Commander Dal - Desperately Moving Forward
Jamie LeBlanc
(OOC – I added in Dunamis’ dialogue from before the missed tags/conflicting sims part of the scene. I also sewed all tags together that are currently in the bridge scene to get everything tidy. I answered Arys so she has something to sim off of, but tried to leave the rest of the scene open so the other characters can add their action and clean up ideas to the plot)
((Bridge – USS Rahuba.))
The last audible thing on the commline was a promise of assistance.
=/\= Commander we’re on our way. =/\=
Assistance they desperately needed.
Maxwell: Y'zyr!
Y’zyr: ?
Despite his bulk, Osben got up shockingly fast. Ishreth couldn’t imagine the muscles that propelled the form. Probably enhanced by steroids and other illicit drugs.
Osben: I said die!
Dune: ::muttering to himself while firing:: He doesn’t quite shut up about that, does he.
No, he most certainly did not.
Weapons fire danced around the bridge. Ishreth who had a phaser pulled to neutralize Osben in the hopes of keeping him alive for questioning now found himself weaponless. It had been knocked out of his hand in the bomb blast. Maybe he had dropped it. He was flung backwards in the shockwave and both were equally likely. The reasoning didn’t matter, it wasn’t in his hand.
His blades were. They were specifically designed to stay in the hand through ice, snow and avalanches. They had a looped handle that kept them stable.
Maybe he was stupid for bringing knives to a gun fight, but that was the only weapon he had right now. And with Osben barreling down on him, pointing that disruptor straight towards his head, he was using what he had – speed and twinned blades – to close the gap and knock the weapon away.
It was a desperate stop-gap measure. He could not win against the mountain of a man with more people and more firepower. Osben knew it and for Ishreth’s audacity to not simply lay down and die he punished the Andorian with a viciously might blow to the chest with a meaty steroid-enhanced knee. Osben cackled hearing bones crunch and a sickly wheeze of air as the Andorian tried to roll away to mitigate the damage.
Y’zyr: ?
Maxwell: Ishreth, watch out!
Despite the beating Osben was taking, he still had his weapon and he was still determined to kill. Ishreth was a tempting target. Now slowed from the damage to his chest, partially blinded, partially deafened, and certainly an alien that needed to die, Osben cackled in glee finding his quarry in the dim bridge red alert lights and levelling his weapon once again.
Y’zyr: ?
Osben: I hate you. ::he hissed, bruised, bleeding and not caring.::
Ishreth’s soft voice was cutting, almost insulting. The slight wheeze from broken ribs didn’t help.
Dal: The feeling is mutual.
A standoff, soldiers staring down Starfleet officers. A dying Trampis Osben was bound and determined to bring everyone down with him.
And for a moment there was silence.
A single beam of orange disruptor fire lanced across the bridge and hit Trampis Osben straight between the eyes. His expression was frozen in the stupidest expression of surprise as the energy started burning into his brain.
Zel: We hate you too.
The little hybrid, tasked with flying the ship was not about to die today. He had survived through so many other stupider, more deadly situations. No one watched the little scrap who had done nothing but sat at his console and fly the ship. No one cared when he ducked and covered from the bombs.
He didn’t care who landed the death blow to the stunned Osben. He had stopped him from killing someone.
Y’zyr: ?
Dune: We owe you, friend. ::coughing::
The scene was directly from a horror movie as the crew from the Asta beamed onto the bridge. Trampis Osben, taken down. The bridge splattered with gore and scorch marks from his living booby traps. Injured Starfleet crew. Soldiers still fighting to their last breath, determined to kill before dying.
The intruders who were still left were bound and determined to die fighting, unwilling to surrender. The sheer numbers had worn the bridge crew down to ragged exhaustion.
Amaase: This looks bad. ::she swallowed:: This will be some clean up job. Major, am I okay to go and see what need fixing and check on the engines?
Tatash/Kasun/Taelon: ?
With backup here to prevent the last insane intruders from swarming onto the bridge Ishreth finally allowed himself to relax slightly, focusing on taking steady breaths. There was a sharp pain in one side and with the wheezing feeling in his breath he was more than a little concerned about moving.
He slowly sank alongside the chair, finding an uncomfortable half-lean between the console and the command chair staying as still as possible.
His voice remained calm, like a port in a terrible storm. He would worry about his emotions later. Too much noble training had hammered into him control and the ability to compartmentalize thoughts of failure and pain until they could be processed. This wasn’t the first time he had done it and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Dal: Casualty report?
Maxwell: Two dead, nine wounded. Reports still coming in, captain.
Not good, and from the commline call Dunamis had made earlier there were more.
Dune: I will check, sir.
Y’zyr/Tatash/Taelon/Kasun:?
He could hear the shriek from the corridor, but couldn’t muster the strength to pull himself up and investigate. He knew enough about field triage to know that the injury he felt in his chest meant he should move as little as possible until it was tended. The last thing he needed was to burden the medical staff even more than they were already burdened by giving himself a collapsed lung through his own stupidity. That was unacceptable risk.
So all he could do was listen.
Amaase: Hello? ::she called out:: Who's there?
Maxwell: Stay put, Ensign. There’s two ae them out here.
Y’zyr/Dunamis: ?
Tatash/Taelon/Kasun:?
Amaase: Is there anything I can do to help? ::she looked at them concerned::
Y’zyr/Dunamis: ?
Maxwell: Captain, there are two ae them ou-
Commander Maxwell fell sharply silent as a scream cut him off followed by phaser blasts. It was startling enough that Ishreth moved on protective instinct, pulling himself up, antennae curled forward.
He immediately regretted it.
Clenching his teeth, and screwing his eyes shut, he forced himself to trust Major Tatash and Commander Kasun to neutralize the threat. He forced himself to stay put.
He could move forward. He knew how to bite down the pain and move. But he also knew if he did that, he would damage himself more. And again, that was stupid. The medical staff had enough on their hands without him making his current injuries worse by playing hero.
Trust the crew. That was one thing he had learned from Commodore Taybrim. He had to trust his crew.
Tatash/Taelon/Kasun:?
Dal: The outcome?
The question was breathy and rasped, but he stayed put, looking towards the help that had arrived from the Asta as well as Y’zyr, Dunamis and Maxwell.
Y’zyr/Dunamis: ?
Tatash/Taelon/Kasun/Amaase:?
Dal: Please, gather the injured who can be moved close to the bridge so it is easier for medical to do triage. The ones who cannot be moved tag with a transponder for medical transport.
The bridge was a nasty gore-filled arena, but it was the only place where they had enough room for medical to maneuver. He knew enough about medical triage to be able to at least make medical’s life easier.
Y’zyr/Dunamis: ?
Tatash/Taelon/Kasun/Amaase:?
((OOC – here is where I am soft-splitting the groups. If you are injured stay on the bridge, if you are cleaning up and gathering injured, you can split off.:
Commander Maxwell said nothing. He had already heard the strained tone in Ishreth’s soft voice, crossing the gore-stained bridge to offer the Andorian some support. Meanwhile, as they took stock of the casualties, Ishreth put a call through to Sickbay.
Dal: =/\= Bridge to Sickbay. Doctor, are you alright? =/\=
Always ask if the doctor was alright, first. Always.
Trovek: =/\= We’re good. Are there still intruders on board? =/\=
Keen Andorian hearing picked up the stress in the newly assigned doctor’s tone. That noble battle for composure. He could empathize, especially if she had seen some of the horrible injuries inflicted by these intruders. Ishreth’s own voice was notably soft and gentle. He had that slight lisping accent of certain high clans of Andor, peculiar and noble.
It almost covered the rasp from broken ribs. Almost.
Dal: =/\= Security confirms the intruders have been contained. =/\=
He coughed a little which almost turned into a coughing fit. He forced that down with a slow deep breath. Contained was a joke. They were dead. All thirty-nine intruders were dead, every last one. Seven had bombs planted inside of them, sixteen were killed by weapons fire, four were killed in hand-to-hand combat.
And twelve committed suicide rather than surrender or be captured. Even when the security officers rushed to prevent it, they weren’t fast enough.
He had never seen a group so eager to kill and to die as Terra Prime. It was an utter and total disregard for life, and it made Ishreth sick.
Dal: =/\= What is the situation in sickbay? =/\=
Commodore Taybrim had prepared the Rahuba for a fight assigning eighteen medical personnel and making sure three of its as-needed labs and bays were fitted for medical overflow. It was one of the benefits of having support vessels to a Starbase – much of the deep space living area could be removed for more function short distance accommodations including extra medical and science spaces. That should have been enough.
Then again they were never expected to be boarded and to have a hand to hand fight in the hallways and critical areas of the ship.
Trovek: =/\= We are doing okay for now but we’re reaching capacity a lot more quickly than I would like. Four in critical condition, two others who don’t seem to stabilise. How does the bridge look like? =/\=
He paused for a moment and felt his teeth clench. The Cheyenne class has a small sickbay, and even with the extra space, they were reaching capacity. Wounded were coming in from all decks.
Some would have to wait. There was a priority order to such things.
Dal: =/\= We have injured on the bridge.=/\= ::He confirmed in those soft calm tones.::
Trovek: =/\= Is any of them dying? =/\=
That was a good question. He took stock of the bridge in a slow, deliberate once-over.
Dal: =/\= No. We have wounded, and dead. None that require an emergency medical transport. Some that will not make it to sickbay under their own power. =/\=
That was his measure of critical. If an emergency medical transport was needed that was triage red – the most important requiring immediate attention. Everyone else was either to a lesser degree and would have to wait in such situations or dead.
And there were still dead. The entire bridge reeked of death.
He would mourn later.
Trovek: =/\= I’ll be on my way. =/\=
Dal: =/\= It is appreciated. I will send any medically trained marines to assist in sickbay. =/\=
It was the best he could do. They had left trying to prepare for all situations, and ended up not prepared enough. That galled him a little, he favored being prepared. He favored playing it smart, being careful and not taking risks.
And then a stupid pirate pulls an unexpected, unknown, overpowered weapon out that cripples your shields and decides he wants to board. That felt deeply unfair.
Maxwell moved and Ishreth caught on to what was happening as it was happening. A very careful movement from the awkward lean to actually sitting in the command chair. It helped his raspy breathing.
Whether or not he was the best choice to sit in this chair was a question he would talk out with the Commodore later.
Dal: Thanks. ::he breathed.:: How is cleanup going?
Maxwell: ?
(any still on the bridge): ?
Dal: We need to meet back at the rendezvous point to protect and pick up any away teams, and we must stay well out of range of Miranda VII’s weapons.
The Rahuba was in no shape for another fight. Sure, engineering teams could repair the shields and get everything online quickly, but the intruders had focused on the bridge and main engineering. The majority of the wounded and dead were engineers or security officers. That alone crippled their ability to repair and react.
He was done fighting. He wanted very much to safely gather his crew, protect them, and go home.
Maxwell: ?
(any still on the bridge): ?
Yes, what would they do if the away teams were not at the rendezvous point? That was a terrifying question he was currently asking himself.
Dal: As much as I would like to say we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, I am open to suggestions…
Maxwell: ?
(any still on the bridge): ?
The trail of bodies – mostly intruders, but there was at least one valiant security officer, an Andorian female that Ishreth knew fairly well – leading up to the bridge was only a small foreshadowing of what lay ahead.
The scorched and gore spattered bridge, victim of living incendiary bombs, with the mountainous dead man at the top of the bridge and wounded carefully placed around was a tableau of palpable pain.
Commander Dal could not express enough sorrow and apology to Lieutenant Trovek as she entered. What a horrible first meeting. If he had one wish, it would be to erase this memory, to change it. Almost anything would be better. A pit of targ dung, an active volcano, an avalanche. All better than this.
Trovek: ?
Maxwell: ?
(any still on the bridge): ?
Dal: Doctor… ::he trailed off. Thank you felt horribly inappropriate for the scene. An apology felt necessary, but out of place. At the moment all that counted was saving lives. Moving forward.:: How can we help you get people treated?
That was the very best he could do. An inexperienced command officer in a horrible situation, injured and wondering whether it was his own inexperience that caused this level of horror to befall his ship. He had tried to mitigate the damage. Seven was too many. It might be more if the critical could not be stabilized. Far too many.
And all he could do was try to move forward and save who could be saved.
Trovek: ?
Maxwell: ?
(any still on the bridge): ?
~*~
tags/tbc
~*~
Commander Ishreth Dal
Commanding Officer
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0