Hailing Frequencies
Or: How to make poor Captain Kirk (the new, that is) go batshit from stress.
After some time -- still he didn't know how long -- Lieutenant Uhura reported back to the bridge in her coveralls. She looked tired and disheveled (didn't they all?) but there was a gleam in her eyes and he knew right away what it meant.
"All done, then?" Scott asked, relieved to have something to distract him from the tracks of his own troubled thoughts.
"Yes, sir, we are," she replied, repressing a smile. "You know, your division likes me quite a bit. I might just apply for your job."
"That mean I'll have yers? Aye, that'd go down well." He grinned back. "Startin' four or five intragalactic wars because I accidentally insulted someone's mum, nevermind the mess I'd make just with the standard-speakin' civilizations."
"Mm. You may have a point." She sat down in her seat, turning towards the panel. "Ready at the order."
The grin faded and Scotty took a breath, nodded to himself and composing the message in his mind. "Go ahead an' launch the probes."
It took about ten minutes (relatively) for the sensor probes, now acting as something more akin to subspace relays, to align themselves along the temporal band. But even though they had no proof that the message would be received, there was only about fifty percent signal degredation between the first of the string of ten and the last. A lot, but still better than he expected it to be, given what they were facing.
"On your mark, sir," Uhura said, as the entire bridge crew sat still and waited tensely.
"Go ahead," Scotty said, then squared up automatically in front of the Captain's chair, even though visual was out of the question.
He took one more breath, then tossed out the message he sure as Hell hoped would be received:
"This is Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, in temporary command of the USS Enterprise, hailin' the Enterprise we're currently tied to through the temporal anomaly with a message for Captain Kirk. Our Enterprise is currently runnin' near sensor blind, and repairs cannot be completed without an estimated two months in dry dock at the nearest starbase with facilities. We have discovered a way to break the temporal band tyin' these ships together and will do so within the next forty-eight hours if this message is not received. The situation with Doctor McCoy is of a potentially life-threatenin' nature, and we are seekin' orders on how to handle that. Transporters here are non-operational and will be until repairs are conducted. Any transport'll have to come from that side, and risks are extremely high. We'll stand by long as we can awaitin' orders. Scott out."
And now all they could do was sit back, and pray for the reply.
After some time -- still he didn't know how long -- Lieutenant Uhura reported back to the bridge in her coveralls. She looked tired and disheveled (didn't they all?) but there was a gleam in her eyes and he knew right away what it meant.
"All done, then?" Scott asked, relieved to have something to distract him from the tracks of his own troubled thoughts.
"Yes, sir, we are," she replied, repressing a smile. "You know, your division likes me quite a bit. I might just apply for your job."
"That mean I'll have yers? Aye, that'd go down well." He grinned back. "Startin' four or five intragalactic wars because I accidentally insulted someone's mum, nevermind the mess I'd make just with the standard-speakin' civilizations."
"Mm. You may have a point." She sat down in her seat, turning towards the panel. "Ready at the order."
The grin faded and Scotty took a breath, nodded to himself and composing the message in his mind. "Go ahead an' launch the probes."
It took about ten minutes (relatively) for the sensor probes, now acting as something more akin to subspace relays, to align themselves along the temporal band. But even though they had no proof that the message would be received, there was only about fifty percent signal degredation between the first of the string of ten and the last. A lot, but still better than he expected it to be, given what they were facing.
"On your mark, sir," Uhura said, as the entire bridge crew sat still and waited tensely.
"Go ahead," Scotty said, then squared up automatically in front of the Captain's chair, even though visual was out of the question.
He took one more breath, then tossed out the message he sure as Hell hoped would be received:
"This is Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, in temporary command of the USS Enterprise, hailin' the Enterprise we're currently tied to through the temporal anomaly with a message for Captain Kirk. Our Enterprise is currently runnin' near sensor blind, and repairs cannot be completed without an estimated two months in dry dock at the nearest starbase with facilities. We have discovered a way to break the temporal band tyin' these ships together and will do so within the next forty-eight hours if this message is not received. The situation with Doctor McCoy is of a potentially life-threatenin' nature, and we are seekin' orders on how to handle that. Transporters here are non-operational and will be until repairs are conducted. Any transport'll have to come from that side, and risks are extremely high. We'll stand by long as we can awaitin' orders. Scott out."
And now all they could do was sit back, and pray for the reply.