “The heart wants what the heart wants, and there’s not much you can do about it.”

            “I admit it’s funny to me, humans having it on their left side of the body instead of central as in an Akalli, but it’s otherwise they’re the same. It doesn’t want like a brain does.”

            Jonathan looked at Riaan curiously. How did she understand the workings of anatomy so clearly after a few weeks’ training? How did she pick up another language so quickly, and learn such a commanding subject while raising her son and living a completely different life than she had been just a moon ago? It was a shame that she had not been educated further when she was so intelligent. They entered the captain’s mess and sat down.

            “What’s on the menu today?” Archer asked the steward, but before he could answer “Whatever it is, bring two.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “At least the crew has stopped leaping up every time I enter the room.” The steward brought glasses, a pitcher of iced tea, and a tray of fresh fruit immediately.

            “The view from here is amazing,” Riaan commented, “but so empty at the same time.”

            “When we reach Andoria, you may want to stay on board. The planet is very cold, cold everywhere, all the time.”

            “I’d love to see it. I’ve never been to another planet before…of course, what am I saying?” Archer chuckled.

            “Your English is becoming pretty good. Using the translator much?”

            “For more technical medical things, yes, but it hasn’t been too difficult to learn.”

            “I spent a couple weeks learning Wolg on the way to Akal, but once I got inside the reactor I had a whole new set of words to learn. I know what you mean about technical words compared to everyday words.”

            The steward brought two plates to the guests now in charge of Endeavour. Rich brown soup with bread floating on top and onions spilling over paired with a chopped apple covered in mayonnaise and mixed with raisins and nuts. More rolls, butter, cubes of yellow cheese, and a refill on the iced tea came along also.

            “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until just now,” Riaan declared, taking Jon’s lead and picking up a roll and soaking it briefly in the brown broth from the bowl. “The food here is very good, on the ship that is.”

            “Starfleet commands quality chefs. Cooking for 100 people three times a day with food preserved by freezing or canning or dehydrating can’t be easy. And on top of that, we have protein re-sequencers to maximize what’s on board.”

            “I’m not sure I want to know what that means,” Riaan smiled as if she might laugh. Jon melted inside when she smiled. He felt as if his heart had grown, filling his whole chest. “What is it?” she asked.

            “Nothing.”

            “Are you sure? You look like you have a fever,” and she reached over to touch his cheek. “You are a little warm, Jon. Are you getting sick?”

            “I’m fine, really.” He attended to his ice tea and thought about the feeling racing up and down his body. Like a small bolt of lightning, his mind drifted, thinking of how he could know her better, deeper. Her blue scrubs camouflaged a playground for his hands, his eyes, his lips. He drifted a moment in her hoodoo; he looked away and picked up the cold tea.

            “So what now? We are on our way to a new planet, the injuries are being treated, the engines are under repair.”

            “Yes, so now I prepare for a negotiation between Andorians and Vulcans. Must find something they have in common and go from there. Border dispute.” He spoke absentmindedly, looking at Riaan, wishing the table was not covered in plates and food that separated them. “In the meantime, it’s just a matter of recreation and ship repairs, maintenance – movies, games, reading. The crew will take us where we need to go at the best speed they can.”

Status

            “It was Harrad-Sar,” Archer said to the monitor. Admiral Gardner’s face stared back at him. “The last time I saw him was…was 10 years ago. He’s a privateer.” He didn’t want to remember the way that mission had gone. Three Orion women purported to be gifts did their best to disable the men on Enterprise so that Harrad-Sar could capture Archer for the Orion Syndicate. He was certain those women were green devils by the end of that mission.

            “So how do you know?”

            “You never forget his kind – he’s not part of the Syndicate. He’s out for himself. Now that I think about it, he was mentioned when I was on Akal sorting out everyone’s part in that fiasco down there. I must have seen him at the shuttle.”

            “I can ask the Andorians to postpone the conference. Come home, get Mitchell help-“

            “Look, we’re out here; we’ve faced worse than this, far worse. Mitchell is going to be okay, he’s stable, and the rest of the crew will be back to duty in a day or two. Because, if you’re recalling Endeavour who knows if we’ll be taking sides in another war tomorrow!”

            “Alright, Jonathan, it’s your mission; carry on. I agree, this is an important assignment. Seems you’re the only human in Starfleet the Imperial Guard trusts.”

            “Well, Endeavor’s got a fine crew, don’t underestimate them. I’ll be on and off Andoria and back before you can write up the briefing. We can make Warp 3, it will take a little while but it’s never stopped Starfleet before. The engineering team may just get us up to Warp 5 in a few days, so stop worrying.”

            “I can order a Vulcan ship to evacuate Endeavor and tow you in.”

            “You’re joking,” Archer said sternly. The thought of Vulcans rescuing him after all these years was not an option, much less funny.

            “Yes, Jon, I am. Keep us posted, and safe journey. Gardner out.”

            Archer closed the channel and leaned back in the chair. Vulcans and Andorians trying to settle yet another border dispute without success. Why they were unable to agree on that insignificant corner of empty space was beyond his comprehension. He rose and went to the bridge.

            “What’s our status?” he asked anyone who might be there to answer. The view screen indicated they were at warp in normal space. A new ensign manned the weapons station, a lieutenant at the helm, Sato at communications. Ops was empty, as was the captain’s chair. Sato responded.

            “We’re at warp 3.1, en route to Andoria, arrival time expected nine days, sooner if engineering can affect repairs and intermix balance to the warp engines.”

            “Thank you, Commander.” He sat in the captain’s chair and hit a button on the arm. “Engineering, Archer, what’s your status?” He waited a moment for a response.

            “We’ve restored main power, but we can’t push the warp drive any more until we’ve repaired half a dozen EPS conduits. Transporters are off line. Weapons are online.”

            “Thank you, um…”

            “Lieutenant O’Malley, sir, Chief Engineer’s Mate.”

            “Where’s Jamison?”

            “We’re taking alternate shifts at the moment, sir.”

            “Estimate when we are going to up to warp 6?”

“Another day, sir, maybe sooner if we don’t have any more surprises.”

“Excellent, thank you, Lieutenant. Archer out.”

            Admiral Archer left the bridge for sick bay. Cots crowded the floor with the extra casualties, mostly minor from what he could tell. All three bio beds were occupied, including one by Captain Peter Mitchell. He and Pete had been classmates at Starfleet Academy now and then, for this class or that. Their friendship went back 20 years or more. He stood by the side of the bed, looking down at his friend. They’d not been close, but over the years they had been more than just classmates or acquaintances. He looked up at the monitor, and wasn’t sure what he might be looking at. Riaan in her blue scrubs came up behind the admiral. 

Chaos

            “Admiral – behind you, he’s behind you!”

            Archer spun around and found Brannigaan unconscious, pinned under a steel beam and twisted, liquefied metal, surrounded by smoke, but at least not flames. He jumped 8 feet in one leap to reach the boy.

            “Branni! Branni!” but there was no response. He grabbed a loose bar of metal, dropped it from the heat, then grabbed some scrap of rubber to use like an oven mitt. Archer picked it up again and shoved one end of it under the beam. He had to climb upon the end to gain enough leverage to lift the girder off the boy’s shoulder. The moment it was stable he grabbed Brannigaan by the other arm, pulling him out of the wreckage.

            The bones didn’t feel broken, but Archer felt he most likely had a concussion. He hoisted the child onto his chest and banged an intercom with his fist.

            “Sick bay, medical emergency in Engineering!” He didn’t dare mention who it was or his mother might come unglued. “Sick Bay!” The intercom was silent. “Damn!” He wanted to get Branni to safety. All he could do was head for the Jeffries tube and haul the two of them to sick bay. White smoke began to infiltrate the Jeffries tube but Archer carried Branni through the tube until he reached Deck D.

            “Sussa!” but she didn’t answer. “Sussa!” Half a dozen crew members sat on the floor, a couple in beds; a few more stumbled around trying to take care of themselves. “Riaan!”

            “Jon! Oh no! Branni! My Branni!” she cried, rushing to Jonathan.

            “Where?” he asked. She rushed Jon and her child to the last open bio bed. “He was pinned under some metal, he’s unconscious,” Jon said carefully.

            “Strap him in, I don’t want him falling off the bed” Riaan said. The immediate rocking and explosions had stopped, finally. But loose objects on shelves and ceiling debris still fell randomly.

            Jonathan coughed, trying to get some of the smoke out of his lungs while Riaan placed sensors on Branni’s head. The monitors began to beep, and aside from his not waking up and a red bump on the very top of his head, the other body functions seemed normal.  Jonathan grabbed a blanket from overhead and covered the boy.

            “Stay here a minute,” she asked him, and rushed back to another patient.

            “Where’s Sussa?”

            Riaan tilted her head towards a corner of the sick bay, where Sussa lay on the floor. Seeing no red alarms on the monitor above Branni’s head Jonathan sprinted to Sussa. Dark green blood that came from her throat puddled around her head, sticking to her clothes and hair. There was no life left in the body; it had been still for many minutes. Not another death. Every death was like a knife cutting out another piece of his heart. He grabbed a lab coat hanging above him, and amid the chaos and scramble he placed the coat over her head and the congealing blood.

             “Engineering! Archer to Engineering!”

            “We’re a little busy here, sir!”

            “It’s Archer. I want a buoy with a 100 grams of anti-matter launched towards that Orion vessel. Do it now!”

            “Sir!”

            “Now Commander, light a fire under it!” He slammed the intercom again. “Archer to armory! Load forward torpedo bays!” and he smacked the intercom one more time. “Archer to the bridge!”

            “Go ahead sir!”

            “Launch a torpedo at that buoy and best speed out of here! Now! Go!”

It only took a couple seconds before he heard the torpedo launch and felt the small shake of the ship.

          “All hands, brace for impact!” came an order from the bridge. Archer didn’t wait for the explosion. He headed back to the Jeffries tube and climbed another deck. At that moment the torpedo struck the buoy and the shockwave hurled not only the Orion ship 100 kilometers but it also pitched Endeavour on its nose.

          When the stabilizers engaged Archer scrambled to a weapons locker, arming himself with a phase pistol and a rifle. Instinct took over despite a year on earth at Star Fleet. A shock rattled the port side of the ship. Archer suspected the docking hatch was about to welcome some escaped Orions on board. He ran down the corridor towards the airlock.

          He heard the locks on the doors click. Archer slipped behind the door where it was hinged, one of the few hinged doors on the ship since it led to space. The large oval entry door swung open; he heard a single footstep and kicked the door with every fiber of his strength, knocking the Orion back into the airlock. He sprung forward and slammed the door, locking it from the inside control panel.

          Archer climbed like a spider back up the Jeffries tube to the bridge. He burst in the door and looked through the smoke and flames at the view screen. The visible speck that was the Orion ship no longer glowed but instead floated at an awkward angle, dark where it had been red. A few remaining cascades of sparks drifted randomly into space but quickly disappeared.

           “He’s alive!” Sato shouts to Archer. He turns toward her voice on the floor in front of the captain’s chair. She holds Captain Mitchell’s head on her lap, and wipes some debris from his face.

          “Let’s get him to the ready room!”

          “Sick bay!” she countered.

          “We’ll never get him there from here. Turbos are down, fires everywhere, even Dr Sussa is dead. They’re swamped, we need to stabilize him and get him outta this room!” Archer picked him up by the ankles and Sato by the wrists; together they picked up the unconscious captain and took him to the closest room off the bridge. “Get Riaan up here, quick. Quick!” he told Sato. She sprinted out. Archer pulled some first aid supplies from an overhead cabinet and covered Captain Mitchell with a blanket, then grabbed a second one and placed it under his head.

          “Come on, Pete, you’re not getting out of this assignment that easy. You always wanted to go to Andorria, didn’t you?” he said to the still body, checking for a pulse a second time. It was fast, and weak, but it was there. A gash on his leg slowly bled, a vein, so Archer tore some of Mitchell’s pant leg where it had been cut and tied a gentle compression around it. The blood lost, although not a life threatening volume was enough to induce a hypovolemic shock.

           With nothing else he could do, he looked back out onto the bridge. Only one person remained, behind the captain’s chair in the situation room. The helmsman had gone to sick bay, Sato also to fetch Riaan. The armory officer had been Archer.

            “Ensign,” the admiral called to the last man standing. “I need you up here, somewhere, at communications or helm!”

          The officer jumped around a pile of twisted, smoldering metal and down to the helm.

         “Uh, Ensign…”

         “King, sir.”

         “Ensign King, get us outta here, best speed to Andorria. It was our last heading.” Archer sat in the captain’s chair briefly. For a moment, he was the same man he was 10 years earlier, in charge and confident, as if the years had not sent him on journeys as a peacemaker and diplomat. For some reason, he turned behind him and saw the ship’s bronze placard still firmly affixed to the wall: NX-07 Endeavour. He jumped up again and in two steps he was at the communication station.

       “All hands, this is the cap -Admiral Archer. I need status from all department heads! All senior officers report to the bridge immediately!”