Bravo Fleet
“I prohibit you from going down there.”
Bohkat leaned over his side of the conference table, pressing the full weight of his objections into its creaking surface with his fists. It probably wasn’t intended as an intimidation tactic of any kind, but Anand was nonetheless putting a lot of effort into pretending he didn’t notice.
“I’ll take your prohibition under advisement, but that’s not really how this works,” he said, waving his PADD between himself and his First Officer.
“There is a Borg distress signal coming from that planet,” Bohkat said slowly as if this information had not sunk in. “This is not an ordinary away mission. One of us should stay on the ship–”
Anand opened his mouth for a quip.
“And the one with years of tactical experience should be the one on the planet,” Bohkat added, cutting him off.
Anand snapped his jaw shut and sighed at the missed opportunity.
He said nothing for a moment, glancing around the darkened conference room. He hated the way the single bright light in the center of the chamber gave the impression of an interrogation room.
“Look, we’re not even supposed to be here,” he said, a bit plaintively. “The only reason we are here is because the Babylon is the closest ship by a full week, and the rest of the fleet is currently preoccupied… presumably with additional Borg-flavored mysteries because I can’t imagine they’d leave this to us otherwise.”
Their stalwart science vessel, so close to the end of its current survey mission and ready to return to Federation Space, was armed with a wealth of fresh knowledge and not much else.
“There are 72 people on this crew,” Anand continued. Less than normal capacity, but that was par for the course in Starfleet these days. “Half are stellar cartographers. I’m not sending one of them down to deal with this kind of potential threat; that’s not what they signed up for.”
“That’s what everyone at Starfleet signs up for,” Bohkat shouted, throwing up his arms in exasperation. “Everyone who joins this organization understands the inherent risks!”
“Tell that to the NCOs who are only here until they publish their next paper!” said Anand, subconsciously matching Bohkat’s tone and body language.
“You know,” said Szarka in her distinctive drawl, which carried surprisingly clearly through the closed conference room doors, “I get that you sent us outside because you didn’t want us to see Mom and Dad fighting, but we can still hear you.”
Anand kept his voice lower this time and waited until Bohkat was distracted trying to activate the last clasps of his environmental suit.
“Our sensors picked up no lifesigns on the apparently uninhabitable planet,” he began, but Bohkat seemed a little too distracted.
Anand sighed and jabbed Bohkat under his right rib, and they both heard the final click of the suit sealing itself, followed by the whirring electronics and flashing lights of the start-up systems check.
“If anything,” said Anand, pulling two helmets off the shelf, “This is a caving expedition. How many times have you been caving?”
“How many times have YOU been caving?”
“Three,” said Anand, thrusting one of the helmets at him.
“‘Three’ is not very many,” Bohkat grumbled, snatching the proffered helmet with such force that the beads in his hair rattled.
“It’s three more than zero!”
“I have absolute faith in Lieutenant Commander Qsshrr’s ability to get this ship and this crew safely back to Federation space should the unthinkable occur,” said Anand.
The rest of the crew in the transporter room politely pretended not to notice that this was the denouement of the argument that their first and second-in-command had been having for the last hour or so.
“Speaking of,” said Szarka, already on the transporter pad, “I’m unclear on why we’re going spelunking without our rock-eatingest crew member.”
Qsshrr approached the edge of the pad, her cilia dancing across the lower step. “For the same reason that we cannot teleport you directly to the source of the distress signal: the lower reaches of the cave from which it originates are littered with kelbonite ore. Kelbonite, in combination with the traces of fistrium we detected, is quite toxic to Horta.”
“Why?” asked Zamora, tapping her fingers on her helmet as she took a spot next to Szarka. Her steady, bulky form was a stark visual contrast to Szarka’s tall, gangly frame. “They’re rocks. You’re rocks.”
“Are you able to handle or ingest all forms of organic material without ill effect?” asked Qsshrr.
“Hmm.” Zamora nodded. “Touché.”
“Qsshrr,” said Anand as he stepped onto the pad. “If you get so much as a flicker on long-range sensors, I want you to alert us immediately.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Ixabi and her team will glean what information they can about the ruined structure we detected on the surface from the safety of the ship,” he added.
Ixabi finished helping Ang get the strap for his box of medical supplies over his head–a challenge in the bulky EV suits–and stepped off the pad.
“Sensors and probes only, sir!” she said, with an excited bounce on her heels. Then, more solemnly, “I’m only too happy to stay up here. Caves are worse than any Borg. All of you be careful, please!”
Szarka saluted. Bohkat and Zamora nodded. Ang offered a grin and a thumbs-up.
Anand awkwardly pressed his palms together around the helmet he was clutching to his chest. “We promise to give the caves and whatever mess the Borg left behind their due respect.”
He fumbled his helmet for a moment, but as soon as it was over his head and he heard the final gasp of the suit’s airtight seal, he nodded to the transporter technician.
“Energize!”
