So Take These Broken Wings

Chapter Two: And Learn to Fly Again

 Disclaimer: No filthy lucre changed hands.

Keywords: Hoshi, Malcolm, Trip, Romulan War

Note: The story title and chapter titles are taken from the song Broken Wings written by John Ross Lang, Alex Beyrodt, Steve George, and Richard James Page.  The song is about a romance,   but this story isn’t.

Trip moved the small ship slowly on thrusters, carefully avoiding the bodies and a large piece of equipment that looked like a power generator.  Something like a sheet or a blanket got caught on the broken strut where the starboard nacelle had been.  It was torn off the strut as they passed a configuration of broken pipes which snagged it.  Nearing the other end of the hull section they were hiding behind, Trip turned to look at both Hoshi and Malcolm.

“We do have impulse power, but it would be a bit wobbly and is no good in this debris field.  It is unlikely we could avoid further battle damage on thrusters only, if our Romulan friend has line of sight on us at our current distance from him, right Malcolm?”

“If his weapons are still working, his range is about five miles.  At least that is my determination from when he opened up on us before.  Hoshi, could you figure his range from us by the last coms with him?”

“Just under four miles, I am afraid,” she said.

“Okay.  We can try this,” Trip suggested.  “I can take us further away from him by keeping this hull section between us.  But the further we get away, the more likely we can be seen if we stray at all from a straight line between us, the hull, and him.”

“So we can make a break out attempt from the debris field and try to get help at impulse speed?” asked Hoshi.  “Assuming, of course, that he does not have impulse too?”

“Maybe.  How are our coms, Hoshi?  What range?”

“We took some damage, but we have direct range of about two light years.  Subspace coms is doubtful.  I made some repairs, but have not tested the system yet since we were trying to hide from the Romulan.”

“Well, I am afraid that at impulse, we would run out of air before a distress call could reach any alliance ships if we don’t have subspace communication.  But if we determine that our Romulan friend does not have impulse, we could circumnavigate this debris field, which is around the size of our solar system.  It would take us about a week at 1/16 to 1/8 impulse, if we wanted to go slow enough to spot a replacement nacelle.  Possibly we could find a nacelle near the edge of the debris field in a day or two which we could purloin and drag out by tractor beam, to about one sixteenth of a light year.  Then we could do some repair work on the nacelle and the coms system without expecting a visit from this Romulan – if indeed he does not have impulse.”   

“I say we do it.  Back away from the bastard, go to impulse as soon as we can, and see what he does,” Malcolm said.

“Okay with you, Hoshi?”  Trip was in charge but wanted consensus when he could take the time to discuss things.

“Do it,” she said.

The section of hull they had spent so much time behind grew small and smaller.  They could not get out of the debris field in a straight line, though.   There were plenty of other obstacles to shift around.   After three hours of this maneuvering, there were fewer parts of broken ships.   Trip spotted an Andorian wreck with one undamaged nacelle.  It was larger than the nacelles on their ship and way too close to their Romulan pursuer to try to cut from the hull of the wreck in time to avoid him. 

“I think we will find others, Trip,” observed Hoshi when she saw Trip eyeing the wreck.  She was looking up at him on her back from under part of the coms equipment, a tiny welding tool in her hand.  But she also had been keeping her eye on the view screen, even though viewing it upside down.

“Yeah, I am sure we will find others.  And let’s get moving.  At 1/16 impulse, sensors should spot any debris in time to avoid it, this far out from the main battle scene.  I am sure if our friend back in there has sensors, he has detected our movement by now.”

Trip looked at Hoshi and Malcolm for support of his plan.  In the low light on the small bridge, they both looked calm and hopeful.

“Right.  Here we go.”

The debris field started to turn, a bit wobbly as Trip had warned them that impulse would be without two nacelles to balance the ship.   Hoshi got up from under the open panel and buckled into a seat.  All three kept watch on the sensors, searching for nacelles.

Trip spotted a large hull. “That wreck is one of ours.  Can you see the name?  I can’t.  The hull is too ripped up and scorched for reading any numbers or letters.  Geez, when this war is over I hope we send people out here to take our fallen warriors home,” he said in a low voice, noting numerous small objects in their ship’s spot lights that were too far away to identify, but probably were not all pieces of ship.

Malcolm said “I am sure we will and unlike a war on the home world where organic material rots, the bodies here will keep, so to speak.  I mean, they will be identifiable... most of them.”

Hoshi gave Malcolm a sharp look. “Will you guys please stop talking about this?  It is disturbing my concentration.  I am focusing on finding nacelles, not...   Just shut up about it, okay?”

“Sorry, Hoshi,” said Trip. 

Malcolm reached over and squeezed her hand, but said nothing.  He knew Hoshi was not the same woman now, that she had been that first year on Enterprise when they had encountered that alien ship where bodies were being hung from hooks and drained of chemicals useful to yet another alien species.   That had shocked her almost into paralysis.  Hoshi had since been in fights, had been tortured and held up under it, and had actually killed...   But still, Malcolm was glad to see that of the three of them, she was most able to retain the human sense of compassion and respect for sentient beings of all kinds.   It was part of what attracted him to her and could very well be the best counter to his often pessimistic view of life.  She was strong in ways he was not and he wanted to protect her in ways that he thought of as his own strengths.    

They continued around the edge of the battlefield.  Since nacelles were a prime target during battle, they found many nacelle fragments and whole ones blackened and twisted way beyond salvage.  Hours passed, with only one of them at a time taking a break to close their eyes for a few minutes, or to visit the galley or the head. 

“What about that?”  Hoshi said, giving the coordinates as she way-pointed a piece of debris. 

“That’s Tellarite,” said Trip.  “It would not work with Andorian technology.  They used to make it that way on purpose.”

“It figures,” sighed Hoshi, rubbing her eyes.  “Maybe we should drop out of impulse so we all can take a break at once.  No sign of that Romulan yet, right?”

“No, no sign,” Trip said, as he slowed the ship and the debris field stopped sliding by.

“Two of us can rest at a time.  You two get some sleep, but someone has to stand by the weapons, just in case,” Malcolm reminded them.

“Thanks, Mal,” said Trip, sliding down in his seat, arms folded over his chest.

Hoshi set her chair to recline and swiveled to face Malcolm.  She smiled, saying “wish I could put my feet up.”

“You can,” he said, sliding his chair along the floor track.  He swiveled it facing her and put her feet up on his lap with a grin as he parked a console on top of her feet and returned to monitoring all sides of their ship.

....

They had gone nearly half way around the battle field before they spotted a pair of Andorian nacelles that looked promising.  They were attached to half of a small Andorian battleship which had been sliced through the middle by something. 

“Wish I knew what weapon did that!”  Malcolm whistled.  “Phew.  Clean cut right through it.  Those Andorian soldiers there, they never knew what hit them.”

“Malcolm!” Hoshi reminded him of the limit of her tolerance with a sharp word and blazing eyes.

Trip was seemingly ignoring them, eyes on the nacelles as he steered over toward the wreck on thrusters.  “At first glance at that pair of these nacelles, it looks like one of them just might do, even though they are larger than the ones on our ship...the ONE on our ship.”

Trip knew Malcolm could cut one of them off with the heavy laser weapon they had.   But what he hadn’t told them was attaching it to their own ship would require some squaring off of their broken nacelle strut, something that would take time to do with the small laser tools their ship’s barely adequate engineer’s kit.   The real, and perhaps insurmountable, problem would be welding the new nacelle on.   They would have to find a welding tool of the kind carried only on the largest battleships.  Trip had not told them this yet because he had not wanted to destroy the weak optimism that Malcolm and Hoshi retained.

“Uh, I’d like to suit up and go over there.  I need to see the inside of that Nacelle strut determine what connections the nacelle needs.  You guys okay with that?”

“Sure.  I’ll go with you.  Hoshi can stand by at the coms and weapons and call us back if the sensors show anything approaching,” Malcolm suggested.

“Not necessary,” said Trip.  “I can handle this more quickly by myself.  I’d feel saver anyway, with you at weapons standby while Hoshi monitors coms and sensors.  Even at that, you’d have a full time job and Hoshi two full time jobs.”

Malcolm shrugged and Hoshi nodded. 

It took Trip a good half hour to figure out the Andorian outside-hull working suit.  He was on his way across a quarter mile of space in the suit after putting their small ship in station keeping as close as he dared get to the wreck.   The jet pack allowed for good maneuverability but not much speed.   He whistled at the clean edge of the cut through the hull of this ship, wishing he could borrow that Romulan weapon as a tool to remove the nacelle.  Inside the ship, he floated into a companionway before he turned off the jet pack and clamped his magnetic boots down on the deck plate.

“Trip to Hoshi, I’m in.  Got ma helmet light on and I think I’m on the right passageway to the nacelle struts.  How are you two doing?   Any sign of company coming?”  

“Negative on company.  Turn up the volume on your coms unit.  You lost a little clarity when you entered the wreck.  Five minute coms.  If we lose contact, back out to the last position where we could talk and I will send Malcolm in to relay coms.”

“Roger.  Talk to ya in 5.  Out.”

Hoshi looked at Malcolm.  “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.  I’ll suit up now, just in case.”

Hoshi pulled the weapons console onto her lap, keeping her other instruments in sight as she sipped her Andorian tea while she waited for Trip’s call.  He made two more calls and she was just expecting the third call when the sensors beeped. 

“Oh no,” she frowned.  “Really?  Your timing really, really sucks, you Romulan reprobate!”  And on the coms she hailed Trip.  No answer.  “Yeah, totally sucking timing.  Malcolm!” 

She started backing away from the debris field, warming up the impulse drive while targeting the Romulan ship.  Hoshi was the best multi-tasker on Enterprise with the exception of T’Pol. 

Malcolm ran clumsily in the utility suit to the bridge from the airlock storage room. “What’s up?”

“Company!  The Romulan.”

Malcolm dashed to his chair and grabbed the weapons console off her lap.

“Andorian ship, you are found,” the Romulan said over the coms.

Hoshi saw him threading his way around debris about twenty miles away.  “I see you.  What are your intentions?”

More laughter, this time loud and clear.  “Same as before.  I have been working on repairs.  My sensors tracked you all of your way here.   I have been following you.  My weapons are, as I said, functional.  May I speak to your captain, please?”

Malcolm gestured to take over the coms and Hoshi, a bit miffed, relinquished the console.

“We are having a bad weapons day,” Malcolm said sarcastically.  “I think we will just back away from you into unencumbered space.  At impulse.”

“I have discerned your purpose.  Back away then!  But you will not leave.  You need a nacelle, don’t you?  There is no place in this debris field where I cannot reach you before you can grab a nacelle.  Nice strategy you had.  It is obvious that I don’t have impulse any more, or I would have used it.   But I do have turbo thrusters which are almost as good.  And the fact that I am skilled at moving around objects at high speed, plus the additional fact that I was traveling in a direct line and you in an arc around the edge of this cemetery of ships and men, gives me the advantage over you.  Yes!  My ship is good enough to keep you from getting what you need.”

“I’ll get back to you shortly.  Out.” Malcolm closed the connection and turned to Hoshi.

“We need Plan B.  Fast.”             

“We could back away, get beyond his reach at impulse, and move along the debris field so he follows us.  Then we could come back quickly and snatch up Trip,” said Hoshi.

“Okay, Plan C.”

“Malcolm!  Then YOU think of something!”  

“We could back off to where we could use impulse and hope he follows to within weapons range.  Then we could out maneuver him, firing at him and getting out of his range before he hits us.  Maybe... before he hits us.”

“And if he did manage to destroy our ship, what about Trip?”

“Plan D?”

“Yes,” she said, with arms crossed and eyes boring into him. 

“Okay, Hoshi.  Is it possible to repair subspace coms?”

“Well, I have been working on that.  Didn’t want to get you guys all hopeful, though.  But, when you two were sleeping, I woke up before you and did manage to bring reception of subspace back on line.  But not transmission.”

“Transmission?  Can you repair it now if I manage to stall the bastard?  How long would it take?”

“No, Malcolm.  I need parts that we don’t have.”

“Okay.  But with reception possible, was there any news that could be useful?  Like the Romulans have surrendered and we are occupying their home world?”

“Don’t be silly and illogical, Malcolm!  You are either using off-beat humor or have completely lost your sense of reality.  Wait a minute!  There was something that would possibly demoralize a Romulan in the news broadcasts.  The Vulcans have stopped a couple of Romulan transport ships.  These ships held civilians who were being sent to Romulan war material industrial  colonies.   They have been diverted to Vulcan colony worlds.  Now if that doesn’t tell the Romulans which side the Vulcans are on, nothing will!”

“Worth a try.”

“How is it worth a try, Malcolm?”

“Passing on the subspace news broadcasts to our Romulan friend.  I am assuming he doesn’t have subspace coms or his pals would be here joining him for the kill.”

“They are spread too thin to be joining him here even if he has contacted them.”

“Perhaps.  So let’s offer him the news from the alliance and see.”

“Okay, I’m on it.”  She hailed the Romulan as Malcolm took over backing their ship away from the debris field.   He whispered so that Hoshi could not hear him “Sorry, Trip, but at least, for now, we are moving this Romulan away from you.” 

“Romulan vessel, we have subspace coms reception.  We would like to send you news from alliance sources. Would you be interested in this?”

“Andorian vessel, it would be futile to pretend that I still had long distance coms.  So yes, it would be entertaining to hear your propaganda.  But it would only delay the inevitable battle between us.  You see, I know you won’t go far from your present position even though you are backing away from me.  My sensors have detected only two people aboard your ship.   It would not be hard for me to find where the third person is and add bits of him to the debris field - after adding yours, of course.  But until then, amuse me with your transmission.”

Hoshi patched subspace coms into local intership coms.  The news she had connected him to, would be broadcasted every hour.  The news would change a little as new reports came in, but at this time, it would be depressing for a Romulan to hear.

All they could do now was wait.  It gave Hoshi time to think that they hadn’t heard from Trip.  He could be listening in on their coms with the Romulan and keeping quiet or maybe he was in trouble and could not get back to a position where he was able to use his coms unit.   He did have 24 hours of air in that suit, though, Malcolm had told her.  So for now, they sat there, tense and uncertain, in a deadly dance of two slowly moving ships with weapons trained on each other. 

....

He listened to the subspace message, his translator rendering the sense of it and his own limited knowledge of human language helping a little.  All personnel on his ship had a cursory basic introduction to alliance languages. 

Scratching his forehead where a trickle of sweat had found a channel to move along his brow ridge, the Romulan winced in pain.  Raising his badly bruised arm to stop the tickle was not efficient if he had caused himself more injury.  And the pain indicated that is what he might have done. 

Clear thought was necessary now.  The situation had become more complex.   Those transport ships...   Was it true?   These humans could know nothing about him, could they?  They were just low level technical types like himself, right? 

So where was the honor, really, in taking them out?  Honor was for admirals and ship captains and those aspiring to high position.  No one cared what happened to people like him.   The bodies of people like him – on both sides – would forever be hanging disrespected here in this forgotten battle field.   They haunted him; as they would haunt any sentient being with a conscience.  They would hang here long after their loved ones back home, the only people who cared about them, rotted back into the earth of their home worlds.  And those people, the loved ones of the lost soldiers, would never know how their missing relatives had died or that their faces could still be recognizable - and young, while their own grew old and wrinkled. 

That female on the Andorian ship.   She had almost treated him like a person.   She had asked a question that had started to put doubt in his mind – “It doesn’t have to remain your intention.”   No one had ever given him a choice before.  The hell with armies, warships, and admirals who didn’t even know his name! 

....

An hour later, the Romulan hailed them again.   His voice was hesitant, less haughty.   “The names of those transport ships that were captured; the news person mangled the Romulan ship names by trying to translate them into your language.  Is it possible...since you speak standard Romulan...could you interpret what that man is saying?”

Hoshi looked at Malcolm in surprise.  He nodded and said “Try.”

“Okay,” began Hoshi over the coms, “I believe when he said the ship named ‘Creek Mist’ he was referring to ‘River of Fog’ and I would say that ‘space liner four of the labor force fleet’ meant ‘Industrial Workers Transport IV’.  Does that help?”     

A few moments of silence were followed by “The Vulcans...do you know how they treat prisoners?  Noncombatants, that is?  By now you must realize we Romulans - Rehansu as you SHOULD be calling us, are related to the Vulcans.”

“Careful, Hoshi, I think we are on to something here,” Malcolm mouthed more than whispered.

Hoshi nodded, rolling her eyes and mouthed to Malcolm “I know what I am doing here,” before responding to the Romulan.  “Yes, we now know of your kinship ties to the Vulcans.  The Vulcans have treated humans well, in the main, and we are not even related to them.  They are a people who treat other sentient beings fairly and compassionately.”

“I see.  And have you heard more than this single broadcast that you sent me?”

Using her intuition Hoshi said “Why yes, I have heard that the Vulcans are offering people on these captured ships, the right to permanent settlement on Vulcan colony worlds and even Vulcan citizenship if they wish to remain under Vulcan authority at the end of the war.”

Malcolm was inclining his head and grinning at Hoshi. “You lie brilliantly,” he whispered.

“I will get back to you.  I have to think about this,” said the Romulan and he cut off coms.

“Malcolm, I think he has relatives on one of those ships!  And what I said wasn’t exactly a Iie.  It is standard Vulcan practice to let aliens stay on Vulcan colony worlds if they desire to, and if they will accept Vulcan authority after hostilities have ceased between Vulcan and the home world of the detainees.  As to letting aliens move to the Vulcan home world itself, that is not often allowed.”

The coms system became active again. 

“Andorian ship.  I have a proposition.  I know where in this debris field that you can find welding equipment.  I know you need it.  I will not only tell you where it is, I will get it for you while you cut that nacelle off the Andorian ship over there.  Yes, I know where your other crewman is.  It was not difficult to scan for him.  Now, I will get this equipment if you sign a document with your own blood – all three of you, that you will have the Vulcans drop me off on the colony world that holds the Romulan civilians and crew taken captive off the Industrial Workers Transport IV.”

“For god’s sake tell him we have a deal!” whispered Malcolm.

Hoshi frowned at Malcolm and gestured to him to lower his voice.  “We have a deal...Mr....”

“Vorush Sarank, Crewman 3^rd Class, formerly of the Romulan battleship Raptor’s Nest, currently coxswain and only crewman of attack boat 2, named Shadow Wing, from the Raptor’s Nest’s on-board complement of service boats.  What are your names and ranks?”

Hoshi told him their names and ranks but held back the name of their captain and ship.  As far as this Romulan need know, this numbered but un-named Andorian vessel was their ship.

“You have our word on this deal,” Hoshi said, making the decision to speak for Trip and Malcolm as well as herself.  “If you go now and retrieve that equipment, how long will it take?”

“Six Romulan hours.  About as long as it took you to get from your last rest stop to this current position.”

“Go now then.  We will detach the nacelle and have it ready for welding when you get back.”

Vorush cut coms and started moving back into the debris field.  He reopened coms with a warning “I can see everything you are doing.  Remember, I understand your situation, so it would do you no good to pick up your crewman and run away at impulse.  You need the equipment I am retrieving to repair your ship and have even a remote chance of getting far enough away from here to be rescued before your critical life support fails you.  My scans have told me that much.  I am no fool, even if I am a traitor to my fleet.  Out.”