Jason crawled under his station, cursing the environmental suit he had to wear until they could seal all of the leaks in the bridge and then re-pressurize it with air. It was bulky and the fingers too large to do any delicate work. He had to route all of the other station’s functions to Princess’ station, as hers was the only one apparently still operational. He had completed rerouting the pilot and control functions and was now working on his own, to make sure all of the weapons were as secure as Trip seemed to think they were based on his and Reed’s earlier examination when they had first arrived.

“So, who did I marry?” he asked conversationally. Trip was seated in his own suit at Princess’ station, still checking each transfer as Jason completed it.

Trip had to turn in order to look at him due to the helmet’s limited view. “Who’d you what?” he asked in feigned confusion.

“My future wife. Your great-grandmother,” Jason responded with exasperation. “I need to know who she is.”

“I can’t tell you.” Trip repeated for the sixth time. Jason was going to drive him insane asking again and again, hoping he would either slip up or tell him just to shut him up. “We can’t take the chance telling you changes history.”

“We can’t take the chance that I kill her,” Jason argued, throwing that in for the first time. “Women have this nasty habit of trying to kill me, so I have to kill them first. I’d really hate to kill your great-grandmother.”

“What?” Trip turned completely to give him a horrified look.

“Didn’t you come across that in your research about me?” Jason asked, following a set of charred wires with his eyes.

“That you kill the women you date?” Trip’s voice rose into a squeak. Jason exhaled a long suffering breath.

“For some reason, I’m attracted to Spectran women,” he told his descendent. “The first time, the woman figured out I was in Galaxy Security so she tried to kill me. I was only protecting myself.” He shrugged. “Then it happened a few more times. We figured out I’m attracted to Spectran women for some reason and Spectra knows it now, so they send in their Galaxy Girls to get my attention, hoping one of them will be able to get close enough to me to succeed in killing me.”

“That’s horrible.” Trip thought out loud. Jason nodded.

“Yeah, it is. The problem now is I go into every relationship with the fatalistic view I’ll have to kill her at some point. So tell me who she is so I don’t kill her for sneezing while my back is turned.”

“But you obviously didn’t kill her because I’m here,” Trip pointed out logically. “You might have known her for years or just met her. If I tell you who she is, you might just jump into the relationship sooner than you were supposed to and screw everything up.”

“How?” Having determined what the damaged wires did, Jason clumsily typed in the appropriate orders to reroute them.

“You might start your family sooner than you did.”

“Maybe have an extra kid or two?” Jason asked. Trip started to answer, but then clamped his mouth shut with a look of exasperation.

“Do you do this to Spectran prisoners?” he asked. Jason turned so he could see him.  

“Do what?”

“Pester them to death or trick them into answerin’ questions?”

“No. That’s Mark job,” Jason told him. “He loves to pontificate.” He examined the wires one more time, counting them. “I think that’s it.” He scooted out from under the station, got up, and then motioning for Trip to move out of Princess’ seat. Once Trip stood and moved away, Jason sat down in the seat to check over the systems.

“Yup, that’s it,” he declared, raising his arms over his head, bending left and then right to stretch cramped muscles. “By the way, I’m starving. Mind if we get something to eat?”

888

Ensign Karl Mason, who was sitting in at the security station, noted a red light suddenly blinking on the board in front of him. He read the message that appeared on the monitor.

“Captain, I’m getting a live weapons’ reading from the ship that’s docked with us,” he reported, typing into the station to determine what type of weapon it was.

Archer turned around in his seat. “A live weapons’ reading?” he repeated with a frown.

“Yes, sir. It appears to be coming from the port side pod,” Mason told him. Archer turned further to address Hoshi’s stand in, Ensign Vera Grant.

“Ensign, pipe me in to Commander Tucker,” he requested.

888

“Sure,” Trip answered. “They were taking the rest of your team to the Mess. We’ll just join them.”

“Commander Tucker,” a female voice said into the helmets. Jason startled, not having realized the helmets had built-in communications.

“We’re about done here,” Trip responded, but he was interrupted by the Captain.

“Trip, we’re getting a live weapons reading from the port pod on the Phoenix,” Archer said. “What are you doing?” Trip frowned as he met Jason’s eyes.

“We just finished reroutin’ the command functions to the only workin’ station. Jason’s confirmed all of the weapons are secure.”

“Then what’s live in the pod?” Archer demanded just as Jason’s eyes widened.

“Oh crap.” He gave Trip an alarmed look. “Princess’ Galacticycle has rockets, but they’re not tied into the ship’s systems.”

“Then how are they live?” Archer demanded, having heard him.

“Something must have tripped the controls on the Galacticycle. Maybe it’s a delayed reaction to the wing damage,” Jason speculated.

“Are they on a countdown?” Archer’s voice was rising in alarm.

“Not normally.” Jason motioned for Trip to follow him. “They have to be shot via controls on the cycle, but if there’s a short that has activated them, then they could go off as well.” Jason led the way to the rear of the bridge. He knew the lift wasn’t working, but there was a narrow tube with a ladder next to it for just an occasion. In the environmental suits, they’d just fit.

“What’s their payload?” Trip asked, following him down into the lower level of the Phoenix.

“They’re small but powerful enough to punch a hole in the hull of a mech. What’s your hull made of?” Jason asked as he jogged as fast as he could across the cargo area to the entrance to the port wing.

In answer, Archer rose from his seat. “Kayle, pull up the shields,” he ordered the helmsman.

“I can’t,” the young man reported, working his station. “Part of that ship is in the shield’s field.”

“Cap’n,” Trip said as Jason skidded to a halt. They had both forgot the wing had been heavily damaged by the missile. It was hanging at an angle, torn partially away so that the hallway Princess normally used to get to her cycle was now open to space. “We’re gonna to have to do a spacewalk to get to it.”