Main Engineering, 1830 Zulu

Nancy, or Eloísa, as she preferred to be called, stepped out of the Chief Engineer’s office, steaming cup of fresh Oaxacan coffee in hand. She smiled softly as she heard the activity in Main Engineering, as her staff kept themselves busy with the daily operations of the starship.

From a young age, she had the dream of “sailing amongst the stars,” having grown up in a close-knit family in Puebla. Her older siblings and cousins had spoken about serving in Starfleet and the adventures they had, and Eloísa had looked up to them. About two years before she was due to enlist, however, war broke out in the Alpha Quadrant. Her parents, determined to protect her (as she was one of the younger kids), tried to dissuade her from enlisting. Despite this, her older brother (serving as Captain of the USS Kirmon, Excelsior-class) quietly recommended her for Starfleet Academy. The day her acceptance arrived, a massive fight lasting about 4 days erupted, as her parents tried to force her to decline. Ultimately, after timely intervention by some of her siblings, her parents relented, and with the promise to take care of herself, Eloísa left for Starfleet Academy.

To everyone’s shock and horror, her first year in San Francisco was marked by the assault of the Breen on Earth; Eloísa had just left class when the campus went into lockdown. She managed to pull two of her classmates into one of the buildings when the bombardment started. For hours, they heard the explosions, though they were unable to do anything to fight back. The feelings of anger of that day stoked a fire in Eloísa, it was what cemented her desire to stay at Starfleet.

After the Breen withdrawal, Eloísa went straight to the impromptu aid stations manned by some of the medical student cadets, asking if there was anything she could do to help. An officer caught wind of Cadet Aranda’s wishes and had her assigned to his detail; he was heading to the main communications array at Starfleet Headquarters to repair what was needed. Eloísa spent the next few days working around the clock to help bring Starfleet Communications back online; at the end, she discovered her passion for engineering.

Her parents were beside themselves with concern when news spread worldwide about the devastating attack in San Francisco; a new fight broke out within the family when Eloísa refused her parents’ suggestion that she come home immediately and find something less dangerous. To this day, her parents and her had a strained relationship, though the relationship with her siblings was stronger than ever. She was a damned good engineer, having obtained a vast level of experience and a knack for making “pinche engines and systems do things they never were supposed to do.” As Chief Engineer, Eloísa was tough but fair, preferring to delegate responsibility to those most capable and working right alongside her engineers. It was a common sight to see her emerge from Jeffries tubes, her coveralls stained with a combination of oil, lubricants of different kinds, gel-pack goo, grease, and other (according to her) “mystery goo.”

On this day, she was wearing her regular duty uniform, just supervising the work her subordinates were doing. Ever since the distortion messed up sensors and warp capability, her department had been working around the clock to find solutions to each developing issue, the biggest one being sensor range. By routing sensor output through the communication array and splicing both creatively, she had managed to extend the range of the sensors using the communications array. That would have its own consequences later, but it was functional. After all, Captain Oteng had ordered her to do “whatever she needed to do,” and she followed orders.

After a moment of looking at the MSD, the doors to Main Engineering swished open, and Captain Oteng entered. Eloísa turned to look, giving the Captain a raised eyebrow, as he didn’t come there very often.

“Vaya pues, miren quien entro. (Well, well; look who entered). Capitán, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Ms. Aranda, good to see you too. Just wanted to see how things were going down here in the bowels.”
“We’re doing, though my staff need a break. We have been on duty for almost 48 hours; the guys and gals need to sleep; they need rest.”

“I know, I know. Start a rotation of those who need rest the most, and I’ll send who I can to help alleviate.”

“Va, pues. (Aye). I’ll get on that when I have a moment. But I sense that’s not why you’re down here, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m down here because I wanted to drop a new problem on your lap.”

Eloísa’s expression hardened, and her eyes narrowed in barely hidden irritation. She muttered “Pinche Cabron, no necesito mas problemas. (You jerk; I don’t need any more problems);” under her breath, then sighed and nodded. “Whatcha got for me, Sir?” Her tone softened as she spoke, realizing what she had just done. She slowly inhaled, her shoulders relaxing. She knew she was going to likely get reprimanded for her response.

Fabien ignored her outburst in the moment; like most engineers, Eloísa had an attitude, and he knew it. He made a mental note to call her in and talk to her about it, but for now, that wasn’t the issue at hand.

“I want you to look into quantum slipstream…see if the Los Angeles can be modified to work with it.”

Eloísa’s eyes widened, her facial expression softening. “You want me to modify the LA to use slipstream?”

Fabien nodded. “Yes. We’re crippled without the ability to use warp, and I figure a talented, creative engineer such as yourself could pull it off without breaking the ship…too much.” Fabien smiled slightly as he spoke. He knew full well what he was doing. “So, you up for it?”

Eloísa’s eyebrow arched, her curiosity piqued. She knew damn well what CAPT Oteng had just done, but she couldn’t resist the challenge. She smiled and scoffed, meeting his gaze.

“We got this. I’ll get the propulsion team together and we’ll get started. It might take some time though.”

“Excellent. I have full faith in you and our engineers. Carry on.”

“Aye sir. I’ll keep you posted with updates.”

“Good. Thank you Commander.”

He looked at Main Engineering, bathed in the pulsing flow of the warp core, then turned to leave. No sooner had he left, than he got an urgent page.

“Captain to the bridge.”

Main Bridge, 1845 Zulu (0233 Local System Time)

Captain Oteng walked onto the bridge, stepping off the turbolift and turning right, only to see three massive Klingon ships on the viewscreen, all heading straight for the Los Angeles.

“What the…” CAPT Oteng’s eyes widened. “Are those…?

“Yep! Trying to ID them now, sir.” LT Spencer’s voice was full of urgency.

“Shields up!”

The bridge lights dimmed as the red alert klaxon sounded and the alert lights turned on in their familiar strobe-like pattern.

“Mr. Spencer, anything?” Fabien asks urgently as he quickly steps around to sit in his command chair.

“Gottem! The three Klingon ships are the IKS Qorwagh, Bortasqu’-class and two Vor’cha-class cruisers, the IKS Retlh and IKS Charghwi’.”

As he sat, Fabien took a deep breath. From his tactical briefings, he knew that the New Orleans-class could take on one Vor’cha-class, maybe two if they were lucky…but certainly not the Bortasqu’. Let alone the Bortasqu’ and the Vor’chas. Fabien took a deep breath and stood, walking to the center of the bridge.

“Please tell me they’re…” Fabien started to ask if the Klingons were hailing but was interrupted by LT Spencer.

“They’re hailing, Captain.”

“Thank God. Onscreen.”

The screen switched from the imposing formation to the darkened bridge typical of Klingon vessels. A large Klingon sat at the center of the bridge; his overcoat draped on his shoulders; the left breast covered in medals. He looked like a formidable Klingon warrior, one that would not hesitate to blow them out of the space. In a booming baritone, the Klingon began to speak.

“I am Shontem Sa’ Lath, commanding this squadron on behalf of the Empire. What are you doing in this sector?” He glowers at CAPT Oteng, then sneers. “Have you gotten lost, baktag? Do you need help finding your way back, like nu’ puqs (little, minature children)?”

Fabien simply tilted his head back, face blank and unreadable.

‘So, this is how it’s going to go’ he thinks to himself.

He then squares up, looking directly into the Klingon’s eyes, returning the sneer with a look of resolved determination, unfazed by the General’s taunting. Under the surface, he was concerned for the individuals under his command and of course, everything else that was happening.

“Clever, General Lath. I am Captain Fabien Oteng, commanding the Federation Starship Los Angeles. We are here on a mission of grave importance, one that you have interrupted with your childhood taunts, petaQ. Would you like to go back to the schoolyard, General, so we can taunt each other to tears?”

The bridge crew shifted uncomfortably as Captain Oteng continues to speak, projecting confidence and a swagger previously unknown to the crew as he speaks. Brooke and Siobhan exchange a look, both showing same ‘what the hell is he doing’ expression evident in their faces. The Klingon General stands up, clearly agitated and angry.

“HOW DARE YOU, YOU PATHETIC HA’DI BAH! YOU DARE CALL ME A CHILD?!?! I SHOULD KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND, LO’BE VOS!!” He roars, making a fist as he stands up.

Fabien is unphased by the Klingon’s display of rage. He knows he must stand his ground, not show fear, even though some of his crew are even more uncomfortable. The Klingon’s outburst causes a stir on the bridge, though professionalism and Starfleet discipline wins out over the raw emotion. Fabien, however, is unfazed by the Klingon’s display. He begins tapping his foot, then shrugs noncommittally, playing up the nonchalant attitude.

“Oh, General. You act like a child, yelling and screaming like a yintagh; saying and yelling and threatening. Qi’yah t’gla; not unlike the windbags in the High Council!”

The Klingon’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback. His expression hardens again, attempting to intimidate the human before finally tossing his head back, roaring with laughter and awe, defusing the tension on the bridge.

“Maw’tok, Fabien HoD. Maw’tok!” General Lath nods approvingly, weighing what his next words would be. This Federation Captain had just out cursed and insulted him; going further than any of his own people would dare go. General Lath sneers for a moment, before his look of anger gives way to a smile.

“MajQa, Fabien HoD! You have proven your toduj, Captain Oteng of the Federation Starship Los Angeles. You truly are a suvwI’ (warrior). Not many Klingons would have the qajunpaQ (courage/audacity) to insult me in such a brazen manner…much less humans. Well played, sir.”

The other Klingons on the bridge look at each other with mutedly shocked expressions as their commanding officer speaks. The human Captain had courage. Insane courage, but courage nonetheless. Captain Oteng bows his head slightly in deference and slight bashfulness as General Lath speaks; not liking the effusive praise coming from the Klingon.

“Thank you, General. Coming from you, that means a lot. I learned from the best.” His expression becomes grave as General Lath sits at his command chair, cloak draped behind him, creating the illusion of a cape.

“Captain Oteng, just what is a Federation Starship doing on this side of our territory? Especially without any sort of permission?” His tone is more respectful, neutral.

Captain Oteng responds slowly. “General, to your question, we are responding to a distress signal, one emanating from Rura Penthe.”

General Lath’s expression hardens as he nods his head.

“I see.” He pauses, then continues. “Why did you not transmit to Morska Station of your intentions, per the amended treaty between our peoples?”

“We tried, but Morska was not receiving.”

General Lath grunts, then turns to an aide, who after nodding, runs off.

“Well, we will not allow a Federation vessel to be here unescorted. We will confirm your story. Qorwagh, out.”

The viewscreen goes back to the outside view, the three Klingon ships in formation visible. On the bridge, CAPT Oteng turned to his command staff, all at their posts.

“Thoughts, everyone?” he asked, looking at CMDR Abramov with a sly smile.

“I’m just glad we’re not dead” LT Muthoni pipes up.

“Ditto” adds LTCMDR Pearse, letting out a small giggle. She promptly fist-bumps Muthoni.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Captain. Hell of a time…you impressed the Klingons.” CMDR Abramov adds.

“Captain, the Klingons are hailing.”

The mood on the bridge gets tense again. Fabien turns around to the viewscreen.

“Onscreen, Mr. Spencer.”

“Aye.”

The view goes back to the familiar bridge scene. This time, though, the ship was on alert and crewmembers were running around.

“Captain, thank you for your patience. We have confirmed your story.”

Fabien blinks. He wasn’t expecting the Klingons to be so quick to confirm.

General Lath continued.

“Captain, we have lost contact with Morska and it appears we are on our own. This is an internal matter of the Empire, it would seem.”

Fabien nodded; that was the polite “get lost” from the General.

“General, while I understand it is an internal matter; whatever is happening here concerns our two peoples. Federation space has also been affected. As such, this isn’t just an Imperial matter.”

General Lath turned his head to the right, appearing to consider CAPT Oteng’s words. “What do you refer to, Captain?”

“General, I think it best if I explained in person. Would you be willing to come aboard the Los Angeles?”

“Bold, Captain. I will come aboard your starship. I have always liked being aboard Federation starships. They are more…comfortable than our own.”

“I look forward to meeting you in person. Los Angeles, out.” Captain Oteng sighed after the connection dropped.

“Commander Abramov, join me in the transporter room. Miss Pearse, you have the bridge.”

“Aye sir.” LTCMDR Pearse stands up from her station to take her place at the command chair as Brooke and Fabien leave the bridge. LT Spencer taps his console, sounding the boatswain’s whistle.

“CN Rodriguez, report to Transporter Room 2. CN Rodriguez, report to Transporter Room 2.”