Lt. Commander Doz Finch - Heads or Tails (Part I)
Doz Finch
((The Underbelly, Tanglewoods, Gateside Dimension))
With a bit of a whistle, she sent the flare flying into the air, its chemical trail hissing in a brilliant, blinding white. All she could do now was wait there, as although the waters had calmed down a touch since the initial impact, the current still seemed to flow in a specific direction, adamant to take everything and anything along with it.
Finch: I’ve sent it out! You should be able to see it from wherever you are. It’s as bright as a lighthouse. Brighter yet.
Neathler: Ok, we’re coming your way, Doz.
Espinoza: I really can’t see the flare. Can you describe anythin’ else, Commander? Anything at all?
Finch: It’s deeper where I am. There’s very little to—
Whiplash.
Something yanked at her ankle.
And then again.
And then again.
Neathler: Any sign of the flare?
Espinoza: None. It must have shifted. The right tunnel looks deeper, but… it’s hard to tell with this light.
As the other two communicated and coordinated, Doz rotated quietly in the water, her breath catching as if caught in barbed wire. There were things moving around her, circling her body, soaring and whipping at speeds that meant she could barely make heads or tails of what they were, just that at the very least they did have heads and tails.
Neathler: I’ve got… ::Then another life sign popped up and another and another. With a gloved hand, dripping from the water, she struggled to change a few settings on her tricorder. After a few attempts it finally worked.:: There’s other life signs there, not all humanoid. ::She looked at Ethan.:: We need to hurry.
Espinoza: Hang tight to the wall. I’ll take right, you take left. We’ll let the current take us. We should be able to slow ourselves usin’ the vines if we need to. Keep up, buddy. ::he muttered with a pat to Atlas’ frame::
Something slapped at the Chief Engineer's leg this time, causing her to twist around quickly. Then came another slap from the direction she’d been facing before that, and another, and several more from all over. A small sound left her mouth as she realised what was going on.
Espinoza: I think I see the flare, Commander! Further ahead!
Neathler: Response
The whiplash came again, but this time with all of the strength and persistence of several ship anchors pulling her down at once. Dragged by an unforgiving tightness, the movement was so sharp and so horribly disorientating, she could barely figure out if she was already dead, and by god it was surely the better option than whatever was about to happen.
Tiny bubbles rushed across the front of her helmet as she struggled there, somewhere deep underwater, in a cyclone of shiny red and glowing cerulean, being slapped and pulled in quick succession.
She looked left, then right, then left, then right again, until the image came into focus, though she rather wished it never had. Several leathery-red creatures with sharp and warped teeth, long claws, prickly flowing ears, and seemingly never-ending tails feathered with blue flowering spikes, had her in an eddy. Their bodies, a wild pattern of pulsing bioluminescence, as if they hadn’t been born down there but had merely adapted to it over time.
Time.
She didn’t have enough of it — and yet, for god’s sake! she had far too much of it.
Why had she seen Murphy?
She was hallucinating, that’s why. The Gateside dimension was capable of doing that, and far more in fact. Some of their people had heard voices, and her own team had witnessed some nightmarish things in the lab complex.
Yet, she couldn’t shake it. His face. The perfection of his appearance. Just as he was when he'd died.
The gate. He’d opened a gate on the Marigold. Or something like it. A device. A device that had ripped something open in main engineering. Just like the one in Gibaria Outpost.
((Flashback: Some Years Ago, USS Marigold))
Computer: =/\= This is an evacuation alert. Please remain calm and begin evacuation protocols. Leave all personal items behind and proceed in an orderly fashion to your nearest escape pod locations. =/\=
With a guttural cry she slammed her fist against the access panel one more time, and through some version of a miracle, the doors opened. The maintenance engineer flew inside and immediately stumbled forwards onto her hands and knees with a grunt, head whipping up to the sight of the swirling vortex again.
It hovered there above the control station of the warp core dominating the room, pulling equipment towards it like a magnet, hinges snapping, bolts popping, heat surging. Her best friend stood below it transfixed, hands gripped to the alien device, hypnotized and unable…or unwilling? To move.
Then a sound…no, not a sound, a voice? Surely not…how could it have been? Yet it was! It was. It was a voice. A voice from the whirlpool beyond. Beckoning him to go forward. To join it. This way, Murphy. Don’t turn around. Come this way.
There was no getting through to him.
Norström: There’s a voice. It’s so familiar. It’s calling to me.
Finch: Murph! Engineering’s getting torn to shreds so we’re ejecting the core. Listen to me! We need to go!
He turned around to face her, and his eyes…oh my goodness, how they were so different. Cloudy, like milk in water. She forced herself onto her feet again, the powerful energy field emanating from the hovering swirl incredibly hard to fight against. More stations sparked and burst out from their units, flames erupting in different corners, and the klaxon still blared its warning speech amongst the chaos like the chirp of a bird in a busy factory.
The voice: …do it …hold on…with me.
Norström: I am. I…I will.
Bolts of energy struck the framework of the room, as metals and steels bent with a deafening screech. Then, like a set of talons from above, two hands squeezed at Doz Finch’s shoulders and lugged her across the surface away from the most important person in her life, back out into the corridor with a heavy thump. She could barely utter a protest as the woman clad in crimson heaved her onto her boots.
It was Gepe Grasa.
Grasa: Leave him, Finch, and evacuate. That’s an order.
((Presently: The Underbelly, Tanglewoods, Gateside Dimension))
Adrenaline kicked in as would a hot steaming brew in the highways of her veins, and the old woman tore her phaser from her belt, its shell heavier in the water. It took a second or two, but with a scratchy expletive and some poor aiming, a bright warning shot flew out of the thing in a plume of fizz. The creatures vibrated violently, dispersed and whizzed in all directions in response to it, their warbles more like muffled, watery echoes in the murk.
TBC