Ensign Jovenan – This is not how it should end...
Jovenan
((Holodeck 3, Deck 222, Deep Space 224))
Jovenan: ::to herself and patient:: Just ::breathing hard:: a little more…
Jones: ::from behind Jovenan:: You've got this, Jo.
The beating of her and the patient’s hearts. The heavy breathing. The loud, deep humming of escape pods, nurturing life that could flee from this majestic yet dying giant, whirling to the cold, unforgiving space. Other noises faded away. She could hear the others talking, but none of it registered anymore.
Adea: How far is it?
Yalu: Just a few metres more.
Those words meant nothing to her anymore. Every new step hurt, and her breathing became difficult. She had a goal, but she didn’t think of it anymore. The finish line was somewhere, but it didn’t matter, where, or why. It just was.
This is just a simulation. You can do it.
This is just a simulation. You can…
This is…
And then, she fell.
Jovenan didn’t know if it had been her or the young female officer with a bloody leg she had been helping. Either of them had stumbled and collapsed to the floor and taken the other with her. Jovenan’s knee hit the deck, and then her elbows did the same. Next to her, the other woman was lying and crying out of sudden pain to her severely injured leg. Jovenan tried to understand if she should stand up, when she was hit to her back. Ensign Jones had been walking behind her, so close to her that he hadn’t had a chance to react and slow down when Jovenan had tumbled.
There were mere seconds left. Jovenan was confused and laid still. Her brain was foggy.
Jones: Doc, pull him into the pod and get the sequence started.
She didn’t know who he was talking to, or about what. A few seconds later, she felt her arm being pulled. Not only did Jones pull her up from the ground, but he also brought her back from the clouds. They had to get out of here! Jones supported Jovenan as they tumbled through the hatch into the pod. Weakened, she fell down onto the pod floor.
Computer: =/\= Hull breach imminent =/\=
No! Not yet, her patient is still there!
The pod door closed and sealed with a loud click. Jovenan turned and planted her hands against the viewport of the pod, beating it with her arms and shouting something incomprehensive. Her voice, if it even reached back to the corridor, was muffled and her pleas inaudible to the woman she had supported out of the sickbay. The woman, on the other hand, was entirely silent. Jovenan could see her pale, terrified yet motionless face through the glass, mirroring back her own, terrified face. She saw the terror in the woman’s eyes as the pod released, leaving her forever await her rescuers to return to her and pull her to the pod that had laid just a few metres away from her but that was now distances away and was moving away. Jovenan was still shouting something to the thick glass as the bright flash engulfed her vision.
Failure.
She cried. She had tried to help one person and she had failed her. She had been so close to making it to the pod with her, so close to success. She had failed, and there was no return. The other woman had been out and didn’t get another chance. No matter how close you come to success, if you’re out in the end, there’s no other try. And she cried ugly.
There was a knock.
Yalu: =/\= Computer, end simulation. =/\=
The pod disappeared, and Jovenan found herself on the holodeck floor. Holodeck 3, Deck 222, Deep Space 224. The very same place she had been the entire time. There was no longer the Galaxy class ship nor the dead, cold space. Just the holodeck.
She stood up and tried to get a hold of herself. It had been a simulation. You did it. It didn’t feel like it. The woman hadn’t died. She had never existed, she was a simulation, programmed by the ops officer in front of her. She had to convince herself of that. It had been a simulation. It didn’t feel like it. She could still see the woman’s dreadful eyes looking at her, pleading for her to come back. It. Wasn’t. Real.
Yalu: Congratulations, everyone. You’ve completed Evacuation Training Simulation 41-Alpha. Your department chief and executive officer will receive an abstract of your results once the evaluation is complete. Does anyone have any questions?
It didn’t feel like a success. This is not how it should end for anyone. Rationally, she understood that sometimes it was necessary to leave people behind and this drill, in addition to trying to teach them to operate in emergency situations, taught them just that. But she also felt she had failed. She hadn’t failed in the sense that she had tried her best and, in the end, was still alive, from the simulation’s perspective. But she knew she had been weak. She failed, because she had been mentally weak, as she had panicked and lost the control of her body. She failed, because she had been physically weak, as she couldn’t carry the woman to the safety. She was emotionally weak, because she could not take the loss of a fictional woman, for God’s sake!
Jovenan: No, sir.
Jones: response (if desired)
Yalu: Hopefully, you’ll never need to evacuate a ship under such extreme conditions. However, emergency exercises like these do remind us that the biggest test is often inside our minds. You’ve all performed your duties admirably under adverse circumstances.
She didn’t feel admirable. She tried to convince herself to let it go. It wasn’t real.
Jones: response (if desired)
Yalu: You’re all free to go. Enjoy your time on DS224. I hope to see you all again soon.
Still wiping out her tears, she left. It wasn’t real.
TAG/End for Jovenan
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Ensign Jovenan
Science officer
USS Excalibur-A
E239911J11