There is no “I”
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2020 by Walter Reimer


Prompt word: team


“Bridge, Engineering.”

“Go ahead.”

“Five minutes, Captain.”

“Very well.” The rat femme grumbled to herself, but made sure that no one could see it. Naipaul was doing his best, as was the crew. Yelling or getting angry or promising dire punishments for going too slowly wasn’t going to get the work done any faster.

And the work needed to be done, or more people would die.

The Ublyudok had been part of the Confederate Tenth Fleet when the Terrans attempted to retake Kormorant from the Kashlani. The system had been invested and parts of the planet were being bombarded from orbit.

Then things went to shit, and rapidly.

The Kashlani had been waiting for the Terran attempt, and the Tenth had suddenly discovered that it was outnumbered three to one. The flagship, the dreadnought Oya, had been destroyed almost immediately, taking the Fleet Admiral and his staff with it. The swift attacks by the Imperial ships, as well as interference by electronic warfare units, had also impeded any sort of a coordinated defense by the individual division commanders.

To be blunt, the Confed Tenth had been raped.

Sander tasted bile as she relived the battle. The Ublyudok had been attacked by several Imperial ships, fighting free of one only to be set upon by another. As damage reports started to flood in, the rat had ordered the ship to inphase and retreat. Her crew hadn’t stopped to question or even ask her to repeat her orders.

It was a tribute to her leadership.

That wasn’t to say that the cruiser got away unscathed. The main bridge had to be evacuated, and was now open to space.

“Captain? Damage report,” Naipaul said. The red panda looked wary, but when Sander had nodded he looked at his padd. “Twenty-three dead, ten injured,” and he paused as she closed her eyes and clenched one fist. When she nodded, he added, “Chief Engineer’s dead, but one of the senior petty officers . . . “

“Yes?” the rat femme asked.

“We need to get some work done, and we’re not going to make it to the nearest base with a dockyard.”

She looked up at him, and he angled the padd to show her. “That’s his opinion?”

“Hers.”

“Hers, then.”

“Yes.”

A pause. “All right. Helm, prepare to outphase us. Sensors, Weapons, look sharp.”

The helmsfur was an enlisted rating. The rhesus monkey twisted in his seat and goggled at the captain. “Way out here, Captain?”

“Yes.” She hit the ship’s allcall. “All personnel, this is the Captain. We have to stop to make some repairs. We’re going to have to work fast, because we’re out here in the deep dark. I’m trusting all of you to get the job done, and trust me when I say that if there was any other way, we’d do it.” She nodded at Naipaul, who left the secondary bridge. “All personnel, don environment suits. When we outphase, we have to power down.”

More than a few furs swallowed hard at that. Ask any spacer to name the most important thing aboard a ship, and they’ll invariably answer power. Without power, air cannot be recirculated, water cannot be kept liquid, and the frigid cold of space cannot be stopped from leaching away heat through the hull.

A powerless ship is a dead ship.

So the Ublyudok had outphased in interstellar space, and one by one all of its systems were shut down. Essential departments such as Sickbay and the passive sensor suites were running on batteries, but that was a finite resource.

“Two minutes, Captain.”

The rat femme drummed her gloved fingers. “Thank you, Commander. All personnel, two minutes,” she said by allcall.

In Engineering, the senior petty officer who had suggested stopping for repairs finished checking off the roster of those crewmembers who had been outside the ship to check the alignment of the hyperfield emitters. Satisfied that everyone was aboard, the ocelot femme said to the red panda, “Commander? Ready on your order.”

Naipaul nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Right. Look sharp on the injectors, Gokhale . . . reactants, now,” and several indicator lights began to show a flow of matter and antimatter into the ship’s reactor. There was a deep thrum as the two flows interacted and ignited. The petty officer and other technicians watched as they gradually increased the power, pausing repeatedly to check that things were going well.

“Next step?” Naipaul asked after the last confirmation had been made.

The ocelot nodded. “Power distribution network, online.” More telltales had lit up, and the dim red emergency lights were joined by a soft white glow. The regular lights would increase over time to avoid blinding anyone. “All personnel, brace for artigrav,” and everyone made sure they were the right way up before the ocelot nodded to one technician.

There was a gradual but perceptible tug as weight slowly returned. “Life support holding,” the engineer said. “We’ll have the hyperdrive ready in ten minutes, Commander.”

Naipaul switched off his suit’s life support and cracked the seal on his helmet. He sniffed, drew a deeper breath and smiled. “Well done.”

On the secondary bridge, the crew sat forward as their consoles reactivated and Sander let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Sensors?” she asked.

“Energizing, Ma’am . . . we’re alone out here.”

“Nothing here, Ma’am. Secondaries charging,” Weapons added.

Sander switched to allcall. “All personnel, this is the Captain. Well done, all of you. Thanks to all of you, we’ll get home safely. Helm, best course to the nearest Sector base.”

She was already mentally framing her recommendation to see that petty officer promoted to lieutenant commander and make the ocelot her new chief engineer.