Reckoning
Posted on Mar 01, 2016 @ 11:30am by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on Mar 01, 2016 @ 11:30am
Mission: Promethean
= Reckoning =
(cont’d from “Got To Break Free”)
LOCATION: LAVENZA II Facility
SCENE: Maintenance Access Tunnel
STARDATE: [2.16] 0301.0215
Jake Crichton dropped down into the maintenance access tunnel, a half-second ahead of his shabby twin. Above them, Eve Dalziel stood sentinel, phaser in hand, ready to stun the mirror-Crichton into unconsciousness if he tried anything. Jake understood the precaution, but he didn’t think it was necessary. He didn’t like to admit it, but he understood the other Crichton, more or less. The man was, above all, a pragmatist. He hated Jake, but not so much that he was willing to die over it.
The base shook again, the tremors rising up from deep below them to rattle the bulkheads beneath their feet. Jake estimated they had maybe ten minutes before the facility’s reactor went critical, ripped apart by the raw volcanic power of the planet core that fueled it. Jake Crichton had a reputation for looking on the bright side, but when it came to the guts of his work, Jake had a pessimistic streak that ran deep… once that was factored in, it was just possible the PHOENIX crew had closer to 12 minutes before the base started exploding around them.
So. Ten - maybe twelve - minutes to override system security, cancel the lockdown, reroute what remaining power he could to the docking bay, and order the lift to bring the Lament back up to the surface. Jake did a quick mental math and realized there wasn’t much room for error.
Beside him, his one-eyed double seemed to be running the same calculation. He rolled his one eye towards Jake and smiled sardonically.
“We’re gonna die,” he said.
“So let’s die busy,” Jake said, and he stepped forward and started yanking at the corner of a bulkhead plate. The mirror-Jake watched his duplicate for a moment, not moving except to shake his head as if in exasperation.
“Come *on*!” Jake urged, not taking his hands off the metal plating. He’d managed to pry it back some, exposing a network of isolinear circuitry underneath, but not enough for him to have easy access to it.
“It’s hopeless,” the one-eyed Jake said. “Opening those doors was the first damn thing I tried when the base shut down. I couldn’t get them working *before* the base was falling apart!”
“Don’t worry,” Jake said, a little breathless as he continued to tug at the bulkhead plating. “I’m smarter than you are.”
“Fuck you, Crichton,” the double grumbled, but he stepped forward and put his back into it. A moment later, they managed to pry the panel away from the wall. It dropped to the deck with a loud clatter, and then the two Jakes stared into the jungle of chips and tubing buried beneath it. Jake found a power distribution node, started tracing the circuitry back along the necessary pathways, trying to isolate the section of isolinear chips that were in charge of--
“You’re thinking we sever the connection to the facility’s primary computer,” the mirror-Crichton said, his voice cutting rudely through Jake’s thoughts. Jake turned to look at his double, and frowned at how the man managed to look disinterested even as the facility threatened to start collapsing all around them.
“Then you’ll want to wire up your tricorder to the lift console and dump enough power in there to kickstart the docking sequence,” the mirror-Crichton continued, rolling his eye away from the tangle of circuitry to look at Jake. “Sound about right?”
“It’ll work,” Jake said. “We can’t turn off the lockdown, so we circumvent it.”
The base rumbled around them again, somewhat undercutting Jake’s confident tone. His double didn’t look impressed.
“You think thats gonna give enough juice to open the doors and raise the lift with the big ass spaceship sitting on it?” the other Jake asked incredulously. “You’d barely disengage the mag-locks before it fries your tricorder and bottoms out lift control!”
“We have to try something,” Jake said, reaching out to steady himself against the wall as the facility rumbled menacingly beneath them once more. “Now, I need you to isolate the console from primary power while I get the tricorder ready to--”
“It’s not going to work!” the double screamed, interrupting Jake. It was too much; Jake seized his duplicate by the collar and slammed him against the bulkhead, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Jake leaned in, his teeth bared, as he stared into the stubbly face of his one-eyed double.
“I am *finished* listening to you,” Jake said. “Either help me out with this or get the hell out of my way.”
“Jake,” Eve Dalziel said above them. “We don’t have time for this.”
Jake didn’t turn to look up at her, but he felt guilty. The mirror-Crichton saw the guilt, and his own lips pulled wide into an ugly smile. Jake had a moment to appreciate the ratty state of his double’s teeth, and to notice the faint stink of hard living that seemed baked into the man’s bones.
“If you’d let me finish,” the double said, slowly, taking his time because he knew it would only annoy Jake more. “I was about to suggest we rig up a connection to the Annabelle’s Lament. The ship’s warp core has energy to spare. We’ll blow the control console, but once the lift sequence is activated, it won’t matter.”
Jake wanted to argue, but he had to admit he couldn’t find any fault in his double’s plan. They’d have to run cables from the Lament’s engine room out to the docking area, but the ship wasn’t very big. Once the lift was underway, it would just be a matter of unplugging on the Lament’s side and letting the cables be pulled out of the ship as it rose to the surface. The mirror-Crichton was right: that much energy dumped into lift control would fry the system, but once it got underway, nothing short of the base’s actual destruction should stop it. All it needed was a little push.
“Fine,” Jake said, releasing his double. He turned to look up at Eve, and nodded. “I’ll fix the console on this end.”
“What about the link-up to the warp core?” the other Jake asked.
“It’s your ship,” Jake said. “You know the engines better than I do. Get that cabling hooked up and get back out here as quick as you can.”
“Jake,” Eve said, her hand tightening on her phaser. “Are you sure?”
Jake mulled it over. The other Crichton stood stock still, waiting for the go-ahead. The facility rattled again, and made the decision for him.
“I’m sure,” Jake nodded. “Get to the bridge, let Jos know what we’re doing. We’ll need a pulse from the engines on my go-ahead. Tell Russ to fire impulse engines at .001, anything higher and he’ll fry the circuit before the lift can activate.”
“.001,” Eve repeated. “I got it.” She hesitated a moment, her eyes on the mirror-Crichton. Then she turned and jogged towards the Annabelle’s Lament.
“And you,” Jake said, turning to look at his duplicate. “Don’t let me down.”
The mirror-Jake didn’t reply. He turned, pulled himself up and out of the maintenance access area, and dashed up the boarding ramp into the Annabelle’s Lament. Behind him, Jake returned his attention to the circuitry beneath the lift controls.
=[/\]=
LOCATION: The Annabelle’s Lament
SCENE: Bridge
Aerdan Jos was seated in the CO’s chair. Behind him, Kass had her pulse rifle trained on Conniston, Brass, and Evaer. The trio stood with their backs against the wall, hands raised. Brass kept shooting jealous looks at the pilot’s console, where Russ BaShen sat, doing his best to get through preflight checks with one of his arms bound up in a sling. Evaer looked like a tired, defeated old man. Conniston looked sick.
At the ExO’s station near Jos, a shellshocked Thomas Varn sat, staring off into some middle distance, seeming to only barely follow the action around him.
Tremors rocked the facility once again, and the shaking carried up into the Lament. Jos gripped the arm-rests on the captain’s chair tightly.
“Mr. BaShen?” he asked, trying to sound calm as more quakes rippled through the ship.
“Sorry, sir,” Russ said, sounding harried. “Hard to do all this with one good arm.”
“You’re doing it all wrong,” Brass complained. Kass raised her pulse rifle, threatening to clout him with it. Brass shied away from the blow, but didn’t take his eyes off Russ at the pilot’s station. The ship rumbled again. One of Jos’ antennae twitched involuntarily.
“I don’t mean to criticize,” Jos said, managing to sound mild even in spite of the circumstances. “But the Ferengi might have a point.”
“I can do it!” Russ snapped. Then, more quietly: “Don’t matter anyway, not if Jake-Squared doesn’t get those bay doors open!”
“They have a plan,” said Eve Dalziel as she stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge. “Jake has the other Crichton working in the engine room. They’re going to use the Lament’s engines to power the docking bay.”
“What about the lockdown?” Jos asked.
Eve shrugged. “He has a plan, I didn’t catch it.”
“You didn’t catch it?”
“I can barely follow along when Jake’s talking to me,” Eve shrugged. “Let alone when he’s talking to himself.”
Jos thought about this for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. What does he need us to do?”
“Once the connection is made, we pulse the impulse engines, at .001,” Eve said. “That should be enough to get the lift moving.”
Jos tightened his grip on the armrests of the CO’s chair as the Lament shook again. He fixed Russ with a determined stare.
“Better hurry, Lieutenant,” he said, through gritted teeth. “It feels like this may end up being a very near thing.”
=[/\]=
SCENE: Engine Room
The latest tremor was severe enough to tumble Crichton as he crossed the threshold into the Lament’s engine room. He landed hard, his teeth clicking audibly together. He ignored the pain in his chin and scrambled to his feet as the Lament shook again. The tremors were getting closer together, and they were getting worse.
Crichton barged his way down the catwalk, past the pulsing warp core, towards a row of storage lockers near the rear of the engineering section. He pulled open a few of the lockers, not finding what he wanted, cursing to himself as he went. On his fourth try, he picked the right locker, and reached inside to pull a coil of power cabling up onto his shoulder. He didn’t bother closing the locker; instead, Crichton turned and dashed back up the catwalk. He skidded to a halt in front of the warp core’s dilithium access chamber, dropping the large coil of cabling to the walkway below him. A moment’s work saw one end of the cabling hooked up to the warp core. Crichton seized the other end, made a quick final check for kinks or tangles in the cabling, then started for the door.
He made one stop on the way. A brown rucksack - not so unlike the one the other Jake Crichton was so often seen wearing - was slung haphazardly over a railing. Crichton reached into it, retrieving the long, thin blade secreted inside. He was already heading for the door as he tucked the blade into the waistband of his pants.
=[/\]=
SCENE: Bridge
Conniston doubled over as a fit of wet coughs rumbled through his chest. When he straightened, Kass noticed a trail of black muck trailing from one corner of his mouth. She grimaced.
“You sick?” she demanded.
“Dying, I expect,” Conniston said, his voice watery.
“Well, do it quietly,” Kass said, gesturing with the pulse rifle for emphasis. The Lament shook once more around them. Conniston smiled.
“We’re *all* dying, when you think about it,” he mused.
“Something’s wrong with him,” Evaer said, inching away from Conniston. Kass snapped her rifle over to him. The Bolian froze, but the look of fear didn’t leave his face. “I’ve seen it before,” he continued.
“Cassidy,” Dr. Conniston hissed, drawing the “S” sound out like a deflating balloon. “Was she… magnificent?”
“What the hell are you babbling about?” Kass demanded.
“Shoot him,” Evaer said, his eyes wide.
“That ain’t a precedent you wanna set right now,” Kass warned.
Now it was the Ferengi’s turn to chime in. “He’s right,” Brass said, his beady eyes flitting between Kass and Conniston. “Kill him, hu-mahn.”
Another fit of coughing doubled Conniston over again. Globs of black ichor splattered loudly to the bulkhead at Conniston’s feet.
=[/\]=
LOCATION: Lavenza II Facility
SCENE: Lift Maintenance Access Tunnel
“Heads up!” came a voice from above him. A moment later, a thick power cable tumbled down into the access tunnel. The connection end was bulky, thick enough that it could have knocked Jake senseless if it had hit him on the way down. He frowned up at the mirror-Crichton. The duplicate was looking down at him, grinning sheepishly.
“I said ‘heads up’,” the other Jake shrugged.
“Took you long enough,” Jake said, turning his attention back to the circuitry he’d been working on. “Get down here and help me with this.”
“Sure thing,” said the other Jake. He dropped down into the access tunnel.
Jake finished his work on the isolinear circuitry. He did one final inspection, making sure everything was where it needed to be, before turning around to face his double.
“Lift control’s isolated from the primary computer,” he said as he turned. “Once we get that cable hooked up we--”
The mirror-Crichton was on him in a flash, burying several inches of serrated steel deep into the meat of Jake’s shoulder, nearly pinning him to the bulkhead. Jake cried out in pain, his arms coming up to wrap instinctively around his one-eyed double, to prevent him from pulling the knife free and stabbing again. They stood, wrapped in a boxer’s clinch, blood and pain pouring in waves from Jake’s wounded shoulder.
“Sorry for the delay,” the other Jake growled, almost in Jake’s ear. “Had to stop to grab the knife.”
Jake wanted to reply, wanted to righteously demand an explanation for this betrayal, but right now it was all he could do to keep from screaming. The facility rumbled once more, and it was enough to disrupt his grip. The mirror-Crichton wrenched free of Jake’s arm, pulling the blade free as he went. It did not come out cleanly. Jake’s feet gave out beneath him, and he fell hard onto the deck.
Above him, the mirror-Crichton waited for the tremor to pass. Then, when he was sure of his footing, he took the opportunity to stand triumphantly over his clean-cut twin.
“Ship don’t need two Crichtons,” he said, with a shrug that almost looked apologetic.
Jake had his hand clamped tightly over the ragged wound in his shoulder. With his other hand, he was pulling himself along the walkway, away from the other Jake. Somewhere along the way, he’d managed to find his voice. He flashed a weak smile up at his twin.
“And here I thought engineers loved redundancies,” he said, weakly.
“Not this one,” the other Jake said. “Sorry, Crichton. You gotta go.”
“Clearing a space for yourself?” Jake asked. “You screwed up your place in your own universe, so now you have to come and take mine?”
“Oh don’t give me that *shit*,” the mirror-Crichton spat. “You think I don’t know how you see me? I’m, what, an object-lesson in good life choices? ‘Say your prayers, take your vitamins, or wind up a washed-up scumbag with a drinking problem!’ Like your life’s worth than mine because you’re *happy*?”
Jake had managed to pull himself to the wall. He fumbled his way up into a sitting position, as his cyclopean-double raved over him.
“News flash, Jake,” the mirror-Crichton said. “You ain’t where you are because you took Door Number One and I took Door Number Two. I never had a goddamn chance, you understand that? My whole fucking family was *dead* by the time you copped your first feel. You went to some nice academy, *I* got sold into slavery. You got promotions, I got *this*!”
The mirror-Crichton gestured savagely towards his eye patch with his knife. Jake’s blood still coated the thin blade.
“I’m you after a run of shit luck,” the other Jake said. “That’s it.”
“My condolences,” Jake said, frowning at his twin. “Don’t see why I gotta die to make up for all of that.”
“You gotta die because you’re a reminder of everything I can’t ever have,” the mirror-Crichton said. “And because after everything that’s happened to me… why the fuck *shouldn’t* you?”
He started to advance. The facility shook once more, hard enough that the mirror-Crichton hesitated a moment, his footing unsteady. Jake kicked out, knocking the other Jake’s feet out from underneath him. The other Jake lashed out with the knife as he fell, scoring a long, bloody line down Jake’s leg. Jake pulled his legs away as the mirror-Crichton lashed out, the tip of his blade slamming loudly against the walkway with tinny scraping sounds.
Jake hoisted himself to his feet, using leverage against the side of the maintenance tunnel for leverage. He gained shaky footing as the other Jake was getting back to his feet. They faced off for a moment, the mirror-Crichton holding the knife out. He lunged. Jake ducked to the side, stumbling around the mirror-Crichton. The blade flashed out, but Jake managed to avoid it. His hands closed around the cabling, still dangling from the bulkhead above them. He gripped the thick, heavy connector at the end of the cabling and whirled, swinging the cable as he did.
It connected sharply against the other Jake’s cheek with a loud crack. The blade went flying, clattering off into the shadows. The mirror-Crichton dropped to the deck, a bloody wound pounded into the side of his face. He didn’t move again. Jake held the connector ready, waiting for his double to rise up and press the attack, but the other Jake was out cold.
The facility shook again. The strength went out of Jake’s legs, and he fell to his knees, losing his grip on the cabling. Blood has saturated the shoulder of his uniform. He was starting to feel cold. He shook his head, clearing away the grey that threatened to creep into his vision, and rose back to his feet. He grabbed the cable, stumbled over to the lift control circuitry, and after a few desperate attempts, managed to get the cable connected.
He turned to look at his double. The other Crichton was still breathing, but was obviously unconscious. Jake managed to stumble over to where the other Jake lay. He reached down, hoisting his duplicate up into a fireman’s carry, doing his best to favor his uninjured arm. Despite this, his wounded shoulder shrieked fresh agony as he rose, barely managing to keep the other Jake balanced on his shoulders. His face set in a grim expression, Jake started for the lip of the maintenance tunnel.
=[/\]=
NRPG: Not quite where I thought I’d leave things, but I imagine you can guess at what might happen next…
Shawn Putnam
a.k.a.
Jake Crichton
Chief Engineering Officer
USS PHOENIX
and
Jake Crichton
Chief Engineering Officer
The Annabelle’s Lament
