NARRATORS POV
The small shuttle had been travelling at warp four through the delta quadrant for a week now. It had been going at warp six before, its top speed. It had been doing that for two weeks. But, then the port nacelle had finally given up, but was compensated for as much as possible.
It all had started as a rescue mission. Completely safe, if you weren't counting the extremely dangerous and experimental piece of technology they were using.
Now the shuttle was in pieces. There was nothing left to eat except emergency rations, the replicator was off-line. Just MREs and energy bars.
Whatever idiot packed this emergency pack seemed to have forgotten one key thing; water. Thought the shuttle's only survivor.
Sensors were at minimum. At least propulsion was still working… for now... kind of. The ship had a moderate power leakage that was slowly draining their systems. They, well rather she I guess, wouldn't last long like this.
Life support had been failing for a few days now as power kept having to be diverted in order to maintain the shuttle's speed and course. Lieutenant T'Para diverted the power from the phaser banks to maintain the stasis field around her dead co-pilot, a Lieutenant Baylor. She was only having a little difficulty breathing as the air grew thinner and oxygen was spent. She was used to thin, dry air after all, having grown up mostly on Vulcan.
Lieutenant Baylor had died a week after their arrival from internal bleeding. With all of her medical skills and knowledge, without the necessary tools, there was nothing she could do. She had watched him slowly go downhill until he hit the insanity, then finally death. Her logic struggled in an inner conflict with her human half for only the hundredth time.
I don't need to be so strong. No one is here except me now.
And Baylor's lifeless corpse...Baylor...
No! I will not play the pity game! It is for those who are weak and controlled by their emotions!
Why not? I'm alone, and I've lost a friend. I need to release some of this emotion, or it will grow in me and I will become a feral slave to it!
Her human side and Vulcan side continued this banter as she completed the power transfer that kept her friend from degrading. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, and stood, giving one more glance to hear deceased comrade.
She walked across the small ship in just a few strides, and then sat down at the com, trying to take slow breaths and not pass out. Her inner conflict continued as her human side blabbed on.
Just look at him! Nicholas is dead! He was young and handsome! His fiancée is waiting for him right now back at the star base! I promised Leanna, another of my friends and the love of Nick's faded life, that I'd have him back, safe and sound, in time for their wedding! I was to be one of her bridesmaids! I helped them plan it all!
Shut up, just shut up!
I knew them before they knew each other! And just look at him now! He's gone, and it's all because I screwed up! What kind of doctor am I? Why did he have to be chosen for this mission? He was young and had his whole life ahead. You aren't even sad about this?! Where's the mourning?
"Stop it, please," she muttered aloud, now covering her face with her hands, trying to will the pain away. Her human conscious just continued on.
So many people will miss him. No one will miss me. Father disowned me when I chose the Vulcan way. And since mother is Vulcan, she doesn't experience emotions. And I've always known I'm just a disappointment in her eyes. My friends may miss me, but they'll heal quickly, I'm sure. I'm nothing to cry over.
"No! Lies!" she hissed aloud.
This would all be very confusing to anyone else, but she lived a double life. She was half Vulcan, half human. She often had wars raging in her head between logic and emotion. Logic usually won, so she continued with her inner reasoning.
I am mourning him. I will miss him and it is my fault, I know that. The tricorder malfunctioned and I did not check to see if it had been damaged before I examined him. I was unable to notice the bleed in his brain until it was much too late. Mother would…will miss me, even if she doesn't show it. Father always loved me, he just didn't come to Vulcan after he and mother divorced-
Her human side interrupted. Why did you say mother "will" miss me?
Her logic continued. Because I need to accept that there is a 98.6% chance of my death. And, by the way, Nicholas volunteered for this mission as the engineer we needed to make this work. I volunteered, and therefore do not have the right to roll in self-pity. I take full responsibility for what has happened and I do… feel bad.
Her human half produced no witty retort, only the sweet silence of defeat.
She did not like admitting, even to herself, that she had emotions. If other Vulcans found out, she would be looked down upon and treated as a lesser. She knew her emotions existed and when she was most comfortable, they shone through in a most human way. She seemed almost completely human when she was alone, sometimes humming to herself, or laughing out loud at something she was reading, or… crying when her friend died.
I am crying, on the inside. My heart weeps for him, a lost friend.
Well why don't I cry on the outside too?
Because, there is little oxygen left and I am sure he wouldn't have wanted me to die from oxygen deprivation because my breathing became irregular over crying about him. There was a pause in her mind as the human side thought of a response. When she couldn't come up with one, a white flag was raised.
Finally, logic wins.
Yes, but I'll need time to truly process this later…If there is a later.
She truly was sad and missed him, she was just trained in life and genetically not to show these things. She tilted her head back and meditated and performed an ancient Earth tradition, something Baylor had believed in. She "prayed" for his soul to ascend. She did surprisingly well at remaining calm, too. No random pity fests.
As her painkiller wore off, she was reminded of her injuries. Her flesh was burned in patches from some sort of radiation leakage, mostly on her arms and back. Her clothes, however, were unaffected; hence, one couldn't tell she had burns just by looking at her. She couldn't treat it because internal sensors were blown when it all happened, and the tricorder's battery died. So she had no idea of what sort of radiation was ailing her, and, no, there is no "standard" treatment. One treatment can completely cure one radiation burn, while igniting another.
She reached over to the med kit on the floor and pulled out the last dose of painkillers. She injected herself in the neck with the hypo and waited for it to take effect.
At least her head had stopped pounding as her Vulcan immune system allowed the strong dose of painkiller to take a slight hold. It usually just burned right on through her system, no effect. She tried to keep sitting straight, as to not damage her ribs further, which she thought were at least fractured in two places. She could not get an exact reading even before the tricorder died; it was having none of it.
She had also dislocated her shoulder, which Baylor had helped her put back into place with a sickening crack. Something had not been done right, which was obvious with the odd angle her shoulder was at and the pain that shot down her arm if she moved it.
She suddenly found herself very sleepy. She realized it must be the lack of oxygen in the atmosphere. She struggled to remain conscious long enough to review the last log entry she had made for the captain of Voyager, before life support had to be diverted. She looked it over and found it was satisfactory.
Suddenly, she remembered something! The letters to the crew! She had not checked the database to see if they were damaged along with so many other things.
Damn! I forgot! Let's see; Naomi Wildman, Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Baker, Ensign Kim, Lieutenant Ayala, Ensign Brooks, Jenny and Megan Delaney, Ensign Golwat, Ensign Lang, Ensign Macormak and a formal letter to a reformed Borg, Seven of Nine. What? How could that be all? There were 147 people onboard at last count. Now I have one more reason to survive the trip.
She had hand received the majority of the letters and upon meeting the families and friends, they would give her small verbal messages to deliver in person. Her Vulcan memory would allow her to do that; all she had to do was survive. She transferred the remaining letters to the padd in her bag, to prevent further degradation.
The com made a small beeping noise. They're damaged sensors had located the ship a few light years from there. With the last of the power from the phaser banks, she sent a federation distress call. She also left all com channels open, so they could see her and know it was Starfleet people onboard.
She knew she might die before they got there, so she diverted all remaining power from life support and shields to the engines and instructed the computer to fly them at maximum warp to the ship, slowing to impulse when they got close and allow transport onto and from the shuttle. "Warning," the computer droned. "Discontinuing life support could increase radiation leakage to lethal levels."
"I understand. Proceed," she told it.
The lights and the oxygen recycler turned off. She immediately felt the effects. Ah, hypoxia, such fun. She reached into the medkit for the hypo of tri-ox. It was broken and the tri-ox was spilled all over the med kit. She scraped as much of the liquid up as she could and rubbed it on her lips. It should provide her with enough to make it there as it evaporated into her respitory system.
After checking to make sure everything had been done correctly, she could not stand the overwhelming feeling to sleep, and the chair could not support her relaxing muscles. She slid to the floor and into a peaceful state of unconsciousness. Her last thoughts were hopeful that the information they had gathered on how they got here would help her friends on the ship get home faster…