TALES

OF A

STARFLEET

ENGINEER

by

A. J. Trook

Chapter 1

Dear Mom and Dad,

Well, I'm sitting here in the Galvanna Starbase docking bay lounge, waiting for the arrival of the Expeditious. Should be here within the hour, so I figure I can fire off a quick message before I have to report in.

I'm sorry that you don't approve of my transfer from the Utopia Planetia shipyards. I know you're both going to worry about me far more than you need to, but I have to do this. I'm twenty-seven now, and it's time for me to get out on my own. I need to see what Starfleet can teach me when I'm out from under your wings.

Don't get me wrong – I love you both, and you're wonderful parents. I just need to see what I can do on my own.

And, of course there's Hannah. Putting a few light years between her and myself can only be seen as a good thing for all parties involved. Mom, I know you think she's a nice girl, but believe me, you don't know her like I do. And with any luck, you never will. Dad, fill Mom in on the incident with Chaplain Withers so she knows why I feel this way. To put it mildly, Hannah's crazy and three years of being stationed with her (not to mention growing up with her before I went to the Academy) hasn't given me any hope of seeing her mellow out.

Well, I see that the Expeditious has just dropped out of warp, so it's time to wrap this up and fire it off. Take care back there. Be sure to say hi to Uncle Phil for me when he visits next week. I'll get him a souvenir from the Expeditious once I'm settled in.

Your son,

Max

PS: Don't worry – I'm perfectly safe out here. I'm going to be doing the same thing I did there – just on a moving superstructure. I know the proximity of the Romulan border has you a little nervous, but there hasn't been much going on there lately. From what I've been told, the Romulans have been keeping to themselves since the end of the Dominion war. If I find out it's different, I'll let you know.

It's going to be great meeting new people. I'll be serving with the cream of the Starfleet crop, and I can hardly wait.

----- -----

"Lieutenant Maxwell Davis reporting for duty, sir."

The chief engineer looked up from his desk at the ramrod-straight young man. "At ease, lieutenant." He rose, tugging on his jersey as he straightened to his towering six-foot-five height, then extended a calloused hand to the junior officer. "I'm Commander Robert Jones, the Chief Engineer. Where are you coming from?"

Max smiled, relaxing a little as he shook his new boss's hand. "Utopia Planetia, sir. Field testing division." Releasing Jones' hand, he dug a padd from his duffel bag. "Here are my orders."

Jones nodded as he scanned the text on the screen. "Interesting first duty. Usually they want more experienced personnel there. How'd you wind up with those eggheads?"

Max's smile faded slightly. "My uh, parents are civilian engineers there. They know the station admiral."

Jones nodded again, his expression neutral. "I see. So why are you here now? Not many people willingly transfer away from Utopia Planetia."

Max shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to see the universe without standing in the shadow of my parents. Family is good, but sometimes you just need to get out on your own."

Jones chuckled. "Yes, that's true enough." His smile returned. "Well, as long as you know your way around a warp engine, you'll do just fine here. The Expeditious is a good ship, and her engineering department is one of the best." Jones scanned the padd again. "You're going to be the new assistant chief engineer. You just edge out Lieutenant Holliman, and he's transferring at our next stop anyway." He set the padd on his desk. "If you're half as good as this fitness report tells me you are, then you'll fit in well around here." Jones stepped over to the window overlooking main engineering and stared out at the officers busily maintaining the warp core. "That's a fine team out there. Each one of them dedicated to making this the best ship in the fleet. I look forward to seeing you plug in and make it even better."

Max smiled. "I'm eager to get started, sir. I've been waiting for years to serve on a starship."

Jones looked back at him with a slight grin. "Are you settled in yet?"

"I've been assigned quarters, but I haven't been in them yet."

Jones chuckled. "You are eager to get started, aren't you? Well, it's fifteen hundred. Go unpack and get a feel for the ship. I'm going to add you to the roster for alpha shift starting at oh-eight hundred tomorrow morning. We've got a level two diagnostic to run on the nacelles. Are you familiar with the procedure?"

Max nodded. "I reviewed the Nebula-class specs while I waited for your arrival. There are a few details I know I'll need to see first-hand, but it seems very similar to the diagnostic procedures of a starbase's auxiliary warp reactor."

Jones smiled again. "It certainly is. You'll see just how similar tomorrow. Dismissed."

"Aye, sir." Max turned and exited the Chief Engineer's office. Walking past the warp core, he looked up at it with a mixture of awe and excitement. The massive piece of technology was capable of hurtling the cruiser's four million tons through space at speeds that would make Einstein's head explode, and ever since he was a boy Max had wanted nothing more than to get his hands on one. Now, at long last, his dream was coming true. With a shiver of anticipation, he forced himself to leave engineering and head to the nearest turbolift. Six decks up, he stepped out and headed off to find his quarters.

-----

"All right, everyone. We've got forty-eight hours before we pull away from the starbase docking clamp and head back out on patrol. In that time, I want a fore-to-aft inspection of each nacelle, along with a contained baryon sweep of the matter/antimatter injectors. Lambert, you and Tox take the starboard nacelle. Peterson, you and Davis head for the port nacelle. Baxley, you're with me at the main diagnostic console. Any questions?" Jones looked around at the cluster of engineers positioned around the main engineering console. No one spoke, and Jones nodded. "All right, let's get to it." The engineers separated into their teams. Max was surprised to find that Peterson was a short blond with an athletic build. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

"Davis, is it?" Peterson grinned up at him. "I'm Amy Peterson. Nice to meet you."

Max returned the smile. "Max Davis. Beautiful ship you have here. Care to show me to the nacelle?"

Peterson nodded. "Sure thing, but we need to check out some tools first." She grinned evilly. "I'll get the specs. You can round up the diagnostic test set." Before Max had a chance to question her expression, she darted off to the engineering computer. With a shrug, Max headed toward the back of the engineering department. Set in one corner was a half-door with a small counter built across the top edge of the lower half. Max approached the door, not entirely certain if he was in the right place. Spotting an antique bell on the counter, he tapped it lightly and was rewarded with a clear tinging. Max grinned. What a nice touch. Doubtless the Tool Room NCO was a fun-filled, carefree spirit.

"What?"

The gruff voice startled Max. It had apparently come from somewhere in the room on the other side of the counter. "Uh, yes? I'm here to check out some tools."

"Oh, really?" The voice dripped contempt. "And what makes you think I'm going to let you have any of mine?"

Max opened his mouth to reply, but after a couple seconds of standing at an open doorway with his mouth hanging open and a distinct lack of coherent response, he simply closed it and waited.

A moment later, a hulking giant of a man stomped into view. The man loomed over him, dwarfing his slender five-foot-ten frame. The collar, which barely contained the man's massive neck, sported lieutenant's pips. The shave on his muscled jaw had a day-old look, and his red-rimmed eyes peered out from under a thick brow. The eyes studied Max intently. "You still here? What do you want?"

Max swallowed, fighting an irrational concern that the lieutenant was going to eat him. "I . . . uh . . . I need some tools for a-"

"Oh, you'd like some tools, eh?" The lieutenant smiled down at him.

Max returned the smile weakly. "Er, yes. I need-"

"No! Ha!" The lieutenant laughed in Max's face, introducing the young engineer to the after-effects of the liver-and-onion sandwich he'd eaten for breakfast.

Max staggered back out of range of the lieutenant's breath. "But – but I need those tools to run a diagnostic of the port nacelle."

The lieutenant scowled. "A diagnostic set? And I suppose you want the test cables and the remote datapadd as well?"

Max nodded. "Well, yes, I-"

"No! Ha!" The lieutenant laughed again, then headed back into his lair.

Max stood there for a minute, utterly speechless. Then Commander Jones stepped up next to him. "I see you've met Lieutenant Smith."

"Er, yes. I believe I have." Max's eyes never left the open door. "I can't say I've ever met a tool room officer before. Isn't this usually a billet for a junior petty officer?"

Jones put an arm around Max's shoulder and steered him away from the open tool room door. "Uh, Davis . . . Lieutenant Smith is a . . . special case. He was a survivor of the Battle of Wolf Three-Five-Nine. It affected him rather harshly. Captain Armus assigned him to me as a chance for him to finish out his career."

Max nodded, suddenly understanding. The Federation had lost more than forty ships in that catastrophic battle against the first Borg cube to penetrate Federation space, and there had been less than three hundred survivors rescued. That such an experience could make a man somewhat eccentric was an understatement.

"I see. But how do you get tools from him? I need that test set to perform the diagnostic."

Jones smiled. "It's an interesting technique we use down here, Mr. Davis. Watch carefully." His smile abruptly disappeared. "Smith! There's an emergency on deck five! We need the injector scanner and antimatter analyzer in fifteen seconds, or the ship will be overrun by the Romulans!"

Lieutenant Smith reappeared, an anxious expression on his face. "Romulans!? Those pointy-eared devils! Sneaky cloakers! Hold on a second!" He dove back into the tool room and Max heard a crashing sound. Moments later, he returned to the counter with a test set under each arm. "These'll help you find those fiends, Commander!" He shoved them into Max's arms, causing the smaller man to stumble backward with all the weight. "Anything else, sir?"

Jones shook his head. "Just keep our tools safe, Lieutenant. We'll be back if we need anything else."

The tool room lieutenant snapped to attention. "Aye, sir!"

Jones turned to Max and said under his breath, "Let's go, before he thinks to insist on a pre-operational inspection." He continued on back toward the main engineering compartment, with Max struggling behind with the two test sets. Spotting an anti-grav sled, he pulled it out and slid it toward Max. "This will be a lot easier, Davis."

Max muscled the test sets down onto the sled. "Whew, thanks. Those things are heavy."

Jones chuckled. "Indeed. Once I had to lug one of those things up seven decks of Jeffries tubes. Artificial gravity is one of my best friends."

Max shoved the sled toward one of the cargo turbolifts, spotting a smirking Peterson at the doors. "Hey, thanks. That lieutenant is a few fighters shy of a carrier."

Amy laughed. "Yeah. We call him 'The Lieutenant'." She held up her fingers in mock quotes. "He takes some getting used to, but once you figure him out, he's all right. But we still have fun sending the new guys to meet him."

Max frowned, then smiled despite himself. "That's a rotten trick to pull, you know. I thought he was going to kill me."

The doors to the turbolift opened, and Amy grinned as they maneuvered the sled onto the lift. "The Lieutenant has never hurt anyone before, though he does get a little overprotective of his tools."

The lift took them up to the next deck, where they met up with Lambert and Tox. The human grinned at them while the Bolian simply nodded and returned to calibrating the test sets on their sled. "Hey, Amy. How did Lieutenant Davis like The Lieutenant?"

Amy laughed. "Oh, they're going to be best friends."

Max grimaced. "Yeah. I think he's going to be my racquetball partner."

Lambert chuckled. "Tox, you remember when you met The Lieutenant?"

Tox scowled. "I remember being trapped in that tool room for nearly an hour thinking The Lieutenant was going to beat me with a hydrospanner. I ended up polishing half the tools in there before you 'rescued' me with a false red alert."

Max gaped at them. "He kept you prisoner in the tool room?"

"Not exactly, Lieutenant," Tox grunted as he stood. "He simply enforced his policy of strict adherence to corrosion prevention guidelines. Unfortunately, they can be rather stringent when interpreted on the side of caution." The Bolian shook his head in disgust. "The Lieutenant's tools are more likely to wear out from cleaning than actual use."

Lambert laughed again. "You got that right, Tox. I think The Lieutenant has a phobia about rust."

Peterson cleared her throat. "Well, I'd say it's about time we get started."

Lambert raised his hands in defense. "Okay, Amy. We're on it. Don't set your tricorder on overload." He and Tox finished inspecting the test set, and they pushed it toward the starboard nacelle access tube. Max and Amy nudged theirs in the opposite direction.

It would take the better part of the day to complete the diagnostic, but Max had a ball. Until today, routine maintenance on a starship had been the stuff of dreams for him. Detailed scans of several injectors resulted in the replacement of two critical components that showed signs of fatigue. The other engineers grumbled a bit, but Max enjoyed the maintenance thoroughly. By shift change, he'd annoyed several of the Expeditious' engineering staff and impressed several others. Peterson was one of them. She smiled up at him as they pushed the antigrav sled back through the Jeffries tubes toward the turbolift. "Wow, Max. You really enjoy engineering, don't you?"

Max grinned as he wiped a smear of grease from his cheek. "Yeah. I've always been a hands-on guy. Growing up with two Starfleet ship designers as parents rubbed off. I used to play in the lab while they were working. As I got older, it became less play and more looking over of shoulders. The admiral at Utopia Planetia ended up being forcd to give me a security clearance by the time I was eleven because of all the classified stuff I saw my parents design."

Amy laughed. "I imagine that would do it. So what do you do in your off-time, Maxwell Davis?"

Max shrugged as he maneuvered the sled onto the turbolift. "Not much – I'm actually every bit the techno-nerd that most people assume engineers to be. I like to replicate old novels and read them. Sometimes I just sit somewhere busy and people-watch. Introverted stuff."

Amy grimaced. "We've got to work on you. Jason won't hear of it. He's taken it upon himself to personally corrupt every check-in within two weeks of arrival. Expect him to buy you a lot of drinks at Ten-Forward."

Max shook his head. "Hope he's buying Dr. Pepper. That's my flavor of choice."

"Doctor what?"

"Dr. Pepper. It's a carbonated caffeinated beverage that was popular well into the 22nd century. I ran across a replicator program for it, and now I'm hooked."

Amy frowned. "Wasn't that stuff a mix of sugar and acid? It's a wonder you have any teeth left!"

Max gave her his toothiest smile. "I brush three times a day like a good little nerd. So far, no cavities."

Amy shook her head. "Sounds like a lot of work to me. Daily sonobrushing coupled with a reasonable diet keeps the teeth of the average Federation citizen pearly white and disease-free. But whatever works for you."

Max leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "It's one of the few ways I can rebel against the system. Don't tell anyone."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. Your 'secret' is safe with me." The turbolift doors opened, and the pair eased the antigrav sled through Main Engineering. When they reached the door to the Tool Room, their conversation dwindled away.

Amy grinned suddenly. "Well, you turn these back in and I'll update the logs. See ya!" Before Max could respond, she was already halfway across the maintenance chamber.

Max looked the test sets over. Neither had come in contact with any of the corrosive agents they had been monitoring. Pulling a rag out from the barrel The Lieutenant kept next to the Tool Room door, he wiped off the light coat of dust that they had disturbed while shuffling through one of the lesser-used Jeffries tubes. Satisfied, he rang the antique bell on the counter. "Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?"

He started to ring the bell again when a massive hand came down over his, completely engulfing it. "Stop that."

Max looked up, startled. The Lieutenant loomed over him. He tried to extract his hand from the meaty prison, but failed miserably. "Uhh . . . sure. Could I have my hand back, please?"

The Lieutenant glared at him. "So what do you want?"

Max swallowed. "I-I'm ready to turn these test sets in."

The Lieutenant's gaze continued to burn through him. "And you plan to return them just like that, eh?"

"Like what?" Max was suddenly confused. "They're clean, if that's what you mean."

"Let me be the judge of that." The Lieutenant stepped over next to the sled and examined the closed test set case. With a slight nod, he popped the latches and removed the lid, then pulled several cotton swabs out of a sleeve pocket. Max boggled.

"You're going to inspect for dirt with Q-tips??"

The Lieutenant gave him a sharp look. "You mean you didn't?" He ran the Q-tip along the tracks of the test set, then studied the tip for a few seconds. With a snort, he shoved the Q-tip under Max's nose. "You see this?"

Max tried to focus on the cotton swab. "Uhh . . . it looks clean to me."

"Oh?" The Lieutenant lifted a second Q-tip up next to it. "Compare!"

Max squinted at the two Q-tips, and noticed after a moment that one had just the slightest smudge on it. "You mean that little smudge? What's so bad about that?"

"The problem," breathed The Lieutenant, "is that it wasn't there when I issued this test set to you. And I won't accept it back until my Q-tips come back clean." Turning, he stomped back into the Tool Room. From out of sight, his voice echoed back at Max. "The cleaning gear is to the left. Don't waste my time until my tools are clean."

Max sighed, then reluctantly started collecting a handful of cotton swabs and alcohol. Once, when he was a first-year cadet, he'd been forced to clean the dorm's showers with a sonic toothbrush. He shrugged. That hadn't killed him, and he doubted this would either.