Prologue, Part 1

Posted on Mon 15th Jun, 2026 @ 2:36pm by Captain Gordon Francis & Commander Heriah Rex & Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Victor Delling MD & Commander Geraldine "Geri" Severide

6,094 words; about a 30 minute read

Mission: [MAIN] Learning to Fly
Location: SB109
Timeline: Day 0
Tags: Rex, Delling

ON

{Second Star- Cargo Bay}

"We got him. He's disconnected from the hive."

"OK, let's get out of here."

"Transporters inop!"

"There is a dampener in place."

"That's why we have a rendezvous point. Let's move people."

"Drones incoming. Over there."

"Then we go this way. Detonation in 2."

It was Refkin's first memory since being unplugged from the Hive Mind; a team of Trill Elite leading him through the dank corridors of a Borg Sphere, phaser fire, orders, shouts. All the while Refkin was wondering what happened to that beautiful voice, the voice of them all. He looked at his hands. One was gloved and had strange cybernetic attachments. The other was some form of drilling array. There was a monocle over his left eye projecting a red beam. Each Trill the beam landed on there came a thought that he needed to assimilate it. For some reason though, he wasn't. He couldn't.

Refkin was lead to a point where other Trill showed and the entire scene faded and became anew. They were all standing in a cargo hold, looking out at the Borg Sphere.

"Detonation now."

And the sphere erupted in a bright display of green explosions. Fire tore through the ship and debris spread in all directions.

"Hold him! Lie him down!"

Refkin then remembered. He brought up an arm and..."

Heriah stood near the protective shielding as the last shuttle passed through and landed. She watched as SB109 erupted in displays or fire and explosions. The lights went out and the station had begun a slow spin.

She had only been aboard as a member of her crew for only a year. And now this.

Heriah was not thinking too heavily on what would happen next. She found herself more concerned with what happened after Refkin was rescued from the Borg. He brought up an arm and...

"What, Rex? What happened next?" she asked barely audible, not that any of the refugees lined up along the walls of the cargo bay were listening.

No thought came. No smart remark from her symbiont and then Heriah remembered. She had taken a double dose of her benzocyatizine to keep him at bay as she was hard at work with the evacuation. It would be many hours still before she would hear anything from Rex.

Disgusted, Heriah pulled her hypospray from her pocket and held it up as though about to throw it away, out of the cargo hold and into space. Of course the protective field only a few feet away would make that result in a failed feat. She repocketed her hypospray and looked on at 109 as it listed helplessly.

A deep voice with soft tones chirped the comm badge =/\= Entaaro Nasz For 109 crew... This is a pre-recorded message... The Second Star has a command station. OPS team is reconvening, please report to the Second Star at 0900."

Captain Francis entered the Second Star's cargo bay as Entaaro relayed Francis' orders to reconvene, and in time to see her pocket the hypospray. He held in his hand a PADD which contained the station's full logs and reports that had been made that day. The top report had been from Graves. It was about Rex, and the news had hit Frank like a stake to the chest. He didn't know what the spray was for, or what it contained. But it raised a major red flag.

The Captain knew that now was not the time to bring it up. The station was still shaking with eruptions, smaller ones now, but the site was still surreal. No doubt Entaaro's message had landed on some deaf ears, considering the craziness that was happening everywhere else. Francis had Entaaro's message set to resend at the top of the hour until everyone was accounted for. Frank hoped the twenty hours to reconvene would be enough, even for him.

"They said everyone made it," Frank said to his longtime friend as he quietly approached. "And since we're still here, I'd say they found a way to neutralize the dark matter. Mindo tried to explain it, but it's all Klingon to me." He cleared his throat. "Anything to report, Rex?"

"No innocents on your conscience, sir," she said while looking out at the lifeless and slowly spinning place she called home. "Everyone on the decks under my charge got evac'ed. No deaths. Though," she paused briefly, "I did have to break a few arms to get them to move. You may have a few complaints in the coming weeks...months."

Francis nodded his head. "I have no doubt about that," he said.

Heriah's tone clearly gave it away that she was not done with her report. "Something is wrong, Frank," she continued. "I'm not talking about..." and she waved her hand about before them illustrating the 'wrong' in their faces. "There is something wrong with me." She had expected a sudden rebuttal from Rex but then remembered the double dose she took. "My medical profile says otherwise. No medical scan and no psychoanalysis will find it, but..." she looked away from the 109 wreckage and to her old friend. "Call it a hunch; a feeling...that I know something is wrong. Answers will only come in dribbles and when I least expect it. But..."

She remembered the words spoken to her by the Path of T'Ril High Priest, 'Ț’Ril wants you to know that there will be great suffering, a terrible trial and tribulation. Only those that you surround yourself with who know and love you will be able to help you survive what is to come.'

"Frank, I hope you are there when the puzzle is complete."

"Rex," Francis said, staring at the crumbling station. "You're not the only one with a puzzle." He turned his gaze to hers. "Because of my error, this may not have happened... or at least happened this bad." He shook his head. "I heard Izzy's voice asking for orders, but I couldn't give them. I didn't respond. Something in me heard what she was saying and then tuned it out." He sighed, and it seemed like for a moment he was going to say something else, but the words weren't quite coming.

The two stood there and looked on as the sight of the heavily damaged starbase was getting smaller as the ship sped away. Two old friends, with only one looking way younger, together again.

"Our casualties were light. Injuries mostly," she said. "You gave what orders you could when you could. And that kept a lot of death from happening this day. Garan envied you. And now I better see why."

Frank smiled. "I think Garan would be proud of what Rex has become. I'm proud too. Warts and all."

*****

{IBEX- Interrogation Room}

Makoto was growing frustrated. Anslo was answering every question, and even others she hadn't gotten to. He was more than cooperative, he was eager. She hadn't gotten to any of the usual coercive tactics, and this traitor deserved to hurt a little.

"The Allumvirunia. Verifiable, but big too big Anslo. You messed up." Makoto was trying to scare him even a little, but the poor soul had endured decades under the madman Klingon. She had nothing he hadn't already endured. So she made up a lie.

"Four thousand dead. You are giving me the names of First Federation Relics we all know from childrens tales, while almost four thousand souls have perished in the explosive your outfit placed on a station with over three hundred thousand on board. I do not take your willingness as friendliness, I see it as an exchange for your own relevance. Do you have the capacity to make up for their lives lost Anslo?"

His face dropped into a horror mask, the Tol symbiont recoiled at the words, and the man that was Anslo felt his soul shatter.

"I tried to warn you!" He screamed, he protested the notions of his involvement, but Makoto knew the pain of self inflicted guilt surpassed any tool in her arsenal. Let the man torture himself in his own imagination. Let him feel any chance at redemption yanked from his grasp.

She laughed at Anslo, sobbing hysterically, hyperventilating as he hung from the X shaped rigging. She poked his heaving chest with cruelty, "Struggle or don't, you get to breathe when so many have had their last."

Anslo sobbed, "No! I warned them again, they sounded the evacuation in time-"

Makoto stopped him with a slap across the face, "I know you tried, I heard the message. You draw breath for only one reason, and that is you will prove useful to destroying the Second Sons. So tell me Anslo, How does H'tek keep Starfleet from hunting him down? What's the tactic he uses, and how do we stop him."

Anslo repeated the same words as before, "He raided a research station, found a First Federation ship, used its conveyor to travel to other outposts. Even I never saw the extent of the network, only the family was allowed to know."

She prodded him with a knuckle in the ribs, even under a padded tunic he felt the point of it and reacted.

"He keeps an access portal with him, his brother in law Partha has one as well. Partha's son Kr'togr has one. Capturing one of those will let us take the fight to him."

She pressed, "And to destroy them. Not a setback. Wipe them from the galaxy."

Anslo understood better what answers she was looking for, and became all too eager again, "Destroy his vaults. Destroy the portal hub he uses to get around, but to really end it, take out Partha and his son Kr'togr. H'tek can only operate because he is propped up by his peers. Partha is older than H'tek, and has a NeghVar class ship but he is both the MVP and weakest link, capture his ship, you got yourself a portal."

She considered all that had been discussed, and put Anslo back into his forced isolation without warning.

"Captain," She called to Damion with a smile, "Prisoner interrogation going well, recruitment may actually be a goal after all. Can we convene soon?"

Yes, Makoto. Come on up to the ready room. We're clear of the station. It was quite the explosion or several. I can have your beverage of choice waiting for you, if you like, Damion said.

"Aye sir, Raktajino with pumpkin spice." She looked at the muffled and insensate Anslo, "And you, anything.... speak up? Ok, no coffee for Anslo."

(Thunderchild - Sickbay)

The sprawled body of an unconscious Starfleet officer appeared on the transporter pad in Thunderchild's emergency room. Orderlies hastily wheeled him off the pad and onto a biobed as Dr. MacAran hurried forward, reading the scan results as she approached. "Prep this one for surgery, stat. Summon Dr. Nadras. Left temporal subarachnoid hemorrhage--" Before she could finish speaking, the patient vomited spectacularly all over the front of MacAran's plastic gown.

"Yech!" She cringed, but only for an instant and then looked down at her patient as she stripped off the soiled gown and pulled on the clean one that a nurse handed her. "Oh, my God, it's Dr. Graves. Suction." She held out her hand for the tube and then began to clear his airway. Someone else stripped off his sodden uniform and straightened his body, then wiped his face and neck clean and unfolded a drape over him.

"Dr. Graves, can you hear me?" MacAran asked in a sharp voice. He didn't respond to that or to telepathy. She rubbed her knuckles vigorously over his sternum. He grimaced and gave a low moan. MacAran bit her lip. "Six," she said.

"He's tachy, Doctor. Pulse is 125, respirations shallow. BP is 173/105," a nurse said.

"Administer 1mL Inaprovaline," MacAran said. "Start an IV, normal saline. Type and cross-match--" She paused. "Bother! He's Betazoid-Human. He's got a personal blood supply on 109, but...."

"Refrigeration over there is probably down," the nurse said. "I'll take a sample and replicate some." She swabbed Graves' fourth finger, collected a blood sample, and left the room.

"OR 3 is prepping," one of the orderlies reported as someone paged Dr. Nadras over the PA system.

"Good. Prepare to intubate if we have to," MacAran said. She took out a penlight and shone it into Graves' eyes. "Pupils equal but sluggish. Ptosis +2 OD. Sudden drop contusions on face. Some slackness of the mouth on the right side." She felt along the Second Officer's neck and shook her head. "Cervical stiffness consistent with SAH." She lifted each arm and dropped them one after the other. "Right-sided loss of muscle tone." She did the same with his legs and got a similar result. She dragged a fingertip up the bottom of Graves' right foot. His great toe curved upward as his other toes splayed out. "Positive Babinski sign." MacAran mock-glared at her patient. "You're boring me, Dr. Graves. Wake up and do something I don't expect. Throwing up on me doesn't count; that was just rude."

"But it was unexpected," the nurse pointed out, having returned to the room. "I told the replicator to make four units of whole blood to start with."

Victor walked in at that moment and quietly instructed "Do not dump his pressure under any circumstances. Let him be on the hypertensive side until we get the bleed under control, or we'll have reperfusion injuries. Then I want him 140-160 systolic. Also, who is monitoring his telepathic functioning and neurotransmitter levels? Even I felt his message and I'm not a high psi rating." He placed a pair of tiny sensors on the forehead and another four, two on the temples and two on the base of the skull. Intracranial pressure readings began to show up on the screen before their eyes.

MacAran nodded at Dr. Delling's instructions. "I'm monitoring his telepathy; already tested it. He's nonresponsive. GCS of 5. Recommend IV dopamine at 10mcg/kg/min and dura-nimodipine through NG tube, to start with."

"What are his psilosynine levels?" Victor's eyes were looking not at the screen but at the man before him. He wasn't showing the signs of the state he was in but Victor knew deep in his soul that something was profoundly wrong. The fading of color from his lips was a faint change but enough of one. He rested his hand on Paul's arm. "We don't have time for that my friend, you're not getting out of this so easily. Prepare ventilation PRVC mode, 250 tidal volume, and let's drop as much physical stimulation as we can."

"He's down to 23; it needs to be at least 100," MacAran said.

"He's already tachycardic and hypertensive, I don't believe dopamine is appropriate at this time, nimodipine to prevent vasopsams is a good idea." Victor answered as he programmed and pressed a hypospray to Graves' throat. He also shifted the bed to put the man at a 35 degree angle, that would help with CSF circulation and drainage.

"Thank you for remembering the bed angle; I hadn't thought about that yet," MacAran said. "I suppose they'll have to induce a coma?" She followed Delling's instructions for the ventilator settings and moved the machine closer to the biobed.

"We're probably going to have to paralyze his body, to allow his brain and his mind to heal. " Victor flicked his fingers at a panel, and lab values began to display in realtime, as the sensors in the bed began their work of advanced monitoring. "Let's see...I need 2 grams of magnesium attached to that NS bag, and an appropriate steroid for his biology." he muttered under his breath as he reached with gentle fingers to press behind his friend's ears.

An announcement came over the Sickbay PA system. OR 3 ready. Status of patient?

"Critical." He answered shortly, "More stable than the initial assessment."

*******

{Ehtevau Surgical Ward- Recovery}

Renato had no clue where he was, the Romulan vessel was truly alien to him. The injuries he had suffered were severe, but easy to fix and now he simply slept for the sake of passing time and healing faster. A device on his head became apparent, a weight, and sore spot where the drills had tapped into the bone of his skull. He had felt the roof collapse, but the pain was minimal. He could flex his toes with minimal discomfort, and he rejoiced as all his sense returned.

One sense in particular returned, and he remembered as a child huddling in the corners of dark spaces trying to find silence. His practiced response was to divert them into the waiting room loop of his sub conscious and purge their presence as he was able. One voice, among others, had a familiar timbre, and pitched urgency. Renato didnt see anyone around, the machines doing a nurses duty to monitor here. The voice he heard was internal.

Realization took him in a panicked vice grip, "PAUL!" He exclaimed in fear over the presence of his friend's voice in such a way. Like seeing the spirit leave a body, Renato was certain his dear friend was in trouble.

Renato! You can hear me?! Paul's voice exclaimed in his head. My own doctor can't hear me. Let everyone know I'm fine. Had a bad headache for a moment, but I'm fine now. I can't get anyone in this OR to listen to me; they're busy doing compressions.

Senses of self were immutable, but in this case Renato felt Paul's sense of self quite strongly. There was something massively wrong. Impressions of a head injury came to him as memories of a time a pet had fallen from a great height and staggered around before an adult took mercy. It wasn't Renato's memory. Paul didnt ever broadcast in pure telepathic sound, his heritage was mixed, and abilities innate. Renato was however, an empathic receiver, and the signals from Paul's mind were, panic, danger, flight. His body was trying to wake up, to run, a primitive response at the base level of the brain.

Paul, I can hear you! I do not know where you are, but I know this, you must remain still and focus on breathing, on being alive. Do not let your mind wander, stay alert!

I feel perfectly alert and alive, Paul assured him. Never felt better, in fact. It's very peaceful here. Oh, they're defibrillating this guy; he's flatlining. That looks really painful. I'm glad you're here to talk to. Are you all right? You're agitated.

Renato had experience with people who were too injured to understand how bad it was. Paul was dying, he felt the pains in his temple from something deeply wrong as a sympathetic vibration. He felt a spasm in his whoile body from the shocks across is chest. His friend had already begun the end of life process of seeing the white light, if Paul became aware he might lose what grip he had left in a panic. So Renato did for Paul what he had done for the grieving, the sick, the dying, the addicted. He told a soothing story to distract them.

"Paul, have you heard of the time I found a hidden program in the holodecks that was copying data, only to find a holoprogram with real people from the station? They had Mikaela in there too, you remember this at all?"

Paul thought about it. I can't say I remember that. I'd have put a stop to it if I had. Why was the program copying data? He paused. Something feels odd. Give me just a moment; I want to look at something.

No! Paul I am telling you, listen to me, the danger is real, but you must remain calm. You must listen... Those people who were so mad all had to come to you for therapy afterwards, and your advice was as always on point. "There is no element of this you have control over, except your own reactions to it." I'm telling you now Paul, you have wandered far from where you are supposed to be. Remain with me, let's talk. Until you have a place to go again."

An instant later, shock flooded Renato's mind.

Renato--This patient's ID bracelet has my name on it. This is my body! No. I--I need to go back. There are people I care about, things I need to do....

The fading tone alarmed Renato, Stay with Me, keep your voice strong!

I would very much like to remain with you, Renato, and he sent a feeling of how powerfully he meant that, but I have to go back to my body before it's too late, or I'll die. I will see you when I wake up, I promise, Paul thought to him.

Paul's mental signal sounded confused, weak, from the surgical suite on the Ehtevau he could do nothing except extend his senses outwards. He felt Paul's body and the drifting consciousness, the loss of bio rhythm which had released a man from his mortal coil.

PAUL! IT IS HERE, YOUR BODY IS HERE!With a mental image of pulling a drowning man from deep waters he shined a light in the right direction.

The return was automatic. Once Paul expressed the desire not to die, he floated back into his body and stayed there.

Renato awoke, gasping, sweating, unsure if in a dream, and asking himself, "Is Paul dying?"

He was alone in the ward, and the computer didnt answer when he called. Stuck to the bed he could only cry out for a nurse.

When finally, a large nurse with a rumpled shirt and tired expression arrived, Renato got their attention by frantically waving.

The older Romulan intoned, "Yes, you need help?"

Renato gasped, "Paul Graves, He's one of 109's command officers. Can you find out if he is alive, my telepathic cortex just caught... please send word, can you find out?!"

Makila looked up from the side of the Medical bay, where she was directing nurses and trainees in their duties on the Romulan ship, which had slightly different but equally useful systems. She was one of the few that was equally fluent in both languages and in medical terminology. She'd been assigned here with her father. "I'll find out for you."

***

{CRC- Garden District}

The first responders had already committed to the war effort, and come back burnt. Fires raged, and the immediate solution was to vent the areas and prevent chainfire reaction. Due to the channeled effect of the explosive radiating outwards instead of upwards, the decks just below the Garden District remained intact. Sealing the bulkheads and welding the plates closed created a new "bottom" for the station.

As atmospheric seals were restored, decks became accessible in slow grueling order. The lack of EPS in the agricultural zones created a natural firebreak. Upwards, along the central trunk, fire and explosion had claimed much of the Habitat rings occupied areas, but the open space like Tivoli Gardens simply sat in darkness.

Kya had started the process with a simple offer, the same as she always had. "Come to the CRC for food and place to rest." One of the few places in the whole station to maintain a livable space, these decks had their own eco system and as was just now discovered, an adequate one for several hundred people. The CRC had in just a few hours become city hall for the hundreds of damage control techs swarming the station to prevent damage from spreading. "Mitigation" as they referred to it.

"Ms. Kya?!"

She turned to see a young Human in an odd fleet uniform. The patch on the shoulder read "Second Star" and the logo showed a wireframe of their Excelsior class starship over the UFP standard.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The young woman looked flustered, "I am not much for the fire fighting but I wanted to help. I am Tier Four Haz-Mat specialist, I'm just not..."

Kya saw the singed hair, this woman had no experience fighting plasma fires but had volunteered anyway because of her knowledge and desire to help.

"We will find a place for you to do the most good, stick with me..." Kya trailed off letting the young woman supply her name.

"Ania, I'm usually in the inspection side of things but I can do anything that helps."

Kya looked over the CRC with its hustle and bustle. Her kitchen had backstock, so no cooking, the cleaning was a future concern, but really she just needed another brain making decisions.

"Ania, inspections sounds great. We need you to start a map, confirm its accuracy and distribute safe zones and danger area updates to the Second Star OPS center. I'll be up to my eyes keeping this organized here."

Ania looked confused, so Kya took her firmly by the shoulder with one hand to say, "Listen, there are no rules or guidelines right now. We are people in an emergency making things happen because they need to happen. Find a Starfleet Uniform and ask them for assistance if you really need it, but otherwise just get it done."

The speech helped, Ania took on an air of resolve as she found her spirit. "Aye, I... mean yes maam. Thank you. I'll report my findings to you."

Ania took off before anyone could tell her not to. Kya asked herself what she was going to do with the information, but continued routing people to where they needed to go and setting up muster stations for the damage control teams.

Kya realized there was more capacity for life support if she expanded upwards into the lower levels of residential rings. Every persons quarters had redundant air and water built in just in case of this. Problem was, she didnt have the people to do it. What folks were there ran around in barely controlled patterns, but everyone was tending to fire and damage control.

=/\= Kya to... Ops I guess, I can hold a few hundred down here, send fire control teams and techs for repair work first!

Entaaro replied, "Acknowledged, there aren't many places on station habitable at the moment, is the Garden District intact?!"

Kya shook her head only to realize it was all verbal and he couldnt see her, "Not unscathed, we are securing a few hull breaches as we speak and plasma fires are making holes in the deck, but we have people patching now and expect to be in the yellow within a few minutes!"

"Kya!!"

Her name being shouted didnt bode well. Kya turned to see a fire had broken out and begun to spread into their deck, she immediately hit her badge, "Wildfire, Deck 2241- 145:B!"

Nobody replied, comms could be down. Kya tried to think but this was a bit too much all at once.

=/\=Pampo Gnu on the good ship Ehtevau here, Kya you in charge?"

She never wanted it, but knew to get it down someone had to say it.

"Today I am, is it Pampo? Are you Starfleet?"

"I am Ma'am, but timing being what it is let's cut to the good stuff, I got Romulans a plenty over here want to help. Sounds like you need the help, they are all really well trained too."

Kya was not going to doubt the Ehtevau, they had saved so many lives, including Kya's own.

"Yes, Pampop send help, we have life support for maybe a hundred?"

"Stand by, I'm clearing it with them..."

The response was practically immediate in the affirmative. The first Romulans that beamed from the Ehtevau were those that lived there, led by Jaeih who ran the Romulan farmstead on the upper levels. There were 20 in the initial wave, and they followed the quiet instructions being issued by the young woman, who was clearly used to having her commands obeyed.

Kya was issuing orders and getting no pushback, it felt great but she can also realizing how off course it all had become. Dozens of Romulans just appeared suddenly and began helping, seeking the worst of it and clamping down.

*****

{Ticonderoga}

Sepp Agandar hated the sell of his own breath, but the stress of the day had gotten to him, and here he was aware of the rancid coffee smell. Still, his professionalism forced him to continue, despite the curled lips of his colleagues near him.

They had bypassed the stations fusion core and begin powering systems directly. A thousand tiny crewman dotted the power lines and workbees spanned the gaps but small problems kept arising, such as their current plight. Forty three systems needing power, and the capacity for thirty high power lines was a simple to understand impossible to fix sort of problem.

"Surely we can find reroutes to allow powered systems to carry current?" Sepp was flummoxed, he wasn't an engineer at heart but an administrator.

The mousy Ktarian who did have extensive Engineering prowess answered affirmatively, "EPS is failed on board, the grid was overloaded, we are using wired connections. If we power a single room with EPS confinement failure we start a fire. No, until we can access all portions of the Station, we will need to run power directly to the system. We can support thirty hookups at the most, which is what I outlined."

Triage at least, was in his wheelhouse, Sepp nodded with affirmation of her report. "Very well, Life Support is seven systems, Comms are five, If we limit to internal sensors, that's two, Transporters is another three..." He tapped out the power requirements and systems involved, linking all thirty where they needed to go.

"Life Support is already linking, comms are being provided remotely through the Second Star Merchant vessel."

Sepp was pleased to hear that, "Good rededicate the allocated hookups to damage control and get the station healing itself then. If we have comms, I require Captain Francis or Captain Lo immediately."

=/\=This is Captain Francis responding to Ticonderoga," came Francis' voice. Captain Francis had excused himself from Rex. "How may I be of service?"

Sepp replied, "Captain, we must begin our process immediately. I have sent the final approval on the proposal to swap power mains. If we are authorized I can begin."

=/\=You are authorized. Good luck," Francis said.


***

{ThunderChild}

Eyes everywhere. Feelers everywhere. Ears everywhere. With that Alidade could see everyone everywhere, she could feel everyone everywhere, she could hear everyone everywhere. Everyone, everywhere aboard the Thunderchild.

The crew was moving throughout the ship like a stampede with nowhere to go. The circuits were fried in many areas of the ship and Alidade felt she had a better understanding of what pain felt like. The voices of the crew intermingled into one loud and unceasing report of agony and dread.

Singling them all out, Alidade could see and hear that the crew was pulling itself together. Those with experience, as well as not unconscious, were taking charge. Power was being restored, patients being moved, repairs underway. Order was returning albeit slowly.

As holo-emitters returned to partial functionality, Alidade flicked into existence in a corridor. The lights were flashing and strobing, sparks erupting from behind some damaged paneling. Alidade rushed to help another crew member trying to pry up a bit of dislocated conduit to rescue a pinned crewman.

She rushed up and helped lift the conduit.

"Hold it right there," said one.

"My legs is still stuck," said the crewman. "I can't..."

"Just a little more. A few inches more."

"Hold on to that," said Alidade. And, as the conduit was stabilized for those few seconds, she got onto all fours and crawled under what of the conduit she could.

"Don't do that! You'll get stuck too."

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'll be fine. Just be ready to pull him free. Ready?"

Alidade flexed her back, straightened her arms, and tensed her legs, all providing the leverage that was needed to raise the conduit those few inches for the trapped crewman to be pulled free.

"There."

"Now to get you out of there. Let me see..."

"No. I'm fine. Just stand back."

As the two crew members withdrew, they saw Alidade simply disappear and the conduit fell back to the floor with a crushing thud. She flicked back into existence beside them. "That injury does not appear life threatening," she was eyeing the rescued crewman as he favored his right leg. "Get him to the Shuttle Bay. That is being used as a non-surgical Med Bay. Go." And the two were off, one helping the other along.

Alidade looked around. Her ears, being the entire ship, picked up a situation in Sick Bay. Commander Graves was in a grave condition. Someone was accessing a computer terminal and attempting to make ship-to-ship contact. From that terminal, however, that was going to be problematic at best. Alidade listened in on what they needed, searched the ship circuitry for the best method of broadcasting a message away from the Thunderchild.

Here eyes flashed and she made connection. "This is USS Thunderchild requesting blood donors of Human-Betazoid extraction to donate blood to cover an emergency surgery. Donations can be taken here or beamed over. Please respond to this hailing frequency or send directly to the Thunderchild cortex."

She saved the message and programmed it to broadcast repeatedly every minute until it was answered.

"Hey," Captain Izzy took a moment to snag Alidade by her holographic elbow, "You are doing a great job. How do you feel?"

Alidade's eyes flashed back to normal. "Fine Captain," she said. "I feel I understand better this definition of pain you have. Forward sensors are fried so I am blind in that regard." She flickered a time or two and Izzy's suddenly found her hand gripping nothing but air. Alidade flickered again and was suddenly standing six inches to the right. Distortions appeared here and there across her body. "Holo-emitters are at partial functionality."

She narrowed her focus considerably seeing Alidade so out of sorts. This entity was still so new, how could one discover pain and still be responsible to perform at expectation in the same instant.

"I can see you are in distress, we are regaining the upperhand on repairs, let's get you on the sideline and have someone take a look. My god, if Thunderchild is a part of your body, we will really need to reconsider how things are done here."

"I agree," said Alidade. "I know I am not supposed to take control of the ship without crew input, but I needed to get us out of there. Did I act fast enough? I know we have casualties, but I think I kept fatalities to a minimum. Is Captain Francis going to be upset with me? I don't want to mess up again." The image of Alidade flickered again and again.

Izzy hit her comm, "Engineering, send a specialist to the Quantum core for Alidade on the double."

=^="Captain," came a crewman's voice over Izzy's commbadge, "I'm in the Computer Core. Aside from having a sentient entity in the core, something weird is going on inside. Cyclic redundancies, feedback loops, compounding logic equations..."=^= he cut himself off. =^="Permission to sever the core from ship primary functions until we can get this sorted?"=^=

The Captain looked her crewmamber in the eye, "Alidade, we built this ship with your safety and ours in mind, you did great, and nobody has died. You need to rest, can you lay down, rest in your home. We will use the other core to run standard functions and let us take a look at you. We all have had a breather, you should too."

This would have been the first instance of Alidade 'resting', she realized, since finding herself in the Thunderchild Computer Core. She understood others needed to rest, sometimes sleep, but the thought never occurred to her to do the same. "Yes, Captain," she said. "I will do that."

=/\= This is Captain Izwyx, authorizing swapping to redundant core, emergency response to Alidades Quantum server.

She watched as Alidade faded, turning to her bridge crew as she vanished, "We are just asking her to stay still while we take a look, same as any of you going to medical would be told to do. Resume standard duties."

-To Be Continued-

 

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