Vincible

Posted on 06 Aug 2019 @ 1:17am by Lieutenant Talrian Bran

1,231 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Location: Jeffries Tubes

Deck. Section. Junction. There were numbers all over the bulkhead and they were a code all their own. Somehow. He knew about this, had been given instruction on how to read them and tell what they mean. By understanding their code, he knew exactly where he was inside the bowels of the ship.

If only he understood the code.

He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeved shirt. T-shirt and shorts would have made more sense, but the long sleeve workout shirt and pants were at least a bit more presentable as an alternative uniform if it became necessary. He was, technically, on duty at this time and had not sought the XO's permission for a uniform disposition for the day. But this was part of his personal goal to get to know every bit of the ship.

He waited for a moment as the hatchway above him cycled open, tripped by the proximity sensors as he climbed rung by rung through this particular passage. He'd chosen it for today because it was the longest and ran vertical through the ship, horizontal branches flowed off of it and he felt it would be a good central reference point if he ever needed to retreat to the jeffrey tubes. Or, since he was security now, advance through the jeffrey tubes.

He was halfway to the next hatchway, marking the bulkhead as he passed, when the ship shook. His feet slipped from the rung and he held on with the one hand, but the force of it twisted his body around his wrist. With a strangled grunt, he tried to pull himself back around, grabbing for the ladder with the hand knocked free.

He almost made it when the ship was thrown again, the force momentarily overcoming the inertial dampeners. It twisted him again, peeling the hand gripping the rung free. He fell, only after he was already in motion that he realized he eschewed the anti-grav belt and he was already several decks up. More immediate, however, was the hatchway. It was still open from his passageway. If he hit it wrong, it could cause severe injury, but he didn't believe he had the right angle to go clean through it.

Desperate, he struck out blindly and grabbed whatever he could. His hand closed around the side of the ladder, slid down until his hand was stopped by the next rung. His body continued to fall, the two hundred pounds of him. There was a pop and his arm went numb from shoulder to fingers. He fell again. But he was slowed enough that when he grabbed the rungs with his good hand, it merely pulled against his weight. He swung to the side, releasing at the apex.

The fall to the deck below was ungainly, more like a 'bellyflop' than anything else. He landed on his right side and cried out as his shoulder hit, numbness giving away to a fiery inferno. He quickly rolled off the side and onto his back, gasping for breath while trying to bring himself under control.

The ship continued to rock as he tried to get to his feet, another sudden upheaval dropped him to the deck one more time. It proved one time too much as another pop sounded and the shoulder joint exploded into a supernova of pain. His head hit the bulkhead and he saw the flaring of stars before everything went black.

When he came back to consciousness he couldn't judge the amount of time that passed. His head throbbed but nowhere near his shoulder. He knew attempting to stop his fall they way he had probably dislocated it and being thrown against the deck and bulkhead may have popped it back in, but it felt stiff, slow to respond. If it was back in the socket, it may not be seated properly.

He tried to press his commbadge with his off hand, attempted to activate the comm system. But either he wasn't activating it correctly or they were down. Either was a possibility. Pulling himself upright he looked around, trying to recall the section and deck where he was and which way would lead him out of the tubes and back to the corridors the fastest.

As it was it was going to be slow going finding his way out of the tube without being able to use both arms. Even attempting a low crawl required the use of his arms. He glanced both ways, once again, and just made a decision.

Sweat poured from his brow and stuck his shirt to his athletic frame before he came to the end of the tube marked by an access panel. He tried to ignore the smell of burnt wires and ozone indicating some fuse probably burst during the incident. Which was probably why the panel wasn't opening.

Frustrated, angry, in pain and having lost his cherub like demeanor several sections back, Talrian worked himself around until he was able to kick out against the panel, forcing it open. A third strong kick sent the panel flying across the corridor to clang against the opposite bulkhead.

Talrian pulled himself out of the tube and took just a few moments to catch his breath and arm away the sweat pouring down his face. Stumbling to his feet, he shuffled to the nearest commpanel and slapped it.

"Bran to Security," he said, looking around to get his bearings then remembering the commpanel would show him. "Report."

He leaned against the wall while the ensign at the security center ran down what was known at the moment. Which didn't seem to be much.

"Earth?" he asked as the ensign wound down. "That's not possible that's lightyears from our position. Feed it to my location."

There it was, external sensor data. It was...Earth but...he'd been to Earth only a few times over the span of his career. It allowed him to recognize the general shapes of continents and colors. But there was a sick haze around the planet, large swatches of continents that appeared dead and lifeless.

"I'm on my way," Talrian said, still staring at the image of the planet where the ship found itself. "Send me anything new on the way, I don't want to be caught unaware when the Captain needs information."

"There's something else," the ensign said, taking in a breath to brace himself. "Reports are coming in across the ship. Personnel are missing, just gone. Not even sensor ghosts from where they should have been."

"Of course," Talrian muttered, "because it can't just be improbable, it has to be impossible. Start sending crews out, quick recon and make sure we're secure. Get sensor sweeps happening and start scanning the planet with passive scans, look for our missing personnel there."

"Yes, Lieutenant," the Ensign said. "But, sir, what if they're not on the planet?"

Talrian looked at the image of the ensign before slapping the commpanel closed. "If they're not there," he said, practical, rational. He didn't feel much of anything for those missing because he didn't really know any of them. But others were going to care. The missing would matter to many of the crew. The alternative was too much to consider.

If they weren't on the planet, they were floating somewhere in the space around a dying planet. "They're dead already."

 

RSS Feed