Author: Laura JV (laurav@stones.com)

Title: To Live and Die Honorably

Archive: ASC

Rating: PG-13

Parts: 1/1

Warnings: I don't use warnings.

Summary: A man learns to live and die honorably.

Disclaimer:  Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek.  I own this story.



Notes: Suzie Long said something about a certain character and what

happened to him in life in the "FSP NEW2U: Shelter, TOS K/S R 3/3"

thread.  This is for her, and for all the soldiers who never came home.



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I'm lying here, quietly waiting to die.  Me, quiet, me who never stops 

talking, yelling, fighting--



Oh, Mickey me boy, you sure did it this time.  You're dead for sure, if

your mouth has stopped working.



It doesn't matter, really.  I've got the trigger ready, and I'm waiting

for my time, alone here in Engineering.  I've been monitoring everything 

those bastards are doing, up there on the bridge.  They know by now that 

the ship's senior helmsman is missing--and that's me, Lieutenant

Commander Michael Finnegan, lying here in Engineering with a wound that

the Doc could fix in a minute, if the Doc weren't dead.  I could fix it

myself, if I could get to Sickbay--but if I get up and go to Sickbay,

first of all, those bastards up there will find me, and second of all, I 

won't be able to monitor them, and third and lastly, I won't be able to

save the skins of my crewmates.  Well, the ones still living, which is

only about half of them.



So maybe third wasn't lastly--I've started coughing up blood, now, and

that's fourth and lastly, at least until something else comes along.



I know the score.  I'm the senior officer on the ship.  I'm trapped,

injured, and alone.  But I have my brain, and my fingers, and I have

Engineering--that's something, you know, really something.  And I know

we got a distress call out before...



Well.  Before.



I'm still waiting to die, but I've rewired this panel now, and I've

recorded everything those bastards up there--who the hell *are* they,

anyway--have done, and logged my experiences and opinion and my plan, so 

if I fail, they'll know what I tried and not to try it again.  If anyone 

ever sees this recording.



Someone will see it.  I know that distress call made it out.  I'll make

another, as soon as I fix a few wagons...



It's harder to seal off the bridge and flood it with water than it was

to do the same thing to Jimmy Kirk's dorm room at the Academy.  Better

security.  But then, I was always good at getting around security.  I

ended up in Covert Ops because of it, before I cracked under the strain

and begged for a demotion and a real job, one I could tell my mother

about.  They gave it to me, but hell, I still know these ships, know

every way they can be used, manipulated...



There.  Unless they're water-breathers, they'll be dead in a few

minutes.  There are still some left on other decks, but I know my crew.

My crew?  Yes, while I'm alive, I'm senior...everyone above me is dead.

They're my crew.  And they'll notice that the bastards have lost contact 

with the bridge, and they'll take them out, take them down.



I drag myself over to the comm panel, and send out another distress

signal, and then start trying for voice contact.



"This is the Federation Starship U.S.S. Hunt, requesting immediate

assistance.  We have been attacked and boarded by unknown hostiles..."



The panel crackles at me, and a voice I know comes from it, distorted

but familiar.  "This is the U.S.S. Enterprise.  We read your position and 

situation..."



"Oh, Jesus, Jimmyboy," I said, trying not to laugh, "you are not going

to believe this."



There's silence, and then "Finnegan?"



"I'm sending you our logs," I reply, and do--squirt, squirt, quick

button presses, so Jimmy knows what he's getting into.  "Do you see it,

Jimmy?  What I did to them?  Who knew torturing plebes would come in so

handy?"  I'm coughing again, coughing up blood, and I know I can't talk

much longer.



"Finnegan?"



I lean towards the comm pickup.  Oh God, if he thinks this is a joke, if 

he thinks I haven't grown up--"Jimmy?"



"What is it, Finnegan?"



I had hardly breathe, but I have to tell him.  "Take care of my crew,

Jimmy.  Please."



There's a short silence, and then he answers me.  "Of course.  Don't

worry about it.  We'll be there as soon as we can."



"Thank you," I whisper, but I don't think the pickup could hear me.  I'm 

too far gone, lying here on the floor again, waiting to die.



But it's fine now, just fine, Mickey me boy.  The bad men are gone, and

Jimmy will take care of the rest.  You can close your eyes, Mickey, and

go to sleep.



The pain stabs through my chest and then I can't feel a damn thing, but

it doesn't matter.  Jimmy's coming, and I can go to sleep.



---



The End