Ace in the Hole
Posted on February 29th, 2024 by Nico Slate

His people were ready. A prepared stillness had settled throughout the engine room. The hum of the cores echoed mercilessly louder than normal as there were no constantly moving bodies to bounce and obscure the sound and the vibration. Nico was pleased, at least, that what he was feeling from the room was readiness, with only a touch of anxiety. Expected.

Now, all he could do was wait.

Nico was still worried about the plan. Maybe worried wasn’t the right word to use. He was concerned about the simplicity of the plan. No, concerned wasn’t it either. He was intellectually moving on from a plan that had potential to go sideways – as all plans potentially did, of course – to something different in his head. While the present situation was a moment of hurry-up-and-then-wait, Nico himself enjoyed educational games. That’s how he thought of their plan and how he planned to spend his wait.

Altering their own warp signature to match a ship normally in the area was genius, especially when they were not in the area at present. But, two signatures showing up at the same time in the same place, given the previously stated parameters, meant that it was a possibility that the other ship would return. From there, what then? Granted, Nico had all the faith in the people on the bridge, his commanding officer, and the other fine people on the ship, but he wanted to play his part as well.

Make more of them. He thought to himself.

In an instant lightning flashed and it hit him like a quantum torpedo. He slid in his chair to another console and started typing in random data to check his idea. He also checked the inventory of what he had on hand. Nico’s eyes darted back and forth from line to line with an almost alarmed expediency. The Colonel hadn’t called for him to formulate a back-up plan, so why was he panicking? If the order came down from above, he’d drop it and walk away. It would leave a pit in his stomach, but he’d put it on the back burner.

On the other hand, if he was able to complete his idea by the time they initiated the first, and it didn’t work, then he’d have something to offer as an alternative. He smirked to himself. Telsia always said that he’d solve a problem and then figure out another way to solve it without needing to do so. Nico thought that it was his upbringing in always looking for multiple ways out of situations, she thought it was a waste of time.

“You come up with seven ways to solve a problem when you know the first one is going to work, but in the meantime, you could have solved seven other issues.” Nico never disagreed with her, per se, but that didn’t allude to his agreeing with her. Instead, it became a running joke. Flirtation.

For his own pat on the back, Nico had found numerous solutions that were better than the first in such profound ways that he had even surprised himself. Occam’s Razor, which is that sometimes the simplest answer, or the one with the least set of elements, is the correct one, didn’t always hold. As in, don’t overthink it. Modern technology had grown far beyond William of Occam’s understanding and how he viewed the world. It was one of the few things from Ancient Earth History at the Academy that he remembered. He liked the principle of it, but also found that it wasn’t rock solid.

Make more of them. He reminded himself as he jolted himself out of his reverie.

One warp signature could be thwarted by a matching second one in the area. This posed a problem because it inherently means that one of the ships isn’t who they claim to be. From there, down the rabbit hole: 1) what is the imposter doing there? 2) Let’s investigate. 3) Let’s contact both ships. 4) Oh, look, one ship isn’t responding and is reacting in an obviously erratic way. 5) Blow up that one. Boom, cover blown.

Each step would take time to go through. There’s the assessment, the plan, the execution, and then the post-mortem to move onto the next. And repeat. This bought the Minuteman a fair amount of leeway in deciding what their next move would be. That would be where Nico’s plan would come in. He wasn’t creating a new plan, but merely building off the one already created. If one ship isn’t who it claims to be, that’s a red flag. What about in a field of five or six? Still a red flag, but multiple ones creating cascading obstacles for their enemies to overcome.

The screen in front of him flashed his search results. Bingo. The Minuteman was equipped with several long-range decoys at their disposal. Reconnaissance vessel and all. The telemetry buffers and guidance systems on the decoys all operate under Starfleet technology like the mothership herself. Because of that the decoy’s warp systems could be adjusted to match the same signature as the Minuteman and the Illusive. It would take some time.

How much time was the question. The variable in the situation was that Nico had no idea how adaptable the enemy would be once the Marines were detected. It was a moot point, though, because no matter the time, he needed to be able to give a quote to the Colonel if he wanted to pitch his idea should the time come. He ran the numbers through his head, calculated roughly the time of travel from engineering to decoy bay, working with his decoy specialist, five or six decoys… an hour? Less? They had adjusted the warp core in no time, but he had a team to do that. This was slightly different work.

Remember, always under-promise and over-deliver.

If the Minuteman were detected, and had an hour or more before being intercepted, they could modify the decoys and launch them in different directions while blasting off at warp in whatever direction they needed to go. With a total of six or seven signatures, even with multiple ships, they’d have the chance of evading detection until a more permanent plan to rebalance their secrecy had been invented. The proverbial band-aid on the open wound, so to speak.

They were in Free Fleets space. Problem. The proprietary technology would lead whoever found the decoys right back to the Federation and Starfleet. That’s a variable he hadn’t considered in the initial thought process. Easy enough, really, just set a self-destruct countdown and that would take care of that issue. Problem-solving, Nico loved it. They’d lose the technology, but there was a reason that the engineers had programmed the units to be able to perform that function.

Nico put the finishing touches on the timeline, the specs, the equipment needed, the people, and the step-by-step procedure to make the adjustments. Redoing the numbers in his head, he estimated that it would take 30-45 minutes, tops, to get the job done once the go order was given. He still hesitated on whether to quote 45 minutes or an hour. Ultimately, he would make the decision when and if the time came and how dire the circumstances were. They could do 45 minutes easily, 30 minutes if they busted their asses and were perfect in every way.

Transferring the second plan to the PADD, he stood up and moved back to the doorway of his office and looked out at the engine room. It was as if it hadn’t changed. Everyone remained at their station, poised and ready, and Nico was glad that he saw them still moving their hands across their consoles, making small talk with those closest to them, and, most importantly, breathing.

While he still felt the anxiety emanating from them, it had tempered. He could feel it in his own stance and mind. Having the people on the bridge was reassuring. Having a plan that he was able to assist with and agreed with, minus his misgivings, was encouraging. The waiting game was less than enjoyable. Having a back-up option anchored him.

He could breathe now, too.