Personal Log 1-4: Marines to the Rescue

Quan’Li and Turner both waited in the galley. It was a disaster. The pots had spilled during the fight. Food splattered every surface.

“We’ve got four hours to feed the entire crew,” I said. “And two hours to make a complete inventory of the ship. But,” I held my hand up to stop the complaints I knew were coming, “we do have two squads of marines to help. Turner, take four of them and open deck two galley. Take whatever supplies you need. Quan’Li, you’ve got the main galley. I’ll take two marines and get the inventory done. I’ll leave the rest with you.”

They both nodded. They weren’t happy, but orders were orders. And direct orders had to be obeyed.

Boots thumped in the hall, loud and in step. Our marines had arrived. We divided them up. Turner and his four loaded up supplies and left for the command galley. I took two with me. Quan’Li set the others to scrubbing up spills.

I sent one to the weapons controls to get a list from the officer in charge. I sent the other to sickbay while I went to the engineering sections.

They met me back by the main supply room half an hour later, lists in hand.

“That takes care of the easy part,” I said. “Now we get to count bins.”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of them, LeGrange, said as he saluted me.

I opened the door to the first storage locker. “You take the left, you take the far right, I’ll do the middle.” I tabbed through the clipboard to the proper page.

“What are we counting, ma’am?”

“Anything that looks more than half empty, make a note,” I said. Captain Herring could decide what was vital to requisition. As long as it included parts for the replicators, I’d be happy.

I started down the aisle, checking labels and boxes.

The lights flickered to red, alarms blared.

The marines thundered towards the door, which slid closed and locked just before they reached it.

“Standard precaution under red alert,” I said. “We’re locked in here until the alert is canceled.”

“Probably just a drill,” LeGrange said. “We’ll keep counting, ma’am.”

The ship rocked. The lights shut off, plunging us into darkness briefly. The emergency light glowed sickly green above us.

“Or not,” Fells, the other marine answered.

The alarms changed.

“Intruders.” LeGrange drew his phaser.

“They’re at the bridge!” Fells fingered his comm badge.

The overhead speakers crackled to life.

“Crew of the ship Voyager, this is Del’Brugado of the Fellucian Marauders. I have captured your ship. Further resistance will be met with deadly force. Surrender peacefully and we will let you live. As our slaves!”

Fells pounded on the door.

“Stop it, you idiot!” I grabbed his arm. “Come this way. I’ve got an idea.”

I led them to the back of the supply room. I popped the cover off an access panel.

“Repair access conduit. We can use it to get to deck seven, and from there, we can get into the main engineering crawl spaces.”

“And the three of us are going to take back our ship!” Fells clapped his hand on his phaser.

“Set phasers to maximum,” LeGrange said, thumbing the dial on his. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“No, but it is going to be fun.” Fells grinned like a maniac.

I rolled my eyes and crawled into the conduit.

Personal Log 1-5: Into the Air Ducts