Left for Dead
Posted on 10 Feb 2012 @ 10:36pm by Commodore Da`nal of the House of Varal & Sascha Oakheart
2,794 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
M8: The Kzinti War!!!!
Location: In and around SB 24
Stardate: 65085.9 - Kzinti War: Day 1
Sascha had been on SB 24 awaiting his transport to Qo'noS to attend a interstellar engineering conference. The Klingon ship that was to take the several of the attendees had arrived and was docked, but the Captain had insistence on getting drunk at the local Klingon tavern and was in the brig drying out after he and some of his crew nearly destroying the place. He doubted the Klingon owner was going to press charges, he was probably glad that he had had some "proper" clientele.
He and the other passengers having decided to pass on the Klingon hospitality had arranged on a runabout and were just waiting on the dock crew to finishing prepping the craft before they could depart. It was while they waited the all hell broke loose.
Massive expositions rocked the station from detonations within the docking bay itself. Only to be followed by red alert klaxons and power losses. Being an engineer he tried to make his way to engineering to assist but suddenly the stations primary power cut out and the call to abandon the station was sounded. Sascha found himself trapped in a turbo lift when the station was rocked like he didn't think was possible and he was slammed into the side of the lift. When he woke nearly a day later in a pool of his own blood his fight for survival began.
:: Current ::
Having watched as the Klingon ship desperately tried to defend itself from multiple Kzinti vessels his heart sank. Not just at the loss but at the realization that he was going to be stuck here for who knew how long. That is if the Kzinti didn't board the station again. He began to turn away but he cast a final glance back at the carnage only to see a new ship warp onto the scene; a Federation starship.
It wasn't long and before one of the Kzinti ships warped out of the area and another was rendered inoperable and began floating away.
With the change in the tide Sascha decided it was now or never. Grabbing his things he tossed it into the pod, climbed in and sealed the hatch. He had been on this wreck of a station ever since the Kzinti had first attacked, destroying everything and killing everyone that had tried to escape. The outside the station was the shattered remain of escape pods and shuttle craft, and after ejecting things went from bad to worse.
The sound of his own breath echoed loudly in the helmet of his EVA-suit, filling his ears and his mind with the dull thrum-hiss of oxygen filling and then being expelled from his lungs. Tension filled his body. He could feel it gripping his chest with a dull aching tightness he was sure would prove to be the end of him, but what choice did he have? He was at the mercy of fate now. He had nothing left. Another check of the small display on the wrist of his EVA-suit confirmed again that he had only hours left to live, less than that if he engaged any kind of powered device on his suit. Not that it would have helped, he had nowhere to power himself to. What would turning on his headlamps do in the middle of the void - no one would see them. He was a man alone, lost to his thoughts, on the long slow train to death.
Doctor Sascha Oakheart closed his eyes behind the visor of his EVA-suit helmet and took another deep breath as he tried to fight off the panic attack that had been threatening to take him since he'd escaped the destruction of SB-24. He'd tried to get into an escape pod, and was successful, but the pod was seriously damaged quickly after launching forcing him to bail out into space with no other protection than the suit covering his body. At least in the pod he could have rigged the systems to recycle his air indefinitely, but with a suit, he had no options. All he could do at this point was linger until by some miracle someone found him or, more likely, his air ran out.
On some level, it struck him as odd. Here, in the middle of space, dying slowly of asphyxiation was not a Starfleet Officer who had risked his life valiantly to save his comrades and his station. It was a Civilian. An Engineer of significant education and experience who had been entertaining the thought of joining Starfleet as a Civilian Engineer. During the wars, Sascha had assisted Starfleet and the Federation in all manner of Engineering research through his resident University back on Earth, but he felt the calling for something different. He had a considerable education and experience, but he felt he needed more on the experience level. More field training so that he could say he truly did have a master of the topics he was interested in. Considering the level of Engineering in play in Starfleet, he felt it was a good place to start. The only catch was he had no desire to be an Officer or Enlisted man, to play the rank and prestige game within the Fleet. His only interest was the research and experience, and if it meant being a leader and follower to the Staff and his Commanding Officer, well he was willing to do at least that much. Of course, he hadn't even been given the chance and was now getting ready to die for Starfleet. At least, that's how he saw it.
Resiting the urge to curl up into a free-floating ball, Sascha let his body go slack and continue it's slow rotation around the inky void. Once again he could feel the tension aching in chest, drifting along his left arm, but this time was different. This time it felt... cold. Curious at the strange change in the sensation, Sascha looked down at his arm as if maybe he could see what was going on in his body through his EVA-suit, realizing the stupidity of it as he moved. But as he looked down, he saw the blue hued glow of a transporter beam engulfing him and no sooner than he could process what was happening, he found himself looking up at the ceiling of an interior space. He just stared in disbelief. Was this what it felt like to die? You hallucinated and then... ended up here, in some sort of... transport?
Sascha vaguely heard the loud footsteps of someone approaching, but they didn't seem to register as he stared at the ceiling, still trying to work it all out. It wasn't until a dark-haired face appeared before his visor, tapping on the glass and waving.
"You ok?" the man asked, reaching for the locks that unsealed the helmet, "You're safe now. Come on, let's get this off." he added, popping the seal with a quick hand.
Oakheart let the man pull the helmet off of him and slowly pushed himself up onto one of his elbows, blinking stupidly in the bright white light of the ship's interior. With slow, deep breaths, he filled his lungs with cold much less frequently recycled air and felt the tension in his body ebbing away slowly. Wherever he was, he was safe - at least for the moment, though he had no idea who his savior was. Looking over, he saw a man in Starfleet Red's smiling back at him. He was a dark-haired man with thick eyebrows and a seriously concerned expression. Sascha's rank recognition was a bit weak, but he seemed to recognize the pips on the man's collar as something towards the lower end of the spectrum. A Lieutenant perhaps, he thought to himself.
"Deep breath's." the man said, gripping Oakheart on the shoulder to keep him upright, "You might have a compression headache, you've been out there a while."
"Where..." Oakheart began, finding his voice was cracking slightly. He took a few more deep breaths and then looked back to the man, "Where am I?" he asked.
"This is the Argonaught. It's just a shuttlecraft. I was on my way to deliver some much needed supplies to the Dama when I spotted you in free float." the man smiled, offering his opposite hand to Oakheart, "CJ DeHavilland." he smiled, "Welcome back."
Sascha took his hand gratefully, "Sascha Oakheart." he replied, "And thank you... thank you."
"Any time." CJ grinned, pushing himself to his feet. He held out his hand again for Oakheart and gently pulled him to his feet. "Do you need anything? Medical attention, or just a little while to get used to being back in the land of the living?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
CJ was at least a head taller than Sacha was, so it left the man looking up at the pilot akwardly. Sascha generally considered himself a relatively tall human being, but this pilot all but dwarfed him. "No. I think I'm ok, physically speaking." Oakheart said, tugging on the latch that undid the ring of the suit around his neck, "Just need a few minutes to get the hell out of this suit. Maybe a glass of water."
Nodding, CJ pointed to the replicator, "I'll leave you to it. If you need me, I'll be up front. We still need to drop these supplies with the Dama. We'll figure out where you're going next after that." he said, turning and heading back up front.
Sascha watched him go, caught somewhere between relieved and even more tense than he had been already. Sure, he'd been rescued, but what the hell had happened on the station? How'd he been forced to jettison and then free float. To say that he'd seen anything more than a few flashes of light as he was frantically trying to save his own life would have been a gross understatement. He quite literally knew nothing. In fact, the only thing her really did know was that he wanted the hell out of this suit. Now.
It took him a few minutes to disrobe the EVA-suit, and he tossed it unceremoniously into a corner of the rear compartment before ordering a large glass of water from the replicator and down in the whole thing in sloppy gulps. He set the empty glass back on the pad and wiped the excess water from his mouth and the front of his shirt, all while leaning with one hand against the bulkhead before it. It felt good to be alive. To not be in that suit anymore and to be standing up on solid ground, relatively speaking. He felt childish standing there taking deep gulps of clean air, but he knew he needed it, mind and body. It took a few minutes, but he finally pushed away from the bulkhead and made his way to the front of the shuttle to find CJ and see where they were going next.
Oakheart stepped through to the forward compartment to find himself in the cockpit of a type-11 shuttle. He knew the variety on sight as he'd helped to develop some of the engine modifications Starfleet put in place during the wars. Ahead, at the left hand CoNN station, CJ was busy manipulating their flight path and only vaguely noticed him approaching. Sascha caught the man's face in the reflection of the glass in front of him and he smiled.
"Feeling better?" CJ asked, tapping his fingers methodically on the terminal. The Argonaught responded and banked to the right, bringing the sweeping form of a vessel into view. Sascha lifted an eyebrow in surprise as he dropped into the CoNN station on CJ's right.
"Isn't that... a Klingon ship?" he asked.
CJ nodded, "The Dama." he replied, "Don't worry, she's on our side. I'd give you all the details, but I'll be damned if I understand exactly what's going on with the ship. All I know is that she's on our side. My skipper ordered me out here to drop these goods and then I'm hightailing it back to the Achilles before the Klingon's change their mind." he joked, though Sacha didn't think it was really that funny.
"Right." Oakheart said, feeling that same tension from before blossoming in his chest. He stared down at the blank terminal in front of him and then slowly reached out to touch it, engaging it to the master screen. He selected the Engineering functions and let a dim feeling of comfort wash over him as the engineering specifications and readings began to play on the screen.
"No rank, no uniform, but you know Engineering?" CJ asked, flicking an eye briefly over towards him.
Sascha nodded, "Engineering is my game." he said, again lifting an eyebrow in surprise. "Warp field act funny on the way out here?" he asked, manipulating the panel studiously.
"Yeah..." CJ replied, "Had to keep it under Warp five to keep it from shaking loose... why?" he asked, looking over at him seriously. He had figured there was a maintenance issue with the shuttle to be certain. The Argonaught was one of the lesser used of the Achilles compliment but it was the only one that the shuttle manager would clear him to take. He hadn't cared at first, but as he saw how the Warp field was manifesting, he had gotten angry with the guy for showing that kind of favoritism to the senior staff when he needed a functioning vessel per the Captain's orders.
"Whoever configured your power core didn't match the frequency of the deflector dish." Sascha said, shaking his head, glancing over at Sascha, "So at a high power setting you wouldn't be able to establish a solid field." he added, turning back to the terminal and moving his hands across it, "I'll fix it though. We'll be able to make Warp six all the way back."
"Just like that?" CJ asked, shaking his head. "No major fix, just a configuration issue?"
"Just like that." Oakheart replied, "You'd be surprised what your Fleet Engineer's don't know that they don't know." he chuckled, again glancing over.
"Fleet Engineer's, so you aren't in Starfleet." CJ clarified, smiling at himself that he was right in his judgement of the man at first sight.
"No. I just joined Starfleet, though not the way you think." Sascha replied, "I'm still a civilian but I've been assigned Fleet duty - that is as soon as a skipper decides he wants me." he added. He'd had a few brief conversations with different Starfleet Captain's over the last few weeks at SB-24, both in person and over subspace, but his case was unique and he hadn't had a taker just yet.
"Anyone seem interested?" CJ asked curiously, transmitting the relevant information to the Dama to prepare for the docking protocols.
Sascha shrugged, "Only one really. Ironic now I think about it." he said, looking up at the Dama through the viewport, "Some ornery Klingon Starfleet Officer in a Prometheus. Wanted to know if I thought I was skilled enough to handle that much power." he chuckled.
"Can you?" CJ smirked, knowing instantly who the Klingon in question was.
"Ha." Sascha replied, "I have Master's Degree's in Thermonuclear Physics, Structural Engineering, Warp Theory and Biochemical Engineering, as well as a Ph.D in Biochemical Power Systems." he continued, now grinning broadly over at CJ. "Not to mention... I helped design the Prometheus' tri-core." he winked, "So I think I can handle the job.
"Well, I got news for you Doc." CJ replied with his trademark impish grin, "Captain Da'Nal is my skipper, and when we're done here, you can tell him all that face to face." he said, feeling the shudder of the shuttle making the docking lock with the Dama. He quickly began the post-docking procedures before turning seriously over to Sascha.
"You dealt with Klingon's before? Real Klingon's, mind you, not the Starfleet variety." CJ asked as he began to power off the engines. Sascha just shook his head. He'd only met a handful in all of his life. "Ok then." CJ began quickly, "Just follow my lead and stay out of their way, alright? They're a prickly bunch, and all we've got is this bitty shuttle if everything goes south. So keep your head down and do what I do, got it?" he asked.
"Got it." Sascha replied quietly.
"Alright then." CJ said standing up, "Let's get this over with."
Curtiss 'CJ' DeHavilland
Flight Officer
USS Achilles [NPC]
Sascha Oakheart, Ph.D
Civilian
Starfleet - In Transition
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