Iskander al-Kraritzmi’s personal log, supplemental: I am certain that the Captain did call whomever is in command of the Klingon fleet and ordered them to retreat. I am certain that the Klingons were amused by a California-class starship making such request, and probably remarked that the Federation shouldn’t join a battle against a Klingon fleet, and probably the Captain declared that it is the Federation duty, in any conflict between two of its allies, to join the defending side, or something like that. It doesn’t matter a lot, but now we are in red alert. I have notified to Commander Durbus that Sublieutenant Dhae ha requested to complement our crew, and she has agree with cheery enthusiasm.

Iskander, and most people on board the ship that weren’t on the bridge, was only tangentially aware of why a fight would start. Many times not only didn’t he know the reason but also who the enemy was.

In this case, when the ship started shaking, he knew it perfectly well. Unless his expectations and understanding of Federation diplomacy was completely wrong, they were being shot by a Klingon fleet. It would have been wise for the small and combat-light Redding, a humble California-class support cruiser, to stay in the backline and offer assistance to the Romulan forces: but he expected that the Captain, as her usual, would push this small irrelevant ship to the frontline.

The ship shook again.

Dhae was running at his side.

The forward engineering post was a small engineering repair bay located in section 18: there were several equivalent repair bays, and during any battle they were to be manned. Were some ship damage to occur in the sections 12 from 24, engineers would be dispatched from the forward engineering post and not from the much more distant Main Engineering. This not being a shift where Iskander was to be in Main Engineering, his task was to lead this post.

Battles were a nerve-wrecking affair, as observed from the point of view of a repair engineer. The ship was to be kept in one piece: oft, a crippling damage to the ship was also a deadly situation for the engineer tasked with repairing it. Iskander’s task was to send people to save a certain ship’s part, but oft it had meant sending colleagues and friends to risk their lives.

Iskander arrived at his post and took place.

He made a short role call. Four of his engineers were already there — Ensign Camebr, Chiefs Kortinx, Hutchevell-Rion, and Kij al Wyr — and only Chief Linorant was unaccounted for. That was to be expected: it wasn’t their shift. A battle was liable to start at the least convenient moment: while showering, during a medical examination, in a pre-coital situation, and so on. Professionals would get to their position in a short time, but medical examinations needed to be performed, and pre-coital interruptions always needed a certain time and care. Not that Iskander had any reason to suspect that the latter was the reason for Chief Linorant’s delay.

They seemed to be surprised at Dhae’s presence, but didn’t object.

“Alright, people” said Iskander, trying to sound cool. “We are in battle against the Klingons. A whole fleet. We can expect heavy damage.”

“We are allied with the Klingons, aren’t we?” asked Chief Kortinx, her voice nervous.

“A good friendship sometimes needs a good fight” remarked chief Hurchevell-Rion, who was one-quarter Klingon and had small, delicate ridges on her brow.

The Starfleet team started arming themselves with engineering kits, controlling that everything was in order. Damage reports were due to arrive at any moment. Even the Romulan was given a standard repairing kit, which he fastened to his belt with a certain unease.

Dhae’s Romulan communicator chirped. Iskander recognized the voice of a Lieutenant who, after the dishonour of the Centurion, had taken the mantle of unofficial leader of the Koruba survivors. “Sublieutenant, what is happening?”

“The Redding is fighting alongside the Navy” he said while still fidgeting with the repairing kit.

“How can you know that they have not joined the Klingons? Would they ignore their much older alliance with the wortsui lhannto?”

Iskander smiled fleetingly. The translator hadn’t translated the last two words, but he knew them: “bastard battalion”, or “battalion of bastards”. In his experience, several works of literature referred thusly to Klingon fleets. It was funny because it was accidentally an alliteration in Federation standard, making it more poetic after a translation.

Dhae didn’t even seem to dignify the question. “Do you have anything important to ask, Lieutenant?”

“Where are you? You are not in your quarters.”

“I am lending my support to the Redding‘s repair teams, Lieutenant.”

“Sublieutenant! You joined the battle on Starfleet’s side?”

Iskander could tell that Dhae was getting exasperated because his voice always sounded a bit smokier and raucous when it happened. “Starfleet joined the battle on our side. If you want to serve the Republic I suggest you also make yourselves useful. Dhae out.”

The Redding shook again, this time more firmly. Probably a torpedo.

The monitors of the forward engineering post lit up.

“Ensign Camebr, Chief Kij al Wyr” ordered Iskander, going through the damage. “Minor damage at the EPS manifold X17-2. Stabilize or reroute.”

“Aye, Lieutenant al-Kwaritzmi” said the Ensign, and the two moved out while Iskander, at his monitor, notified sending a team.

Chief Linorant finally arrived, red and flustered — it might have been a pre-coital interruption — and Iskander sent him off to quench a fire at Junction J21-11.

Dhae seemed struck by a thought. “Any chance that we will be boarded by a Klingon away team, Lieutenant?”

Iskander found the thought to be odd. “Boarding a Starfleet ship? Why, firing us is not enough?”

Dhae nodded. “Sure, but if we assume that the Klingons don’t want to downright destroy a Starfleet ship, then temporarily incapacitating it would be a way to prevent any more serious damage.”

“A Klingon stealth team?” repeated the quarter-Klingon Chief Hurchevell-Rion.

“Well, I do assume that Klingon stealth teams do a lot of superfluous screaming” admitted Dhae. “I’m sure that they think it is a part of being stealthy.”

“I would hate it, Sublieutenant, if you turned out to be correct” said Iskander. His monitor lit up. “Serious hull damage and depressiruzation in Junction J13-8. Hurchevell-Rion, you take post here. Chief Kortinx, Sublieutenant Dhae, you are with me.”

Dutifully, two engineers and a Romulan scientist made their way to the part of the ship that was threatening to become the outside of the ship.