Lt JG Quentin Beck - Suck It, Trebek
Quentin Beck
((Turbolift 1, Between Deck 6 and 7, USS Ronin))
Beck: =/\= Ian and I are stuck between decks in the turbolift pod we took from the Bridge. We just got back power but I had to MacGuyver a way to reach out to you guys. Could we get a little help here? =/\=
Tucker: =/\= You’re what now ? =/\=
Quentin would have laughed at the sheer incredulousness behind Marty's question on any other day. Hell, he would have right then if it wasn't for what Kirsty said immediately following.
Carpenter: =/\= Captain just started general evacuation protocols. Our warp core is fracturing. But you sit tight, Q. We'll get you out. =/\=
There was a beat of confused silence as the Doctor's brain tried to process the short but very important update that was loaded as hell. His eyes blinked rapidly a few times before he glared down at the badge in his hand.
Beck: =/\= . . . did you just say abandon ship??? What the hell are you doing up there? =/\=
Tucker: =/\= You heard right, buddy, I’m working on trying to get your turbolift going again. And to answer your question, I'm not sure what’s on the Captain's mind. =/\=
Quentin noticed Ian propping himself back up again and he let out a soft sigh of relief, glad to know he wasn't going to have to break the news to the helmsman - though he wasn't entirely sure how long they had, he could only assume it was only long enough by a hair.
Noticing the look of discomfort, he let the combadge hang from the wall for a moment and turned to the medkit, fishing out the hypospray and adjusting the dosage a little.
O’Connor: All right, actually it’s not as bad as it seems. ::gestures around:: We’re already in a pod…we just need to figure out a way to make it escape. But if Tuck can get us up and running… Even better.
Beck: ::shaking his head with a snort:: What, we figure out a way to pressurize this thing and launch it out of the turboshaft like a damned torpedo?
He paused for a moment as he considered the idea, his furrowed brow smoothing out briefly before raising in amusement.
Beck: That… might actually work, assuming we don't run out of air very quickly. I'd probably apply a low level sedative to the both of us, slow down our heart rates to slow our breathing. Someone would have to save us pretty quick, though.
The turbo lift suddenly jerked. There was a prolonged scraping noise but it wasn’t too long until the doors opened to a deserted hallway.
Beck: I swear, Marty is seriously magic sometimes.
Before helping Ian stand, Quentin pressed the hypo to his shoulder to give him another low dose of pain killer - it wouldn't be enough to stop the pain entirely, but at least dull it so Ian could function while they got around.
Slipping the hypo back into the kit, he closed it and tucked it underneath his arm before using the other to hook underneath Ian's armpit and around his back so he could haul him up from the floor. They stepped out of the turbolift and shambled down the seemingly abandoned corridor, EPS conduits occasionally sputtering on either side and above them, but the sparks were mostly harmless.
O’Connor: Wait, hold on…this is Deck 11… shuttle repair bay is right around that corner. The Sagan was supposed to be in for routine maintenance. It should still be flightworthy, and we can be a lot more helpful in a shuttle than an escape pod.
Quentin paused as they reached the junction in the corridor O'Connor had mentioned, eyes drawn towards the shuttle repair bay, which was definitely the opposite direction of the escape pods. Should still be flightworthy wasn't the most reassuring modifier, but they'd be just as dead in an escape pod as they would in a flightless shuttle, when it came down to it. This would give them more of a fighting chance.
Beck: Okay, pal, you think you're in good enough condition to fly us out of here, then let's do it.
Pivoting towards the repair bay, his grip tightened around Ian's middle as the ship lurched slightly, obviously still moving; the other good thing about loading into the shuttle was they might be able to see what was actually happening now. He was getting a little tired of being so clueless of what they were flying into.
The doors parted and they entered to find the bay as empty as the rest of the deck, but Ian had been correct - the Carl Sagan was sitting right in the middle of the room and apart from a few open panels, it looked like the routine maintenance had been completed.
O’Connor: We’re in luck. Well…our present personal physical conditions notwithstanding anyway.
Beck: ::grinning:: There's a saying where I come from, you may have heard it - don't look a gift horse in the mouth. ::nodding at the shuttle:: Consider that our gift horse.
Quentin helped Ian to the pilot's seat and Ian slipped into it gingerly, hands already passing over the primary console to power up the shuttle. He was impressed at how easy the helm officer made it look despite several inches of bridge railing sticking out of his abdomen.
O’Connor: You keep me conscious, and I’ll keep us from getting blown to pieces out there.
He nodded and slid into the secondary seat, turning so he could lay out the medkit again on an empty space and loading up the hypospray again. They didn't need it yet, but it seemed likely they would before the day was through.
Beck: Easy peasy. I'm not much of a pilot, but I can work on covering the rest of the ship's systems so you can keep us moving.
The lift brought them up to decks to the shuttle bay and the Sagan slipped out just as the doors slid open, smooth as butter; O'Connor arced them around so they could get a better look at the Ronin's exterior, and boy had she seen better days. She still had some fight in her, though, that much was obvious - while the lights flickered in the port nacelle, the starboard burned brightly and she was able to move under her own power. That was something.
Still… Kirsty had mentioned the warp core fracturing. Being a Doctor, he knew better than most that sometimes the exterior didn't really reflect the severity of the ongoing interior issues; the warp core was, in many ways, the heart of the Ronin, but rather than simply stopping altogether, if the core breached it'd be a lot closer to someone shoving a hand grenade into their rib cage. Explosive wasn't even the proper word for the devastation. He looked at Ian, frowning, and thought maybe the Orion was thinking similar thoughts.
Beck: Could be worse. Could be–
Before he could finish that thought and doom them to whatever the hell he had been about to say, Niac's voice boomed through the comm and made him wince.
Niac: =/\= Ronin to Sagan, what the hell do you think you're doing?! =/\=
He shot a look at Ian before grimacing and using his thumb to open the comm.
Beck: =/\= Oh, we thought we'd just take the Sagan out for a little spin, sir. Get some fresh air before the warp core breach. =/\=
O'Connor: =/\= Response =/\=
He was a little disappointed he couldn't see the Captain's face, as he was quite certain Niac's ulcer would be acting up with the string of curses he had to be keeping tamped down and his face would have turned quite red.
Niac: =/\= That is not what I had in mind when I issued that order, Lieutenant! Wait one. =/\=
Letting out a sigh, Quentin looked at Ian again before pressing the 'mute' key, then raising his hand to scratch the center of his scalp with all four fingers.
Beck: Geez, you'd think he'd be impressed with our initiative.
O'Connor: Response
Turning his attention back to the console, he tucked the stump of his right wrist into his lap to keep the stupid thing out of the way while his left hand worked the controls. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth, pressing against the upper left corner of his lips.
Beck: I'm reading a handful of fighters coming our way - three Alliance and two of ours. Looks like they're trying to cover us, but they're having some trouble.
O'Connor: Response
Grimacing a little, his nose wrinkled.
Beck: I'll do what I can, but no promises - I only scored slightly better firing ship's weapons than using hand phasers and I don't know if you know this but I have lost pretty much every fight I've been forced to engage in since being posted here.
O'Connor: Response
Chuckling and narrowing his eyes at the sensor grid, he hovered his hand over the firing stud, tongue pressing to the corner of his mouth again. The fighters were moving damned fast, fast enough he wasn't sure he could hit one anyway… but he trusted his gut.
Beck: Swallow this.
His fingers descended.
The Sagan's primary phaser emitter whirred to life, a crimson lance spearing out through the blackness and boring through the shields of the closest fighter, followed immediately by a small cluster of microtorpedos he'd launched simultaneously. One of their fighters happened to fire their phasers at the exact same moment, and that was enough to overload the Alliance fighter's shields. It exploded a moment later, scattering debris, though the other two fighters managed to avoid being damaged in the explosion.
Quentin whooped and jumped out of his chair, cackling like a madman.
O'Connor: Response
Tags/TBC!
Lieutenant JG Quentin Beck
Acting Chief Medical Officer
USS Ronin NCC-34523
A238810SA0