“What a mess.”  Elizabeth McKee updated the PADD as she checked with each team as they completed the work of triaging the rest of Engineering.  They’d found Chief Greer in a darkened corner, unconscious.  Her injuries were critical, and her needs were immediate.  They had sent two crewmen to find a path to Sickbay, and they’d returned with the news of a rough path.  Work on clearing debris had taken some time, and they’d located backboards for emergency transport.  Greer and three other criticals were now on their way through the twisted path while McKee took command of engineering.  Emergency battery power had 12 hours left, and she was determined to avoid running right up against that deadline.  She had teams working through damage control schematics based on the limited communication they could have with the rest of the crew across the Constitution III class starship.  As advanced as the Douglas was, something had knocked communications and equipment sideways.

“Lieutenant, we’ve got a report on the core.”  She tore her eyes from the growing list of problems on her PADD and followed the ensign to where his team stood, wiping sweat from their brows.  Life support was at its bare minimum.  He led her through what they knew, “Whatever we hit, it either overloaded most of the systems or had a cascade effect starting with the warp core – it failed, and then everything went down after it.  We’re going to have to restart it, and it’s going to be a cold start.”

She added, “Line up the injector ports and jumpstart it – we’ll need the start-up generators and someone to ensure the chamber is balanced as the power climbs.”

“We found two of the three generators – they’re tracking the last one with a tricorder.”  

McKee added his report to her own, “Give me a shout when you’re ready – I’d like to be there when we bring the Douglas back to life.  Pull anyone you need to get this done.  She lives, we get to live.”  She moved off to continue her evaluation of engineering and the remaining crew.  

“Take ‘em to the secondary wards – we’re holding for critical and intensive care here.”  Jordan Reid ignored her sweat-soaked and blood-spattered uniform as she ordered what felt like the walking dead to move next door.  The faces of those who carried survivors were all she needed to see to understand the ongoing situation across the Douglas.  It has been a small miracle that the medical teams had run headlong into security officers working to secure the ship.  With that, a semblance of communication was set up as the injured began to be carried and assisted back to sickbay.  

They’d opened the secondary wards, and the smattering of operations and engineering officers who had found their way to her had been given desperate orders to figure out how to expand the backup facilities.  Capacity would soon become a problem, and the space they needed for the increasing number of injured was filling her patient logs. Those logs currently contained two senior staff members – the captain and the chief engineer.  They’d been secured in the intensive care unit as the scrambling to find generators in the mess was ongoing.  The numbers of the injured continued to climb, and sections of the Douglas remained unexplored.  Her heart remained steadfast in the hope of no casualties.  Wherever they were, they needed a win.

“Doc, Captain’s crashing!”  

Reid ran back to the rear of sickbay, snagging a mobile AED and sliding up beside the biobed.  “Secure her.  Report!”  The vitals were read quickly, and she tapped at the unit as each condition was relayed, “Looks like A-Fib.”  Another tap, “Clear!”  The body of Captain Dread jumped, and the reading on the medical tricorder returned to normal, but there were several yellow indicators. Reid grumbled, “She’s going to go into A-Fib again.  We need goddamned power to get a better look at that heart and everything else.  Find me a generator so we can at least get a better answer.  Keep that AED nearby – put two orderlies on her.  She needs a shock, do it.  Track the amount and the charge.”  She checked on Greer and found much of the same.  Both women were in comas and unresponsive.  For now, Reid wasn’t going to push it.  They were alive and mostly stable.  That was her win in the midst of the madness.

After three hours of searching, McKee was elated when they found the third starter generator. The clock and the battery’s power reserves had decreased further and faster than they had expected.  Two more hours passed as they began the restart process.  Each step was carefully followed, with McKee jumping from point to point, engineering scanner and spanner in hand as they went through the checklist piece by piece.  They continued to work as their muscles ached, and their bodies fought the fatigue and growing tiredness that had been kept at bay with adrenaline.  “Lieutenant, we’re nearly there.”  She stumbled over to the mobile console they’d connected to the start-up generators and the core systems.  A few more strokes of the buttons and the large green button blinked – it was primed.  Nearly six hours of work, and she knew they’d all felt all of them trying to work in the near darkness.

She stepped up to the console and tapped in her command codes.  There was a thump from all three generators and a bump from the core.  She unconsciously held her breath.  The gathered crew fell silent as whispers for quiet went around the room.  Nothing happened.  “Come on…,” she muttered.  McKee stared at the console, watching the blinking green light; her command codes entered and engaged.  Had the generators had an internal fault they didn’t account for?  Was the core hurt more than they thought?  What were they supposed to do if they couldn’t get the core back online?  McKee knew enough to figure out something to keep the batteries going a little longer, but that was going to be an act of desperation.  They’d have to start cutting battery power to other decks, and that was a process of climbing through Jefferies Tubes.  A new ship with a shiny name, and she was going to be the engineer that lost her.  She grouched a little louder, “Come on…”

Suddenly, there was a deep thrum, like the fingers of a master swinging their fingers over the strings of a bass guitar.  That was one.  Then silence.  Everyone leaned forward.  Another thrum.  And then another.  Suddenly, the core lit up, casting a bright glow in the dark engine room, and the rotations of the living rhythm increased.  McKee worked at the console to ensure the balances were correct as the warp core tore through the start-up checklist.  Lights began to flicker, and consoles started to boot up.  Sparks flew from random corners, and the damage control team didn’t take much time to celebrate, so they began to dispatch throughout the room and beyond.  The lights stopped flickering and poured brightness over everyone, the shared smiles genuine as hope for whatever was next moved up a notch or two.

McKee’s badge chirped, and she tapped it, “Lieutenant McKee.”

The voice of a relieved Captain Halsey was on the other end, “Damn good to hear your voice, McKee.  Thank you for getting the lights back on.  You and your team got us back on our feet.”

Elizabeth swallowed the emotions swirling in her throat, “You’re welcome, sir.”

He replied, “We’re not sure where we are yet, and internal sensors are slowly coming up. Put a team on it, will you? We’re not sure, but there may be hostiles onboard. Arm your people as soon as you can, and coordinate your sightings with Chief Tir.”

McKee blinked.  There was a lot in that order from the XO.  She passed the word to her team, “On it.  Any idea who they might be?”

“When you find them, let us know.”