The Star Eagle Adventures IV: All The Sinners, Saints
- Thread starter CeJay
- Start date
Hmm, apparently not. We'll have to assume that the kind of phasers Eagle has are not the same the old Enterprise had. They do come in a different color ...
I don't have a problem ignoring that particular point in canon.
This is great! Unfortunately, the Starfleet forces seem to have gone into a situation without all the critical information (due to intentional withholding). That always leads to a clusterf*#k.
Nigel Bane double checked his sensor readings one more time to be absolutely certain. The persistent gamma-wave interference from the Twin Pulsars made accurate sensor readings in the Tiaitan system difficult but he was certain he had made no mistake.
The junior lieutenant turned to face his captain and first officer. “Confirmed, there are no other contacts in the system besides the freighter flotilla and the Eagle.”
Akinola continued to watch the main view screen where the large Starfleet ship had begun to move just moments ago. “Then what are they doing?”
“Maybe they’re chasing ghosts,” said McBride with a smirk. “Fleeters can be awful jumpy.”
Bane’s console sounded an insisted warning beep. “They’ve just powered up their weapons.”
The first officer’s smirk dropped off his face. “Shields?”
Bane shook his head. “Negative. Just phasers.”
The XO exchanged a worried look with his skipper.
“Hail them,” said Akinola.
McBride had reached the controls before anyone else had an opportunity. He immediately tried a standard greeting and a request for a situational update. Starfleet wide protocols required every ship to reply to such an inquiry with little delay. Eagle did. Via a text message which was so short and ambiguous, McBride’s eyes almost fell out when he read it: Bluefin, Please Stand By.
“They’re shrugging us off,” said the first officer with disbelieve.
But Lieutenant Delta Simms, the young woman manning the bridge engineering station showed little surprise. “Pretty damn typical,” she mumbled. “Starfleet is waltzing around as if we weren’t even here.”
“Could this be an exercise?” asked Bralus, the Bolian helmsman.
Akinola shook his head. “They would have to alert all ships in the sector before engaging in a training exercise. What does their flash message read?” the skipper asked, referring to a simple code every Starfleet starship openly transmitted to alert nearby friendly vessels of its current status.
Bane accessed the requested information. “Maneuvering.”
“They’re maneuvering all right. But to what end?” said the skipper, his eyes still glued to the saucer shaped vessel on the screen.
“They’ve stopped,” said McBride and stepped back into the command well to stand next to the skipper.
“I’m reading a massive energy build-up. They’re preparing to –“
On the screen, Eagle’s huge, lateral phaser bank lit up the underside of her saucer section just before the concentrated energy discharge was released and hurled directly towards the surface of Tiaita below.
The crew of Bluefin watched stupefied.
“They’re firing on the planet,” said Dale McBride slowly as if he couldn’t quite trust his eyes.
Akinola jumped out of his seat. “Hail them again, XO.”
The first officer remained frozen in place, garnering him an impatient look from Akinola. “Commander.”
He looked at his skipper and then as if startled he almost leaped to the communications console. Eagle’s reply was still the same. He shook his head at the skipper.
Akinola looked at the screen again, studying the Starfleet ship carefully. “What the hell are they thinking?”
“Sir,” McBride began but the rest of the words got stuck in his throat.
“What is it, Dale?”
“T’Ser,” he said slowly. “She’s down there.”
“What?” both Akinola and Bane shouted in unison.
Bane had actually stood from his seat. “We have to get her out of there.”
The skipper and the first officer looked at the young Australian, surprised by his unusual assertiveness in front of his superiors.
“Mind you station, Lieutenant,” Akinola said, keeping his voice low and soft but leaving little doubt to his resolve.
“But, sir–“
“Now, Mister Bane.”
The junior lieutenant relented, albeit hesitantly
Akinola took his first officer by the arm and they both walked off towards an empty corner of the bridge which was too small to afford any real sense of privacy. “What the hell is going on here, Dale?” he said.
“I don’t know. All I know is that T’Ser seemed interested for some reason to visit the planet. And the dumb fool that I am, I suggested she speak to somebody on Eagle so she could join their away team. I didn’t really think they would let her. I’m sorry sir, I should have conferred with you in the first place. I should have never allowed it to happen.”
Joseph Akinola had been around long enough to know that a guilt trip was amongst the most paralyzing feelings a person could experience. But he was also angry. He was angry that Bane had made a person he had no respect for whatsoever the target of his affections, he was angry that McBride had allowed T’Ser to visit the planet and he was angry that Eagle was shooting on said planet with not so much as a word as to what had motivated this extraordinary measure. Most of all he was angry that he had been dragged into yet another Schwarzkopf made mess.
It wasn’t really Nigel Bane’s or McBride’s or even T’Ser’s fault, he decided. It was his own, for deciding to stick his head into the sand and not to pay attention to what was happening all around him, foolishly thinking that he who didn’t see evil, would not be made to feel its repercussions.
It was all his own damned fault, he thought, just before he remembered the problem with guilt trips.
“What’s done is done, Commander,” he said and walked back to sit in his chair.
Eagle hadn’t fired again but her weapons were still running hot. A sure sign that whatever crazy scheme they had embarked on was not over yet.
“Inform them that we are launching a rescue mission to retrieve our crew member from the surface of the planet. If their people need to come back too, I’m sure we can arrange a pick-up.”
McBride nodded and send the message nearly verbatim.
The response was surprisingly quick. “They’re advising us that the situation on the surface is volatile,” he said and then looked up from the monitor and towards the skipper. “We are advised not to send any vessels to the surface under any circumstances,” he added.
“Bastards,” said Delta Simms.
But Akinola remained quietly in his chair, studying the larger vessel carefully as if he could see right through the duranium hull and onto her bridge.
Both Bane and McBride stared at the man in the center seat, begging him wordlessly to take actions. But the captain seemed oblivious to their requests.
The first officer walked up to Akinola’s chair. “We have to get her back, sir,” he said, keeping his voice low and yet firm as steel. “Let me go down there.”
The veteran Nigerian captain looked his first officer directly in the eye. “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Commander.”
“But we can’t just sit here and – “
“Find Chief Brin and have him stand by with a strike team and a stallion. Tell them to be ready on my order.”
“Yes, sir,” said McBride and made an immediate beeline to the turbo-lift.
The junior lieutenant turned to face his captain and first officer. “Confirmed, there are no other contacts in the system besides the freighter flotilla and the Eagle.”
Akinola continued to watch the main view screen where the large Starfleet ship had begun to move just moments ago. “Then what are they doing?”
“Maybe they’re chasing ghosts,” said McBride with a smirk. “Fleeters can be awful jumpy.”
Bane’s console sounded an insisted warning beep. “They’ve just powered up their weapons.”
The first officer’s smirk dropped off his face. “Shields?”
Bane shook his head. “Negative. Just phasers.”
The XO exchanged a worried look with his skipper.
“Hail them,” said Akinola.
McBride had reached the controls before anyone else had an opportunity. He immediately tried a standard greeting and a request for a situational update. Starfleet wide protocols required every ship to reply to such an inquiry with little delay. Eagle did. Via a text message which was so short and ambiguous, McBride’s eyes almost fell out when he read it: Bluefin, Please Stand By.
“They’re shrugging us off,” said the first officer with disbelieve.
But Lieutenant Delta Simms, the young woman manning the bridge engineering station showed little surprise. “Pretty damn typical,” she mumbled. “Starfleet is waltzing around as if we weren’t even here.”
“Could this be an exercise?” asked Bralus, the Bolian helmsman.
Akinola shook his head. “They would have to alert all ships in the sector before engaging in a training exercise. What does their flash message read?” the skipper asked, referring to a simple code every Starfleet starship openly transmitted to alert nearby friendly vessels of its current status.
Bane accessed the requested information. “Maneuvering.”
“They’re maneuvering all right. But to what end?” said the skipper, his eyes still glued to the saucer shaped vessel on the screen.
“They’ve stopped,” said McBride and stepped back into the command well to stand next to the skipper.
“I’m reading a massive energy build-up. They’re preparing to –“
On the screen, Eagle’s huge, lateral phaser bank lit up the underside of her saucer section just before the concentrated energy discharge was released and hurled directly towards the surface of Tiaita below.
The crew of Bluefin watched stupefied.
“They’re firing on the planet,” said Dale McBride slowly as if he couldn’t quite trust his eyes.
Akinola jumped out of his seat. “Hail them again, XO.”
The first officer remained frozen in place, garnering him an impatient look from Akinola. “Commander.”
He looked at his skipper and then as if startled he almost leaped to the communications console. Eagle’s reply was still the same. He shook his head at the skipper.
Akinola looked at the screen again, studying the Starfleet ship carefully. “What the hell are they thinking?”
“Sir,” McBride began but the rest of the words got stuck in his throat.
“What is it, Dale?”
“T’Ser,” he said slowly. “She’s down there.”
“What?” both Akinola and Bane shouted in unison.
Bane had actually stood from his seat. “We have to get her out of there.”
The skipper and the first officer looked at the young Australian, surprised by his unusual assertiveness in front of his superiors.
“Mind you station, Lieutenant,” Akinola said, keeping his voice low and soft but leaving little doubt to his resolve.
“But, sir–“
“Now, Mister Bane.”
The junior lieutenant relented, albeit hesitantly
Akinola took his first officer by the arm and they both walked off towards an empty corner of the bridge which was too small to afford any real sense of privacy. “What the hell is going on here, Dale?” he said.
“I don’t know. All I know is that T’Ser seemed interested for some reason to visit the planet. And the dumb fool that I am, I suggested she speak to somebody on Eagle so she could join their away team. I didn’t really think they would let her. I’m sorry sir, I should have conferred with you in the first place. I should have never allowed it to happen.”
Joseph Akinola had been around long enough to know that a guilt trip was amongst the most paralyzing feelings a person could experience. But he was also angry. He was angry that Bane had made a person he had no respect for whatsoever the target of his affections, he was angry that McBride had allowed T’Ser to visit the planet and he was angry that Eagle was shooting on said planet with not so much as a word as to what had motivated this extraordinary measure. Most of all he was angry that he had been dragged into yet another Schwarzkopf made mess.
It wasn’t really Nigel Bane’s or McBride’s or even T’Ser’s fault, he decided. It was his own, for deciding to stick his head into the sand and not to pay attention to what was happening all around him, foolishly thinking that he who didn’t see evil, would not be made to feel its repercussions.
It was all his own damned fault, he thought, just before he remembered the problem with guilt trips.
“What’s done is done, Commander,” he said and walked back to sit in his chair.
Eagle hadn’t fired again but her weapons were still running hot. A sure sign that whatever crazy scheme they had embarked on was not over yet.
“Inform them that we are launching a rescue mission to retrieve our crew member from the surface of the planet. If their people need to come back too, I’m sure we can arrange a pick-up.”
McBride nodded and send the message nearly verbatim.
The response was surprisingly quick. “They’re advising us that the situation on the surface is volatile,” he said and then looked up from the monitor and towards the skipper. “We are advised not to send any vessels to the surface under any circumstances,” he added.
“Bastards,” said Delta Simms.
But Akinola remained quietly in his chair, studying the larger vessel carefully as if he could see right through the duranium hull and onto her bridge.
Both Bane and McBride stared at the man in the center seat, begging him wordlessly to take actions. But the captain seemed oblivious to their requests.
The first officer walked up to Akinola’s chair. “We have to get her back, sir,” he said, keeping his voice low and yet firm as steel. “Let me go down there.”
The veteran Nigerian captain looked his first officer directly in the eye. “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Commander.”
“But we can’t just sit here and – “
“Find Chief Brin and have him stand by with a strike team and a stallion. Tell them to be ready on my order.”
“Yes, sir,” said McBride and made an immediate beeline to the turbo-lift.
* * *
Very nice. I like the flash transmission as well...Joseph doesn't like to react to events and now he's a position where that's all he can do--he doesn't know what's going on on the ground, Owens doesn't have time yet to fill him in...
Poor communications--this is the sort of thing that gets good people killed needlessly...
Poor communications--this is the sort of thing that gets good people killed needlessly...
She wasn’t entirely sure where she was even while she tried to get back onto her hands and knees.
It were the sounds which made her remember. The insistent noise of a nearby battle jarred her memory. She had been on the way to a school which turned out had not been a school at all. There hadn’t been any injured children. But then why had she been brought here?
Somebody had started firing and people had been shot.
She tried to stand, prompted into action by the realization that her skills would be required. She moved too quickly and stumbled back to the ground.
Somebody had been with her, she recalled.
“T’Ser?” she asked, immediately surprised to find her voice sounding faint and distant to her ears. “Lieutenant T’Ser,” she tried again, louder this time.
“Over here, doctor.”
She attempted to stand again and this time used a nearby wall to steady herself. She moved slowly towards the voice.
T’Ser half stood next to a pile of rubble, trying to pick herself up. Her uniform was covered by dirt and dust. She had wisely hit the ground when the shooting had started.
“Are you alright?” Wenera asked.
“I think so,” she said and tried to stand up fully. Her eyes widened when she spotted Wenera. “You’ve been hit.”
Wenera looked down to notice a prominent tear along the side of her uniform jacket and a few inches below her chest. She slowly removed the jacket and carefully felt around the wound. Her blue shirt was also torn and had absorbed a decent amount of blood. She winced when the pain finally reached her central nervous system now that the initial shock had worn off.
“Let me treat you,” said T’Ser and rushed off to get the medical supplies.
And even though the pain was formidable, Wenera shook her head. “Just hand me one of those first aid patches,” she said. Something else had captured her attention. The two soldiers who had accompanied them were lying nearby and at least one of them was still breathing.
The Vulcan returned with the patch and Wenera took it, zipped open her blue shirt, placed it wincingly over the bleeding wound and zipped back up.
T’Ser looked on skeptical. “That’s not going to be enough.”
“It’ll have to do for now,” she said, reached for a medkit and knelt next to the solider. “Check on the other one,” she added.
T’Ser nodded and did as she was told.
Wenera knew right away that the man was in serious condition. Many Starfleet physicists had little familiarity with ballistic traumas but Ashley Wenera had seen her share of them when she had worked for Starfleet Medical’s interstellar relief agency. Sadly many planets still insisted on trying to kill each other with these barbaric weapons.
The solider was bleeding profusely from three large bullet holes, he was already lying in a quickly growing puddle of his own blood.
She removed his armor which had failed to fulfill its purpose and cut open his uniform shirt underneath. She also removed the helmet to find the face of a much too young man underneath.
He was looking at her pleadingly.
There was blood already coming out of his mouth.
Too late for dermal regeneration, Wenera quickly assessed. She didn’t need the tricorder to tell her that he was bleeding internally and that his lungs were being flooded by his own blood.
She injected him with a stabilizer, hoping to slow the bleeding and giving her enough time for a thorough scan. She knew she had seconds, not enough time to call for help or do much of anything.
The tricorder confirmed her worst fears. One of his lung had been ruptured and was threatening to collapse if he didn’t go into hemorrhagic shock from the blood loss first.
She went to work with the limited supplies in her medkit, making his lung a priority, she tried to use an organ mender to repair the internal injury, a battle against time.
“Doctor,” T’Ser reported from the other end of the room. “The second soldier is dead. So is one of the medical technicians. The other is still alive. But barely.”
Wenera nodded. “Try to stabilize him with twenty ccs of inaprovaline for now,” she said and continued her administrations which refused to improve the condition of her own patient. She heard T’Ser rummaging through the medical equipment but couldn’t afford to help her.
The young solider began to ramble and Wenera had difficulties to understand what he was saying until she realized that he was praying. He had stopped looking at her and instead his gaze was focused on the ceiling above him.
“Don’t you give up now,” she said and tried to increase her pace. Stemming the blood flow now becoming her number one priority.
“He’s not responding to the inaprovaline,” T’Ser said after she had found and injected her patient with the drug.
“Tricorder,” she said. Frustrated with her limited progress she dug her fingers into the largest whole to retract the bullet which prevented her from closing the most serious wound. The fact that her patient hardly even reacted to the intrusion was a bad sign.
As advised T’Ser ran a medical scan on her own patient. “I think one of the bullets is lodged against his spleen.”
The soldier’s eyes were closed now and he was no longer praying. Wenera could feel the offending foreign object inside the wound. “Stay with me. I almost got it. Stay with me now.”
“Doctor, I can’t do this on my own,” T’Ser said softly.
“Goddamnit, I’m trying to save this one,” she shot back.
And then T’Ser stood next to her with a medical tricorder in hand. “Does he have a chance?” she asked.
Wenera didn’t speak, her hands deep inside the dying body, mere millimeters away from removing the bullet. If she could get it out perhaps she could stop the internal bleeding. She knew it was a fool’s hope at best.
“I think the other one has a good chance if you tend to him now. This one …” T’Ser looked up from her tricorder and shook her head. She was no doctor but from her scans it was clear even to her that he wasn’t going to make it. He was too far gone.
But Wenera didn’t want to hear it. “I’m not leaving this man to die to save one of those damn monsters,” she said.
“You’re a doctor,” T’Ser shot back. “You said it yourself, you have a responsibility to try and save anyone who needs your help. Do your triage. Who has the better chance of survival?”
Wenera had the bullet and lodged it free only to open up a new geyser of blood which instantly drenched both her hands.
“Doctor!” T’Ser repeated.
Wenera looked at the calm face of the young soldier. He wasn’t quite dead yet but his empty eyes did a pretty good job to try and convince her otherwise. She allowed herself to turn away and to look at the injured Vekte-Ait at the other side of the room. He was also bleeding but not as severely. The other civilian was lying nearby, dead.
“Get some morphine,” she said, stood and pointed at the dying solider. “As soon as he goes into shock give it to him.”
T’Ser nodded.
The Starfleet doctor grabbed more medical tools and supplies–the only thing they had in abundance–and knelt next to the injured civilian.
As predicted the solider went into shock soon after and T’Ser applied the morphine. Then came cardiac arrest and death.
The Vulcan closed the dead solider eyes and then quietly joined Wenera at her side.
“Hand me that large, fork-like device,” said the doctor and held out her hand.
T’Ser complied without hesitation.
For the next few minutes Wenera worked like possessed to remove six bullets, mend two ruptured arteries and removed something akin to a kidney which had threatened to burst from the gunshot trauma.
T’Ser had remained by her side, dutifully handing her every instrument and drug compound requested, removed blood from the patient and continuously sterilized the wound.
Neither of them paid attention to the chaos which was raging just a few hundred meters away. The battle outside was heating up but as far as they were concerned their own battle was taking place right in front of their eyes.
Once Wenera had patched Vekte-Ait back up they helped each other to the far wall were they sat down exhausted and thankful for a minute of rest after the harrowing events of the last minutes.
“You should have considered a career in the medical field,” said Wenera. “You make a decent nurse.”
She smiled sweetly. “And my work is not yet done,” T’Ser said and presented a dermal regenerator.
Wenera didn’t understand at first until the Vulcan gestured towards her wound. She had entirely forgotten about it in the excitement, ignored the pain while she had feverishly focused on trying to save a life.
The doctor nodded at T’Ser and opened her shirt. The emergency bandage underneath was thoroughly drenched by her blood now and she flinched when she tried to remove it.
“You were lucky. The bullet only grazed you,” said T’Ser as she wiped away the blood with a towel, cleaned and sterilized the wound and then used the dermal regenerator to close it.
“Lucky would have been not to get shot in the first place.”
The procedure was quickly finished. Wenera inspected the work and apparently satisfied she closed her shirt again. “Not bad.”
Vekte-Ait stirred back to consciousness and almost immediately tried to sit up.
Both women stood.
“Take it easy,” said T’Ser. “You need to rest.”
“Which one …,” he began, his voice weak and his memory still fuzzy from his traumatic injuries, “… is the doctor?”
“If you want to know who saved your life,” T’Ser said and looked at Wenera. “It was her.”
The doctor felt a momentary sting of shame come over her.
“You?” Vekte said and looked at the Starfleet physician. “You are the doctor?”
Wenera nodded slowly. “Yes. But there is no need to thank me. I was just doing my job and I couldn’t have done it without –“
It turned out Vekte-Ait had absolutely no intention on showing his gratitude.
Instead he removed a gun hidden somewhere in the rubble beside him and pointed it at Ashley Wenera, forcing her to swallow her words.
It were the sounds which made her remember. The insistent noise of a nearby battle jarred her memory. She had been on the way to a school which turned out had not been a school at all. There hadn’t been any injured children. But then why had she been brought here?
Somebody had started firing and people had been shot.
She tried to stand, prompted into action by the realization that her skills would be required. She moved too quickly and stumbled back to the ground.
Somebody had been with her, she recalled.
“T’Ser?” she asked, immediately surprised to find her voice sounding faint and distant to her ears. “Lieutenant T’Ser,” she tried again, louder this time.
“Over here, doctor.”
She attempted to stand again and this time used a nearby wall to steady herself. She moved slowly towards the voice.
T’Ser half stood next to a pile of rubble, trying to pick herself up. Her uniform was covered by dirt and dust. She had wisely hit the ground when the shooting had started.
“Are you alright?” Wenera asked.
“I think so,” she said and tried to stand up fully. Her eyes widened when she spotted Wenera. “You’ve been hit.”
Wenera looked down to notice a prominent tear along the side of her uniform jacket and a few inches below her chest. She slowly removed the jacket and carefully felt around the wound. Her blue shirt was also torn and had absorbed a decent amount of blood. She winced when the pain finally reached her central nervous system now that the initial shock had worn off.
“Let me treat you,” said T’Ser and rushed off to get the medical supplies.
And even though the pain was formidable, Wenera shook her head. “Just hand me one of those first aid patches,” she said. Something else had captured her attention. The two soldiers who had accompanied them were lying nearby and at least one of them was still breathing.
The Vulcan returned with the patch and Wenera took it, zipped open her blue shirt, placed it wincingly over the bleeding wound and zipped back up.
T’Ser looked on skeptical. “That’s not going to be enough.”
“It’ll have to do for now,” she said, reached for a medkit and knelt next to the solider. “Check on the other one,” she added.
T’Ser nodded and did as she was told.
Wenera knew right away that the man was in serious condition. Many Starfleet physicists had little familiarity with ballistic traumas but Ashley Wenera had seen her share of them when she had worked for Starfleet Medical’s interstellar relief agency. Sadly many planets still insisted on trying to kill each other with these barbaric weapons.
The solider was bleeding profusely from three large bullet holes, he was already lying in a quickly growing puddle of his own blood.
She removed his armor which had failed to fulfill its purpose and cut open his uniform shirt underneath. She also removed the helmet to find the face of a much too young man underneath.
He was looking at her pleadingly.
There was blood already coming out of his mouth.
Too late for dermal regeneration, Wenera quickly assessed. She didn’t need the tricorder to tell her that he was bleeding internally and that his lungs were being flooded by his own blood.
She injected him with a stabilizer, hoping to slow the bleeding and giving her enough time for a thorough scan. She knew she had seconds, not enough time to call for help or do much of anything.
The tricorder confirmed her worst fears. One of his lung had been ruptured and was threatening to collapse if he didn’t go into hemorrhagic shock from the blood loss first.
She went to work with the limited supplies in her medkit, making his lung a priority, she tried to use an organ mender to repair the internal injury, a battle against time.
“Doctor,” T’Ser reported from the other end of the room. “The second soldier is dead. So is one of the medical technicians. The other is still alive. But barely.”
Wenera nodded. “Try to stabilize him with twenty ccs of inaprovaline for now,” she said and continued her administrations which refused to improve the condition of her own patient. She heard T’Ser rummaging through the medical equipment but couldn’t afford to help her.
The young solider began to ramble and Wenera had difficulties to understand what he was saying until she realized that he was praying. He had stopped looking at her and instead his gaze was focused on the ceiling above him.
“Don’t you give up now,” she said and tried to increase her pace. Stemming the blood flow now becoming her number one priority.
“He’s not responding to the inaprovaline,” T’Ser said after she had found and injected her patient with the drug.
“Tricorder,” she said. Frustrated with her limited progress she dug her fingers into the largest whole to retract the bullet which prevented her from closing the most serious wound. The fact that her patient hardly even reacted to the intrusion was a bad sign.
As advised T’Ser ran a medical scan on her own patient. “I think one of the bullets is lodged against his spleen.”
The soldier’s eyes were closed now and he was no longer praying. Wenera could feel the offending foreign object inside the wound. “Stay with me. I almost got it. Stay with me now.”
“Doctor, I can’t do this on my own,” T’Ser said softly.
“Goddamnit, I’m trying to save this one,” she shot back.
And then T’Ser stood next to her with a medical tricorder in hand. “Does he have a chance?” she asked.
Wenera didn’t speak, her hands deep inside the dying body, mere millimeters away from removing the bullet. If she could get it out perhaps she could stop the internal bleeding. She knew it was a fool’s hope at best.
“I think the other one has a good chance if you tend to him now. This one …” T’Ser looked up from her tricorder and shook her head. She was no doctor but from her scans it was clear even to her that he wasn’t going to make it. He was too far gone.
But Wenera didn’t want to hear it. “I’m not leaving this man to die to save one of those damn monsters,” she said.
“You’re a doctor,” T’Ser shot back. “You said it yourself, you have a responsibility to try and save anyone who needs your help. Do your triage. Who has the better chance of survival?”
Wenera had the bullet and lodged it free only to open up a new geyser of blood which instantly drenched both her hands.
“Doctor!” T’Ser repeated.
Wenera looked at the calm face of the young soldier. He wasn’t quite dead yet but his empty eyes did a pretty good job to try and convince her otherwise. She allowed herself to turn away and to look at the injured Vekte-Ait at the other side of the room. He was also bleeding but not as severely. The other civilian was lying nearby, dead.
“Get some morphine,” she said, stood and pointed at the dying solider. “As soon as he goes into shock give it to him.”
T’Ser nodded.
The Starfleet doctor grabbed more medical tools and supplies–the only thing they had in abundance–and knelt next to the injured civilian.
As predicted the solider went into shock soon after and T’Ser applied the morphine. Then came cardiac arrest and death.
The Vulcan closed the dead solider eyes and then quietly joined Wenera at her side.
“Hand me that large, fork-like device,” said the doctor and held out her hand.
T’Ser complied without hesitation.
For the next few minutes Wenera worked like possessed to remove six bullets, mend two ruptured arteries and removed something akin to a kidney which had threatened to burst from the gunshot trauma.
T’Ser had remained by her side, dutifully handing her every instrument and drug compound requested, removed blood from the patient and continuously sterilized the wound.
Neither of them paid attention to the chaos which was raging just a few hundred meters away. The battle outside was heating up but as far as they were concerned their own battle was taking place right in front of their eyes.
Once Wenera had patched Vekte-Ait back up they helped each other to the far wall were they sat down exhausted and thankful for a minute of rest after the harrowing events of the last minutes.
“You should have considered a career in the medical field,” said Wenera. “You make a decent nurse.”
She smiled sweetly. “And my work is not yet done,” T’Ser said and presented a dermal regenerator.
Wenera didn’t understand at first until the Vulcan gestured towards her wound. She had entirely forgotten about it in the excitement, ignored the pain while she had feverishly focused on trying to save a life.
The doctor nodded at T’Ser and opened her shirt. The emergency bandage underneath was thoroughly drenched by her blood now and she flinched when she tried to remove it.
“You were lucky. The bullet only grazed you,” said T’Ser as she wiped away the blood with a towel, cleaned and sterilized the wound and then used the dermal regenerator to close it.
“Lucky would have been not to get shot in the first place.”
The procedure was quickly finished. Wenera inspected the work and apparently satisfied she closed her shirt again. “Not bad.”
Vekte-Ait stirred back to consciousness and almost immediately tried to sit up.
Both women stood.
“Take it easy,” said T’Ser. “You need to rest.”
“Which one …,” he began, his voice weak and his memory still fuzzy from his traumatic injuries, “… is the doctor?”
“If you want to know who saved your life,” T’Ser said and looked at Wenera. “It was her.”
The doctor felt a momentary sting of shame come over her.
“You?” Vekte said and looked at the Starfleet physician. “You are the doctor?”
Wenera nodded slowly. “Yes. But there is no need to thank me. I was just doing my job and I couldn’t have done it without –“
It turned out Vekte-Ait had absolutely no intention on showing his gratitude.
Instead he removed a gun hidden somewhere in the rubble beside him and pointed it at Ashley Wenera, forcing her to swallow her words.
* * *
No good deed...as Wenera finds out
T'Ser comes through in the pinch...Now...how do they get out of this?
T'Ser comes through in the pinch...Now...how do they get out of this?
Just getting caught up. All I can say is, Wow! Things are coming to a head quckly! And now the Bluefin is about to get into the act while Wenera and T'Ser's situation goes from bad to worse! 
The last time Nora Laas had witnessed an orbital bombardment of this scale had been one and a half decades ago when she had been a resistance fighter on her native Bajor.
The Cardassians had used their superior fire power to punish the Bajorans for their relentless resistance, killing thousands with an minimum amount of effort.
Eagle’s bombardment was a lot more precise and localized, wiping out the terrorist fighters who just moments ago had threatened to overwhelm the bunker they had sought refuge in.
There were cheers from the Marines as they watched the enemy disintegrate right in front of their eyes. The blinding light and intense heat from the phaser blast nothing more than a minor inconvenience to them.
Nora did not celebrate their apparent victory. It left too much of a bitter taste in her mouth. She forced to remind herself that these rebels were nothing like the resistance fighters she had once led into battle. These people wanted to destroy their own kind and bring down their way of life. These were nothing more than atheistic anarchists, dead set on brining chaos to their world by targeting soldiers and civilians alike. They were like the Jem’Hadar or the Cardassians, or so she tried to convince herself. It made it easier.
She looked over at Major Wasco who continued to provide Eagle with coordinates to push the attacking force back. A desperate situation had turned into absolute child’s play. Wasco referred to his data padd which was being updated constantly, showing enemy troop movements and positions courtesy of the sensor net on the Nebuchadrezzar, then spied out of the bunker for visual confirmation before forwarding the next coordinates directly to Lieutenant Commander Leva on Eagle.
Within seconds the starship phaser banks unleashed precisely aimed phaser burst within square meters of where Wasco had directed it.
“Lieutenant.”
Nora turned to see Lif Culsten who had come into the bunker. She acknowledged him with a short nod. “What’s the status on the rest of the away team?”
“I think they’re safe,” said the young Krellonian. “The rebels have disengaged and are in retreat.”
“Good.”
“But I’m concerned about Wenera. She is not with the others.”
“What do you mean?”
Culsten looked visibly ill at ease. “She went off with the Bluefin officer and some Tiaitans to find a school which had been attacked. That was shortly after all this started. I haven’t heard anything from her since.”
Nora could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You let her go out there?” she asked in a sharp accusatory tone of voice.
“I tried to talk her out of it,” he said and shook his head. “But she was determined.”
“Come with me,” said Nora. She grabbed a padd and quickly brought up a map of the city. She showed it to him. “Where did she go?”
But the lieutenant looked lost. “I’m not sure. They said it was a school in the Bakery district.”
Nora nodded. She found the first marshal. “We have some people missing. They went to find a school in the Bakery district.”
Trelt-Ait looked skeptical. “A school? There are no schools in the Bakery district.”
Nora shot Culsten a dark look.
But the Krellonian was stunned by the admission and had nothing to say.
“I think there is an old school building there but it hasn’t been used in quite some time,” said Trelt and took the padd from Nora. “It’s right here,” he said and showed her on the map.
“We’ll have to get there now,” she said and pushed the padd into Culsten’s hands. “And you’re coming with us. We’ll need a guide.”
The helmsman wanted to object but didn’t find the courage. After all to some degree this was his fault, he argued with himself. He could have tried harder to stop Wenera. He could have brought this to Nora’s attention sooner. No matter that Wenera had been made it clear that she was not going to be stopped and that Culsten had been so preoccupied with trying to make sure the away team was secure that he never got the chance to contact the security chief. He was going to make up for this even if it meant following her onto the battlefield.
Nora in the meantime had broken the news to Xylion and Wasco.
“I’m going to get them back but I need some of your men,” she told the marine major.
“You can have Bravo team,” he said. “We’ll need the others for search and rescue operations. We just got word that we lost a shuttle somewhere over the eastern part of the city.”
The Vulcan had apparently already made all the necessary arrangements in his mind. “Alfa team will attempt to locate the shuttle and any survivors. Their secondary objective is to secure any survivors from the downed government transport vessel. Bravo is with you, Lieutenant. Charlie team’s primary objective is to locate and neutralize any remaining anti-air installations. Delta will remain behind and secure the away team.”
Wasco nodded in agreement.
“Let’s move out,” said the Bajoran and reached for her phaser rifle.
Nora knew that time was not on their side. Wenera’s last known position was at least one kilometer away and at the other side of the wide plaza turned battlefield.
There was no time for subtleties and so she had her team consisting out of six Marines and Culsten move as fast as deemed was safe across the wide open space now filled with burning vehicles and large craters.
Only a few enemy fighters remained and they were easily picked off by Nora and the Marines.
Culsten clutched the padd tightly and directed the team towards their destination which at their current speed they were going to reach in a matter of minutes.
That was before a whole group of enemy fighters walked straight into their path.
“Get cover,” shouted Nora and dove into one of the craters. Everyone followed suit.
Not a second later a hail storm of bullets began rattling over their heads.
Nora crawled to the top of the crater. “Return fire. Take them out,” she said even while she tried to bring her own rifle to bare. She barely managed to squeeze off two shots before she was forced back down. She noticed that the Marines were equally unsuccessful, the enemy had entrenched themselves somewhere above them and had the clear advantage.
She considered her options quickly. Their situation was untenable, it was only a matter of time until somebody on the other side would think of throwing a grenade into the crater, taking out her entire team. There was no time to call in for reinforcements and try to flank the enemy.
She spotted one of the Marines carrying a mobile com-unit which was linked to the booster unit back in the bunker which in turn linked them to Eagle. Nora took the handset and passed it on to Culsten who wasn’t quite sure what she wanted him to do with it.
“Relay their coordinates, Lieutenant and blow them out of our way.”
The young helmsman looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Now Lif, or would you prefer for this crater to turn into our grave?”
He nodded slowly, took the handset and referred to his map. “Culsten to Eagle, new coordinates: 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-5-3-2. I say again: 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-5-3-2.”
They didn’t have to wait long for a response. The sky above them lit up and a lance of pure energy descended from the firmament, flooding the area with heat and light for just a few seconds.
Their enemies never even got a chance to cry out in pain. Death came too quickly.
Nora was the first to jump out and press on. She didn’t pay attention to the unrecognizable remains of the terrorists. “Lif!” she shouted.
He crawled out of the crater hesitantly, looking around cautiously before fully revealing himself. He found Nora standing tall before him, seemingly unconcerned by potential enemies nearby. She looked upon him impatiently. “Which way?”
He consulted the padd and then pointed eastwards.
She nodded and moments later she was leading the team into the narrow city streets.
After about a hundred meters they reached an intersection where they found the enemy again which was apparently trying to regroup after the devastating counter-attacks. The rebels open fire instantly, forcing the Starfleet team into a narrow alleyway for cover.
Nora, pressed against a wall, spied onto the intersection. She noticed two of the soldiers preparing what looked like a shoulder-mounted rocket propelled grenade.
“Get back!”
The Marines moved quickly deeper into the alley. Culsten was the slowest of the bunch and Nora pushed him hard just before she heard the telltale sound of an incoming missile. She grabbed the young lieutenant and threw him to the ground, she herself landed just a few feet away.
The far wall exploded and showered them with rock fragments, luckily none of them large enough to cause serious injuries.
Nora was the first one back on her feet even before the dust had settled. Once again she focused on Culsten. “Take them out, Lieutenant.”
This time he understood right away. He pushed himself into a sitting position against the fractured wall and looked at his padd. “Eagle, new coordinates: 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-3-3-1”
The security chief didn’t wait for the phaser discharge. She determinedly stepped out of the alleyway and before a any of the rebel fighters could fire a single shot they were all gone alongside the entire façade of a nearby building.
Culsten and the Marines reassembled within moments.
The Krellonian seemed startled by the destruction he had caused and inspected the fractured building closely. “My coordinates were off,” he said. “I should have been more careful.”
“It was empty,” Nora replied. “Besides, it’s hardly noticeable. Not in a city that has started to fall apart long before we ever came here.”
It seemed to be little consolation for the helmsman.
Nora didn’t pay him any more attention and instead walked right into the middle of the intersection and looked around, trying to spot anyone else stupid enough to try and stop them. Apparently something caught her attention. She spoke to the others even while she continued to look into the distance. “Let’s get moving.”
Culsten nodded. “We’re almost there. Two more blocks, that way,” he said and pointed to her right.
Nora made a ‘go’ gesture with her hand to the Marines and they moved on without question or delay. She herself remained frozen in place, still looking into the opposite direction.
Culsten joined her carefully. “What is it?” he asked after he failed to see anything besides an utterly deserted street.
“One hundred meters, two o’clock.”
He directed his gaze and found a small patch of overgrown vegetation which had been allowed to grow seemingly unmaintained between two large buildings. It could have been a recreational area at some point. It was also, he had to admit, a good place to hide.
“Get a fix on those coordinates and stand by to fire.”
The helmsman wiped the sweat off his face, leaving behind a trail dirt and then located the coordinates on the map. “Eagle, 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-3-8-3, stand by.”
The Marines behind Nora and Clusten were now crossing the open street, making them an easy target.
Then sudden movement up ahead. It came so abruptly Culsten flinched when he saw the dozen or so figures emerge out of nowhere. His second instinct was to run for cover but Nora reached out for him and held him firmly by the arm. She wanted him to stay, to see this.
The rebels had their weapon up and were ready to fire only momentarily stunned by finding their enemy surprisingly exposed at the middle of the intersection.
“Take the shot,” said Nora almost casually.
Culsten held his handset so tight his knuckles turned white. “Eagle, fire, fire, fire!”
It was over before it had even begun.
Nora didn’t give the scene a second look, turned around and followed the Marines.
Culsten hung back a moment longer, his eyes fixed at where moments before the fighters had emerged and commenced their charge. Now there was nothing left but a crater.
“Double time, people,” he heard Nora shout behind him.
The Cardassians had used their superior fire power to punish the Bajorans for their relentless resistance, killing thousands with an minimum amount of effort.
Eagle’s bombardment was a lot more precise and localized, wiping out the terrorist fighters who just moments ago had threatened to overwhelm the bunker they had sought refuge in.
There were cheers from the Marines as they watched the enemy disintegrate right in front of their eyes. The blinding light and intense heat from the phaser blast nothing more than a minor inconvenience to them.
Nora did not celebrate their apparent victory. It left too much of a bitter taste in her mouth. She forced to remind herself that these rebels were nothing like the resistance fighters she had once led into battle. These people wanted to destroy their own kind and bring down their way of life. These were nothing more than atheistic anarchists, dead set on brining chaos to their world by targeting soldiers and civilians alike. They were like the Jem’Hadar or the Cardassians, or so she tried to convince herself. It made it easier.
She looked over at Major Wasco who continued to provide Eagle with coordinates to push the attacking force back. A desperate situation had turned into absolute child’s play. Wasco referred to his data padd which was being updated constantly, showing enemy troop movements and positions courtesy of the sensor net on the Nebuchadrezzar, then spied out of the bunker for visual confirmation before forwarding the next coordinates directly to Lieutenant Commander Leva on Eagle.
Within seconds the starship phaser banks unleashed precisely aimed phaser burst within square meters of where Wasco had directed it.
“Lieutenant.”
Nora turned to see Lif Culsten who had come into the bunker. She acknowledged him with a short nod. “What’s the status on the rest of the away team?”
“I think they’re safe,” said the young Krellonian. “The rebels have disengaged and are in retreat.”
“Good.”
“But I’m concerned about Wenera. She is not with the others.”
“What do you mean?”
Culsten looked visibly ill at ease. “She went off with the Bluefin officer and some Tiaitans to find a school which had been attacked. That was shortly after all this started. I haven’t heard anything from her since.”
Nora could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You let her go out there?” she asked in a sharp accusatory tone of voice.
“I tried to talk her out of it,” he said and shook his head. “But she was determined.”
“Come with me,” said Nora. She grabbed a padd and quickly brought up a map of the city. She showed it to him. “Where did she go?”
But the lieutenant looked lost. “I’m not sure. They said it was a school in the Bakery district.”
Nora nodded. She found the first marshal. “We have some people missing. They went to find a school in the Bakery district.”
Trelt-Ait looked skeptical. “A school? There are no schools in the Bakery district.”
Nora shot Culsten a dark look.
But the Krellonian was stunned by the admission and had nothing to say.
“I think there is an old school building there but it hasn’t been used in quite some time,” said Trelt and took the padd from Nora. “It’s right here,” he said and showed her on the map.
“We’ll have to get there now,” she said and pushed the padd into Culsten’s hands. “And you’re coming with us. We’ll need a guide.”
The helmsman wanted to object but didn’t find the courage. After all to some degree this was his fault, he argued with himself. He could have tried harder to stop Wenera. He could have brought this to Nora’s attention sooner. No matter that Wenera had been made it clear that she was not going to be stopped and that Culsten had been so preoccupied with trying to make sure the away team was secure that he never got the chance to contact the security chief. He was going to make up for this even if it meant following her onto the battlefield.
Nora in the meantime had broken the news to Xylion and Wasco.
“I’m going to get them back but I need some of your men,” she told the marine major.
“You can have Bravo team,” he said. “We’ll need the others for search and rescue operations. We just got word that we lost a shuttle somewhere over the eastern part of the city.”
The Vulcan had apparently already made all the necessary arrangements in his mind. “Alfa team will attempt to locate the shuttle and any survivors. Their secondary objective is to secure any survivors from the downed government transport vessel. Bravo is with you, Lieutenant. Charlie team’s primary objective is to locate and neutralize any remaining anti-air installations. Delta will remain behind and secure the away team.”
Wasco nodded in agreement.
“Let’s move out,” said the Bajoran and reached for her phaser rifle.
Nora knew that time was not on their side. Wenera’s last known position was at least one kilometer away and at the other side of the wide plaza turned battlefield.
There was no time for subtleties and so she had her team consisting out of six Marines and Culsten move as fast as deemed was safe across the wide open space now filled with burning vehicles and large craters.
Only a few enemy fighters remained and they were easily picked off by Nora and the Marines.
Culsten clutched the padd tightly and directed the team towards their destination which at their current speed they were going to reach in a matter of minutes.
That was before a whole group of enemy fighters walked straight into their path.
“Get cover,” shouted Nora and dove into one of the craters. Everyone followed suit.
Not a second later a hail storm of bullets began rattling over their heads.
Nora crawled to the top of the crater. “Return fire. Take them out,” she said even while she tried to bring her own rifle to bare. She barely managed to squeeze off two shots before she was forced back down. She noticed that the Marines were equally unsuccessful, the enemy had entrenched themselves somewhere above them and had the clear advantage.
She considered her options quickly. Their situation was untenable, it was only a matter of time until somebody on the other side would think of throwing a grenade into the crater, taking out her entire team. There was no time to call in for reinforcements and try to flank the enemy.
She spotted one of the Marines carrying a mobile com-unit which was linked to the booster unit back in the bunker which in turn linked them to Eagle. Nora took the handset and passed it on to Culsten who wasn’t quite sure what she wanted him to do with it.
“Relay their coordinates, Lieutenant and blow them out of our way.”
The young helmsman looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Now Lif, or would you prefer for this crater to turn into our grave?”
He nodded slowly, took the handset and referred to his map. “Culsten to Eagle, new coordinates: 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-5-3-2. I say again: 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-5-3-2.”
They didn’t have to wait long for a response. The sky above them lit up and a lance of pure energy descended from the firmament, flooding the area with heat and light for just a few seconds.
Their enemies never even got a chance to cry out in pain. Death came too quickly.
Nora was the first to jump out and press on. She didn’t pay attention to the unrecognizable remains of the terrorists. “Lif!” she shouted.
He crawled out of the crater hesitantly, looking around cautiously before fully revealing himself. He found Nora standing tall before him, seemingly unconcerned by potential enemies nearby. She looked upon him impatiently. “Which way?”
He consulted the padd and then pointed eastwards.
She nodded and moments later she was leading the team into the narrow city streets.
After about a hundred meters they reached an intersection where they found the enemy again which was apparently trying to regroup after the devastating counter-attacks. The rebels open fire instantly, forcing the Starfleet team into a narrow alleyway for cover.
Nora, pressed against a wall, spied onto the intersection. She noticed two of the soldiers preparing what looked like a shoulder-mounted rocket propelled grenade.
“Get back!”
The Marines moved quickly deeper into the alley. Culsten was the slowest of the bunch and Nora pushed him hard just before she heard the telltale sound of an incoming missile. She grabbed the young lieutenant and threw him to the ground, she herself landed just a few feet away.
The far wall exploded and showered them with rock fragments, luckily none of them large enough to cause serious injuries.
Nora was the first one back on her feet even before the dust had settled. Once again she focused on Culsten. “Take them out, Lieutenant.”
This time he understood right away. He pushed himself into a sitting position against the fractured wall and looked at his padd. “Eagle, new coordinates: 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-3-3-1”
The security chief didn’t wait for the phaser discharge. She determinedly stepped out of the alleyway and before a any of the rebel fighters could fire a single shot they were all gone alongside the entire façade of a nearby building.
Culsten and the Marines reassembled within moments.
The Krellonian seemed startled by the destruction he had caused and inspected the fractured building closely. “My coordinates were off,” he said. “I should have been more careful.”
“It was empty,” Nora replied. “Besides, it’s hardly noticeable. Not in a city that has started to fall apart long before we ever came here.”
It seemed to be little consolation for the helmsman.
Nora didn’t pay him any more attention and instead walked right into the middle of the intersection and looked around, trying to spot anyone else stupid enough to try and stop them. Apparently something caught her attention. She spoke to the others even while she continued to look into the distance. “Let’s get moving.”
Culsten nodded. “We’re almost there. Two more blocks, that way,” he said and pointed to her right.
Nora made a ‘go’ gesture with her hand to the Marines and they moved on without question or delay. She herself remained frozen in place, still looking into the opposite direction.
Culsten joined her carefully. “What is it?” he asked after he failed to see anything besides an utterly deserted street.
“One hundred meters, two o’clock.”
He directed his gaze and found a small patch of overgrown vegetation which had been allowed to grow seemingly unmaintained between two large buildings. It could have been a recreational area at some point. It was also, he had to admit, a good place to hide.
“Get a fix on those coordinates and stand by to fire.”
The helmsman wiped the sweat off his face, leaving behind a trail dirt and then located the coordinates on the map. “Eagle, 4-Qubec-Foxtrot-Juliett-2-3-4-3-4-3-8-3, stand by.”
The Marines behind Nora and Clusten were now crossing the open street, making them an easy target.
Then sudden movement up ahead. It came so abruptly Culsten flinched when he saw the dozen or so figures emerge out of nowhere. His second instinct was to run for cover but Nora reached out for him and held him firmly by the arm. She wanted him to stay, to see this.
The rebels had their weapon up and were ready to fire only momentarily stunned by finding their enemy surprisingly exposed at the middle of the intersection.
“Take the shot,” said Nora almost casually.
Culsten held his handset so tight his knuckles turned white. “Eagle, fire, fire, fire!”
It was over before it had even begun.
Nora didn’t give the scene a second look, turned around and followed the Marines.
Culsten hung back a moment longer, his eyes fixed at where moments before the fighters had emerged and commenced their charge. Now there was nothing left but a crater.
“Double time, people,” he heard Nora shout behind him.
* * *
It's one thing to be on a ship - separated from the bloody carnage of face-to-face battle. It's quite another to witness the carnage up close.
Culsten is receiving his baptism of fire. I hope this doesn't leave him with a thousand yard stare. Nora is all too familiar with battle zones and her hardness is an asset, at least for now.
Things are escalating quickly - will the battle escalate out of control? And what of Winera and T'Ser?
Great stuff- tense, gritty and raw. Nicely done!
Culsten is receiving his baptism of fire. I hope this doesn't leave him with a thousand yard stare. Nora is all too familiar with battle zones and her hardness is an asset, at least for now.
Things are escalating quickly - will the battle escalate out of control? And what of Winera and T'Ser?
Great stuff- tense, gritty and raw. Nicely done!
Lif is definitely getting a powerful lesson here--nothing antiseptic about what he's witnessing now. Very fast paced and harsh combat. But the big question is--will they be in time?
Wenera shot T’Ser an icy look as if to say: ‘see what it got us trying to save this one.’
The Vulcan woman ignored the silent accusation however and focused on the gun wielding man on the ground. He still appeared weak, prominent perspiration was covering his forehead and he held the heavy gun unsteadily in his right hand.
“You can’t be serious,” she said to him. “We saved your life.”
Vekte-Ait looked around the room to find that his partner was dead. The realization that he was now all alone apparently didn’t help his confidence and the gun began to wobble in his hand.
T’Ser noticed this and pressed her advantage. “What are you trying to achieve?” she said. “Think about this for a minute. You’re injured, you have no were to go. What you’re going to shoot us to make a statement?”
He focused on her intently. “We’re not killers.”
“Yeah, right,” mumbled Wenera.
“We didn’t bring you here to kill you,” he said, his voice falling short to emphasize any kind of buoyancy poise on his part.
T’Ser frowned. “Then what?”
“You are our prisoners. You will come with us,” he said.
There was little humor to their predicament but that didn’t stop Doctor Wenera from uttering a short laugh. “Come with you? You can’t even walk. If anyone is to surrender here I suggest you do. I promise, you will not be mistreated.”
“Of course I would, I’m an Ait,” he spat back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then he tried to stand but quickly realized that the doctor had remained right. He was too weak to get off the floor by himself.
Out of natural instinct the Starfleet physician wanted to help or at least ensure he didn’t injure himself further. She took a step forward but stopped when Vekte waved his gun in her direction.
“Give me some of that cordrazine,” he said and gestured towards the medical supplies.
Wenera was surprised that he knew of the drug. Then she remembered that the terrorists had managed to steal most of the supplies which had been intended for the city. In an act of defiance she crossed her arms.
Vekte cocked the gun. “Now.”
A small voice in the back of her mind told her that he wasn’t going to shoot her. He wanted her alive. Cleary he wanted a Starfleet physician as a hostage. The voice remained too small however to override her survival instincts. She slowly walked over to the supplies and removed a hypo with the requested stimulant.
He opened the palm of his left hand and she tossed it to him. “Don’t take more than two ccs or you’ll risk your internal injuries to reopen,” she said.
Vekte caught the hypo easily and looked at her with a degree of puzzlement. Wenera realized she could have recommended the higher dosage but causing intentional harm to a patient went against her morale code not to mention the Hippocratic Oath.
T’Ser’s scowl however showed that she had abandoned her earlier compassion.
Vekte quickly adjusted the hypospray and gave himself a shot of cordrazine. The drug took effect almost immediately. Within moments he was back on his feet, even if he still appeared a bit unsteady.
“Load up as many supplies as you can,” he said.
T’Ser and Wenera exchanged another look and they came to an unspoken agreement. They would make a stand. They both stepped away from the gunman.
He extended his gun towards Wenera. “You will come with me,” he said, trying hard to sound sternly.
Wenera mustered up all the courage she could find and shook her head. “No.”
The uncertain expression on Veke’s face gave further proof that it had been his deceased partner who had been the brains of the operation. With him gone, the young man seemed somewhat lost. For a moment he simply looked at the two women who were being encouraged by his indecisiveness.
When he spoke again he did so very slowly. “I was told to bring back a doctor,” he said and aimed the gun at T’Ser. “They didn’t say anything about a second hostage.”
Wenera’s eyes opened wider. “You said you were not a killer.”
He glanced at her. “We do what we have to. Believe me, I don’t want to do this but our cause is more important than one life. You either both come with me or I will shoot her where she stands. Make your choice.”
Wenera looked at T’Ser who now appeared as stoic as any Vulcan she had ever met. Her facial expressions were unreadable. She wrecked her brain for a way out of this. The doctor took a small step towards Vekte. “Listen, there is no need for this,” she said. “We’ve come here to help all the people of Tiaita.”
If there had been doubt in his eyes before it had now been replaced by pure venom. “Help?”
Just then the stand-off was interrupted by the sound of a massive phaser blast shooting out of the skies and striking the ground just a few hundred meters away from the building in which they stood. The powerful impact forced the ground to tremble, shaking loose dust and small debris from the ceiling above them.
Startled, they all looked outside to see the bright flash of light.
Vekte pointed at it. “That is not the help we need!”
Wenera was at a loss for words.
“Your time’s up,” said Vekte and took a step towards T’Ser, pointing the gun squarely at her head.
The Vulcan woman didn’t close her eyes, refused to even flinch. If she was going to be shot, she would look the person pulling the trigger dead in the eye.
“Wait,” said Wenera, feeling panic gripping her now that a life depended on her next words. “Wait,” she said again. And then she thought she could hear faint voices and footsteps closing in. Was it the rescue party? If so she just needed a little more time. But that was the one thing she didn’t have.
“I’ll go with you but leave her.”
Vekte who had transformed from a shy med tech into a dangerous would-be killer astonishingly fast shook his head and pressed the muzzle of the gun against T’Ser’s forehead. “Not an option.”
Wenera gritted her teeth. “Fine, you win. We both come with you.”
The terrorist looked at T’Ser for acknowledgement.
She bobbed her head fractionally, being very careful not to provoke the man whose gun was still pressed against her head. She had already calculated the chances of trying to disarm him or rendering him unconscious by using the neck pinch perhaps before he had a chance to discharge the firearm. No matter how quick she would be, all possible outcomes had ended with a bullet lodged between her eyes.
He stepped back to give them both room. “Pick up all the medical supplies you can. We leave now.”
Wenera wanted to hesitate, to slow down and give the potential rescue party as much time as she possibly could.
“Hurry up,” he reminded them.
The Vulcan woman ignored the silent accusation however and focused on the gun wielding man on the ground. He still appeared weak, prominent perspiration was covering his forehead and he held the heavy gun unsteadily in his right hand.
“You can’t be serious,” she said to him. “We saved your life.”
Vekte-Ait looked around the room to find that his partner was dead. The realization that he was now all alone apparently didn’t help his confidence and the gun began to wobble in his hand.
T’Ser noticed this and pressed her advantage. “What are you trying to achieve?” she said. “Think about this for a minute. You’re injured, you have no were to go. What you’re going to shoot us to make a statement?”
He focused on her intently. “We’re not killers.”
“Yeah, right,” mumbled Wenera.
“We didn’t bring you here to kill you,” he said, his voice falling short to emphasize any kind of buoyancy poise on his part.
T’Ser frowned. “Then what?”
“You are our prisoners. You will come with us,” he said.
There was little humor to their predicament but that didn’t stop Doctor Wenera from uttering a short laugh. “Come with you? You can’t even walk. If anyone is to surrender here I suggest you do. I promise, you will not be mistreated.”
“Of course I would, I’m an Ait,” he spat back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then he tried to stand but quickly realized that the doctor had remained right. He was too weak to get off the floor by himself.
Out of natural instinct the Starfleet physician wanted to help or at least ensure he didn’t injure himself further. She took a step forward but stopped when Vekte waved his gun in her direction.
“Give me some of that cordrazine,” he said and gestured towards the medical supplies.
Wenera was surprised that he knew of the drug. Then she remembered that the terrorists had managed to steal most of the supplies which had been intended for the city. In an act of defiance she crossed her arms.
Vekte cocked the gun. “Now.”
A small voice in the back of her mind told her that he wasn’t going to shoot her. He wanted her alive. Cleary he wanted a Starfleet physician as a hostage. The voice remained too small however to override her survival instincts. She slowly walked over to the supplies and removed a hypo with the requested stimulant.
He opened the palm of his left hand and she tossed it to him. “Don’t take more than two ccs or you’ll risk your internal injuries to reopen,” she said.
Vekte caught the hypo easily and looked at her with a degree of puzzlement. Wenera realized she could have recommended the higher dosage but causing intentional harm to a patient went against her morale code not to mention the Hippocratic Oath.
T’Ser’s scowl however showed that she had abandoned her earlier compassion.
Vekte quickly adjusted the hypospray and gave himself a shot of cordrazine. The drug took effect almost immediately. Within moments he was back on his feet, even if he still appeared a bit unsteady.
“Load up as many supplies as you can,” he said.
T’Ser and Wenera exchanged another look and they came to an unspoken agreement. They would make a stand. They both stepped away from the gunman.
He extended his gun towards Wenera. “You will come with me,” he said, trying hard to sound sternly.
Wenera mustered up all the courage she could find and shook her head. “No.”
The uncertain expression on Veke’s face gave further proof that it had been his deceased partner who had been the brains of the operation. With him gone, the young man seemed somewhat lost. For a moment he simply looked at the two women who were being encouraged by his indecisiveness.
When he spoke again he did so very slowly. “I was told to bring back a doctor,” he said and aimed the gun at T’Ser. “They didn’t say anything about a second hostage.”
Wenera’s eyes opened wider. “You said you were not a killer.”
He glanced at her. “We do what we have to. Believe me, I don’t want to do this but our cause is more important than one life. You either both come with me or I will shoot her where she stands. Make your choice.”
Wenera looked at T’Ser who now appeared as stoic as any Vulcan she had ever met. Her facial expressions were unreadable. She wrecked her brain for a way out of this. The doctor took a small step towards Vekte. “Listen, there is no need for this,” she said. “We’ve come here to help all the people of Tiaita.”
If there had been doubt in his eyes before it had now been replaced by pure venom. “Help?”
Just then the stand-off was interrupted by the sound of a massive phaser blast shooting out of the skies and striking the ground just a few hundred meters away from the building in which they stood. The powerful impact forced the ground to tremble, shaking loose dust and small debris from the ceiling above them.
Startled, they all looked outside to see the bright flash of light.
Vekte pointed at it. “That is not the help we need!”
Wenera was at a loss for words.
“Your time’s up,” said Vekte and took a step towards T’Ser, pointing the gun squarely at her head.
The Vulcan woman didn’t close her eyes, refused to even flinch. If she was going to be shot, she would look the person pulling the trigger dead in the eye.
“Wait,” said Wenera, feeling panic gripping her now that a life depended on her next words. “Wait,” she said again. And then she thought she could hear faint voices and footsteps closing in. Was it the rescue party? If so she just needed a little more time. But that was the one thing she didn’t have.
“I’ll go with you but leave her.”
Vekte who had transformed from a shy med tech into a dangerous would-be killer astonishingly fast shook his head and pressed the muzzle of the gun against T’Ser’s forehead. “Not an option.”
Wenera gritted her teeth. “Fine, you win. We both come with you.”
The terrorist looked at T’Ser for acknowledgement.
She bobbed her head fractionally, being very careful not to provoke the man whose gun was still pressed against her head. She had already calculated the chances of trying to disarm him or rendering him unconscious by using the neck pinch perhaps before he had a chance to discharge the firearm. No matter how quick she would be, all possible outcomes had ended with a bullet lodged between her eyes.
He stepped back to give them both room. “Pick up all the medical supplies you can. We leave now.”
Wenera wanted to hesitate, to slow down and give the potential rescue party as much time as she possibly could.
“Hurry up,” he reminded them.
* * *
Wenera and T'Ser's situation is going from bad to worse. Having a captor who is unsure of himself makes the situation even more dangerous as his actions are unpredictable. Good thing the doctor and T'Ser are playing it cool, but I wonder the point of their capture - ransom? bargaining chips? or something worse?
Great stuff! Keep it coming.
Great stuff! Keep it coming.
Oh boy...this situation has gone from bad to worse. Very tense...very well done.
“It’s that one over there,” Culsten told Nora as they approached a building which had seen better days. Even in a city in which the infrastructure had come close to collapse, the building looked to be in bad shape.
Nora waited for all the Marines to form up around her. “Two teams,” she said. “Team One on me, we take the front. Team Two, circle around and find another way into the building.”
The Marines acknowledged sharply and then split up.
“Lif, your with me,” she told the Krellonian.
He too nodded then secured the padd and reached for his phaser rifle. He was determined now. Any earlier hesitation washed away after their brushes with death earlier. They had come this far, he would not falter now.
Nora led her team to the front door and they stacked up against the outside wall. She spied around the corner and found the staircase behind it empty. She gave her team the order to breach.
The Marines had trained this kind of maneuver a thousand times.
The first man in covered the far angle, the next one the opposite side and so on. Within two seconds the team was inside.
“Clear,” said Nora and proceeded to the next room, using the exact same procedure. They continued to clear one room after the next but the ground floor appeared to be completely empty.
Then they heard phaser fire coming from outside.
“We’ve got enemy contacts,” the voice of one of the Marines in Team Two confirmed over the com-unit. “They appear to be withdrawing.”
Nora wanted to head back for the exit but Culsten stopped her short. He pointed upwards where loose debris was now raining down from the ceiling. It was not much more than dust but Nora listened intently. She thought she heard footfalls.
She gestured the team to follow her upstairs.
They quickly climbed the staircase and entered the upper floor.
Most of the walls had already collapsed, turning the second story into a mostly open plan floor. But there were still plenty of places to hide.
Nora gestured her team to spread out and sweep the entire floor.
Moments later Culsten called in. “Over here, Lieutenant.”
The security chief joined him at the west side of the building where he had found three dead bodies and used up medical supplies. “Those two look like government soldiers,” he said, pointing at the black-clad men on the floor. “That one over there is one of the medical technicians from the hospital.”
Nora nodded impatiently. “But where are our people?” she said and then noticed something disturbing on the floor, half buried in the dust.
Culsten’s handset cracked to life. “Fire team Alfa, Command; We have located the Osiris. Two survivors, both injured. Request immediate medical evacuation.”
Moments later the second fire team also reported in. “Charlie, Command; All anti-air installations have been neutralized. Air space is cleared, I say again, air space is cleared.”
“This is Wasco. Alfa, standby for the Chen’tek approaching your position for immediate med-evac. Nora, what’s your status?” the major’s voice said.
The rest of their fire team regrouped around the two Starfleet officers. Their report was discouraging. There was no more sign of the enemy. They had fled.
Nora acknowledged and then knelt down on the dirty floor with an increasingly sickening feeling in her stomach.
“Wasco to Lieutenant Nora, please advise of your status?”
Culsten stepped up to Nora to see what she had uncovered. She picked up something from the floor and placed it into her open palm. A Starfleet and a Border Service combadge.
“Fire team Bravo, please come in.”
Culsten hesitantly reached for the handset. “This is Culsten,” he said, allowing himself to take a breath for the first time since they had started their mad dash across the city. His long silver hair now hung loose and he brushed it out of his sweat-covered face. “We were too late. Doctor Wenera and Lieutenant T’Ser are gone.”
Nora waited for all the Marines to form up around her. “Two teams,” she said. “Team One on me, we take the front. Team Two, circle around and find another way into the building.”
The Marines acknowledged sharply and then split up.
“Lif, your with me,” she told the Krellonian.
He too nodded then secured the padd and reached for his phaser rifle. He was determined now. Any earlier hesitation washed away after their brushes with death earlier. They had come this far, he would not falter now.
Nora led her team to the front door and they stacked up against the outside wall. She spied around the corner and found the staircase behind it empty. She gave her team the order to breach.
The Marines had trained this kind of maneuver a thousand times.
The first man in covered the far angle, the next one the opposite side and so on. Within two seconds the team was inside.
“Clear,” said Nora and proceeded to the next room, using the exact same procedure. They continued to clear one room after the next but the ground floor appeared to be completely empty.
Then they heard phaser fire coming from outside.
“We’ve got enemy contacts,” the voice of one of the Marines in Team Two confirmed over the com-unit. “They appear to be withdrawing.”
Nora wanted to head back for the exit but Culsten stopped her short. He pointed upwards where loose debris was now raining down from the ceiling. It was not much more than dust but Nora listened intently. She thought she heard footfalls.
She gestured the team to follow her upstairs.
They quickly climbed the staircase and entered the upper floor.
Most of the walls had already collapsed, turning the second story into a mostly open plan floor. But there were still plenty of places to hide.
Nora gestured her team to spread out and sweep the entire floor.
Moments later Culsten called in. “Over here, Lieutenant.”
The security chief joined him at the west side of the building where he had found three dead bodies and used up medical supplies. “Those two look like government soldiers,” he said, pointing at the black-clad men on the floor. “That one over there is one of the medical technicians from the hospital.”
Nora nodded impatiently. “But where are our people?” she said and then noticed something disturbing on the floor, half buried in the dust.
Culsten’s handset cracked to life. “Fire team Alfa, Command; We have located the Osiris. Two survivors, both injured. Request immediate medical evacuation.”
Moments later the second fire team also reported in. “Charlie, Command; All anti-air installations have been neutralized. Air space is cleared, I say again, air space is cleared.”
“This is Wasco. Alfa, standby for the Chen’tek approaching your position for immediate med-evac. Nora, what’s your status?” the major’s voice said.
The rest of their fire team regrouped around the two Starfleet officers. Their report was discouraging. There was no more sign of the enemy. They had fled.
Nora acknowledged and then knelt down on the dirty floor with an increasingly sickening feeling in her stomach.
“Wasco to Lieutenant Nora, please advise of your status?”
Culsten stepped up to Nora to see what she had uncovered. She picked up something from the floor and placed it into her open palm. A Starfleet and a Border Service combadge.
“Fire team Bravo, please come in.”
Culsten hesitantly reached for the handset. “This is Culsten,” he said, allowing himself to take a breath for the first time since they had started their mad dash across the city. His long silver hair now hung loose and he brushed it out of his sweat-covered face. “We were too late. Doctor Wenera and Lieutenant T’Ser are gone.”
_ _ _ _ _
An ominous portent of things to come. With the Eagle opening fire on the rebels, they'll be less inclined to release Wenera and T'Ser unharmed. Finding them won't be an easy matter.
Good stuff!
Good stuff!
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