LCDR Nolen Hobart — And Mobile You Shall Be
Nolen Hobart
((Cargo Bay A-24, Deck 8, Main Module, Deep Space 33))
It had been a good idea, using the Cargo Bay and its transporters as a muster point and evacuation channel, respectively. It remained a good idea right up until the latter failed and turned the former into a logistical cul-de-sac. He found he didn’t envy battlefield surgeons, and couldn’t fathom how any telepath could do the job. The trauma and panic from those fleeing fighting, the overwhelming pain and terror of those who couldn’t move under their own power. They were lucky, now, that they had only one patient left.
Hobart: Nobody’s getting off the station this way. We’re gonna have to get somewhere else. Load up the Caitian, grab whatever gear you can carry, and let’s figure out where the hell we go now.
He saw on Ensign El’Heem’s face a flashing of various emotions, and he felt them reverberate from his mind. The sour crestfallenness was quickly replaced by a rigid, earthy determination.
El’Heem: ::Turning to Lt. Jacin.:: We’ll need to sedate her. It’s going to be a rough trip, but we have to try.
Nolen approached a flickering panel and brought up a map of the station. There was no way to know how accurate it was. They had spent several hours feeling the reverberations of explosions, always wondering whether the next one would be the one that sent them into space. The map didn’t show who held which sections, and from the distant sound of weapons fire, it was anyone’s guess. The best he could do was pick a direction that sounded good in theory and improvise when it turned out to be terrible.
Jacin / Matthews: Response
El’Heem: She’ll be ready to move shortly sir. Do we know where we’re going? The other evacuation effort…is 20 minutes away. Can we even cross the arboretum now?
Hobart: We either need to treat her or get her out of here. ::pointing at the map:: Transporter room 3 is on this deck, or a small medbay is up one. But that medbay looks like it has one point of entry. Easy to get trapped. We’ll head to the transporter room and hope we can get it working if it isn’t already.
Jacin / Matthews: Response
The Medical Officer nodded, and set to work at making the stretcher easier to carry. Nolen hoped they wouldn’t have to carry it very far, or off of the deck. The Caitian woman was still in pain, and moaning infrequently.
El’Heem: Lieutenant, are you ready?
Hobart: Ensign Matthews, if Jacin’s going to be a stretcher-bearer, I want you armed, and carrying the spare. Soon as we go out those doors, ::gesturing:: we’re liable to run into trouble, and we’re for sure going to need you holding one or the other. Everybody, grab whatever gear you can, we're not coming back.
The pair of marines looked almost like chaperones at this point, but Nolen knew they’d been fighting for hours to keep the bay from being overrun. He wasn’t sure how much charge their weapons still had, and he was certain that the Starfleet officers would be called upon to defend themselves.
Jacin / Matthews: Response
Ensign El’Heem pressed a hypospray to the wounded woman’s neck, and her moans tapered off. With Lieutenant Jacin’s help, the Kressari doctor moved her to the stretcher. While they did so, Lt. Commander Hobart memorized the route they would have to take, and did his best to think out alternatives, should their path be blocked.
Hobart: Everybody ready?
Jacin / Matthews / El’Heem: Response
Nodding, Nolen got behind the two marines, Privates Jones and Bobbart, as they prepared to storm the corridor outside the cargo bay. The group fell into silence, and the doors roared open by comparison, only to reveal a windowless corridor, just as silent.
The marines filtered out, rifles drawn, and Hobart followed, his phaser pistol held tight, supported by both hands.
Hobart: ::whispered:: Three sections up, two sections inboard. And watch your corners.
Jacin / Matthews / El’Heem: Response
They proceeded forward down the slightly curving corridor, hugging the interior wall to provide some modest amount of cover. Bobbart was on point with Jones directly behind, and Hobart third in the stack. They heard little except the occasional muffled thud of an explosion elsewhere in the station, and saw even less. The emotions of the place swirled around Hobart. The rage and fear from throughout and without the station clamored against his mental defenses, and he felt his eye begin to twitch.
And then Bobbart held up a fist, and column halted in its tracks. Hobart heard the indeciferable warble of Tholian communications, and she advanced, slowly and silently. Nolen turned back to look at the other officers with him and held up a finger to his lips to call for silence.
And then they waited. After a time, Bobbart returned, stalking just as carefully and silently as she had left. The officers gathered.
Bobbart: Forty meters up, two Tholians. Armored.
Jones: Only two? You're sure?
Bobbart: ::shaking head:: T-intersection. Could be more, but that's all I saw.
Hobart: Grenades, then rush.
Jones: Don't see any other option, unless we turn back.
Jacin / Matthews / El’Heem: Response
Nolen looked at the Caitian, sedated and set down a couple meters back.
Hobart: ::pointing to Jacin and El’Heem:: Stay with her, and stay hidden until it's clear. Matthews, leave the stretcher and whatever else you grabbed from the cargo bay. Weapons only.
Jacin / Matthews / El’Heem: Response
Tags/TBC
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Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart
Executive Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240001NH3