“Git tha' hooked up, keep tha' flow reversed or it'll trip tha' fifth an' sixth saf'ty protocols,” Scotty complained as Riley and DeSalle all but gutted the Transporter. They'd managed to pull one of the few working sensor units from the exterior, aft sector, and had hooked it up to the homing array to boost triangulation. At the moment, it was much like jamming a satellite dish into an old cellular phone. As Scotty watched them hook up the array and check the cathodes along the base of the relay, he took a shaky breath.

“Iff'n this dunnae' work...” he started and shook his head. Even the deflector readings, familiar and swift as they danced by, couldn't steady his nerves. Riley and DeSalle stepped back with the same hesitant reverence one gives any untested, large, and mostly flammable piece of technology. They cast a glance at Scotty and Scotty inclined his head in turn. With a frown, he test charged the grid—it all lit green.

“Riley, I cannae believe I'm sayin' this,” Scotty commanded without looking, “But drop tha' shields an' overclock tha' external sensor array.” Riley stepped up to the panel by the door and inputted his code swiftly. “Route ta' tha' transporter here.”

“All go,” Riley replied and the lights in the Transporter Bay surged slightly before settling in at a higher frequency hum than they usually did. Scotty wasn't particularly sure what to make of that—but he'd never tried intentionally locking on to resonance frequencies beyond the limitations of local dimensional physics before, so he didn't dwell on it.

“Transporter Bay 3,” Scotty called as he depressed the comm to the bridge, “Ready whe'er ya' give tha' command.”