The diminutive Vulcan and his handler, that mountain of a woman, were the last people Joel Bush wanted to see entering engineering.

“Oh, no!” he started, “Not today!” They kept coming closer, and Bush kept his eyes on his station, as he continued to punch away commands. “I’m not in any position to grant any fantastical wishes today. All tapped out!” His gaunt face and tousled hair emphasized his irascible energy and made him look something like a mad scientist or a revival preacher.

He snuck a glance at the pair as they arrived at his workstation. He could swear that tiny Vulcan had a smile on his face. His superior officer certainly did.

“Commander Bush,” Da Silva offered as gently as she could, which wasn’t much. “I take it Captain Ralin’s keeping you busy?”

“No,” he puffed, pretending to remain fixed on his work, “the damn idiots at Farpoint Station who turned this warp core inside out are the ones keeping us busy.”

“I see. So you’re not aware that we’ll be departing for the Correolan System within the hour.” Now she hid away a small smile. And so did that Vulcan, Bush maintained to himself.

“No, Ensign, I was not aware.” He leaned on the console in the pose of someone who had just finished an exhausting footrace. “I’m about as aware as the bulkheads when it comes to–”

He was interrupted by the trilling of the intraship comms system.

“Bridge to Engineering.”

He looked at Da Silva and Skell as if they had just revealed a prank they were pulling on him. With his eyes locked on them, he responded. “This is Bush.”

The voice of Commander Al Ganbold came through the comm. “Commander Bush, we need maximum possible warp within the hour.”

Bush signed and rolled his eyes. “You bet, skip.”

“Thanks, Commander. I know the refit did a number on the engines. Appreciate your team’s diligence. I know the captain does, too. Ganbold out.”

“See?” Da Silva said, putting both elbows on the workstation and bringing her face just a few inches from Bush’s. “That wasn’t hard.”

The flirtation, or intimidation, worked. Bush stood up and simply shrugged. He continued to ignore the visitors in an obvious and, Melanie suspected, intentional way.

“Ramirez!” he shouted. A crewman jogged around a corner and stood before Bush. “I need warp seven-point-anything in fifteen minutes or I’m gonna wrap you in duranium, shove you in the torpedo bay and shoot you back to Oklahoma.”

The crewman glanced at Da Silva and Skell and allowed himself a smile. “Texas, sir.”

“What?”

“I’m from Texas, sir. Beaumont.”

Bush dropped a PADD onto the table. “I don’t care if you’re from Talos IV, get with Ensign Bowles and get the damn engine humming! Now!”

“Aye, sir,” Ramirez said in a tone that betrayed his amusement.

As the crewman disappeared again, Joel picked up his PADD and began tapping rapidly.

“Commander,” Melanie began.

“Hm? Yes? Oh, you’re still here?” He was now reining in his performative anger and putting on a simply-too-distracted air.

Even Skell fought the urge to roll his dark eyes.

“Yes, sir. Believe it or not, we didn’t come here to observe your legendary personnel management techniques,” Melanie said.

Joel couldn’t help but let a smile creep in. “Fine, Ensign. What is it?”

“Well,” Da Silva looked to the side, seeming to search for a suitable description.

Skell took a step forward. “We will require a portable force field emitter small enough to be carried manually and large enough to be deployed over a vessel’s hatch.”

Joel cast his eyes down. A new problem to solve. As he had all day, he tried again to hide his excitement. “So, probably foldable?”

“That was our thought as well,” Skell replied.

“And how big’s this hatch?”

“We don’t know.”

Joel looked up sharply. “You don’t know?”

“The vessel is not of a type we’ve encountered before,” Melanie offered. “We won’t know the size of the airlock, or the pressurization for that matter, until we arrive in the system.”

Now Joel let his smile beam. “Is that so? Why didn’t you say so, Da Silva?”

Melanie gave a shrug.

“Now we’re cooking with gas.” Joel shouted. “Come on, Skelly Boy, we’re about to get our hands dirty.” Without looking, Joel began walking back to the fabrication lab. Skell followed without a word, though he looked back over his shoulder to Melanie and revealed the Vulcan equivalent of a smug smile.

“You two have fun, now!” Melanie said. “Play nice, Commander!”

From out of view, she heard Bush shout: “Don’t worry, Da Silva! I always play nice — I just don’t play fair!”

Engineers are expert cheaters, she thought to herself as she made her way to the turbolift.

By the time she returned to the bridge, warp speeds were ready, and shortly, they were en route. Mount Shasta was underway.