Tribanullium gas is colorless. Odorless. But not harmless.
At this very moment, the Enterprise was hosting the passengers of a crippled Jeelan shuttlecraft. The craft had crashed into Riu III's moon just as they had arrived to investigate the dense sulfur clouds that surrounded it. Injuries were minor- "Just some bumps and bruises. Darn lucky." McCoy had assured the captain- but the ship was significantly damaged to the point of needing parts they did not possess. Moreover, none of the passengers had the mechanical expertise necessary to fix it. Well, that's just irresponsible. Naturally, Captain Kirk had offered any assistance they could muster. Naturally.
And that was why Scotty now found himself trying to piece together a living nightmare. Helical in shape, the shuttle was made to hold 20 people comfortably. It was fairly compact and mostly intact, except for three holes in the left side and a door hanging off its hinges. That was the easy part.
The hard part was untangling the multiple wires that criss-crossed the inside of the hull. They had inevitably wrapped around themselves several times as wires are wont to do; several were melted together. Oh, blast…this'll take me forever…
He was lying on his back in the ship, painstakingly trying to separate the frayed and twisted mass of rubber-coated filaments, one strand at a time. The very definition of mind-numbing… Keenser was in the cockpit trying to access the flight data recorder to determine the cause of the accident. Why me? He's got smaller fingers than I do…but he did win the game fair and square. Note to self; never gamble with Roylans. They practically invented the poker face. Scotty tugged on the end of one strand, gently separating it from the rest. Ha…maybe I should've been a surgeon! He chuckled to himself, waving his tweezers around. Thwick. The pointy end of the pincers poked a hole in a small hose nearby. Oops…on second thought….I'll fix that later. He rubbed his nose under his goggles and reached for another strand.
He didn't hear the slight hissing noise as tribanullium leaked steadily.
The first thing he noticed was the way the ship seemed to wobble under his feet.
Are we moving? I've never felt it like that before….a bit like being on a boat…huh…where did those black spots come from…sparkly bits that look like stars…only stars don't disappear and dance like that…heavy…hazy…I can float…so dreamy…my arms are heavy….everything is slow…what the devil are ya blathering on about, Keenser? Oy, ye've turned blue…or maybe I'm seeing things…ooh, cannae get me breath…I…what's happenin' to me? Air…where did the fireflies come from…oh, it's night…too dark…too…
***
"…it's a good thing you got him out of there in time, Keenser. That stuff's worse than CO2, but he'll be good as new in no time. Oxygen sat's improving steadily."
Scotty blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting in medbay. "Me head…," he groaned. The room spun in circles. "Where am I?" He tried to move his arms and legs, but couldn't; there seemed to be something confining them. He saw his own reflection in the clear glass that covered his body.
A peachy blob appeared in his line of sight. "Scotty? Can you hear me?" The blob morphed into Dr. McCoy's face. "There was a tribanullium leak…you were exposed to it for several minutes." He looked upwards at a screen, then returned his concerned gaze to the ill engineer. "Do you know where you are?"
Scotty blinked weakly. "Oh, great…" he muttered. "I've died and gone to hell."
The last thing he remembered as his eyes closed again, this time in sleep, was McCoy frowning at him and sighing. "Oh, he's going to be just fine." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips despite his exasperation.
Scotty smiled back.
At this very moment, the Enterprise was hosting the passengers of a crippled Jeelan shuttlecraft. The craft had crashed into Riu III's moon just as they had arrived to investigate the dense sulfur clouds that surrounded it. Injuries were minor- "Just some bumps and bruises. Darn lucky." McCoy had assured the captain- but the ship was significantly damaged to the point of needing parts they did not possess. Moreover, none of the passengers had the mechanical expertise necessary to fix it. Well, that's just irresponsible. Naturally, Captain Kirk had offered any assistance they could muster. Naturally.
And that was why Scotty now found himself trying to piece together a living nightmare. Helical in shape, the shuttle was made to hold 20 people comfortably. It was fairly compact and mostly intact, except for three holes in the left side and a door hanging off its hinges. That was the easy part.
The hard part was untangling the multiple wires that criss-crossed the inside of the hull. They had inevitably wrapped around themselves several times as wires are wont to do; several were melted together. Oh, blast…this'll take me forever…
He was lying on his back in the ship, painstakingly trying to separate the frayed and twisted mass of rubber-coated filaments, one strand at a time. The very definition of mind-numbing… Keenser was in the cockpit trying to access the flight data recorder to determine the cause of the accident. Why me? He's got smaller fingers than I do…but he did win the game fair and square. Note to self; never gamble with Roylans. They practically invented the poker face. Scotty tugged on the end of one strand, gently separating it from the rest. Ha…maybe I should've been a surgeon! He chuckled to himself, waving his tweezers around. Thwick. The pointy end of the pincers poked a hole in a small hose nearby. Oops…on second thought….I'll fix that later. He rubbed his nose under his goggles and reached for another strand.
He didn't hear the slight hissing noise as tribanullium leaked steadily.
The first thing he noticed was the way the ship seemed to wobble under his feet.
Are we moving? I've never felt it like that before….a bit like being on a boat…huh…where did those black spots come from…sparkly bits that look like stars…only stars don't disappear and dance like that…heavy…hazy…I can float…so dreamy…my arms are heavy….everything is slow…what the devil are ya blathering on about, Keenser? Oy, ye've turned blue…or maybe I'm seeing things…ooh, cannae get me breath…I…what's happenin' to me? Air…where did the fireflies come from…oh, it's night…too dark…too…
***
"…it's a good thing you got him out of there in time, Keenser. That stuff's worse than CO2, but he'll be good as new in no time. Oxygen sat's improving steadily."
Scotty blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting in medbay. "Me head…," he groaned. The room spun in circles. "Where am I?" He tried to move his arms and legs, but couldn't; there seemed to be something confining them. He saw his own reflection in the clear glass that covered his body.
A peachy blob appeared in his line of sight. "Scotty? Can you hear me?" The blob morphed into Dr. McCoy's face. "There was a tribanullium leak…you were exposed to it for several minutes." He looked upwards at a screen, then returned his concerned gaze to the ill engineer. "Do you know where you are?"
Scotty blinked weakly. "Oh, great…" he muttered. "I've died and gone to hell."
The last thing he remembered as his eyes closed again, this time in sleep, was McCoy frowning at him and sighing. "Oh, he's going to be just fine." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips despite his exasperation.
Scotty smiled back.
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