Psychotic Academy

The cadets piled out of the lecture hall in a mad rush. Somewhere in the crush, Fourth Year Cadets Wall and Damerell were evaluating their performances.

“Look, I don’t care what they say! I couldn’t have helped colliding with the Kobayashi Maru. They were right in my way!!!”

“Absolutely,” Wall said, anxious to calm Damerell down.

“I mean,” Damerell ranted, “How on Earth do they expect to get themselves rescued if they go around jumping out in front of people.”

“But they don’t expect to get themselves rescued. It’s a no-win scenario. You heard what Admiral Shah said. No-one wins.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

As Damerell stopped complaining, Wall evaluated his own Kobayashi Maru performance. He, like so many cadets before him, had taken his ship into the Neutral Zone, defying an interstellar treaty to save lives. Wall, adding a new twist to the test, had gone in at warp speed. They hadn’t stopped in time, and gone straight through the Neutral Zone and come to a halt deep in Klingon space. Before they could try sneaking out again, a preposterously large Klingon fleet of forty-seven battlecruisers had dropped out of cloak and atomised the USS Ford Capri.

As the dust had settled on the bridge, the only one to speak had been Wall, as he uttered the immortal line, “On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.”

 

The next morning they, and a fair few of the others in their class, reported to the Academy transporter room. They were about to embark on the highlight of the final year at the Academy: the three-week training cruise. They were beamed up to Spacedock, where they transferred to the ageing ship USS Zimmerframe. The Zimmerframe was the last survivor of the Hermes-class scout ships, built forty years previously, used exclusively now for training missions like this one. It hadn’t been updated significantly for many years, and her systems were old and creaky.

When Wall and Damerell reported to the bridge, which was still modelled in the style of the old Constitution class before their refits, they found a Lieutenant occupying the command chair.

Wall said, “Um, excuse me, are you in charge?”

“Aye. Lieutenant Olding, officer temporarily commanding t’ Zimmerframe. Who are you?”

“Hi! Cadet Wall, your helmsman!!” Wall held out his hand to be shaken.

Olding just stared at it impassively. Wall let it drop.

“Station, please, Mr Wall.”

Next it was Damerell’s turn.

“Well?”

“Erm, Cadet Damerell, navigator, sir.”

“Hmph. Station.”

Damerell scuttled over to the navigator’s seat, and checked over his console. In the next few minutes, the cadets who were manning the rest of the bridge entered, and Olding hailed Spacedock control.

“Get me t’ control.”

“Control tower reading, sir.”

“Control, this is t’ Zimmerframe, requestin’ permission to depart.”

“Zimmerframe, Control, thirty seconds for port gates.”

“Thank you, Control.”

Olding came forwards to stand by the helm console.

“Now then, Cadet, take us forwards slowly. Aft thrusters only, as per regulations.”

Wall, confronted by the control panel of a real starship, wanted to play with everything, but restrained himself to activating the aft thrusters. The Zimmerframe lurched away from the slip, came unsteadily round to face the slowly-parting doors, then wobbled towards open space.

 

With some difficulty, Olding regained his chair, and sat down again. So far, so good. He had been dreading this job. His first taste of independent command, and it had to be with cadets. But none of them seemed too bad. No doubt the ride would get smoother once the cadet at the helm, whatsisname? Roof? Door? Wall, that was it, got used to the controls. He glanced around the rest of the bridge. The cadets were working away at whatever it was they were finding to do; Olding knew that, in reality, there was very little most of the crew could do during departure, and all the tapping of buttons was purely for effect in the recruiting holofilms. On the viewscreen, Spacedock disappeared, with just the stars in front of them.

Wall, remembering what it was he was supposed to say, said, “We are free and clear to navigate.”

“Very well. Helm, set a course for the outer planets.”

 

Several hours later, the Zimmerframe left the solar system, and cranked up to Warp Five on a course for Vulcan, the first stop on their whistlestop tour of the Federation. The watches changed, and Wall and Damerell handed over to their replacements.

As they left the bridge, Wall said, “Come on, let’s go and get a bite to eat.”

They made their way down to the galley, where a team of trainee chefs spent their time cooking almost constantly. While Damerell ordered a Vulcan green salad and a mineral water, Wall opted for the Monster Fryup, consisting of fried sausages, fried bacon, fried bread, fried tomatoes, and fried eggs. A waft of greasy yuckness hit Damerell full in the face, and he was lucky to make it to a table before choking furiously as he struggled to recover his breath. Wall, apparently immune to the grossness of his meal, tucked in enthusiastically.

In between mouthfuls he said, “So, what do you make of our new commander?”

Damerell, whose appetite appeared to have been ejected out of the nearest airlock, picked halfheartedly at his salad as he replied, “Seems alright. A bit, well, formal.”

“That’s just because he doesn’t know us yet. He’ll unwind, be one of the lads before you know it,” Wall predicted before stuffing a lump of fried bread on top of which was perched a lump of wobbly egg.
Damerell gagged as Wall chewed the ghastly mixture and swallowed, before licking bits of fat off his face.

“Do you not want that?” Wall asked as Damerell pushed his bowl away from him.

Damerell felt unable to speak at that moment, so just shook his head. “I’ll have it then. No sense in letting good food go to waste.”

Damerell watched as Wall poured the salad, the product of several centuries of Vulcan dietary science, onto the greasy remains of his bacon, and push it all onto his fork and stuff it into his mouth. Then, a second later, after swallowing, he belched loudly. “That’s better.”

Then, assuming a pensive expression, he said, “You know, the next three weeks are going to be pretty boring.”

“Shore leave on Vulcan should be interesting.”

“Yeah, if you like looking at thousand-year-old monuments. There’s not going to be any real excitement, is there?”

Damerell thought about that comment, then, a panic gripped him, and he shouted, “You LOONY!!!!”

“Eh?”

“You realise what you’ve just done? Do you?”

“Well, um, no actually.”

“You’ve just unleashed Murphy’s law! The moment you said nothing interesting was going to happen, you’ve just made sure it would!!!!!! We’re doomed!!!! Doomed, I tell you!!!!!!!!!!!”

By this stage, everybody in the galley was staring at them. Damerell became aware he had clambered up onto the table. He climbed down again and sat down. “Sorry about that. Don’t quite know what came over me.”

“Forget it.” Wall waved the matter away. “Look, nothing’s going to happen. Since when has anything ever happened on a cadet training cruise?”

“Last year’s cruise ended up in that massive battle with Khan.”

“I mean, apart from that one!”

“Well, now you come to mention it, I suppose they have been pretty uneventful.”

“Exactly!!!” Wall beamed, glad that he had won this one. Then he yawned, and said, “We’d better get some shuteye.”

The two of them staggered off back to their quarters.

 

The next morning, they returned to the bridge in the same turbolift as Lieutenant Olding. This prohibited any form of conversation, so they took their posts silently. They had timed it well. The Zimmerframe was just entering Vulcan space.

“Helm, take us out o’ warp.”

The Zimmerframe dumped her forward velocity in seconds, and, were it not for the fact that Olding was actually standing behind the command chair at that point, he would have flown forwards across the bridge.

“Helm, do you think we could do that a little more gently?”

“Sorry.”

On impulse power, Wall took the elderly starship towards Vulcan.

Olding turned to the cadet at communications, and said, “Get me Vulcan Space Central.”

“Vulcan Space Central, sir.”

Olding spoke up for the microphone. “Vulcan Space Central, this is t’ USS Zimmerframe, requestin’ clearance for orbit.”

“USS Zimmerframe, this is Vulcan Space Central. You are cleared for geosynchronous orbit over beacon 17665-Alpha. Live long and prosper.”

“Aye, and the same to you too, or whatever.”

The channel was closed, and Olding said, “Helm, take us in over beacon 17665-Alpha.”

“Erm, where’s that, exactly, sir?”

“I don’t bluidy know! Find it!”

“Um, aye, sir.”

Wall looked around in panic. He had no idea where the beacon was. Luckily, the cadet at the science station took pity on him, and the co-ordinates appeared on his board. Realising that they had passed the beacon, Wall immediately engaged reverse thrust. This time, Olding was thrown over his chair to land on the deck by Wall’s seat.

As Wall stopped the ship at the correct point, Olding said, “You do realise that I have to write reports on your progress and abilities, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Most cadets would take that as an opportunity to impress me, not try and kill me!”

Olding resumed his seat, feeling battered and bruised, and wondering why on earth he left the Suppository for this assignment. He really missed the calm atmosphere of the science station.

Collecting himself, he hit the intercom button, and said, “All hands, this is Lieutenant Olding. Cadets, you have twenty-four hours of shoreleave. Enjoy it, but for goodness’ sake, don’t bluidy break anythin’! Officers and regular crew, please report to the observation lounge for debriefing.”

Then, turning off the channel, he turned to the cadets on the bridge and said, “Well, don’t just sit there! Get off my ship!”

The cadets practically charged for the turbolift. As they went, Olding grabbed Wall by the arm and said, “That bit about not breakin’ anythin’ particularly applies to you, got it?”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Good.”

Wall entered the turbolift, which was crammed full, and the doors closed, leaving Olding alone on the bridge. He collapsed back into the command chair. Only another two weeks and six days to go.

 

Down on the surface, Wall and Damerell were practically knocked over by the stifling heat.

“So, where are we then?” Wall asked.

Damerell shrugged. “You mean you don’t know?”

“No.”

“Marvellous. At least there’s a town here.”

Wall looked around at the imposing sandstone buildings. Many of them were in poor states of repair, a most un-Vulcan condition for them to be in. “This doesn’t look right,” he remarked. “Come on, let’s go and explore.”

He dragged Damerell into the nearest building. Inside, it was empty. All the fixtures and fittings had been ripped out. Damerell, looking around and shivering despite the heat, said, “Do you think we ought to be in here?”

“Why not? It’s not like anyone else is in here. Come on, we’ll explore. You look upstairs, and I’ll look around down here.”

“Okay.” Damerell tried not to sound reluctant as he climbed the rickety stairs to the first floor. He stuck his head in through a door, but there was nothing there. Moving on, he did the same again. Unsurprisingly, same result. It occurred to Damerell that this could get very boring very quickly.

 

Downstairs, Wall was finding out the same thing. The building had been abandoned completely. A nasty thought crossed Wall’s mind. What if this was some sort of religious thing? Committing sacrilege wouldn’t look too good on their passing-out reports. Nah, he thought, it couldn’t be. It didn’t look very religious. Then, he heard the scream.

 

Damerell stared the wall, gibbering soundlessly. He had just found the answer to the mystery of this deserted town. Some Vulcan or other had left a message carved on the wall, explaining why the town had been abandoned. Being Vulcan, the message had been neatly carved in copperplate text, and in a variety of languages, so that anyone could read it. Damerell’s eyes were fixed on the Standard translation.

Wall burst into the room. “What is it?” he panted.

Damerell just pointed at the wall.

Wall squinted at the writing. He read: ‘Beware. The town of Tol’Storr has been abandoned due to the presence of the mighty Ralcon. Please leave for your own safety. Live long and prosper.’

Damerell looked around, wild-eyed. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you something nasty was going to happen?!!!”

“Calm down! It’s probably just a wind-up! They’re having us on!”

“A wind-up?!!! On VULCAN?!!!!!”

“Okay, good point. Um… This is probably very old. The Ralcon is probably long-dead.”

Damerell pointed at the stardate engraved at the bottom of the wall. It was last month.

“Right, so, it’s not that old. I’ll get the Zimmerframe to beam us back up.”

Wall flicked open his communicator. Before he could say anything, a massive squeal of static came through the tiny speaker. He put it away again. Damerell looked at him accusingly.

“We’ll try again later.”

“If there is a later.”

Wall was about to give a reassuring reply when the two cadets heard a massive roar.

Wall ran to the window, and stuck his head out. Down the main street was coming the biggest creature he had ever seen outside of 1960s Japanese sci-fi B-movies. It was in excess of sixty feet, had a large mouth with very sharp teeth, and long arms with big sharp claws on the end. It appeared to be looking for something. As it swung its head, Wall noticed that it, too, had pointed ears. Unable to stop himself, he started to laugh at the absurdity of it. His laughing stopped when he noticed the creature’s head turn towards him. Then, it charged.

Wall backed away from the window, and ran down the hall.

Damerell wasted no time in following him. “Now look what you’ve done!” he yelled. “Not only are we stranded in a remote town with only a ravenous beast for company, but you’ve gone and pissed it off!!!!!”

“Oops.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Behind them, the Ralcon ran straight into the side of the building, taking out half the wall. Wall looked across at Damerell long enough to say, “Shut up and run.”

The two cadets fled the building while the Ralcon was still trying to dig itself out of the wall, and ran across the main street. Then, hiding behind a smashed wall, Damerell said, “Now what?”

“I say we nuke it from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”

“What the hell are you babbling about?!!”

“Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My original question still stands. Now what?”

The Ralcon chose that moment to look directly at them and roar. Even from twenty metres away, the two cadets could smell the odour of rotting meat on its breath.

“Good grief! It’s worse than your lunch!”

“Yeah. Hey, what do you mean, ‘it’s worse than my lunch’?!!!” Wall tried to sound aggrieved, but failed utterly due to the note of rising panic in his voice.

The Ralcon charged again, and the two cadets legged it. The beast collided with the wall they had been sheltering behind, then, picking itself up, followed them down the street. Wall and Damerell tried to run a little faster.

 

Lieutenant Olding was snoring in his quarters when the message came through. He’d finished the initial performance reviews of the cadets after talking to the few qualified crew aboard the Zimmerframe. He’d been looking forward to a good night’s sleep with no interruptions. Unfortunately, Starfleet Command had other ideas.

Olding staggered to his terminal, just as it flicked on to reveal Admiral Davies, head of Starfleet Operations. “Olding, we have an emergency situation. Have you heard of the liner Aurora?”

“Aye. She was launched last month, wasn’t she?”

Davies face was grim. “Yes. She was touring the area of space known as the Gladys Cluster.”

“But that area of space is constantly gettin’ hit wi’ ion storms!”

“I know. We had a transmission from the Aurora half an hour ago. She had been attacked by an Orion pirate ship. It beat the Orion off, but she was badly damaged in the attack, and an ion storm has now blown up. They’re in grave danger of losing structural integrity.”

Olding began to have an inkling of what was coming. “Admiral, t’ Zimmerframe is crewed wi’ cadets! We can’t respond to an emergency like this.”

“You won’t have to. We’re dispatching a proper rescue team which should reach the Aurora in thirty-six hours. But Zimmerframe is only six hours away. We want you to stand by the Aurora and just keep her company. If the Orions try to come back, they’ll think twice about attacking a Federation starship, even one as… old as Zimmerframe.”

“All t’ cadets are on Vulcan right now.”

“Then recall them, and get on your way.”

“Aye, Admiral.” Olding pulled on his uniform, calling through to the bridge at the same time. By the time he got there, the recall had already begun.

 

Wall and Damerell were running out of town, and the Ralcon was gaining on them. In desperation, Damerell pulled out his communicator. This time, no interference. “Damerell to Zimmerframe. Two to beam up!!!”

“Cadet Damerell, this is the Zimmerframe. Can you wait? We’re in the middle of a recall, and we haven’t got to you on our list yet.”

“NO I CAN’T WAIT!!!!!!! WE’RE BEING CHASED BY A SODDING GREAT MONSTER DOWN HERE, AND WE’D REALLY APPRECIATE BEING BEAMED BACK UP TO THE SHIP NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Okay. Stand still and we’ll bring you up.”

Wall and Damerell stopped running.

“Come on, come on, hurry up,” Damerell urged.

The Ralcon was getting closer and closer. Then, two seconds before it reached them, they were picked up by the transporter beam from the Zimmerframe.

They reappeared on the transporter pad yelling. The shouts died away when they realised they were still alive. The transporter operator, a Chief Petty Officer, said, “You two had better get to the bridge. There’s a crisis on.”

They hurried up to the bridge, where they found most of the other cadets in place. As they passed the command chair, Wall said, “What’s going on, sir?”

“You’ll find out in a minute.”

Wall sat at the helm console, and glanced across at Damerell. The bridge crew sat in silence until the transporter room reported, “They’re all back, sir.”

Olding hit the intercom button, and said, “Attention, all decks and divisions. T’ Zimmerframe has been ordered to assist t’ liner Aurora, which has been crippled by Orion pirates in t’ Gladys Cluster. We probably won’t have to rescue ’em, as a proper rescue team is on its way, but be ready for anythin’. Good luck.”

Olding closed the channel, and Wall muttered, “So much for the uneventful training cruise.”

“Navigator, lay in a course for t’ Gladys Cluster.”

Damerell, in a fit of initiative, had consulted the memory banks for the location of the Gladys Cluster, and had the navicomputer working out the course while Olding was still addressing the crew. In seconds, then, he was able to report, “Course plotted and laid in.”

“Excellent. Helm, maximum warp. Engage!”

The Zimmerframe lumbered off at Warp Seven towards the Gladys Cluster.

 

Six hours later, they dropped out of warp as they approached the ion storm. It was still in full flow, hiding the Aurora behind sheets of subatomic particles.

“Science, scan for t’ Aurora. Helm, be prepared to move in on her once we find her. Red Alert!”

With klaxons wailing and red lights flashing, the scout prepared to enter the storm. The cadet at the science station reported, “I think I have them, sir. It’s faint, but it might be them.”

“Let’s take a look.” Olding peered into the visor, while the bridge crew looked at him anxiously. “Aye, that’s them. Helm, ahead one-quarter impulse, course 245 mark 2. Shields up!”

Wall took the Zimmerframe into the swirling murk of the ion storm. They began to judder as they entered the storm, and, on the viewscreen, they could see the shields flashing as the storm impacted against them.
Somehow, through all the clutter on the screen, Damerell managed to see the Aurora directly ahead of them. “There she is.”

“I see ‘er. Open hailin’ frequencies.”

“Hailing frequencies open, sir.”

“Aurora, this is t’ USS Zimmerframe. We are standing by. What is your condition?”

For a few seconds, they heard nothing but static, then a voice replied faintly, “Zimmerframe, this is Aurora. We have lost seventy percent of our power. We are down to life-support and nothing else. The hull is slowly tearing itself apart. We estimate twelve hours before it collapses.”

“Bugger!” Olding said, then, realising that the Aurora could still hear him, said, “Aurora, please stand by.”

As the cadet at communications cut the channel, Olding said, “Get us back out of the storm. I have to talk to Starfleet Command.”

Wall reversed his course, and the Zimmerframe backed away from the stricken Aurora. Wall was not usually blessed with insight, but, just this once, he realised that the entire bridge crew were thinking the same as he was: Why Us?

 

Once back outside the storm, Olding got himself through to Admiral Davies. “Admiral, isn’t there any way you can hurry up t’ rescue team?”

“Unfortunately not, Lieutenant. You’ll have to try and rescue them yourselves. Good luck.”

The Admiral cut the channel before Olding could argue any further.

“Okay. You heard the bast… er Admiral. Take us back in.”

Once more, Wall took the Zimmerframe into the ion clouds. When they returned to their earlier position, they discovered that the Aurora had moved.

“Where’s she gone?” Olding asked.

“Picking up scattered debris and power fluctuations, sir,” the cadet at the science console reported. “They’re on the move.”

“Why on Earth would they move? That’s going to speed up the rate of hull integrity failure,” Damerell wondered aloud.

“Because they’re under attack,” Wall replied tensely.

Everybody looked at the screen. Ahead of them, the slim, streamlined shape of an Orion pirate ship was following the Aurora‘s heading.

“They haven’t seen us yet, “Olding realised. “We’ll change that. Arm phasers and photon torpedoes, then lock them on target. Helm, follow that ship.”

“Oh, yes! Combat manoeuvres!!! I like this mission!!! Ahem, sorry, sir.”

“Hmm.”

 

The Zimmerframe swung jerkily round to slip in behind the Orion.

“Fire!” Olding ordered.

A barrage of phaser fire struck the Orion astern, opening a gap in the shields, which two photon torpedoes flew through to detonate against the Orion’s hull. The pirate, built of strong materials, abruptly swung round, and let loose a volley of torpedoes against the Zimmerframe‘s shields. The impact threw people around the bridge, and the cadet at the science station, who’d managed to keep her seat, yelled, “Shields down to forty percent, sir!”

“Return fire!”

The Zimmerframe opened up again, but her phaser fire was cut short and a jet of flames blew from the weapons console.

“What t’ bluidy ‘ell happened?” Olding shouted.

“We blew a phaser coil, I think!” came the reply.

“Damn! Lock torpedoes on target, and fire!”

Two more torpedoes found their way to the Orion’s hull, sending it spinning off.

Olding looked at the science console. “How’s the Aurora?”

“Her hull integrity is down to five percent and falling. She’ll fall apart pretty soon.”

“Bugger. Take us in, and lower t’ shields. Transporter room, stand by to bring survivors aboard.”

“What?!!” Wall looked round in his seat, now convinced that the Lieutenant was barmy. “What if the Orion comes back?”

“Then we’ll have to trust to your piloting, cadet, to keep us out o’ t’ way.”

“Oh, right. Cool. I think.”

The Zimmerframe halted by the Aurora, and gave a massive jolt as her shields were lowered, and the violence of the storm hit the hull directly.

“Transporter room, get a bluidy move on!!”

“Aye, sir. I’m going as fast as I can!”

Damerell could feel his blood pressure rising as the elderly starship was pounded by the ion storm. Finally, he shrieked, “I can’t take it any more!!!!!! We’re all going to die!!!!! I’m too young to go!!!!!!! I don’t wanna die…. ow!!!”

Wall hit him squarely across the jaw.

Damerell, falling off his chair, said, “Thanks. I needed that.”

The science cadet, her voice rising, reported, “The Aurora’s hull integrity is on the verge of collapse!”

“Transporter room, do you have them?”

“Not yet, sir. We’re almost there.”

Then, Wall called, “We’ve got company!” The Orion ship had returned and was bearing down on them.

“Lock photon torpedoes on target and fire!”

Four torpedoes left the Zimmerframe‘s tubes, and hit the Orion head-on as it was bearing down on them to make a firing pass.

“Their shields have collapsed, sir!”

“Then bluidy destroy them!”

“Ahaha.”

The cadet at the weapons station giggled nervously.

“What’s t’ problem?” Olding asked, eyeing the approaching pirate apprehensively.

“We’re out of torpedoes.”

“Bugger!”

At that point, the transporter room called through, “We’ve got the lot, sir!”

Olding wasted no time in saying, “Helm, get us out o’ here!”

Wall slammed down on the helm controls, and the Zimmerframe creaked forwards, away from the doomed Aurora, which was already starting to collapse. At that instant, the Orion fired.

“Get t’ shields…” The shots hit, and the Zimmerframe was thrown to starboard by the force of the impact. “… up.”

“Shields have failed, sir!” Damerell looked as if he was about to scream again, but controlled himself. They were utterly defenceless.

Wall, fighting to regain control of the ship, was really wishing he’d paid a little more attention in some of the lectures. Finally, he got the Zimmerframe under control. “They’re coming in for another pass, sir!”

“Ram ’em!” Olding said, out of options.

Wall kicked in the thrusters before he thought about the order. By the time he was swinging his chair round to query the order, the Zimmerframe was bearing down on the Orion ship, the ancient impulse engines giving their all in a last-ditch attempt to take the Orion out. “Erm, sir, did you actually mean…”

“Yes I bluidy did! Now watch your monitors!”

The Orion ship, not anticipating this manoeuvre, tried to dive away at the last minute. It skimmed under the saucer section, and impacted with the sensor dish that was hung from the centre of the saucer. Everyone on both ships felt a sudden wrenching jar as the dish was ripped away. The Zimmerframe was spun sideways by the impact, the single warp nacelle swinging out to starboard despite all of Wall’s attempts to keep the ship’s forward motion constant, and the Orion ship fell away, completely out of control, before imploding, the battered hull unable to cope with the devastating impact of the sensor dish.

When finally the Zimmerframe ceased her spin, Olding called, “All stations report!”

“Helm controls functioning at bare minimum!”

“Sensors are off-line!”

“Weapons are out and shields have failed!”

“Alright, alright, I don’t want to know any more. Can we get out o’ here?”

Damerell looked at his instruments. The destruction of the sensor dish had deprived him of most of his information, but he still had the previous data in the system. From that, he could plot them a rough course out of the Cluster. “I think so, sir,” he said, getting a rough estimate of their position, and plotting a course that should carry them out. “Course plotted and laid in, sir.”

“Helm, nice and easy. No need to hurry now.”

Wall put the Zimmerframe into low gear, and, impulse engines whining, unsteadily flew them out of the ion storm.

Once they were back in normal space, Olding ordered full stop, and, as the Zimmerframe came to a halt, he said, “I know none of you were expectin’ this. I’d just like to tell you that you were just as good as a fully-qualified crew. Well done.”

Everyone sagged back in their chairs, glad that the experience was over.

 

Twenty-nine hours later, the rescue team arrived, and the Zimmerframe was taken in tow. When the cadets returned to Earth, it was to discover they were heroes. Each one of them, and the trained crew of the Zimmerframe, was awarded the Axanar Peace Cross for their deeds aboard the Zimmerframe. But, when offered another cruise to make up for the one they had missed, the cadets unanimously said, “NO!” Even Wall, who had rather enjoyed himself, had decided that enough was enough. They returned to their training.

 

A month later, after the congratulations, presentations, and commemorations were over, the newly promoted Lieutenant-Commander Olding was returned to the Suppository to resume his duties as science officer. One evening, relaxing in the ship’s mess hall, he was struck by the thought that he hadn’t exactly been completely honest in his cadet reviews, especially in the case of the two cadets who had been his helmsman and navigator. In what seemed to him to be a spirit of fairness, as they’d done jolly well in the rescue he’d neglected to mention their more irritating habits, plus the fact that they’d nearly got themselves killed on shore leave. But, as time went by and the excitement faded in his memory, he was left remembering the more daft things they’d done, and which, in the not-too distant future, would be inflicted on an unsuspecting C.O.

But, what t’ heck, Olding thought. There was nowt wrong wi’ a bit o’ generosity, and it wasn’t as if he’d ever have to work wi’ them again, was it?