“Witch Hunt”
Episode 68
Prologue
According to Starfleet Tactical Ops, upgrading the Starlight’s phaser banks should have been a
simple task. By making a few minor
adjustments to the plasma accelerators, the report alleged, it would be
possible to bolster phaser efficiency more than fifty percent. It was a very tempting prospect and Lucas
Tompkins—eager to benefit from the added efficiency—almost immediately set out
to make the necessary modifications.
Six hours and one massive headache later, the chief engineer
regretted his bout of eagerness.
Not only did the modifications not work, they also managed
to screw up the EPS grid on three decks, causing some wild temperature
fluctuations on decks sixteen and seventeen, and a power failure on deck
fifteen that managed to disrupt the ODN relays—which somehow managed to screw
the targeting sensors to hell (or in other words, the Starlight was
incapable of hitting the broad side of a Borg cube).
To say that Lucas Tompkins was upset by these events would be a
grave understatement, for the chief engineer had spent most of the morning—and
now afternoon—crammed in some far-flung Jefferies tube attempting to reverse
his ‘upgrade.’ And as he worked,
Tompkins was left with the distinct feeling that he would also be spending a
good part of the evening in the company of the Jefferies tubes, leading him to
one very concise conclusion: “This sucks.”
His words echoed throughout the narrow corridors for several
seconds before fading into oblivion. In
their wake, a haunting silence lingered in the musty air. The calm was relaxing, and in the wake of this
day, Tompkins allowed himself a brief respite from his work to enjoy the
tranquil moment.
He rested his weary head on the cool metallic wall and slouched
down into the most relaxing position he could muster. As he closed his eyes, thoughts of a large steak dinner filled
his mind, beckoning him to the mess hall… Baked potatoes, drenched in smooth
butter… Jayla Trinn, dressed in nothing but her spots… What an evening that would make!
But a sudden clank at the end of the Jefferies tube brought
Tompkins’ daydream to an abrupt conclusion.
Crouched at the source of the noise was the aforementioned Jayla
Trinn—fully clothed, of course. She
held a large engineering kit in her left hand, and slowly started to shove it
down the Jefferies tube; as it clanked across the deck, Jayla cast her gaze
upon Lucas. “Lieutenant Kinsey says the
power is still out on parts of deck fifteen.”
Lucas straightened his back and expelled a long sigh. “Damn,” he grumbled. “I’ve been working on these ODN relays for
an hour! Power should be
restored!”
Jayla shrugged, and said,
“It is. On most of the
deck.” She crept a few meters closer,
and then gave the engineering kit a good shove.
“And ‘most of the deck’ isn’t good enough,” Lucas replied, easily
intercepting the approaching kit. He
quickly flipped it open and removed a sleek hyperspanner. “Has Lieutenant
Kinsey made any progress?”
“Not much more than we have,” said Jayla. “But we’ve been at this for six hours. Maybe we should take a break.”
A break sounded like a very good idea to Tompkins, but he knew
better than anyone that once he left the Jefferies tubes, he would not want to
return. “I’d rather get all this crap
taken care of now. No use in drawing
it out any longer than we have to.” He
activated the hyperspanner and slowly began to run it over the exposed
conduits.
“I guess you’re right,” Jayla agreed, her eyes rapidly flitting
between the conduit and her tricorder.
“You’re not having any effect,” she reported after a moment. “Try a lower frequency.”
Tompkins immediately complied.
“How’s that?”
She glanced back to the tricorder. “Better.”
“Good.” Though his mind was focused almost entirely upon the task
at hand, Tompkins kept an ear open, just to keep himself aware of his
surroundings; with his luck, the ship was under attack by hostile aliens, and
the last thing he wanted was to be caught off guard. Thankfully, he did not detect any danger, but he was fairly
certain he could hear Jayla mumbling something in the distance. “What is it?” he inquired, slowly turning
his gaze to the delicate Trill.
She shrugged sheepishly, and dove her eyes back into her
tricorder. “Lower the frequency a
little bit more,” she suggested. “I
think we can start making some real progress then.”
“All right.” Tompkins
promptly made the necessary adjustment, but he wasn’t about to let the
conversation die. “Is something
bothering you? Heh… I know I shouldn’t
have had that three-bean salad for breakfast, but the ventilation in—”
“No,” Jayla promptly interrupted, her voice hinting at
disgust. In retrospect, Tompkins wished
he had not mentioned the salad, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty. Thankfully, Jayla allowed the salad to fall
by the wayside, and continued, “We both have a couple weeks of shore leave
coming, and I was about to suggest we spend them together…”
That was about the last thing Lucas had expected Jayla to
say, and the words practically shocked him into submission. His hands immediately froze in the open
conduit, and as the exciting prospect of a vacation with Jayla filled his mind,
Tompkins heart began to pound. “Hell
yeah!” he exclaimed. “I’m there!”
But Tompkins’ excitement was ultimately his undoing—for his left
hand suddenly had an unfortunate encounter with the hyperspanner in his right
hand. Pain abruptly replaced jubilation
as the hyperspanner’s tiny beam of light pierced his skin. “Damn it!!” He dropped the spanner into the conduit and grabbed his burning
hand. “Shit!!!”
“Are you okay?” Jayla abruptly inquired, placing a caring hand on
Tompkins’ shoulder.
He promptly bit his lip, hoping to ebb the flow of swear words,
but Lucas quickly realized that it only hurt his lip. “Do I look okay?” he grunted. “Have you ever been burned by one of those bad boys? Damn…”
Jayla shook her head. “I’m
a little more careful with my tools,” she replied. “You should get to sickbay.
I’ll take care of this.”
Tompkins was not about to argue.
His hand still burned with pain, and he could feel the blood beginning
to trickle down his arm. “Good luck,”
he grumbled.
“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” Jayla replied.
“I don’t,” Tompkins said as he scooted his way toward the
exit. “But you do. And you’re going to need it.”
After almost fifteen years of practicing medicine, Sarah Hartman
thought she had seen everything. True,
fifteen years was not a long time, but on a starship at the edge of the final
frontier, Hartman found herself exposed to situations that other people could
only imagine. But the moment she
started to grow complacent, something would inevitably happen to show the
Doctor that she had only scratched the surface of the wonders offered by the
universe. And today’s incident was a
classic.
“So let me get this straight,” said the Doctor as she scanned
Lucas Tompkins’ bloodied hand, “you swiped yourself with a hyperspanner after
Jayla Trinn suggested the two of you go on vacation?”
Tompkins glanced at the gaping wound in the palm of his hand. “Heh… Yeah.
I wasn’t expecting her to say that.”
Satisfied with the tricorder’s analysis Hartman snapped the
scanner shut and reached for a dermal regenerator. “So you decided to slice off you decided to slice off a chunk of
your hand? Brilliant, Einstein. Next time, aim a little more to the left and
you can sever a couple major veins.”
“Hey,” said Tompkins defensively, “the thought of getting some
action in the bedroom is enough to rattle any guy’s cage.”
“Would you like an injection avagralinacine?” Hartman inquired,
carefully running the dermal regenerator over Tompkins’ wound.
The engineer paused. “What
will that do?”
The Doctor began to open her mouth, but before the words could
roll from her tongue, the doors behind her slid apart. She briefly glanced up to see Captain
Christopher crossing the threshold into sickbay. “What do you want?” she demanded.
Christopher flashed a quick smile. “Good to see you, too Sarah,” he said, his tone annoyingly
pleasant.
“If you’re here about the bionitrate samples we collected last
week—”
“Actually,” Christopher interrupted, “I’m not here to see you at
all.”
Hartman paused, and shrugged indolently. “Good,” she said. She
didn’t really want to talk the Christopher in the first place. “But if you ever want to look at those damn
bionitrate samples, they’re in the medlab.”
Christopher nodded politely, and said, “Thank you, dearest Sarah,”
before turning his attention to Lucas Tompkins. “You’re not too badly injured, are you?”
The engineer gazed at his hand; it was almost completely healed
thanks to Hartman’s administrations.
“It was just a minor scratch,” he quipped. “Why?”
Christopher drew himself even nearer. “How would you like to go on a little undercover mission?”