171: Ship Happens

by Ensigns Dalca and Andraste
Almost Four Years Ago

= Shuttlecraft Jinnah =

"Dude."

"I know."

"Dude!"

"I know, Gregson. She's hot. Shut up and drive."

"No, not that. I mean, yes, that, but... first, my name is Steve. Just call me Steve, all right? We're not officers yet and I'm getting a little tired of being called by my last name. And 'B'... this is... this is kidnapping. This is totally not gonna... it's over, our careers are over and it's all your fault."

"We discussed this before. Don't worry. I'll talk her down from a lawsuit."

"Why, does she like you?"

"Sexually. I'm not sure she likes me otherwise though."

"That's understandable."

Dalca slapped him upside the head. "Just shut up and drive. I'm going to go talk to her." He turned and walked toward the back of the shuttle.

"Put on some pants, first."

"...good point. Maybe she'll take me seriously with pants on."

"You said it, not me..."

"Gregson, just shut up and drive."

"It's Steve, Dorka."

"Whatever." Warren looked to the unused red sweats, almost picked them up, and then shook his head and keyed open the door to the back.

"I have to warn you," Andraste told him without looking up from the padd she was reading when he walked in, "I'm reading up on kung fu and when I'm finished, I'm gonna kick your ass."

He stopped in the doorway. She was lying on the bunk, feet crossed at the ankle and hovering over her shapely figure as if there was nothing wrong in the world. He smiled at how she was taking this in stride, and also at his own nervousness as the possibility of this ending poorly became more likely. So, instead of forcing the issue or taking on a combative tone, he folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. Negotiations didn't have to be so serious, after all. "I could teach you."

"If only I got some latinum for every time a guy said that...."

"Not every guy who's said that learned Jeet Kune Do from the master himself."

Nimue sighed, set the padd aside and sat up. "What do you want, Starfleet?"

He stepped in - the door closing behind him - and offered his hand. "Peace in our time."

She grinned up at him, "You'll just use any excuse to touch me, won't you?"

"Pretty much," he grinned back. "Want me to show you a few moves?"

"I actually would have before I learned that you were a spineless lackey. I mean, don't get me wrong, that's a valid life choice. Just doesn't get me all hot and bothered. Well... bothered, maybe."

His brow deepened. "I'm not spineless." He withdrew his hand and placed his fists at his waist. "Though, in this instance, yes, I am a lackey. Sometimes you have to be when you're going to wear the uniform."

"You weren't wearing a uniform. I noticed."

"I was incognito."

"Yeah - you were real inconspicuous. Look," she said hopping to her feet, "A powerful politician lady told you to go fetch her daughter and you did what you were told. Instead of just saying 'hey, crazy lady, not my job.' You were scared. I get it. Now you've got me here and we're going to see my mom. Nothing I can do about it. Yet here you're still talking to me. So I'm just wondering what you want."

He sighed. "To make this equitable. But I'm certainly not going to defend my choices to you." Warren walked across the small cabin in a few strides and leaned against the bunk rail with his forearm. "I want to get home, graduate, and move on. But I own up to my actions, and we're not going anywhere until we're both pleased with the outcome. Got it?"

"Whatever," Nimue replied as she sat back down on the bunk and picked up her padd. "I'm just going to go back to picking out an outfit from this replicator catalogue that isn't a completely fashion disaster. Unlike those red sweats you picked out. You can stand there and sulk for as long as you want."

Neither of them gave an inch, until they were suddenly hurtled across the cabin into heaps on the floor. The collision alarm sounded. The shuttle shook viciously and Dalca was forced to hold onto the bulkhead to keep from flying back towards the bunk. Andraste lunged for the door. She didn't even need to glance at the viewport to know what was happening. She had been flying for years, and her body could feel the inertial dampening system straining against a free fall.

"We're hit," Nimue yelled out over the loud sirens, "And we've lost helm."

"Lost...? Gregson!" He bellowed, pushed past her to the door and practically threw himself into the front of the shuttle. Gregson was lying on his side, face badly burned and wheezing. "Hold tight, Steve." He looked up through the forward viewport. "I don't see anything... where are the stars?"

"Ion clouds," she shouted back, her attention already fixed on the navigation controls. "Asteroid hit us, I think." She sat down at the fried controls Gregson had been sitting at minutes before, "Not much left here."

"His pulse is steady, and he's breathing. But he's not responding to outside stimulus." Dalca looked up. "He could slip into a coma... or worse." Standing up, he approached her and the fried panel. More out of a sense of false bravado than anything else, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm confident your pilot's training will be enough. We can transfer the controls to the rear station."

Warren forced a calm smile to his face. He could feel fear when he was dead, but not before then. His light touch conveyed both seriousness and calm, but in case it wasn't enough for his fellow empath, he added a little bit of personal philosophy. "Be like water."

"Okay. I'm scared enough to pee," Nimue snapped as she began transferring helm controls to a different console, "You really think is the best time be like water?"

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Just fly the ship, Nimue."

"To where? This thing won't get us back to my mother anymore." She actually stopped her frantic manipulation of the controls when she realized what she had just said. "Hey. Cool. Talk about serendipity."

"Maybe those seven beach gods of yours can find us someplace safe."

He walked to the opposite station, pulling up the star charts. "We're way off course. Ion storm, looks like. Great, Gregson, so glad you were focusing on the task at hand..." He looked down at the body. "Sorry. Steve."

Warren looked back to the screen. "There's nothing nearby. No Starfleet, no outposts, no colonies."

"I need a place to land, Starfleet."

"Stow it, Silver Spoon. I'm looking."

"You understand that I'm using the word 'land' loosely, right?"

He glanced over at her. "I do now. *Rahat!*" He tapped his console furiously.

"There's a Class-M moon in the nearby system. It's uncharted…massive life-sign readings though. That's all we get to work with. Be careful. Now, I'm going to send out a distress signal."

"I'll do what I can. And I'm gonna say this now 'cause I've always wanted to: Brace yourself. We're goin' down!"

Ensign Warren Dalca

and

Ensign Nimue Andraste