“Stand by, commander,” Commodore Treadwell’s static-disrupted voice ordered, “We’re patching Admiral McMichael through, from the surface.”}
{Rebecca, normally Starbase Seventeen’s commanding officer, was then temporarily on detached duty; she was representing Starfleet at a psychological conference being held in the Vladivostian cultural center of Montgomery.
“Acknowledged, ma’am–and thank you.” Carlton was about to risk his life, so he appreciated a last moment of conversation with his beloved wife.}
{“Carlton, sweetheart, don’t do anything rash yet–understand me?” Although heavily disrupted by ion-induced static, Rebecca’s voice was clearly recognizable.
“Rebecca honey, if I don’t make it back–” he began, but she interrupted sharply.
“Just wait, please! If I can just get some technical information for you, there may be time enough–” her voice was engulfed in a loud burst of sizzling static.