Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [15]
Hammond shook her head. “It’s really just a minor malfunction.”
Scotty pointed to the engineering control panel. “Nae according to those warning lights, it’s nae.”
The ensign dropped her professional smile. “There’s a fluctuation in the warp engine, and the base is having trouble accessing the Yorktown’s systems. But it’s probably nothing.”
Scott shrugged. “Perhaps I could take a look at the engines for ye while ye get these people out. I’m still on active duty, and I do know the ship.”
Hammond’s smile returned. “No thank you, sir. I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible. Only base personnel are allowed to perform repairs. But I would appreciate some help keeping everyone together and getting them on the shuttle as quickly as possible.”
“Aye,” Scott said in a resigned sort of way, as he and the ensign joined the last group to get onto a turbolift. During the ride, Scotty wondered how he would separate himself from Hammond.
He considered a number of options. One was to pull rank on her and send her on her way. Another was to overpower her and set the shuttle on automatic. Of course, he could simply hide in the Yorktown somewhere, until she had no choice but to leave him.
None of those choices seemed palatable to him. And worse, none of them was certain to work. Scotty recognized that his fragile plan was in imminent danger of falling apart. And failure at this point meant more than just embarrassment for him.
As they walked out onto the shuttledeck, the ship’s computer began announcing yellow alert through the intercom system. Scotty knew it was an automatic response to the overload.
Ensign Hammond didn’t wait for the question this time. “It’s nothing to worry about,” she said, “just a precaution. However, we should all board the shuttlecraft now.”
She ushered the nervous line of people on board. When the young boy came up to the shuttle entrance, he asked in a loud voice, “Are we under attack? Is it the Romulans?” His eyes were alight.
Before Hammond could respond, the boy broke away from her and headed for the shuttlebay doors.
“I want to see,” he announced.
The ensign looked up at Scotty, stricken.
“I’ll get him,” Scotty reassured her, racing after the boy. “Get the shuttle ready,” he called behind him as he went.
Damn, the engineer thought. The boy could get himself killed—and it would be his own fault for initiating the engine overload. Seeing the lad turn right at the end of a corridor, Scotty dashed after him.
He took one turn and then another, homing in on the sound of retreating footsteps, glad that the lad didn’t have the presence of mind to slip into a turbolift. But it didn’t take long for Scotty to realize that he was losing ground.
In a footrace against a ten year old, he was hopelessly outclassed. So he bowed to the inevitable and came to a halt when he saw the boy dart around another corner.
“STOP!” he shouted in a booming voice. “You’re endangering the mission!” he called out.
He heard the boy’s footfalls recede for a few more seconds—and then silence.
“What mission?” the lad’s voice called out.
“Dinnae question orders, just get over here,” Scott bellowed.
The boy peeked around a corner. Scotty scowled at him, his face a deep red—an effect that was easy to achieve after his run. The boy took one look at Scotty and skulked over, hands in pockets.
“I just didn’t want to miss anything,” he said.
“Enough foolishness,” Scotty told him. “Come back with me to the shuttlebay. Now.”
He’d saved the lad, he thought. Too bad he couldn’t have saved Spock as well. However, he’d run out of chances to get the solitary time he needed on the Yorktown.
By the time he got the boy back to the shuttlebay, the maintenance team would likely be there. And that would be it.
Then it struck him. He and the boy wouldn’t be going back to the shuttlebay. Grabbing the youngster’s arm firmly, Scotty directed him to the nearest turbolift.
“Where are we going?” the boy demanded petulantly
The lift door opened and they entered.