“We’ve got no other choice. We have to get power back online…”

Pacing across the engineering deck, Prida was almost trance-like while her team watched her with great curiosity. So far, every suggestion had been brushed off—almost everything. The only one that remained was something she had never had to do in her entire career.

“Has anyone here done one before?” Ashrin hunched forward, placing his hands supportively upon the pool table. The staff were gathered around, their faces lit only by wrist beacons. No one so much as flinched. “Then we’re just going to have to make sure we do it right,” one corner of his lip lifted as he gave the Chief a smirk.

Listening to the Andorian caused the Chief to turn and take a few steps closer to the table. “If we fuck this up and get the intermix ratio even slightly wrong, the entire crew dies. We have to be certain this is the only choice open to us,” the Chief declared to the Round Table.

“There’s a good chance they die even if we don’t mess up,” the Assistant Chief responded, arms folded across his chest as he glared at the Bajassian. “But doing this gives us a chance to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Now if we do this,” the Chief began, stepping even closer, “we’re not going to have any way to warn the crew. The first priority when power is back is communications to the rest of the ship. People will need help. Damage control team beta will be on standby for communications, life support systems and transporters. Delta, you’re on standby for emergency callouts; Gamma, you’re on the propulsion systems. The rest of you, focus on everything else.” Taking a deep breath, she nodded to her people. It was go time.

As the staff began to filter out and prepare themselves for the task at hand, Prida reached out and grabbed Ashrin by the arm, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. “Not you. If I’m doing this craziness, I need someone just as crazy to help.”

“Gee, I’m flattered,” Ashrin grinned, then jerked his head towards the core. “Let’s light this baby up.”

Almost ten minutes later, preparations were complete. Both of the lucky souls about to put their lives on the line had found themselves a canister to withdraw some of their nominated materials and all that remained was to perform magic. Standing beside their specific chambers, the two looked across the divide between them and acknowledged the other.

“If this works, we deserve a holiday,” Ashrin suggested, placing both hands on his canister and sliding it through the opening on the antimatter chamber, slowly depressing a button which began to entice the antimatter liquid into the chamber.

“If we do this, I’m going home,” Prida shook her head, leaving it ambiguous as to whether she meant her true home on Bajor, or perhaps her home on Lakota, from where she had been seconded prior to the mess they found themselves in. Then, just as her colleague did, she withdrew some of the matter material and made for the intermix chamber. As always, the antimatter was the stuff that made things tick, so Prida started by placing her canister into a second opening and injecting the matter into the chamber.

Standing back with the now empty canister in hand, she looked at Ashrin. “When you’ve pressed that button, make sure you get back as quickly as possible. If we’ve got the intermix formula even a tiny bit wrong, we’re dead,” she warned him for a final time.

“Well, if we’re going to be dead, I don’t need to rush and hide, do I? Might as well get a front-row seat to the end of the universe,” the ever-morbid Andorian smirked, but as he placed his canister in the opening, the joviality dissipated rather rapidly.

“If you’re religious, I’d say now is the time to make contact with your deity of choice,” he called out to engineering, with all of his colleagues turning to the warp core and giving him their full attention.

Watching the cocky youngster, the Chief set an internal reminder to chastise him for his glib attitude if they got out of this, but for now, she didn’t want to be the cause of any distractions. As his hand flinched away from the container, she knew he’d set in motion an irreversible chain of events. If they were right, then the core would be restarted and systems would come online. If they were wrong…

Deck plating beneath her feet began to rumble almost instantly, the shaking growing in intensity, throwing several teammates to the ground and tossing unsecured objects and chairs about the engineering bay. Gripping the edge of the pool table tightly, she glared at the intermix chamber, muttering some kind of Bajoran prayer to the Prophets as the world around her seemed to fade into nothingness.

Ferocious to the last, every bulkhead across the ship seemed to reach its breaking point, the nacelles rattling atop their supportive struts until a brilliant flash of light within the warp core sparked a reaction that brought the shaking to an instantaneous halt. Never before had the entrancing swirling of warp plasma or the rhythmic pulsing of the warp core been so enchanting. Or welcome. Lights across the bay lit up, followed by consoles and systems all around engineering, each seeming accompanied by a cacophony of sounds. Not least the cheering and whooping of the engineering team, each one relieved at their survival.

Slapping the pool table with the palm of her hand, the Bajassian Chief grinned wider and happier than she had in an age, nodding to the young Andorian she’d taken on as her protege. The chastisement could wait for another day.

“Okay people,” she barked, “we’ve got crewmates to help. Let’s go!”