SD241908.14|| Joint Log || "The Eye In the Storm"

Posted on 14 Aug 2019 @ 3:02pm by Lieutenant Talrian Bran

1,713 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Location: USS Odin

Following the staff meeting, Talrian headed for Medical to get his shoulder and side fixed. Along the way, however, he begin focusing his thoughts on Petty Officer Cindreth, the one Betazoid security member he remembered. He could have others, and would need to go through personnel files to make sure, but he'd met Cindreth previously - briefly - and thus remembered him.

Meet me in Medical, he ordered after Cindreth made contact back with him. He looked at his PaDD and the crew roster. Inform Lieutenant Romanov to do the same.

Yes, Lieutenant, came back the quick response.

Though he didn't trust the turbolifts to be working, not after the beating the systems took, he trusted the jeffries tubes even less at the moment. If he needed the reminder of that mistrust, it was in the low, boiling throb of his shoulder and the sharp stab with every breath.

Fortunately, the turbolift dropped him off quickly and efficiently at his destination. Where he learned the chief medical officer wasn't aboard the ship. Which probably explained why Talrian didn't remember seeing him at the briefing.

"You," he said, pointing out a corpsman. He felt more comfortable with corpsman anyway. They weren't smug, smarmy doctors and usually just as good. Especially for minor injuries such as he had. "I think I dislocated my shoulder and maybe cracked a few ribs." He spoke as he walked to the biobed, not wanting to waste any more time then necessary.

"Uhm, I'll try to see what I can do?" the corpsman, a younger blonde Terran said without breaking stride. "But the doctor is missing so I'm not sure how much help we can be."

"You know how to wave that diagnostic tricorder around to confirm problems?" he asked, glaring at the young man. Something in his bearing spoke to Talrian but he wasn't sure what it was. "You know how to wave the other thing to take care of the problems that you discovered?"

"Yes, Lieutenant but-"

"Then do it," Talrian said, trying to choke back the gasp as he worked to remove his shirt.

Fortunately, or unfortunately in his opinion, Cindreth arrived at that moment and went to assist. Talrian startled and stood up quickly, taking two quick steps away from the young Betazoid. But, Cindreth had helped enough to get the shirt off. The young corpsman stood by, sighing.

"Sir," he started.

"Lock it up," Talrian said, grateful for the distraction from Cindreth. As a Betazoid he was young, with dark hair and dark eyes - all black. As a security officer he was fit and trim, athletic build but not overly muscular. Not like-

Talrian forced himself to stop as he rounded on the corpsman. "I need to get going on a plan of action, which means I need to be better. If you don't have a doctor around, then I'm nominating you to be chief medical officer in his stead. Don't give me anymore excuses just..." he trailed off as he noticed the other two staring at his shoulder. He glanced ovver, best he could, to see the livid blues and purple bruising deep enough to obscure the line of mottled spots running across his shoulder and down his arms and side.

"Okay," the corpsman said, breaking away to get his tools.

Talrian let out a breath, wincing as the motion inflamed his cracked ribs. He wasn't going to be a hundred percent and, well, it was good the CMO was gone, he wasn't sure if the corpsman could put him off duty and he didn't think the young Terran was willing to risk the wrath of an officer to find out. He looked over at Cindreth, ready to begin filling the security officer in on his new duties as a ship's radio when the doors opened again. Considering the length of time and what appeared to be a relatively healthy and uninjured gait, he hoped this was the pilot. He hated repeating himself.

Luckily for the ship's chief of security, it was indeed "the pilot."

Quinn Romanov wasn't used to being summoned by security officers--at least not while still on the ship--but given the current shitstorm as well as his missing twin sister... Well, he was both really torqued off and not surprised. With his heavy brow more drawn than usual, he walked into sickbay and found a rather timid looking enlistedman trying to fix the shoulder of a somewhat grumpy looking other man while a gold-collar stood and watched.

"Lieutenant Bran?" Quinn asked flatly.

"Romanov?" Talrian asked, looking quickly to Cindreth for confirmation. At the slight nod, Talrian started to stand. Only to have the corpsman shove him back onto the bed.

"You forced me to treat you, now sit down and remain still," the corpsman said. "This is going to hurt, and I'm sure you don't want me to dull it in any way." Before Talrian could answer, though, he was already prodding the device against the tender, swollen flesh.

Talrian turned away, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out...or saying things that shouldn't be said. "How's your piloting skills?" Talrian asked the man, "because we're going to be flying a modified shuttle atmo looking for our missing personnel and I need good, not bullshit. Lay it straight because if you screw up the op with more brag than skill and you'll become one of the missing, clear?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "I wouldn't bull shit about this, Lieutenant," he said. "One of the missing people is my twin sister. I'm a good pilot. I'm a squadron commander. I won't screw up the op."

Talrian gave another quick look to Cindreth, who again gave a subtle nod. Then, glaring at the corpsman as he was forced back onto the bed once more from an attempt to stand, he turned back to Romanov. "Your sister? Okay, we can work with that. I believe you'll do your best if only to help get her back. That's good. We're going to get a modified shuttle. Have you considered how a shuttle outfitted with holoemitters would affect flight dynamics? Particularly inside the atmosphere?"

"They shouldn't affect the flight dynamics in any discernible measure," Quinn replied. "The bigger concerns will be environmental and making sure they don't get damaged in some way, thus losing our cover. Or human error, flying in a way that the...whatever we'll look like isn't supposed to."

"Good, see if you can access records from this time frame and find a suitable aircraft - something large like a cargo plane or troop transport, that should help eliminate some of the power drain and concerns from the holoemitters. Once you do, get with engineering to outfit a shuttle. Then - OW!" he said, sliding off the biobed and standing, glaring at the corpsman.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the corpsman said in a manner that meant you didn't have to be a telepath to know he was anything but. "Almost finished here, go ahead and return to the bed and you'll be almost as good as new. Until you overdo it and reinjure yourself."

"I'll have a plan to make sure that doesn't happen," Talrian said, glaring at the young Terran. He turned back to Romanov and Cindreth. "Cindreth, with the systems down, you're playing comms-"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant? But the comms are out of operation at the moment and I'm not an engineer."

"No," Talrian confirmed his agreement, "You're not. You're a security officer who's also a telepath. You're going to 'listen' and then redirect my orders and commands, as well as pass along information from the department and necessary personnel to others. We're rounding up all the telepaths to put them into position to help here. You'll be on the shuttle with us and in contact with a telepath on the bridge."

"Lieutenant," Cindreth started, shaking his head. Just the sheer enormity of the idea was starting to ping a headache in the young security officer.

"Those are your orders, Petty Officer," Talrian said, ignoring anything further the man had to say. "Failure to follow them and I'll throw your ass in the brig myself and find someone who understands the meaning of that uniform you're wearing, clear?"

Cindreth's jaw clenched as he glared over Talrian's shoulder. "Yes, sir," he spoke the two syllables as sharp, clipped daggers. Talrian was well aware he hadn't made a new friend today, but didn't care. The safety of the entire crew was more important than one self-absorbed Fleeter.

"You'll be monitored, as weill all the others," Talrian said, "and treatments provided to ameliorate possible damage to you during this time, and once comms are back online, you're done playing radio."

"Yes, sir," Cindreth stated, not mollified in the least.

"You," Talrian said, glaring at the corpsman, "have just been voluntold you'll be on the shuttle with us. You'll make sure Cindreth is stable during this time, make sure I don't do anything stupid to reinjure myself and provide emergency medical assistance to any crew we retrieve from the planet."

"Sir?" the corpsman said, standing back and looking as if he were going to object. Then he let out a sigh and merely nodded.

"This is a tough time period, the planet's at war with everything else. We'll need to make sure that shields, weapons and transporters are not affected by the modifications or power drain. Understood, Romanov?"

Quinn just stared on stonily. "Understood," he said. "How far into the atmosphere do we intend to go? That will affect the sort of craft that would be expected to be there."

Talrian finished putting on his shirt as he crossed to the pilot. He put a hand on the man's shoulder, hating the contact the entire time but felt it needed to be done. "We're going to go as far atmo as we need to bring our crew home. All of them. If that mean's dirtside, that's what we'll do. Understood?" he asked, then realized his tone probably sounded too harsh, too authoritarian. "You with me?" he asked again, hoping it came out softer.

"I'm with you," Quinn said evenly. He knew he'd do anything he had to in order to get his sister back.

=/\= End Log =/\=

 

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