A/N: I do not own Star Trek. Any of them. However, I do own the two cadets mentioned in this fic. This.....thing was inspired by the fact that everyone seems to have forgotten that hundreds of people DIED in that damn ambush. And that some of the bits of staship look large enough to sustain life....for a time.
"Cadets to your assigned ships."
Red lights. On off on offonoffonoff-
Screaming alarms rip through the remains of the ship like the enemy whowhowho had. No time to wonder got to fix.
"Set course."
Sparks and shattered metal and that should not be on fire. Shitishitshit duck and move the ship is falling apart the ship is falling apart – whodidthis- have to keep delicate black nightmare outside waiting already has too many have to keep ship together- will. not. die.
Pyre fly sparks burns bleeding hands as cables snap must fix.
"Thrusters on full"
Ignore the burns. Ignore gashes that made hands slick with red -lights- blood. Ignore the ones who were not as fast lucky as she. Just more obstacles to run jump around. Soft, subtle creaks cracks under klaxons by a too young ensign.
Ohshit. Move-
Knock him down get in front of- pain hits, a sharp edged sledgehammer to her back. "Go!" she screams, in what language she didn't- matter, the wide-eyed ensign runs (his eyes were leaf green, some distant part of her mind notes, the same part that had recorded the exact colors of the burnt innards spread across the scarred floor of Engineering) and now she has to fix and weld and hold and pray in between thoughts that this delicate thing will hold together with its precious cargo-that is delicate too, with broken bodies in shattered corridors. Don't know –never will- how long it's been in seconds hours of screaming red.
Just. Keep. Going.
Clamps and rivets and pressure and make the engine hold its torn body together- the sound has stopped. So used she has gotten to the yelling klaxons that the abrupt silence and cessation of the red hell light is bewildering. A ragged voice over the comm, the same one that had been bellowing orders earlier, along with another. The metal shell is holding. They would be alive when help came.
"Maximum warp."
She slumps against a nearby wall, just breathing. Then she stands back up, oblivious to the purple red stain on the wall, have to make sure the shell kept holding (there are so few left in Engineering, after all). She would ignore the puddles left by her steps, the same color as those under the obstacles she wove around on the floor. Would ignore the bizarre numbness that began in her back and kept going. Would ignore the blackness creeping along the edges of her vision. Would ignore it until she passed out, collapsing against a circuit board she had just repaired.
"Engage the enem-"
She would not wake up again.
End.