Skofnung; The Blade from the Tomb
Chapter One; Vital
Vital. Noun. 1. Burial clothes. 2. Essential body parts.3. Bier.
When he came to, it was to total darkness. This was somewhat unexpected, as his most recent memory log showed a view of a large well lit control room full of blinking lights, monitor screens and humming machinery, and the other members of the away team fanning out in their search pattern. He remembered that they had shuttled down to the planet's surface, unable to beam through the turbulent atmosphere.
He consulted his internal chronometer and discovered a lapse of memory lasting eight minutes, forty one point three five seconds.
Curious, he ran a quick level one diagnostic. Visual sensors offline. Auditory sensors offline. Tactile sensors offline.
Oh dear. That explained a lot. What a strange experience. He supposed this is what sensory deprivation was like. He almost felt as if he were floating through space.
He gave himself a mental shake and set about attempting to resolve the issue. He rebooted his auditory system, and slowly became aware of a voice.
"... in. Repeat, Commander Data, can you hear me?"
"Yes, Captain, I can hear you." Data replied. Picard's voice was distorted and slightly muffled, thrumming through the combadge on his chest. He heard the captain sigh.
"Thank God. Data, what happened? Are you alright?"
"I am unsure Captain, on both points. I appear to have been offline for a short while, and my systems are still rebooting. As I am unable to provide any further information, I must ask you to be quiet for a moment as I assess the situation as best I can."
Data pondered his predicament as his tactile sensors reactivated. He was lying on his back on a hard surface, concrete to judge by the texture. There was very little air movement, so the space must be small and enclosed. He raised his arms, and almost immediately encountered resistance. Running his hands over the obstruction, he determined that it was a steel beam, topped with more concrete slabs, riven with cracks and dents. He registered the patter of fragments as the material above him flaked onto his face.
"Sir? I appear to be buried under debris. I can conclude therefore that there has been some sort of collapse, possibly due to an earthquake or similar, or an explosive of some kind."
"Our sensors picked up what appeared to be an explosion, and a burst of electro-magnetic energy." That was Geordi. He must be on the bridge, monitoring at a science station.
"That would explain my temporary deactivation. It would seem that the control room was rigged with some sort of booby-trap, perhaps in order to..."
"Data." Picard cut him off. "What about the rest of the away team?"
"Visual sensors are still offline, tactile sensors are partial. If you will maintain silence again temporarily I will attempt to locate the others. Stand by."
In the darkness, with his hands pressed to the cold metal above him, he turned up the gain on his auditory sensors and stilled his internal systems in order to focus his hearing outside of his confinement.
"I can hear four heartbeats. Two are erratic. I can also detect breathing from four distinct sources. It would seem that all members of the away team are alive, but I am unable to hear any voices or movement. I am forced to assume that their situations are similar to my own."
"Data, you are the only one we've been able to establish contact with. Is there any way that you can get out and find the others? We have shuttles en route, but they won't be with you for another..." There was a pause as the captain consulted, "... twenty minutes or so."
"Understood, Captain. I am still rebooting, but as soon as all of my systems are functioning again, I..."
Fear.
"... Ah." His emotion chip had come back online. How inconvenient. He felt cold dread slither down his spine, the sensation almost physical. As his tactile sensors became fully active, he became aware of something else.
He was pinned. And it hurt.
"... Oh. Oh dear." This was particularly poor timing. Under better circumstances the sensation would be fascinating, but right now, it was something he could have done without.
"Data? What's wrong?" Picard sounded anxious, as well he might. Well, so was he.
"I... my emotion chip has activated. Please... stand by." He was aware now of the second beam, this one lying across his shins. Or, more accurately, through. He twisted as far as he could, and his questing fingertips measured the gap between the beam and the floor to be six point three two centimetres. He winced reflexively as his fingers encountered the splinters of titanium protruding from his uniform. His sensors were registering the damage, and his emotion chip was translating that to physical sensation, and subsequent emotional response. It wasn't pain as humans felt it, of that he was sure, but the symptoms were the same. His hand trembled as he straightened and he took a deep breath, as if the act of inhaling could somehow calm him. Merely a reflex, a pre-programmed response, an imitation of humanity. The pain was not real, he had no adrenal response, he would have to rationalise this out.
But it hurt. For the first time, real pain was shooting up his legs. He felt dizzied by the sensations.
"Data? Are you still there?" The captain's voice dragged him back to reality. He blinked and realized that there were tears on his cheeks. He breathed deeply again.
"Yes... Yes, I am 'still here'. I... my legs..." Why was he suddenly unable to articulate his thoughts? A strange response. He would have to analyse this further, at a more appropriate moment. "There is a steel beam across my lower legs. My shins are almost totally crushed." Better. Push down the panic, that rising hysteria that made him want to wail and beat his fists against the concrete encasing him. Focus, and remember your training. Think logically. There are others in more pressing need of help.
"Sir, I believe there is clear air coming in from behind me, I can feel it moving my hair. I think I may be able to pull myself out, but it may be... unpleasant. I would advise that we break communications while I make the attempt."
"Absolutely not." The captain's voice was firm. "If we are unable to establish a com link again, we'll have no way to accurately locate you when the shuttles arrive on the surface. Do what you can to get free and get to the others."
"Acknowledged."
The bridge of the Enterprise NC1701-E was tense, all ears on the com link with the distant surface. The viewscreen showed the roiling atmosphere of the planet below, and looking out, Captain Picard was all too aware of the people, his people, trapped somewhere below those turgid and turbulent butt layers. His jaw clenched as he strained his ears, and he heard the faint hiss as, far away and alone, his second officer sucked a breath between his teeth.
There was a screech, the sound of metal scraping on metal. Picard shuddered, his teeth set on edge. It was the audio equivalent of chewing on foil, the sound of the taste of blood. Behind him Deanna Troi winced, and Geordi's fingernails scraped across the surface of the screen he was stationed at.
There was another screech, and a gasp. The disembodied sounds were horrible, like hearing an assault through the wall and being powerless to help. The captain's jaw worked rhythmically, the muscles in his cheeks tensing as he stared down at the planet, as if his fierce gaze could burn away the atmospheric disturbance preventing him from rescuing his crew.
The bridge was bright and airy, the thrum and hum of the mighty ship surrounding them like a comforting blanket of white noise, but the sounds filtering up to them through the com made all of them think of the plight of those trapped on the surface. The androids breaths were louder now; obviously the space he was pulling himself through had narrowed. Geordi knew all too well what it was to be alone and without sight in a potentially hostile environment, and his heart ached for his friend. Deanna could hear the strain in Data's voice as the disturbing scraping sounds halted.
"I am almost free of the collapsed section of ceiling, I think I can..." There was a sharp crack, and another screech howled across the ether, but this time it was recognisably a voice. Not quite human in extremis, Data's vocal synthesiser was struggling to make sense of the input, and what came through was a scream behind a distorted wail of static.
"Data!" Picard barked. His fists were clenched, and he was aware of a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Report!"
"Huh... uh..." The vocal synthesiser stuttered and shrilled for a moment. "I... I am free of the debris. Please... stand by."
Data rested for a moment, his head slightly elevated on the slab he had pulled himself onto. He was face up, there was clear air around him, and his tactile sensors were going haywire. He thought for a moment about trying to disable them, but realised that without them he would have very little information to go on.
"Sir, I must request that you maintain com silence as I commence my search for the rest of the team. I will keep the link active as requested, but the only way I have of locating the others is by sound. I think the electro-magnetic pulse must have damaged part of my neural net, I am unable to bring visual sensors online."
"Very well, do what you can. The shuttles will be with you soon."
"Thank you Captain, that is good to know."
Data slowed his intake of air, and once again listened. Out of the confines of the wreckage of the control room, it was much easier to hear the subtle sounds of his crewmates. He rolled onto his stomach and dragged himself to the closest heart beat, his nimble fingers assessing the stability of the detritus. He dragged the rubble clear and ran his hands over the body he had uncovered.
"I have found Commander Riker. His left shoulder is dislocated, there is a contusion on his left temple, and... I believe his right tibia is broken. However, his breathing and heartbeat are steady and regular. He is in no immediate danger, but remains unconscious."
"Good work, Data." Data could almost hear the captain's smile, and he smiled himself at the thought as he clawed his way to the next casualty.
"Sir? Request to take an additional shuttle to the surface." Geordi had turned away from the science station to look across the bridge at his captain. Picard cocked an eyebrow at him.
"There are two shuttles on their way to them now, La Forge. There should be more than enough space for all the casualties."
"With respect, sir..." Geordi's brow furrowed over his visor. "That's two shuttles with medical personnel, but Data's in a bad way by the sounds of things. He needs an engineer, not a doctor. They won't know how to help him."
"Do you believe he may suffer from not receiving immediate care? Surely you could work on him when they get him back with the others?" Picard looked thoughtful, considering all angles. Geordi shook his head.
"Honestly sir, it depends how badly he's damaged. If there's something really wrong, and they don't know how to fix it in time..." Geordi's throat closed as despair swamped him. The thought of gentle, brave Data dying for lack of a technician overwhelmed him momentarily. Picard eyed him for a moment, and then jerked his head towards the turbolift.
"Go."
"Lieutenant Daniels. Several broken ribs, breathing laboured, heartbeat erratic. I would surmise that he has internal injuries, possibly a punctured lung. Suggest he is made a priority case for the incoming medical team."
"Acknowledged. Geordi's on his way in another shuttle, with equipment and an engineering team. How are you holding up?"
"I..." Data pondered for a moment. Would telling the captain of his pain be of any practical use? There wasn't much Picard could do, and it would only worry him. "I am functioning adequately under the circumstances. My sensors are damaged, and I am having difficulty assessing the extent of my own injuries."
"As soon as you've found the other casualties I want a report on your own condition. The more information I can pass on to Geordi, the better prepared he'll be."
"I understand." The rubble shifted under him and he slid down a slight depression, almost on top of the next heartbeat. His dexterous hands made light work of the concrete and rebar.
"Ensign T'mir. Heartbeat and breathing regular. Broken... Contusion... Stable. No immediate..."
"Data? You're breaking up. Get that com link stable!" Picard barked at someone on the bridge. Data didn't recognise the voice that replied, although he knew that he should. He knew everyone on that ship... "The link is strong sir, I don't know what's causing the..." It was the young man, wasn't it, the one with the red hair? Data shook his head and interrupted.
"Sir? It was me, sir. I... ppear to b..." Data gritted his teeth. "The... seem to have a prob... faculties. Will attempt... rectify."
He ran another diagnostic in hopes of solving this serious error as he made his way to the last heartbeat, or at least, where the heartbeat had been.
The diagnostic had thrown up some interesting errors, not least of which was a lesion between two segments of his positronic net. He rerouted some neural pathways to circumvent the damaged areas, and suddenly his visual feed came back online. He blinked, astonished for a moment. Then his eyes focused on the begrimed face of the young women lying before him. He could see immediately why he could no longer hear her heartbeat, but he still felt for her pulse. His hand came away coated with her blood.
"Sir, I have visual. I have found Ensign Singh. She... She is gone, sir. I am sorry, I got to her as quickly as I could."
"It's alright Data, you've done extraordinarily well under the circumstances."
Data looked at the woman's face, so close to his own in his prone position. Just a girl, really. She must have been so pleased to be assigned to the Enterprise at such a tender age. He had seen death before, but it never got any easier. The emotion chip shook him and wrung him as he closed her eyes over the film of dust on the dulled corneas.
"The first shuttles will be there soon, and Geordi's right behind them. Can you give me a report on your condition?" The captain's voice once again recalled him to himself, and he looked away from the body and pushed himself to a sitting position.
The flood of horror that coursed through him as he looked down at himself was sudden and debilitating. He had never seen himself damaged with the emotion chip activated, and the sense of... wrongness... was overwhelming.
He had been forced to drag his mangled legs out from under the beam, and the titanium and duranium had shattered, twisted and splintered. Long wires and clusters of sensors trailed from the rents in his uniform, shredded from his crawling search for his team. His mouth gaped as he followed his path with his eyes, clearly marked with a trail of shimmering yellow where his ruptured hydraulics had spewed and leaked a track like some enormous snail.
"Bad..." He managed to croak. He closed his eyes and lay back down.