The Reset Button
By Snowballjane
Contact: [email protected]
Rating: PG Warning: Doom, disaster, death?
Character codes: Everyone. Hoshi mainly.
Disclaimer: Enterprise, Star Trek and much else besides belongs to Paramount.
Summary: Enterprise comes under attack. Hoshi considers the power of the reset button.
***
Taking into account every single switch, lever and door panel, Enterprise boasted nearly half a million buttons. Of those buttons, 259 were marked `reset'. Ensign Hoshi Sato was staring at one of them.
Of course, all the button could really do was delete the linguistics report she had been pondering over that morning, when it had still seemed like a relatively ordinary day of spacefaring. It didn't have the power to erase the past few seconds in which she had watched Malcolm step back from his console, his eyes wide with horror, raising his hands in bewilderment. It couldn't delete the moment in which she knew it really was all over.
"There's nothing. I don't know. I've never seen. We can't defend ourselves against that."
Sparks cascaded from exploding systems. Travis crawled back into his seat. "That one went
straight through the starboard quarters," went on Malcolm, reading the damage report aloud, the panic of a moment earlier replaced by a fatalistic monotone. "Heavy casualties on four. We've lost all propulsion and navigation systems."
The lighting dropped as the power failed. The comms system also gave up, putting an end to the damage reports, which was a relief in a way.
A handful of human souls stood in the flickering half darkness, waiting.
Perhaps she could turn the clock back further; to before Trip, trying his best to hold back his grief and fear and to sound captainly and in-control, had ordered her to signal their surrender to the silent grey-green alien ship. Before the helpless Enterprise had begged for mercy and found none.
"Hail them again Hoshi."
"There's no answer, sir. There's no indication there's even anyone listening."
"Dammit Ensign." His voice cracking, his eyes wild, his hand running nervously through his hair. "We're completely outgunned and dead in the water, can't they see they've won?"
Another bolt of white light shook Enterprise and the decks beneath their feet shuddered. Creaks and groans echoed around the hull as metal fought to hold together, as if the ship was making a last effort to cocoon her crew.
The immense wedge-shaped and windowless alien ship was firing on them almost nonchalantly, with shots up to a minute apart. Each shot told however, tearing through the hull. Hoshi imagined Enterprise looked like a piece of Swiss cheese by now. A dozen internal bulkheads had been sealed, leaving only about a third of the ship accessible.
She had lost track of the number of casualties after Dr Phlox had reported that T'Pol's broken body had been carried into sickbay from the astrophysics lab where she was working when the attack began. "Beyond anything I could do, even if casualties with better chances of survival weren't flooding in," the doctor had reported. Hoshi had defeated the threatening tears with a bitter laugh. Their 'chances of survival' were looking pretty minimal all round by the looks of things. She wondered whether Phlox would go on treating cuts and bruises right up to the moment sickbay crumbled around him and his bio-beds tumbled out into the vacuum. Of course he would, she thought, he was a doctor.
Trip turned to leave the bridge without giving further orders.
"Sir?" three voices chorused.
He didn't look back at them, just shrugged and walked away to be swallowed up by the lift and borne away from their pleas for orders, for an idea, for an escape plan - none of which he could offer. At least, thought Hoshi, he could give us some final stirring words of courage. She was oddly disappointed in him.
Or back even further; to before that first terrifying rain of destructive fire while she was still sending out a friendly greeting to the immense alien vessel, still giddy with the excitement she felt every time she was the first human to speak to a new people.
"They're firing." At Malcolm's warning she interrupted her greeting and grabbed at the bars attached to her console to brace for impact.
Everything shook. Things exploded. Crewmen were thrown through the air. The tactical alert lights blazed red on, as if the ship too felt the rush of adrenaline as they came under attack.
"Shields?" asked the captain, getting to his feet and shouting above the cries of pain and the angry hiss of fire extinguishers.
"No use at all, sir. Whatever that was, we can't defend against it."
"Then let's get out of here."
"Sorry sir, that shot disabled the warp drive. They're firing again."
Things seemed to move in slow motion as Hoshi saw the captain reach to grab a hold of something just too late. The ship bucked as it was hit by another blast of white energy. Jonathan Archer was catapulted across his own bridge, headfirst into solid metal.
When everything stopped moving again, Travis scrambled through the wreckage and checked for a pulse with his fingers. Not that it was really necessary, even from the comm station, Hoshi could see the awkward angle of the captain's neck, the pooling blood on the deck, the staring open eyes. The helmsman shook his head.
At least the captain hadn't had to watch as his beloved ship was torn to pieces.
No, if the button really worked, it would allow her to start the day over. Back through the hours, to before she took her seat at her console on the bridge, before breakfast in the mess hall with synthesised orange juice. She would go back to the snug relaxed moment when she awoke from a comfortable dream of playing and laughing in a wooded city park.
Where was that park? The annoyance at the stray memory faded quickly as she recalled that a whole day of crossing open space stretched out in front of her, providing plenty of time to finish her report on how humans could communicate in gestural languages that required more than one pair of arms.
A full day's research. For all that she had gradually learned to love her new life as a space adventurer, it was rather pleasant to anticipate time spent in true academic pursuits. She should probably put in half an hour in the gym at some point as well, she supposed, since somehow she'd gone all week without any proper exercise.
She clambered out of bed and headed for a shower.
Absurd that a part of her brain should even now be trying to remember where that park was.
Even more absurd that a tiny part of her mind childishly believed that if she pressed that button in front of her, the day really would start over. Enterprise would be whole, her friends alive, her report unwritten. Everything back the way it needed to be so they could start on a new adventure, preferably this time with interesting grammar, attractive brown- eyed aliens and ice cream.
She closed her eyes.
And pressed the button.
The End
By Snowballjane
Contact: [email protected]
Rating: PG Warning: Doom, disaster, death?
Character codes: Everyone. Hoshi mainly.
Disclaimer: Enterprise, Star Trek and much else besides belongs to Paramount.
Summary: Enterprise comes under attack. Hoshi considers the power of the reset button.
***
Taking into account every single switch, lever and door panel, Enterprise boasted nearly half a million buttons. Of those buttons, 259 were marked `reset'. Ensign Hoshi Sato was staring at one of them.
Of course, all the button could really do was delete the linguistics report she had been pondering over that morning, when it had still seemed like a relatively ordinary day of spacefaring. It didn't have the power to erase the past few seconds in which she had watched Malcolm step back from his console, his eyes wide with horror, raising his hands in bewilderment. It couldn't delete the moment in which she knew it really was all over.
"There's nothing. I don't know. I've never seen. We can't defend ourselves against that."
Sparks cascaded from exploding systems. Travis crawled back into his seat. "That one went
straight through the starboard quarters," went on Malcolm, reading the damage report aloud, the panic of a moment earlier replaced by a fatalistic monotone. "Heavy casualties on four. We've lost all propulsion and navigation systems."
The lighting dropped as the power failed. The comms system also gave up, putting an end to the damage reports, which was a relief in a way.
A handful of human souls stood in the flickering half darkness, waiting.
Perhaps she could turn the clock back further; to before Trip, trying his best to hold back his grief and fear and to sound captainly and in-control, had ordered her to signal their surrender to the silent grey-green alien ship. Before the helpless Enterprise had begged for mercy and found none.
"Hail them again Hoshi."
"There's no answer, sir. There's no indication there's even anyone listening."
"Dammit Ensign." His voice cracking, his eyes wild, his hand running nervously through his hair. "We're completely outgunned and dead in the water, can't they see they've won?"
Another bolt of white light shook Enterprise and the decks beneath their feet shuddered. Creaks and groans echoed around the hull as metal fought to hold together, as if the ship was making a last effort to cocoon her crew.
The immense wedge-shaped and windowless alien ship was firing on them almost nonchalantly, with shots up to a minute apart. Each shot told however, tearing through the hull. Hoshi imagined Enterprise looked like a piece of Swiss cheese by now. A dozen internal bulkheads had been sealed, leaving only about a third of the ship accessible.
She had lost track of the number of casualties after Dr Phlox had reported that T'Pol's broken body had been carried into sickbay from the astrophysics lab where she was working when the attack began. "Beyond anything I could do, even if casualties with better chances of survival weren't flooding in," the doctor had reported. Hoshi had defeated the threatening tears with a bitter laugh. Their 'chances of survival' were looking pretty minimal all round by the looks of things. She wondered whether Phlox would go on treating cuts and bruises right up to the moment sickbay crumbled around him and his bio-beds tumbled out into the vacuum. Of course he would, she thought, he was a doctor.
Trip turned to leave the bridge without giving further orders.
"Sir?" three voices chorused.
He didn't look back at them, just shrugged and walked away to be swallowed up by the lift and borne away from their pleas for orders, for an idea, for an escape plan - none of which he could offer. At least, thought Hoshi, he could give us some final stirring words of courage. She was oddly disappointed in him.
Or back even further; to before that first terrifying rain of destructive fire while she was still sending out a friendly greeting to the immense alien vessel, still giddy with the excitement she felt every time she was the first human to speak to a new people.
"They're firing." At Malcolm's warning she interrupted her greeting and grabbed at the bars attached to her console to brace for impact.
Everything shook. Things exploded. Crewmen were thrown through the air. The tactical alert lights blazed red on, as if the ship too felt the rush of adrenaline as they came under attack.
"Shields?" asked the captain, getting to his feet and shouting above the cries of pain and the angry hiss of fire extinguishers.
"No use at all, sir. Whatever that was, we can't defend against it."
"Then let's get out of here."
"Sorry sir, that shot disabled the warp drive. They're firing again."
Things seemed to move in slow motion as Hoshi saw the captain reach to grab a hold of something just too late. The ship bucked as it was hit by another blast of white energy. Jonathan Archer was catapulted across his own bridge, headfirst into solid metal.
When everything stopped moving again, Travis scrambled through the wreckage and checked for a pulse with his fingers. Not that it was really necessary, even from the comm station, Hoshi could see the awkward angle of the captain's neck, the pooling blood on the deck, the staring open eyes. The helmsman shook his head.
At least the captain hadn't had to watch as his beloved ship was torn to pieces.
No, if the button really worked, it would allow her to start the day over. Back through the hours, to before she took her seat at her console on the bridge, before breakfast in the mess hall with synthesised orange juice. She would go back to the snug relaxed moment when she awoke from a comfortable dream of playing and laughing in a wooded city park.
Where was that park? The annoyance at the stray memory faded quickly as she recalled that a whole day of crossing open space stretched out in front of her, providing plenty of time to finish her report on how humans could communicate in gestural languages that required more than one pair of arms.
A full day's research. For all that she had gradually learned to love her new life as a space adventurer, it was rather pleasant to anticipate time spent in true academic pursuits. She should probably put in half an hour in the gym at some point as well, she supposed, since somehow she'd gone all week without any proper exercise.
She clambered out of bed and headed for a shower.
Absurd that a part of her brain should even now be trying to remember where that park was.
Even more absurd that a tiny part of her mind childishly believed that if she pressed that button in front of her, the day really would start over. Enterprise would be whole, her friends alive, her report unwritten. Everything back the way it needed to be so they could start on a new adventure, preferably this time with interesting grammar, attractive brown- eyed aliens and ice cream.
She closed her eyes.
And pressed the button.
The End