SD241910.14 || Joint Log [Part 2] || "Rescue Op"

Posted on 14 Oct 2019 @ 7:51pm by Lieutenant Commander Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw & Lieutenant Talrian Bran & Lieutenant Madalene Sabine

3,168 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Tyr's Hand

"Please repeat!" Jacky said, even if the tone of her own voice made everything hurt worse. The pain behind her eyes was so bad now that she almost couldn't see, but she knew that her comm badge--her one link to home--was trying to talk to her. "I... I can't understand you," she said, voice strained.

[Purloined Aircraft]

Bran turned from the hastily cobbled together communication device. "Clear that up," he said, glaring at Erickson. "We have to be able to communicate both ways. I can't understand what she's saying."

"Sure... Let me pull out my magic wand and wave it and we'll be all safe and sound," Erikson said, shaking his head as he got to work on clearing up the static.

"Would have made our lives a lot easier had you thought to use that wand to fix the shuttle," Talrian said, his tone as even and flat as anytime before.

"Right," Erikson said as he continued to work on the problem, which according to the security chief, a goddamn gun would solve everything. "Alright, this is as good as it's gonna get."

[Alaska]

Jacky tried to lift her head and look at Roman as he drove, but she was only partly successful. "It's...my crew-mates," she explained haltingly.

Roman spared a glance at the small device before returning his attention to the road. "If anyone is listening," he said, "the woman I'm travelling says that you and she are part of the same crew. She's been seriously injured and I'm en route to the nearest hospital ... maybe two, two and half hours away."

"This is Lieutenant Bran," Talrian said, looking around the cabin of the transport, hoping that this time the transmission would go through. Though, whoever was speaking was a real genius. Telling them they were going two hours south from an unknown destination was not at all helpful. Though, maybe if they got communications working, then there would be some way they could triangulate based on communicators. His original plan to track the crew by their communicators went up in smoke the moment their shuttle was shot down. "Again, this is Lieutenant Bran, state your name, position on the ship and your location now."

So, Roman thought, as he steered around a pothole on a road that had never seen good, truth be told, not local. He spared another glance and a new thought intruded. And whoever this idiot is he's more interested in identifying me than finding out anything about her condition. He let the silence lengthen as he considered his options. The world he lived in didn't encourage trust and yet, she needed help. And it came down to that in the end. Risk himself or not. Sighing, because it wasn't even worth the debate, he said, in an aside to her, "I hope you're right about this."

He fed the Lieutenant his current location and laid out the route he'd be taking. "Whether you care about her condition or not, I'm not stopping until one of two things happens. One, I reach the hospital and let the doctors take over or two, you meet up with me en route and prove that you can do more for her than they can."

It has been a long day and in that day, so far, he'd got into a row with an idiotic half-cat, double cautious moronic Ops chief which set his mission back by far too long, cracked ribs and dislocated a shoulder when he was flung back in time, forced to put together a team of incompetents and insubordinates, shot out of the sky, shot at again when they "borrowed" this plane and was forced into a path that could cause serious harm to one member of the crew in order to save the remainder of the crew. Judged by those factors, he subconsciously believed, he would come out okay with any jury. Any reasonable, rational person (i.e. a Marine) would understand that his last nerve was twanging toward a snap and the last thing he needed was to have some primitive, violence minded, ignorant Earther challenging the crew of the Odin - who was galaxies ahead of the Terran in any category, but especially philosophy, ethics, treatment of others and ability to tolerant so many differing views and cultures it would make this Terran period in history look positively singular.

He glanced over to Romanov to make sure he got the coordinates before opening the channel to communicate back once more. Keeping in mind that he was doing his best to remain "nice" - as others (i.e. NOT Marines) defined it. "I guarantee you, Terran, that my corpsman has more medical ability in his smallest cerebral lobe than all your top 'doctors' of this time period combined. If you give any damn about her condition than you'll shut up, drive and wait for us to meet up with you. My corpsman has a thousandth of a percent change of killing her through medical ignorance and no chance at all of deciding to use her to further your barbaric, savage experiments that prove ninety percent of you apes need to die."

Roman recognized the anger. He'd felt it himself in the years he'd spent fighting Nazis and then again, as he and Vater had committed themselves to rescuing good people from Colonel Green's goons. He'd felt it as he'd listened to the stories of the new arrivals. Lived it as he went on mission after mission, saving people from the horrors that the world had become ... again. Oh, he understood rage. He could remember, as though he were still there, that bleak day when Willie had led Green's goons back to them. Anger, he understood. Letting anger get the upper hand, well, that he did not. In the face of the man's ignorance, Roman struggled to find a reasonable response. What could be said? There were good people left in the world, he knew this because he and Vater and had worked to save them, one by one. Had been well on their way to building a cohesive and effective Resistance unit. And he knew one other thing which he wasn't about to share with anyone he'd met so far ... he wasn't Terran.

"You, sir," he said quietly, feeling the weight of those he'd cared about close around him, "are a discredit to your uniform and I'm done talking." Ignoring the communications device, he continued to drive while his agile mind mulled over the ramifications of what had been said.

Jacky woke up... When had she fallen asleep? Had she blacked out? It was very fuzzy, but it was clear that things had happened--been said--that she had not been aware of. Everything was still fuzzy, and she couldn't see straight. "Stop, please," she managed to say. It wasn't a lot of force, but it was at least audible. She could at least recognize combative tones. "This is Lieutenant Commander Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw. I am the chief counselor of the USS Odin."

Frelling GREAT Talrian thought to himself, loud enough that even Kawolski could hear it. Their first rescue is a counselor? He could only hope she was injured enough that Kawolski would keep her sedated. "Commander," he said, shaking his head, "we have your coordinates and will be there within minutes. Hang on, I've got a corpsman standing by to help you out as soon as you're aboard."

He nodded to Romanov, hoping he wasn't overestimating the pilot's abilities. "Can you tell us how you were injured and what injuries you have?" Talrian asked, only half listening to the medic in the back yelling questions up front while he set up his kits to prepare for his second patient.

"I..." she began, then faltered as the black tried to close in. "I hit my head. Hard. I don't know on what, but I... I know it's bad." Mortality was looking her in the face, and she knew it. But she wouldn't give in until there truly was no other option...

Although... It will be nice to see David again, she thought blearily. "How... How far are you?"

To this, Quinn was the one to answer. Silently answering Talrian's silent question that yes, he was as good as he said he was. "There's a field coming up on the starboard side-- Uh, sorry. The right-hand side of the road you're on. I'm setting down in the field in sixty seconds. Be there as soon as you can."

"Good work, Lieutenant," Talrian said as he shot out of the seat. "Kawolski, prepare for immediate triage and, if necessary, treatment. Johnson, Erickson, you're on litter duty, make sure she gets aboard safely. Bakkar, you and I are security." He spoke while he picked up his weapons and checked them, his tone direct, brusque and expecting no argument from anyone.

[Alaskan Field]

The field proved to be not quite as spacious as he'd hoped, but it was still big enough for their stolen bird. He landed the thing as quickly as he thought was safe--maybe a little more quickly than that--and then gave the nod to the others.

Roman guided the truck within range and pulled up, his hands drumming the top edge of the steering wheel, and kept the engine idling. He kept the truck turned so that his side shielded hers and, seeing as how no one was leaping out pointing weapons in their direction, he opted to take a chance. He hopped out and moved around to her side, hand on the passenger door handle. He pulled her into his arms, still wrapped in blankets, and headed toward the shuttle. In for a penny, he thought, as a hatch opened and someone looked out.

He set her on her feet, allowing her to lean against him, as she negotiated with what he assumed were her people.

"Let's go," Johnson said, shouldering his rifle as he rushed forward to keep the Lieutenant Commander from falling. He didn't know her injuries but he doubted a fall to the deck would be anything but disasterous. "Where?" he asked Kawolski as he grunted from taking her weight.

"Here," Kawolski answered, pointing to the row of seats next to Cindreth. "Bakkar, when we're in the air, we're probably going to need more room, you think you can open up this space?"

Bakkar, walking down the ramp with his CO merely nodded.

The world spun, and Jacky thought she was going to be sick. She was sick, but she managed to not throw up... She hoped, but things were turning black a lot. As she realized she was moving toward the plane, she managed to turn her head and see Roman.

"He has to come with us," she said in a rush of words, just barely coherently. She saw their apprehensive expressions--in fact, she saw two of each. She looked at him again. "I know... I know you don't belong here either. This world will kill you," she pleaded with the limited strength she had left in her.

"Negative, Commander, we're going to have limited space as it is. We need to safe that for the crew." He had other reasons but she wasn't going to give him the time or chance.

Despite the tears of pain curving down her full cheeks, Jacky managed to look at him. "Don't make a dying woman make it an order, Lieutenant." She did, as point of fact, outrank him. "He can't stay here."

"Now just a ..." Roman's reply was cut off as he saw armored vehicles headed their way. "Get her out of here. Now."

"Frell," Talrian swore. The weapons on the craft might be strong enough to take out those transports, but it would require depleting an entire phaser battery to get rid of one. And how long would that take? They didn't have a choice anymoe, they needed to get airborne and out of here.

"Bakkar," he said, jerking his thumb at the weapons array. "And tell Romanov to get us off the ground."

Talrian turned to Roman. "Anybody else in the vehicle?"

"Just us," Roman said. He hesitated because really this was as far as he needed to go. His truck, his life, was back the other way. But then there was trouble about to descend and he figured, better to go now and get dropped off later when it was quiet. He'd lose the truck but if he was quick, he might still get the rest of his gear. There had been that spot higher up in the mountains. Rougher terrain. Safer.

"Good," he said, grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him into the plane with the rest of them. Then, he turned so that he was in front of the Terran stranger, protecting him from fire he was sure was about to be incoming. "Get back into the cargo space and take cover until we're off the ground!" He wasn't shouting, quite, but was getting loud and that was just something he was used to doing. "Johnson, cover the other weapons!"

He felt the engines thrumming, vibrating throughout the plane. Hopefully their weapons weren't powerful enough to bring this ship down. How he hated missing his technology. But, with the ship ready to take off, he slapped the control to lift the ramp.

Roman found a quiet spot and settled in, out of the way. He understood the military mindset. He had been an officer. Led people and missions. He also understood that the middle of a fight was not the time to go starting something. So, he settled in to wait.

Meanwhile Kawolski was running a scan on the Lt. Commander but paused for a few moments as readings started coming in. But, as bad as his findings were he finished the scan to determine the full extent of her injuries.

"Lieutenant, I need to talk to you!" he called out.

"Not, now, Kawolski," Talrian shouted back.

"No, now!" Kawolski said standing and moving across the cargo space to where Talrian was. He stood in front of him, making sure the security chief had to notice him. "She's dying! We need to get her back to the ship now. She doesn't have any time left!"

Talrian took a deep breath. "How bad?" he asked.

Kawolski shook his head. "Brain injury, if we don't get her to a surgeon now, she'll die. I don't know what's actually kept her alive this long."

Talrian shook his head, his gaze landing on Cindreth. She was one person. Only one.

He saw Romanov in the pilot's chair and knew. He just knew. She was only one.

He knew what would be said down the road, that he made his decision based on her position but, he would just have to live with what he knew was the truth instead. "Do what you can for her, even if that means you treat her now to save her life. There are too many others and we can't take the time for one person."

"There's nothing I can do! I don't have the-"

"Lock it up, Petty Officer!" Talrian said, lowering his voice to a growl. "You recall seeing a doctor on the ship? No, because they were all conveniently removed from the ship, so we don't do our job then you corpsman are the best medical officers we have! You're the only chance she has at the moment!"

"Lieutenant," Kawolski said, glancing at the patient. "I can't...I don't have...I'll kill her surely by trying."

Talrian clenched his jaw. He set himself on this path, now he had to get to the end of it. "She's dead already, the worst you can do is save her life. Those are your orders, Kawolski, get to them. Tell Erickson he's playing nurse." Talrian shoved past him and caught the Terran's eye, noticing him watching everything.

"I hope you're alone," he said to the man, "because we can't take the time to ferry you home. You're with us now."

"Not asking for anything from you," Roman said tersely. "Not one thing." And silently, he amended, at some point, you'll have to drop me somewhere so I can pick up the shreds of my life and start over again.

"Corpsman," Jacky said, her voice struggling to be loud enough to be heard.

Crap, Kawolski said, she must have heard his conversation with the security chief and was afraid that he was incompetent and she was in jeopardy. "Don't worry ma'am, I'm top of my class and have received honors for my work performance, you're in the best hands outside of an actual doctor." He knelt next to her. He had to try to perform surgery on an rickety, primitive plane, about to engage in combat, without a surgical suite, only with the emergency medical kit in his possession and only those tools? No diagnostic screens, scanners, surgical bed, nothing? Just him and what little he had? Dammit! She wasn't dead yet, she can be saved. If the pigheaded asshole would just direct them back to the ship she would live! "I promise you, the best I can do. Okay, so don't worry, you'll be okay. Just fine. When you are, please, please do us all a favor and profile that..." he trailed off from what he was going to say only to keep himself out of trouble.

"I know I..." She blinked sluggishly, closing her eyes because it hurt too much to keep them open. "I know I'm dying. There is...is no other answer. There must be others here, right?"

"You're not dying," he said, knowing he was a terrible liar. "We're looking for other crew, yes, but we can get you stabilized until we get back to the ship. It's not a problem. You'll be okay." He started setting out his tools. He didn't even have a decent sanitizer, so along with the anesthetic he'll have to inject a broad spectrum antibiotic to help prevent infection. But, he was setting out his tools as a way to distract, to keep from looking at her. Maybe then, if she didn't see his face, she couldn't see he disbelieved his own words.

Her lips curved very faintly. "Save them. Thi... This place will kill them all. I'm dead anyway." Tears slipped under her lowered lids. "It's ok-kay. I'm gonna see my husband again." Her words had begun to slur to near incomprehensible levels.

Kawolski gave a grim half-smile, "Yes, ma'am, and when you see him you'll laugh at how crazy it sounded that you're dying." Obviously he didn't understand what she meant by "see my husband again". "Okay, I'm about to start. I'm going to give you a general anesthetic and that'll put you to sleep. Then, the first thing I'll need to do is release the pressure before I can track down the main problem and work on fixing that. Ready?"

=/\= To Be Continued...

 

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