Ensign Imril - That Long Walk Towards Oblivion's Door
Chris Taylor
(( Holodeck 3, Deck 222, DS 224 ))
(OOC: Apologies for Imril not also noting Ensign Cole as a new face. I mistakenly thought they’d met somewhere amid the Galaris mission briefs.)
Imril: =/\=If we don't seal this part of the grid off or even better shunt the power somewhere else, we won't make it to Main Engineering. Because this half of the deck will tear itself apart and us with it. ::Moving towards the nearest viable control panel:: I say we divert the plasma to the impulse engines. The boost of speed will kick the ship clearer of an exploding ejected warp core. If it comes to that. =/\=
The resulting burst of energy could work, it would likely result in a massive need for a refit, but alive is better the rendered a radioactive cloud.
Bergmen: =/\= Do it, now. Cole, check the corridor ahead for possible obstructions or casualties. Wait for us at the next intersection. We will follow you as soon as we are done with the transfer. =/\=
Cole: =/\= I’ll clear the way. =/\=
Bergmen: =/\= How much additional plasma do we need to transfer? =/\=
Imril’s hands flew across the panel as they spoke.
Imril: =/\= All of it would be nice. I’d settle for seventy percent; what’s left of this conduit could handle the rest and these suits should keep us safe from the remaining residual heat. =/\=
But safe wasn’t the same as comfortable. The ‘residual heat’ would be boiling hot from the perspective of three humanoids.
The shunting couldn’t be completed from the console alone; the explosion of the wall had done too much damage to the conduit infrastructure. Imril crossed a corner to look for a manual junction reroute lever. The metal of the handle was warm to their touch even through the suit’s insulated gloves. Three upward cranks provided the torque needed for full rotation of the necessary system. The last crank was echoed by a number of rumbles.
Imril: =/\= I hope that’s Ensign Cole busting us a way forward and not another piece of the ship coming apart. =/\=
They ran back to the console to complete the shunting, and found it covered in red system override alerts and enough text to know that their progress had been reversed from some other location.
Imril: =/\=What the--?=/\=
Bergmen: =/\= We are being overridden from the bridge. They are transferring the remaining plasma to the nacelle's warp coils and venting it out. ::pause:: Let’s go, Ensign. We need to catch up with Cole and continue to Engineering. =/\=
Imril didn't waste a second on events they couldn't control nor had time to acquire further information on. They instead charged into what they could still do; get to Main Engineering and do what they could there.
Imril: =/\= Nacelles are good, too. Faster venting, but slower ship. =/\=
As Bergmen and Imril made their way down the hallway she made eye contact with the Lieutenant, whose face Imril couldn't see. She smiled and maneuvered her side in a way that any engineer knew at a glace; she was covering a tear in her safety gear. Choosing to carry on with the mission rather than be carried out. A noble act, even in a simulation.;
Bergmen: =/\= Report, Ensign Cole. Is our route to Engineering clear? =/\=
Cole: =/\= Fires are out, just cleared the path. =/\= ::gesturing towards the unobstructed hole::
Imril: =/\= Thank you, Ensign. =/\=
Imril stepped into the hole, once more raising their tricorder.
Bergmen: response
Cole: =/\= Lieutenant, every one of us knows the risk. Especially those in Security, we position ourselves to not just be a weapon to be used, but also a Shield. That is the mission. =/\=
Technically, this day’s mission was to learn and to not repeat any mistakes made next time, when lives might really be on the line. And Imril had just made one, by jumping to the conclusion of ejecting the warp core. Their plan to move the plasma to impulse engines -- and the leftover heat it would have filled the corridor with -- would have savaged Cole’s unprotected arm. Crippling her at best, putting her into shock at worst. Some imaginary person on the bridge had 'saved' her life.
She was still headed for bad times from the coolant and radiation, though.
Cole knelt down and proceeded beyond the barrier towards main engineering.
Imril: =/\= The plasma’s almost vented. Heat’s not our problem now. Rads are. =/\=
They spared a look back at Cole after saying the last. This wasn’t the first drill where they’d seen someone damage a protective suit at exactly the wrong place and time and keep going. Nor would it be the last. It had happened to themself once or twice. And each time, they found themself asking themself if they could really go through with it. March onward into certain death to save the ship. Save everyone else, but not yourself. If it ever came to that, would they waste any time asking that question all over again? Or just get to work? Let the training take over and make the sacrifice without comment or cowardice? Would they crack a final joke? Try to say something profound? Say nothing at all?
What would they do?
There was no knowing, for certain, until that moment, that choice, came for real.
Bergmen/Cole: Response
The words of the others were incomplete, consumed by static.
Imril: =/\= I’m having trouble hearing you. Comms are failing. =/\=
They turned to the other two. Tapped at the area of their chest where their combadge was located beneath the suit and shook their head. Wordlessly signaling that their communications capacity was compromised.
Bergmen/Cole: Response
More bodies lay between the trio and their target, all very much dead. A twisted tableau illustrating the fates that awaited everyone aboard -- maybe even those in the escape pods -- if one or the other team could not resolve this situation. With their scans a guide, Imril led the others along the safest path to Main Engineering.
But even the safest way was not a clear one. The corridors narrowed significantly in places. Not out of any design on the part of Starfleet Engineering, but due to more of the walls suffering damage from the now-resolved plasma rampage. Jagged debris stabbed out from them, in some places so thickly that the team was obliged to walk single-file and quote carefully. Eating precious minutes. Seconds counted by Imril as they scooched between free-standing blades.
Beyond these obstacles, the team found the last thing barring them from Main Engineering. The blast door was covered in crystals of ice from the coolant that had blown against it from the other side. The floor was covered in small puddles of melted water that had once been part of the air.
Bergmen/Cole: Response
Imril: =/\= Manual door release. That way. =/\=
How much could the other officers hear of their words? To make sure they got the instruction, Imril pointed the others to a labeled niche in one of the walls. Then made their way to a similar spot on the other side. The walls here were thankfully undamaged, well out of the way of the plasma conduits which were set closer to the warp core. Accessing the release crank was as easy as opening a small unlocked hatch.
Imril: =/\= If we synchronize, it will go faster. On my mark. Three. Two. One. Go! =/\=
Imril pumped their hands in the air to visually announce the countdown, and then started cranking.
The water on the floor shuddered and disappeared, drained into the impression beneath the door. The door’s lip came into view, staggering upwards in stingy gasps of motion.
Bergmen/Cole: Response
TAG/TBC
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Ensign Imril
Engineering Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240110I12