“Time’s running short, Commander. You’d better haul ass before the fireworks start!” The Captain’s voice blared over the comm system.

“Understood, sir, we’re preparing to detach…” Wallace responded as he sealed the hatch. T’Lira was busy making preparations for departure while K’vagh and Conrad attended to the two Azurak casualties.

As if fate intervened, Conrad’s medical tricorder again began to alert him to the more severely injured patient. He glanced over the display, tapping a few of the controls to confirm. “He’s gone into cardiac arrest! K’vagh, pass me the Cardio-stimulator!” he yelled as the tricorder displayed a flatline.

K’vagh, with about as much surgical precision as a quantum torpedo, snapped open the emergency med-kit and scooped up the device in his hand, scattering other tools and instruments across the deck.

Receiving the device from K’vagh Conrad suddenly changed his mind about asking the Klingon to perform CPR, for genuine concern that he might end up crushing the man’s chest if he tried. He quickly applied the device to the man’s chest and stood to access a nearby panel, interfacing the device with the shuttle. “When I say so, push this button to deliver a charge!” he said, having set up the controls in such a way that an infant could understand them.

The Doctor then knelt beside his patient, placed his hands over the sternum, interlocking his fingers and began compressions, all while keeping an eye on his tricorder’s readout on the floor in front of him. He felt the initial crunch with his first compression, as some of the remaining ribs and connective tissue snapped. It was normal, but he never did get used to the feeling of the first compression.

CPR was a seldom-used procedure in this century; most medical bays had equipment that made the practice unnecessary. However, a Type 8 shuttle was not equipped with such devices.

“Commander! I need to get him to the infirmary STAT!” he panted, as he forced his upper body weight down onto the patient over and over in a desperate attempt to restore circulation.

“Detaching, everybody try to hold on if you can!” Wallace instructed as he released the mechanical interface with the freighter and guided the shuttle away in a display of smooth piloting. “Rutland to Fairfax, Medical Emergency! We’re losing one of the casualties. Standby for Site to Site transport to sickbay on arrival, ETA 9-0 seconds!” he transmitted as he punched the throttle forward on his display to full impulse power. He had to admit, he hadn’t envisaged becoming an ambulance driver when he joined Starfleet.

“Charge to 130 jules!” Conrad instructed K’vagh before clearing the patient. K’vagh delivered the shock, sending the patient’s back arching while the energy coursed around his musculature.

Bridge U.S.S. Fairfax

“Bridge to sickbay, Standby to receive two patients, one critical, ETA 90 seconds!” Alex said with authority into his communicator. He could see on the viewscreen that the shuttle was making a straight-in approach without slowing down.

“Captain, the approaching vessel will intercept us in less than 90 seconds. It appears to be a Nausicaan corsair. They are powering weapons!” the tactical officer reported.

Alex faced his first real decision of the day: drop shields, allowing the shuttle to land and risk leaving the ship vulnerable, or ask them to wave off while they deal with the Nausicaans. The decision wasn’t hard; Fairfax could take the initial volley, the shuttle couldn’t. “Lower shields, standby to re-initialise the second the shuttle is in the hangar!”

“Captain, if I may?” an elderly voice called out from behind the captain. Alex turned to acknowledge the old veteran, about to dismiss him, when something told him to listen to the old man’s wisdom for a second.

“A little trick we used to use during the Dominion war, if we generate a low-level warp field and vent a little drive plasma from the nacelles. The ionic interference might force the Nausicaans to refresh their targeting scanners,” the old man said confidently.

Alex immediately saw the relevance of the veteran’s advice, “Like popping chaff to confuse a radar lock? If it works, it only needs to buy us a couple of seconds to get the shields back up…. But the shuttle risks igniting the plasma with her impulse engines.”

“Trust me, Captain, it will work!” replied the old man.

Alex weighed the risk for a moment, then instructed the ensign at the engineering station to carry it out immediately.

Rutland

Wallace aligned the shuttle with Fairfax’s stern; there was no time to ‘fly the pattern’ for recovery, and a medical emergency gave them immediate clearance to land without having to ask.

“What the hell? Why are they venting drive plasma?” he said, confused.

T’Lira and Wallace shared a glance for a moment, and their confusion faded away as soon as they recalled the properties of drive plasma on external sensors.

“Oh, that’s brilliant!”

“Oh, that’s brilliant!”

They both called out in unison.

The Doctor and the Klingon were still desperately working on the patient in the back. Wallace would have told them to hang on, but at this point, it would have been pointless. He had to thread the needle of the approach corridor with a lot more speed than he would normally like.

The Landing Signal Officer’s callouts and the visual cues of the optical landing system were almost useless at this velocity; he had to make the approach on feel alone and be accurate in cutting the engines at the right moment. T’Lira assisted calling out the distance remaining, “One thousand meters….ninehundred…..eighthundred…”

With about as much finesse as an elephant crashing through a gate, the shuttle ploughed through the forcefield and immediately fired reverse thrusters to avoid colliding with the hangar wall. With sparks and an ear-piercing screech of metal on metal, she gouged into the flight deck, grinding to an eventual halt just shy of one of the Danube runabouts, parked at the end of the hangar.

“Rutland to Sickbay, Engerise!” Wallace commanded, as he turned, he saw the doctor, his patients and K’vagh begin to glow from the transporter beam, fading away into its energy. He sighed with relief as he began the emergency shutdown sequence. ‘One bent shuttle is a small price to pay for saving lives, ‘ he thought to himself.

Bridge

“Shields up, Captain!” Tactical reported with impeccable timing as the Nausicaan vessel came into view.

“Tactical analysis?” Alex requested.

“It’s a fairly even match, sir, though the Fairfax is somewhat outdated in terms of firepower; the Nausicaan ship is also significantly more manoeuvrable,” replied the tactical officer.

Alex weighed his options. An outright fight between the two vessels might end with a victory for the Fairfax, but it would surely exert a toll in blood. So far, the Nausicaans hadn’t opened fire, probably sizing the Fairfax up as a profitable plunder or not. Either way, it would be a bold move to attack a Federation cruiser, even this far outside of Federation space. He was willing to bet that a little tactful negotiation in this case might get the Nausicaans to back off.

“Open a channel to the Nausicaan ship!” he ordered, standing himself tall in the centre of the room, projecting strength in his posture.

“Channel open,” replied the Ops officer.

“Nausicaan vessel, this is Captain Alexander Dubois of the Federation starship Fairfax. Break off your approach and state your intentions immediately… or we will open fire!”

Alex waited for a response, hoping his challenge was a sufficient show of strength.

The Nausicaans did not falter. It was time to step things up and demonstrate Fairfax’s resolve. Alex knew the Nausicaans would exploit any weakness at this point; he had no intention of giving them the satisfaction.

“Tactical, fire a warning shot across their bow, Phasers only! Let’s show them we mean business!” he ordered.

The officer initiated the firing sequence, launching a beam of golden energy across the bow of the approaching vessel, barely grazing the forward shields, but sending a clear message that Fairfax was ready to defend itself.

The vessel slowed to a standstill, and moments later, a chime from the Ops console signified that the Nausicaans were responding to hails. As the Ops officer accepted the transmission, the intimidating view of the vessel morphed into an equally nightmarish feed of the Nausicaan captain, towering over the visual sensor that recorded the image. His appearance was war-like, with chaotically tangled black hair, mucus dripping from his mandibles, like a predator in anticipation of the kill.

“Federation Starship, This salvage is ours, we claim the right! Power down your weapons and withdraw immediately, or I will be forced to take it from you!”

“No,” said Alex in response, simply and calmly.

The response took the Nausicaan captain by surprise; he was not accustomed to receiving such resistance from prey.“What!?” he retorted.

“You heard me, I said no!” Alex repeated, his tone more forceful and dominant.

The Nausicaan was clearly not prepared for this discourse; he stumbled over his words, clinging desperately to the dominance of the conversation.

“I have the right of salvage to this freighter. It is my claim to make, Leave now or be destroyed!”

Alex again stood his ground, showing a resolute composure in his response.

“No, you won’t, you’ve had every opportunity to engage us from the moment we dropped out of warp. Instead, you hid in the shadows, probably not expecting the prey lured to your bait to be Starfleet in the first instance.”

Alex began approaching the viewscreen with a slow swagger; nothing about his body language projected the slightest ounce of fear as he continued his dressing down.

“I’m willing to bet the plan was originally to strike whatever came sniffing around the carcass you left, overwhelm them, and try to double your profits for the day. But that all changed when we showed up…. you’re not sure if this is a fight you’d win, or not willing to risk a Federation bounty on your head. Either way, you’ve shown your hand, and now you’re throwing your weight around to get us to turn and leave so you can get rid of the evidence.”

The Nausicaan’s intimidating expression began to dissolve, the Captain’s words were making a direct hit, and it was becoming impossible for the grotesque creature to hide his embarrassment.

“You’re a bully, and bullies need to be stood up to, so I’m going to make you a one-time offer… If you’re smart, you’ll take it….turn around, and don’t ever let me see your ugly face again, or else, I’ll make it my personal quest to hunt you down and put you in a very small jail cell, with the meanest, nastiest scum of galactic society. Then I’ll pull up a chair and sip my coffee while they all check off a list of a thousand different ways to make you call for your mommy!. leave now, and I might overlook what you were clearly trying to do here today.”

Alex stared the creature in the eyes via the viewscreen, showing absolutely no fear, telegraphing no weakness.

“You’re Starfleet… you have rules—”

“It’s a one-time offer. Take it or leave it…”

The two captains stared each other out for a moment, looking for any sign that the other was about to break. Before long Alex grew impatient, turned his back and started to approach his chair again. “Have it your way, Tactical, lock phasers and torped—”

“Wait!” The Nausicaan growled, interrupting Alex’s orders.

Alex froze, paused for a second and then turned to face the viewscreen once more.

The Nausicaan didn’t respond directly, but he openly ordered his crew to power down their weapons and turn their ship about. There was a little heated discussion on the Nausicaan bridge; clearly, some of the junior officers were eager for the kill, but the Captain made his demands clear, and before long, his subordinates stood down.

“A wise decision, now go, before I change my mind!” With that, Alex gestured to Ops to end the transmission. Glancing at faces across the bridge, everyone except the Vulcan was clearly impressed with the way he handled the situation. “I hate bullies,” he said, returning to his chair. “Stand down, Red alert, but keep a sensor lock on him, in case he changes his mind.”

The old veteran leaned across to Alex, “I’m curious, Captain, how Did you know he wasn’t going to fire on us?”

“I had my suspicions ever since they crept up on us, then when he just asked us to leave, I knew he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Nausicaans tend to open negotiations with a disruptor, as a general rule,” Alex explained.

The veteran nodded, “And all that talk about throwing his ugly face in a jail cell?”

“I’ll admit that was a gamble, but dealing with Nausicaans is like dealing with Klingons; you can’t show weakness. Any conversation is essentially a big pissin’ contest over who’s got the bigger phaser.” Alex retrieved a mug of coffee from the cup-holder at the side of his chair and took a sip, “I just called his bluff and stood up to him, like any bully… glad it worked”

The veteran chuckled as he used his cane to rise from his chair, “Well, I think we’re all glad we’ve got a Captain with your stones in command… now if you’ll excuse me, I could use a drink!”