Iskander al-Kwaritzmi’s personal log, supplemental: we are facing a fleet of Klingons and we have been fixing damage after damage. And all I wanted to do was to have a quiet and sensitive heart-to-heart with Dhae.

Iskander, Dhae, and Chief Kortinx had repaired the extensive corridor damage at Junction J13-8 quite fast and prevented explosive depressurization. Then Iskander and Dhae had quenched a plasma fire at Junction J21-12; then restoring force field commands in section 17 and 18.

Finally back for a breather at the forward engineering post, the small cramped room where nominally Iskander would have been in charge had he not insisted taking on all the most dangerous repairs, he looked at Dhae. He had just sent Chief Kij al Wir to stabilize the ODN relays (O19-1): they were alone.

The Romulan was as handsome as always: his hair curly and light, thanks to a mutation on his home planet; his skin smooth and stained by all sort of engineering grease; his body lithe and strong like a spring; the eyebrows arched upwards in an incredibly endearing curve. The Romulan smiled back, slowly.

“Dhae? Was Commander Siouinon suggesting that you could be transferred to Starfleet if your career in the Romulan Republic Navy is truly about to be ended?” asked finally Iskander.

“I think that is what she was suggesting” answered Dhae, coolly.

A damage report appeared on the monitors of the forward engineering post. Iskander rerouted it directly to Chiefs Kortinx and Linorant, who were currently in a Jeffrey’s Tube about ten meters from the new damage report.

“And what do you think?” asked Iskander, trying not to get his hopes too high.

“I think –“

Rumor of heavy boots running.

“PETA’Q!” screamed someone in the corridor.

“Klingon?” asked Iskander. That was Klingon, wasn’t it?

“That is not what I think” remarked Dhae.

“TODAY IS A GOOD DAY TO DIE!” screamed another voice.

Dhae had to concede. “Ok, it is Klingon.”

Dhae and Iskander looked out of the small room that served as a forward engineering post. They could see, in the distance, a group of Klingon warriors, waving bat’leths and screaming something about their imminent death in battle and the honor involved in the affair.

“I do not always hate when you are correct, Dhae” said Iskander tiredly, “but when it comes to Klingon boarding parties I really do.”

“Should we do something, Iskander?”

“Security will take care of them” evaluated the human. The Klingons had already vanished after taking a turn at, by the look of it, Junction J15-2.

“That’s a very cavalier attitude, Iskander.”

“I resent that a bit! A space battle isn’t decided by whose gunman has the best aim when lobbing crude torpedoes at another ship. The winning ship is the one that has been kept in one piece by its engineers.”

Dhae seemed to consider the thought. “Battles are won by… engineers?”

“We wouldn’t still be in the fight if the ship had depressurized twenty minutes ago, would we?”

Dhae shrugged.

The engineering monitor started lighting up with a new damage report. Iskander had a look at it. “There you go. Plasma pressure build-up in EPS manifold X23-17. Remote resetting impossible.”

Dhae looked at the monitor and Iskander pointed out the pressure reading. Dhae seemed impressed. “Well, that would make a hole in the hull if not taken care of.”

Iskander nodded, taking his engineering kit. “Let’s go win this battle by keeping the ship in one piece!”