"Mayday, mayday." the voice of Ensign Braveheart came through the shuttle's speakers. "We've been hit by the ionic interference. Controls are not responding. We're going down. Repeat, we're going..."
All of a sudden the channel burst into static, before it was broken. "We've lost contact Sir." Brim reported.
"Damnit." Captain McMillan tapped the shuttle controls. "Lieutenant, find out where they crashed. I am going up to the Gibraltar to get help."
"Aye Sir." the Engineer worked at her console for a moment, and then nodded. "Got the position as best as I could Sir."
McMillan was about to respond, when a gigantic shock when through the shuttle, throwing everyone from their places. "Intertial stabilisors offline!" McMillan shouted as the shuttle rocked. "Controls won't respond!" He turned around, where Crewman Brim and Lieutenant Weintraub were holding on for dear life. Literally. "Lieutenant! Send a distress call to the Gibraltar!"
"Sending." The Engineer reported a moment later. "But I'm not sure it will get through the ionic interference."
"We'd better hope it did." Captain McMillan grumbled, as he looked out the main window. They were no longer horizontal. . . instead, they were falling down, and falling down fast. The planet's ocean could now be seen through the clouds. "Because we're going down."
About an hour earlier...
Captain McMillan sat in his chair at the Bridge of the USS Gibraltar. The Intrepid class starship was sent to patrol one of the many areas of what used to be Romulan space. Just a patrol mission. . . no sign of Slade whatsoever.
She's not been showing herself lately. McMillan thought with a smile on his face. Perhaps we persuaded her to stop her destructive actions. His face sobered, and he slowly shook his head. Or, more likely, we're just not aware of what she's doing. . . Ah well... the Gibraltar was on a peaceful, relaxing mission for a change. This area of space wasn't going to give them any trouble, for once. Perhaps, McMillan surmised, he should let his crew get some off-time in the holodeck. They needed a break, especially since the entire crew had been on patrol for a while already. This was getting monotonous.
That however, would soon change, as the Operations Console started to beep. "Captain." the voice of Crewman Brim, newly assigned to the Gibraltar's OPS console, echoed through the Bridge which had, until then, been silent. "We are receiving a distress call."
Before McMillan could react, Commander Arado already did. "Source?"
"It appears to be coming from a planet roughly two lightyears from here." Mr. Brim reported. "It's audio only: the signal's too weak to carry visual." He paused. "Shall I patch it through?"
At McMillan's nod, an alien voice came through the Bridge speakers. "War broke out." the voice stated. "Please send help. I repeat, war broke out." The rest was merely static, but the message had gotten through. Though this did put the crew in quite a bind.
McMillan wasted not a second. "Helm." He said to Lieutenant Junior Grade Clawtooth. "Set in a course to the source of that distress call and engage at maximum warp."
Clawtooth quickly responded, and soon, the Gibraltar was on its way. But to do what? "Captain," Arado spoke up, "Whatever we do, we must abide by the Prime Directive. We cannot interfere, or chose sides."
"We can if they're in trouble." Lieutenant Weintraub at Engineering stated. "You heard them: they require immediate help. That sounds like a distress call to me, and we're obliged to come to their aid."
"We are if they were directly talking to us." Ensign Westland at Tactical corrected Weintraub. "From what I've heard, that was a general distress call. Granted, we should help if we can, but not if it breaks the Prime Directive."
Ah yes, the Prime Directive. Starfleet's most sacred rule. If whoever was raging this war did not have warp capability, the Gibraltar crew couldn't even contact them. And even if these people did, the crew would be unable to chose sides. They had to distribute whatever aid they could give to both sides. So much for a relaxing mission. McMillan thought.
"Arriving at the planet." Clawtooth announced after a while of discussing the situation. It was clear that this entire crew was anxious to help, but unsure if the rules allowed them to do so. "Going into standard orbit."
"Captain," Mr. Brim said, his voice surprised, "I'm receiving another message. This time directed at us, Sir."
"Let's hear it." McMillan said, standing up. He wondered who could have seen that they had entered orbit. If 'they' were people without warp capability, the Prime Directive would be broken already. From there on, it would be 'damage control'...
Static filled the Bridge, but slowly, a male voice was heard. "... am a Romulan..." the voice said. "... here in be.... fire. I ...peat. I am a Romulan citizen. I am trapped here in between crossfire. Two sides have gone to war, and we're stuck in the middle. Please! You've got to help us!"
"The signal's breaking up Sir." Brim stated quickly. "If you're going to respond, you'd have to do that quickly."
"This is Captain McMillan." Since this was a Romulan he was talking to, McMillan realised he could act. "State your location and your purpose there."
But there came no response. "The signal's dead Sir, but I do have the co-ordinates." Brim reported. "We could transport down."
"I wouldn't recommend that." Ensign Kieran Braveheart, the Chief Science Officer, swivveled around in his chair. "There is a lot of ionic interference covering the planet's atmosphere. Transporting down would be inadvisable, to say the least."
"He's right." Lieutenant Weintraub added. "Our transporters aren't strong enough to get through that interference... unless you don't want to materialise at all, down there."
McMillan bit his lip. This was a setback he couldn't afford. If they could rescue this Romulan -or more, if those were there- then the relations between the Federation and whatever Romulan factions there were in this area of space would be greatly improved. Plus, there were humanoid lives at stake. "Can we use a shuttle?" He finally asked.
"We could," Lt. Clawtooth spoke up, "But it would be a rough ride."
"And we would have to be very careful not to get spotted by whoever is fighting that war." Commander Arado said, reminding everyone about the dire situation they were facing. "If the situation was anything different, I would not send out a shuttle if I had the choice."
"It's going to be difficult anyway." Braveheart spoke his mind. "The ionic interference is particularly dense out there. I am not certain what is causing it, but I can tell you one thing: this is not naturally ocurring."
"Confirmed." Ensign Westland at Tactical added. "The natural patterns are missing. This could be a weapon of some sort."
"Would be worth a study." McMillan mused, and then nodded. He had his mind made up. "Right. Here's what we do. We'll send out two shuttles. One will go down to the surface to those co-ordinates we have from the Romulan's transmission, and try to beam them up. After that, you return to the Gibraltar. Commander Arado, you're in charge of that mission."
"Aye Sir." The Commander said, standing up from his chair. "Braveheart, Clawtooth, Westland, you're with me."
"The second team will be lead by me." McMillan continued. "Mr. Brim, Ms. Weintraub, you'll be with me. We will go down as well to accompany the first shuttle, but we will also be taking whatever readings of this ionic interference that we can. A probe wouldn't be suitable because of the interference, but hopefully a heavier shuttle will."
As the Gibraltar Crew left their stations, McMillan looked at the viewscreen again, wondering what the mystery of the Ionic Interference had in store for them.
An hour later... with the crashed crew.
Ensigns Braveheart and Westland, Lieutenant Clawtooth and Commander Arado had been lucky to find a floating platform not far from where they crashed into the water.
"Do you think they got our message?" Westland asked.
"I don't know." Braveheart answered. "The interference is quite strong. But I hope so." He smiled faintly. "I try to remain positive."
"That's rather difficult while seeing that." Clawtooth suddenly spoke up, pointing at the sky. There, a burning shuttlecraft made its way down to the ocean. It was the Captain's shuttle. It had to be. With a gigantic *splash*, it pierced the water, sending waves to rattle the platform. It didn't take long until the three inhabitants of the shuttle emerged from the water, onto the platform. Luckily, nobody was hurt...
"So what do we do now?" Weintraub asked. "I mean, I did send a message to the Gibraltar, but if they received it..."
McMillan took a deep breath, wiped a string of wet hair out of his eyes, and spoke up. "If they have recieved it, they'll be looking for us. And if they haven't..." He paused. "That Romulan we were looking for had a transmitting device. We might be able to use that."
"Then we'd have to find the Romulan first." Westland pointed out. "Locigally speaking, the chances of that happening are slim."
"Perhaps." McMillan answered. "But we do have his last recorded position on our tricorders. And I think that wherever he is, there'd be land too." He looked out over the open sea. "Brace yourself crew... we're going swimming."
He just hoped that it wouldn't take them too long to find this Romulan...
To be continued...
