Mini-Mission - Pt 1

Posted on Wed Sep 16th, 2026 @ 2:58am by Commander Jennifer Baldric & Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen & Commander Jenna Ramthorne & Commander Dean House & Lieutenant Commander Thriss Kla'ren & Lieutenant Commander Aurora Vali & Lieutenant JG Jacob Rosen & Lieutenant JG T'Lar

3,471 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: September
Location: DS9

Deep Space Nine - Quarks

Quarks during this time of day was rather quite, but not enough to displease Quark, who was busy venting to Morn. Thriss and Rynn cared less. They were too busy enjoying each other's company by chatting about the newest advancements in the Starfleet Engineering space. What would you expect from two career Engineers?

"Heard the Odyssey's computer unit is ready for transport to Utopia Planitia" Thriss commented.

"I heard her keel is being laid as we speak. Doesn't she have a prototype quantum slipstream drive?" Rynn asked.

"That's what some of my friends in the yards say, but her propulsion is under wraps. Even if she does it won't be installed closer to her completion date, which isn't slated for another few years" Thriss sipped his coffee.

"I guess you have time to prepare" Rynn quipped with a shit-eating grin.

"For what?"

"The Odyssey making the Sunfire run for her money" Rynn teased.

Thriss shot a sarcastic, deadpan look at the redhead. "Don't even joke about that Rynn. Regardless-" Thriss was interrupted by the light above them going out and coming back on again.

"That's the third time in the last hour" Rynn commented.

Then Thriss' antenna twitched.

"That's the first time today that happened" Rynn added. Before she could say anything else Thriss placed currency on the table before walking out of Quark's. Rynn quickly followed. "Where are you going?"

"Station Ops. Something is very wrong" Thriss commented as the two disappeared into the promenade towards the turbolift.

Bonnie stepped off the transporter pad looking as though she had personally lost an argument with a warp core. Her uniform was clean only in the technical sense, its fabric still carrying the faint gray smudges of a woman who had spent far too many hours crawling through the wounded guts of the Sunfire. Her hair had escaped whatever attempt to contain it sometime around hour thirty, leaving several stubborn strands bouncing directly in her face. She brushed them aside with the back of one hand and immediately decided she was too tired to care.

She had come to the station for supplies, coffee, and perhaps ten minutes in which nothing aboard ship could explode, fail, or require her attention. It was an ambitious itinerary.

She made it thirty meters before a replicator at a nearby kiosk produced a steaming cup of coffee for a Bolian who had very clearly ordered tea. The man stared at it. Bonnie glanced at it. He looked at her as though she might somehow be responsible.

She raised both hands. "Don't look at me. I'm off duty." The replicator cheerfully produced another cup of coffee. Bonnie sighed and kept walking. That, by itself, barely registered. Deep Space Nine was old. Things malfunctioned. Things produced coffee when they should have produced tea. After the past several days, Bonnie's personal definition of a crisis had become considerably more demanding.

She was passing beneath one of the promenade's overhead lighting panels when it dimmed abruptly. She stopped. "...Seriously?" She continued walking, deciding that whatever argument the station was attempting to have with her could wait until after coffee.

Then she saw Thriss and Rynn. They were moving quickly through the Promenade toward the turbolifts, neither carrying the relaxed expressions of two engineers trying to enjoy an evening away from their respective disasters. Thriss's antennae were angled forward, his attention fixed somewhere beyond the crowd, while Rynn kept pace beside him.

Bonnie slowed, her exhaustion remained, but something beneath it sharpened. She looked back at the malfunctioning light. Then toward the replicator. Then at the turbolift that had just deposited two technicians on the wrong level. Her expression tightened. She adjusted the strap of her tool bag and started after them.

"Hold up! I'll join you!" She called after them. Deep Space Nine had decided it wanted to join the list of things Bonnie needed to fix.

Rynn motioned for Bonnie to join them. She also saw Thriss' antennae going haywire as opposed to the simple twitch that she had seen back at Quarks. "Must be bad if they're like that."

Thriss replied as the trio looked at the turbolift. "That's my fear" he said. "Think the turbolift is still a safe bet to get to ops?"

Nearby the sound of metal clanging on the floor as Jacob's foot stuck out of a now filterless ventilation intake panel. "HA! That is brilliant Lieutenant. Excellent way to get up here without use of the Turbolift."

"Yes. My Uncle used, or perhaps still uses, some of the wider ventilation routing to move goods around the station without drawing the eyes of the Constable." The Ferengi replied with a grunt as Jacob reached down to help him to his feet.

Jacob looked over with a smile. "Commanders! This is Lieutenant Nog, acting Operations Chief of Deep Space Nine. Lieutenant, these are Lieutenant Commanders Kla'ren, Upland, and Durnell, Sunfire Engineering." He motioned between the Engineers.

"Pleased to meet you all." Nog answered curtly before continuing. "I could use experience such as yours in Station Ops. I fear we are experiencing a cascading malfunction. My Uncle's smuggling route can get us there in short order however you will need to climb."

"It's an honor to meet you Lieutenant. Your own career has been no small feat, but as much as I'd like to nerd out with you, I fear we don't have much time to get to ops. Typical Andorian danger sense and all" Thriss explained and quipped. He motioned towards the hatch. "Please lead the way."

Grateful for Jacob's entrance, Bonnie smiled brightly and gave Nog a small, almost absurdly cute wave before dipping into a quick little quarter-curtsey. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, and then straightened with the expression of someone who had just met a minor celebrity and was determined to behave professionally about it. She waited for her turn at the hatch, tool bag shifting against her hip as she prepared to climb toward Ops.

"Is it feeling a little warm in here?" Jacob said as the gold-shirted group continued their upward climb.

"If you listen, Lieutenant, you will notice the distinct lack of the quad-fan hum that typically accompanies the environmental systems," Nog grunted as he led upward, grunting as he shifted to the next section of rungs. "Which means we are only operating the passive non-powered air cycler, similar to an attic fan, I believe, is the Earth equivalent."

"I wonder why we haven't switched over to emergency power," Jacob replied with a thoughtful frown.

"The changeover SHOULD have been automatic." Nog nodded in agreement.

Bonnie glanced upward as another wave of warm air passed through the shaft. “If the primary environmental fans are offline but the passive cyclers are still drawing, then we’ve got power to at least part of the environmental system. The emergency transfer failing means the control signal is probably the problem, not the power itself.” She shrugged as she continued climbing. “Or I may be completely wrong. I’ve been awake for something like thirty hours, give or take, so statistically I’m due.”

"At the next junction there is direct network link to the central computer core Commander." Nog replied as he shifted to another ladder segment to his right. "It could be best described as a rogue access point that I never informed Chief O'Brien of its existence. From there we will be able to receive up to date status information on station systems. There may also be a hidden console that I gave super-user rights to years ago." He finished with a toothy smile.

"Lieutenant, I have a feeling we are kindred spirits in some ways." Jacob grinned, following the Ferengi Engineer as the ventilation shaft opened into a 5 way junction with a hastily wired port and small console mounted to a console on the bulkhead in the middle. "How far are we from Ops in case we want to split up Nog?"

"Down that access shaft three sections and directly up the ladder, about 5 minutes." Nog pointed, powering up the console and checking the access point.

Bonnie brought her maintenance pack around and glanced at the hastily wired console. “I’ll stay here and try to interface with the main computer from this access point. You guys go ahead to Ops and see if you can take control of...” She looked at the console, then at the others. “...whatever this is.”

Deep Space Nine - Ops

The soundproofing in the station's office was fabulous - keeping conversations private from any ears wanting to pry. Problem was it also kept cries for aid silent as well. Kira banged on the doors, swearing profusely as though sheer willpower would open them. Just as she headed for the access panel - the lights went out and the temperature began to plummet along with the air pressure. The computer was removing life support from the space.

Deep Space Nine - Conference Room 201

T'Lar had arranged the chairs in a circle for the first group therapy session of the day and had moved to the replicator to generate refreshments for the day's attendees. First order of business was to order up a large carafe of coffee. Upon materialization, T'Lar knew there was something definitely "off" about the coffee. Instead of the universally worshiped juice of the bean, the replicator had produced a large flagon of Klingon Bloodwine instead. Puzzled, she reclaimed the object and started again ordering coffee. Again, Bloodwine materialized. She reclaimed the second flagon but this time ordered tea. To her amazement and not a little consternation, a carafe of coffee arrived. Not one to waste an opportunity, she quickly secured the coffee to the snack table. The participants may just have to do without tea today, she thought and set about ordering up a dozen assorted doughnuts. What she got was a tray full of Welsh Rabbit, that wonderfully gooey cheesy mess on toast beloved of denizens of the British Isles. Sending it back into the reclamator, she ordered muffins instead and was rewarded with a dozen assorted bagels with various cream cheese schmears. Deciding that would be an acceptable substitute for doughnuts in a pinch, she ordered up another dozen muffins and got another dozen bagels. Fortunately, the order came with small paper plates and napkins, just as the coffee had come with two dozen paper cups.

Just then she heard a knocking on the conference room door, which she thought was odd. Moving over to it she expected it to open. It did not. She pressed the door open button. Nothing happened. On a hunch she depressed the door close button, and the door slid open. Several people were waiting in the hallway to get in.

T'Lar apologized for the door malfunction and was informed that there were malfunctions all over the station at that very moment. Given that information and the fact that the lights began to flicker T'Lar decided to re-schedule the sessions one hour later than previously planned, this time located at the counseling suite's conference room. It was less than ideal given the retrofitting and repairs going on, but she did not want to risk crewmembers being trapped in this particular room should the malfunctions continue. She tapped out a notice on her PADD and sent it to all scheduled attendees, before ushering those in attendance out of the room and heading back up to the Sunfire, leaving the snacks on the table untouched.

Upon reaching the turbolift T'Lar and the group were informed that it was malfunctioning and that the station's transporters were similarly misguiding people to incorrect locations, so far just an inconvenience; however all off-station personnel were being recommended to utilize their own ship's transporters for beam out. T'Lar and the group in tow followed that recommendation and soon found themselves back aboard the battered Sunfire. T'Lar quickly tapped out a supplemental memo regarding the problems on DS9 and sent it out shipwide warning those on board the Sunfire of the situation and informing those who might be inconvenienced or worse how they might make it back to the ship, assuming they could get through on coms.

Deep Space Nine - Ops

Back in Ops, Kira managed to crawl to the access port, giving up on the doors opening. The air was thin, and she rationed her breathing, slowing it down as much as possible. To conserve oxygen. Based on the old manual Cardassian infrastructure and not governed by the computer, the hatch popped easily, allowing her the escape route from the computer hell-bent on killing her. She crawled in, sealing it again behind her and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Kira to Ops....."

There was no reply to her hail, and being in the corridor she couldn't see that presently, Ops was turning into an indoor nebula of hazardous gasses. The computer was reducing access to any place it could be shut down.

Promenade

"Yes, I'm sure. I know Kira and the rest of them. It'll be perfectly fine." He and Jennifer had just had a lovely meal atone of the upscale restaurants, so dressed up. Dean was trying to half; that's only half mind you; pampering her. He knew that if it was to much she'd hate it.

That being said, he had dressed up for the occasion. A black Mandarin-style tuxedo, violet shirt, the raised collar secured by an onyx clasp. They were headed to the nearest lift that would get them to Operations.

Jennifer followed him into the turbolift, clad in a casual oversized sweater and black fitted pants. She'd been to DS9 many times during her tenure on the Sunfire, and was content to spend time with Dean wherever he wantet to go.

The turbolift doors opened into a green gaseous environment, the deserted centre console barely visible.

"Ahhh...that doesn't look good," she started, before a lungful of gas sent her coughing.

Dean made a face and put his arm out and then pushed her backwards, as he stepped back as well. "Grab us some masks." Waving his hand from what gas did get out and tapping his comm badge. "House to Ops. We've got a problem with the ventilation and a possible contamination on Promenade level 1. Seal it, but let Ms. Baldric and me through to investigate."

Ops didn't reply, but Jennifer grabbed the emergency masks, heading to the ventilation panel to see if she could vent the toxic fumes. In the distance, she could see people who needed rescuing. One thing at a time.

"Dean!" She shouted through the mask and pointed to where two Bajorans were.

She rerouted the ventilation system through an emergency override and managed to clear the noxious gas, testing the air quality before removing her mask. If the computer was being glitchy, it was just as likely to have replaced the gas with another toxic gas. Thankfully, the usual oxygen-nitrogen ratio had returned.

Dean paused for some reason. Then he threw into action. However, Jennifer had it covered. Taking a breath to look over to her. "Good job, love. Let's see what the hell is going on."

Jennifer looked at the console cautiously before aiding the two Bajorans to their feet and turning back to Dean. "We should contact Engineering, try and figure out what the hell is going on"

Dean helped her with them and stood back up, looking around a moment. "And I know exactly who to contact." He tapped his commbadge, "Dean to Bonnie. You're in the station's engineering, aren't you, or about to be?"

Bonnie unzipped her top overshirt as the heat in the ventilation shaft continued to rise. Sweat was beginning to build along her forehead, and she still hadn't made heads or tails of the miswired junction controls, even with Nog's help. She was mildly surprised that Dean had managed to reach her at all, considering the communication problems they were experiencing throughout the station. She tapped her commbadge. “This is Bonnie. I’m in a ventilation shaft junction about halfway between Ops and the Promenade. Why do you ask?”


USS Sunfire - Bridge

The bridge of the Sunfire had settled into an unusual sort of quiet. Jenna remained on board, but on standby, while she worked her way through the latest repair reports. She had just finished reviewing the status of the port impulse assembly when the communications panel chirped. Then it chirped again. Within seconds, several distress calls began arriving from Deep Space Nine, overlapping one another until the speakers dissolved into a jumble of voices, static, and clipped requests for assistance.

Jenna straightened in her chair. "T'Lilbit, can you sort those by origin and priority?"

"Aye Commander." T'Lilbit replied.

Jenna then opened a channel to Ops. "Sunfire to Ops. We're receiving multiple distress calls. What support can we provide?" She waited, listening to the overlapping traffic while T'Lilbit worked through the signals at her console. The damaged ship might have been incapable of going anywhere useful, but Jenna knew better than to confuse being grounded with being helpless. "Ops, we're standing by. Let me know if there is something we can do."

"Just a minute...." Came a random voice that sounded very much like someone was in the shower. The call to Ops had been routed to someone's quarters in the habitat ring.

Jenna stared blankly at the communications display for a moment, listening to the unmistakable sound of running water beneath the voice on the channel. Her eyebrows lifted. “What is that?”

T’Lilbit glanced over from the science station. “I believe we are hearing what sounds like running water, Commander.”

“I gathered that.” Jenna leaned toward the console, as though getting closer might somehow make the situation more professional. “Can you clean that up or get me a visual?”

T’Lilbit worked the controls, isolating the transmission and attempting to trace its routing. “The signal appears to have originated from the habitat ring. I am attempting to determine which communications node received the original distress traffic.”

The visual showed a naked Bajoran officer very much in the shower - steam billowing from the alcove that preserved his dignity - just.

Jenna sat back, folding her arms. “Apparently, Ops is... very busy.”

“Or very clean,” T’Lilbit observed.

Jenna eyed T'Lilbit at the science station. T’Lilbit continued working as though she had said nothing at all. Jenna stared at the screen for another full minute, then cleared her throat. “Commander to Ops,” she said, adopting her most professional tone. “We are receiving multiple distress calls from the station. Can you advise us what assistance is required?”

There was a pause as the Bajoran looked toward whatever display he had in the shower. “Uh…”

Jenna's expression remained perfectly composed. “We can wait.”

T’Lilbit quietly maintained her attention on the science console.

The Bajoran officer stepped out of the shower in his naked glory, then realised the video com was on - grabbing a towel and swearing as to why the Cardassians would put video comms in bathrooms.

"What the heck?" He asked as he approached the screen, "Why are you spying on my shower?"

Jenna raised a single eyebrow. “I think a better question is why you would have a camera in your shower, capable of being used to spy on you.”  She allowed that to sit for a beat before continuing, her voice maintaining its calm, professional cadence. “That aside, we are attempting to reach Operations. The system has apparently redirected our call to you.”

Jenna glanced briefly toward T’Lilbit, then back to the screen. “So, can you help us, or not?” T’Lilbit remained focused on her console, although the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested she might be enjoying the exchange.

"I am NOT Operations; I don't even work in Ops; I work in waste reclamation." The Bajoran covered himself with a towel well after he probably should have. "But who the heck are you... I don't recognise you at all"

Jenna clenched her jaw for just a moment before allowing her expression to settle back into professional neutrality. “Commander Ramthorne, USS *Sunfire*. We apologize for the disturbance. We’ll allow you to get back to your…” She paused, the faintest hint of amusement touching her voice. “…little problem.”

She glanced toward T’Lilbit, giving her a subtle nod to close the channel.  The last thing Jenna heard before the transmission cut was the Bajoran’s indignant voice.  “…it was a cold shower!”

Savar sat and listened to the numerous nonsensical conversations that were going on around him. "Fascinating. Does anyone have a theory to what is happening with these conversations?"

TBC

 

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