The message had come yesterday, just after the meeting with Alysa Sinclair. The timestamp on it indicated it had been sent about five minutes before he had arrived at her office. One way or another, it looks like I've been drafted, Johnny thought.
As one of the small-craft qualified officers on the Virgo, Johnny was in the flight rotation. Whenever a shuttle or runabout was needed, an officer from the list would be tapped. It was a good system and ensured that all officers had a chance to maintain flight hours toward their certifications. In principle, Johnny had no problem with it; in fact, before joining the Virgo crew he had always faced difficulty in building up enough flight time to maintain his small-craft certification.
However, it did seem rather suspect that the five officers ahead of him on the rotation had suddenly become indisposed with a strange, flu-like illness. Johnny knew better than to ask Dana about the specifics of their condition. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything medical.
The assignment was suspect as well: Ensign Bortu from Operations needed flight training. Any of the five officers suddenly removed from the rotation were more qualified to perform flight training than Johnny, and there was no reason Bortu couldn't wait until one of them recovered. Johnny checked Bortu's personnel file and found nothing terribly remarkable: Bortu was a Benzite on his first duty assignment since graduating from Starfleet Academy. Commander Wallace had rated Bortu very highly during his last performance appraisal and had recommended Bortu for flight training six months earlier. At least there's that. Wallace wasn't the type of guy who would put up with any crap from Sinclair or anyone else, and I've seen Bortu around. Unless he's a deep-cover agent, which I doubt; Benzites are too noticeable for that, Johnny thought. Deep-cover agents were likely to be from races that had a high representation in Starfleet: Humans, Vulcans, Bajorans, possibly even Betazoids. But Benzites were still quite rare in Starfleet and easily remembered by their unique breathing apparatus.
Then again, maybe not. Johnny's last reading project had been Edgar Allan Poe. Remember The Purloined Letter: the best way to hide anything is to put it in plain sight! Although it wouldn't be out of Sinclair's character to add another sacrificial lamb to the altar.
Johnny performed the pre-flight check of the shuttle Limpopo's systems and, as an extra precaution, did a full manual check of the systems as well. He'd arrived at the shuttle bay a full three hours early to make sure he did a thorough check. Like the river in southern Africa the shuttle was named for, the Limpopo was not a desirable craft, and had a reputation for being unpredictable. It must have been built just before liberty call, Johnny thought. He would have much preferred the newer, more-reliable Colorado or the newly-built replacement for the Lambda Flier, the USS Dawn, but they were (conveniently) already reserved for use. Bortu would also have to work through the pre-flight, but procedure and prudence dictated the instructor perform the check first. Besides, most routine flight instructions did not involve the potential for sabotage.
Bortu showed up about five minutes early. "Reporting for flight training, sir!" Even after four years, much of the cadet eagerness was still in this Benzite, his bluish skin, stocky physique, and vapor-emitting breathing apparatus immediately setting him apart from the rest of the individuals in the shuttle bay. Bortu was the only Benzite among the crew.
"Good morning, Ensign. I am Major Johnny Chee, commander of the Marine detachment aboard this vessel. Lieutenant Estermann was unavailable to perform your training, so I will be performing your training today." Johnny informed Bortu, sincerely hoping that Estermann was legitimately ill and not another of Sinclair's victims. "You will have done the academic research on the Federation Mark IV Shuttlecraft. Today we will be covering the pre-flight checklist, basic flight operations, and emergency procedures. I will be observing you as you illustrate proficiency in the procedures. At your leisure, we may begin."
"Yes, sir!" Bortu immediately began a stem-to-stern walkaround of the Limpopo, making notations on a PADD of system readouts and any real or perceived anomalies both in the systems and in the structure of the runabout. "Sir, there appears to be some minor corrosion on the starboard nacelle intercooler," Bortu reported.
Johnny had already noted that; it was a first-echelon maintenance issue but he'd left it for the ensign to address. "You know what to do about it, Ensign. Get to it!"
Bortu walked over to a storage locker and checked out a toolkit. From the toolkit he selected an ultrasonic cleaning tool, primitive, but it wasn't as though he was rebuilding the warp core. Within two minutes the corrosionhad been cleaned off. Bortu placed the tool back in the toolkit, returned it to the locker, and logged it back in. Johnny noted this on his evaluation.
Moments later they were in the Limpopo's cockpit, Bortu going over the instrument panel and calling off readings as Johnny noted his performance. At least this much is going right, Johnny thought, remembering the last time he'd performed a flight certification. He'd had to take the controls himself before the candidate, another ensign just barely out of the Academy, rammed the shuttle into the starbase's docking bay doors. Needless to say, that candidate did not receive certification.
That did not happen this time, as Bortu properly contacted Operations and received flight clearance. An alert siren cleared the docking bay, the doors slid open, and the force screen dropped as the bay depressurized. Perhaps a little too quickly, the Limpopo rose off its magnetic skids and shot out of the docking bay.
"A little too fast there, Ensign. Remember, under non-combat conditions a runabout can only leave the docking bay at 1/64th impulse power, the lowest possible setting. That was more like 1/16th," Johnny informed him.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"No need to apologize; nobody's hurt, nothing's damaged, and you've learned something. But the speed limit's there for a reason. One other thing, Ensign."
"Yes?" the young officer asked.
"Relax! You've already earned your pip. Don't let it break your collarbone, and it won't in twenty years when you've earned a few more," Johnny laughed. He could tell the ensign was tense and nervous about the outcome. But nervous tension was the last thing any pilot wanted.
Besides, Johnny had enough for both of them and the rest of the crew besides. And not over Ensign Bortu's performance, which was nearly flawless.
"Sir, how fast is permitted under combat conditions?" Bortu asked.
"Whatever it takes to get the job done short of going to warp in the docking bay! Once you've finished this certification you can see Commander Lataro about combat flight certification and he'll give you the details: pending approval from your commanding officer, of course. Right now, let's stick to the basics," Johnny replied. Johnny could fly in combat, but the Lataros and the Captain were the only Starfleet combat flight instructors aboard the Virgo. The combat flight certification was about as different from the basic program as earning a place on the NASCAR circuit had been from earning a driver's license on 20th-century Earth. "What's our position relative to the Virgo?"
"Bearing 180 mark 4, distance 25,000 kilometers," the ensign replied.
"Very good. Take us at warp factor four to three parsecs."
The ensign tapped in the necessary commands, and Johnny felt the sudden change in the vessel as the Limpopo's warp drive engaged. A few minutes later, the Limpopo dropped out of warp. Johnny started to tap in a command sequence that would simulate a primary coolant failure to drill Bortu's readiness for an emergency when suddenly there was no need to do so.
An emergency was already waiting for them. In front of them, decloaking, was a T'rais attack vessel.
"Lesson's over, Ensign. I'm taking command," Johnny told Bortu. Bortu had no complaints with that. Where the hell did they get a cloaking device?! They're not nearly advanced enough to build one on their own, and we're the only Alpha Quadrant presence in this part of the galaxy!
"On my signal, Ensign, activate the countermeasures suite, the control pad to your right, and go to warp. Once we've gone to warp, contact the Virgo. I'll handle the talking and the flying from here," Johnny ordered.
"Sir, they're hailing us," Bortu reported.
"Answer their hail."
[This is Sector Commander Krax of the T'rais. You have violated our sovereign space. Please explain your intentions.]
Johnny responded. "This is Major Johnny Chee, commanding the Federation runabout Limpopo, attached to the starship Virgo. With me is Ensign Bortu. We are conducting a routine training exercise and had no intentionof violating your borders. We will leave immediately." Better to avoid a fight, particularly when we're outgunned at least three to one.
[You will not move from your current position. You are wanted criminals and will submit to our authority!]
Like hell, Johnny thought.
"Criminals? What does he mean?" Bortu asked, suddenly panicky.
"To the T'rais anyone whom they don't like is automatically a criminal," Johnny answered. "Try to raise the Virgo; I'll keep him talking."
Bortu tapped a couple of commands on the console.
<Unable to comply,> the computer responded.
[Your communications are jammed. You will surrender at once!]
"Keep working on it, Bortu," Johnny ordered. Then, to Krax: "Jamming communications is an open act of hostility and likely to lead to misunderstandings. If we have violated your sovereign space, wouldn't it be prudent for us to alert our fleet so that we don't further compromise your borders?" he said, lying through his teeth. The Virgo was the only Federation asset in that part of the quadrant. But the T'rais likely didn't know that.
[Your fleet is no match for us!] Krax laughed as a second ship decloaked.
"The second vessel is identified as a T'rais heavy assault transport, warp capable, and carrying fifteen thousand troops with mechanized assets," Bortu reported. "It looks as though they were getting ready to invade something," he added.
"You've got that right, Ensign," Johnny replied gravely.
"So what do we do?"
Johnny thought for a moment. We could surrender, but then the Virgo would be walking right into a trap once we don't return on schedule. We could try to stall, but that still doesn't help the Virgo.We could try to fight, but with these odds I might as well breach the warp core right now.
"Ensign, bring us about at maximum warp. We're going to run for it!"
"Aye, sir!" Bortu tapped the commands into the console. The Limpopo turned about and began to run. Both T'rais ships followed in hot pursuit.
"Ensign, I'm taking helm control. You activate the countermeasures suite. Computer, initiate evasive pattern Alpha Four."
The computer initiated the maneuver; both T'rais vessels countered it flawlessly.
"Computer, initiate evasive pattern Gamma Three!" Johnny ordered.
Again, the computer initiated the maneuver; again the enemy vessels countered it. Damn! Somehow they've gotten hold of our tactical programs! Johnny thought. And I have a hunch just who gave them up!
"Sir, electronic and tachyon countermeasures are not working! Their scanners are cutting through them like tissue paper!" Bortu reported.
"Ensign, you're about to get that combat flight instruction!" Johnny replied. "Computer, override all tactical programming. Authorization Chee omicron two one six. Manual control to helm." The programming was worse than useless now that the T'rais had every stratagem available to the computer to evade the enemy. But unless the T'rais were telepathic (which they were not) what Johnny was about to do would be completely unexpected.
An indicator light indicated that the helm was now under Johnny's direct control. He tapped in a series of commands that sent the Limpopo up into a high looping curve directly above the two enemy ships. The Limpopo suddenly did a 180 degree roll at Johnny's direction, then unleashed a barrage of phaser fire. Bortu looked stunned.
"That was an Immelmann, Ensign. A trick from over four hundred years ago: as old as air combat on Earth! And still one of the best tricks in the book. What'd we do to them?"
Bortu read the scanners. "Damage to environmental systems and engineering on the attack vessel, sir! Sensors indicate hull breaches on three decks!"
Suddenly, the Limpopo rocked violently. <Warning. Shields at seventy percent,> the computer reported.
"Ensign, drain power from communications and life support. Keep those shields going and get into an environment suit! You're leaving!"
"But sir! I should stay here..."
"That is an order, Ensign! Don't make me put you in the suit!"
Bortu saw the look in Johnny's eyes. He meant it.
Johnny goosed the engine again, doing his best to lead one of the ships into the other's field of fire. "Ensign, I'm going to beam you and the empty suit out. I will guard you as long as I can. Somebody's got to make it back to the Virgo and tell them we've been sold out! When you beam aboard, you will make a full report to Commander Lataro or Lieutenant Commander Benton and only those individuals. No one else!!! Am I clear on this?" Johnny shouted as another blast hit the Limpopo. Alarms began to scream throughout the runabout.
<Warning. Shields at thirty percent.>
"Why only them? Why not the Captain?"
"I think someone's compromised the Captain. That's the only way the tactical programs could have gotten into enemy hands! Only Lataro or Benton: understand?"
Johnny took the Limpopo about and let fly another barrage at the assault transport. The sensors told him that the transport's engines had been heavily damaged, but for the moment he was more concerned with keeping his crippled craft flying.
"Shouldn't I stay here and help you, Major?" Bortu asked, pausing before fastening on the helmet.
"Only captains go down with the ship. Ensigns come back to fight again!"
"And how about you, sir?"
"There's a saying in the Corps: 'Old Marines never die; they just go to Hell and regroup!' Tell my wife to look for the bear. The answers she'll want are there. Now go!!!"
Bortu finished fastening the helmet and ran the suit diagnostic. "All clear, sir!" he reported.
"Stand by to beam out. I'm putting you as far away from here as I can. Don't forget to activate your beacon! And, Ensign?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Tell your CO that you passed your flight exam!" Johnny replied as he hit the transporter control. Bortu could have sworn he heard Johnny singing as the transporter beam engulfed him. Something about the halls of Montezuma, whatever those were...
With Bortu safely beamed 50,000 kilometers from the fighting, Johnny could concentrate on what he was doing. Namely, a suicide attack.
Bortu had to be beamed out because Johnny knew who was really behind the attack. And that someone would not hesitate to eliminate a young, inexperienced and relatively unknown ensign to get at her goals. It was the only way, albeit a slim one, to, one, save Bortu's life and, two, get word to the few people on board the ship he could trust about what was going on. And Johnny was damned if he was going to let her get away with it. He grabbed two Type II hand phasers and a tricorder from the emergency kit aboard the runabout.
<Warning. Hull integrity at fifty percent. Warp core breach in forty-five seconds,> the computer alerted him.
Johnny altered the Limpopo's course so that it would pass directly beneath the assault transport. "Computer, on my mark, initiate transport to the T'rais attack craft and detonate the warp core. Authorization Chee omicron two one six, alpha lambda four," he ordered, adding the suffix needed to initiate the ship's self-destruct sequence.
<Acknowledged. Warp core breach in thirty seconds.>
"Computer, mark!" Johnny shouted as the transporter beam engulfed him. Less than a nanosecond later the Limpopo exploded, damaging most of the assault transport's main engineering systems in the process.