Deal Breakers and Queen Makers
By LadyRavena
Chapter Three: Time here, all but means nothing / Just shadows that move 'cross the wall
The wailing of the sirens, thin and screeching, was her first warning that something was considerably wrong with the ship. The blinding pain when she tried to move out from under her command chair was her second. Hearing panicky reports, calls off "Admiral down!" and "Return fire!" was her third warning, urging her to awaken fully into the chaos of battle.
Someone was lifting the heavy command chair off her back, dulling the pain to a mere crippling level. Struggling to open her eyes, she tried to lift herself off the deck, working moisture into her mouth, tasting only the coppery of blood. Hands pressed her back down, probed her injuries with careful hands, with murmured consultations with each other. She focused on them, past the agony rippling down her spine…
"Medics can't get up here, the turbolifts aren't coming up."
"Several broken ribs, internal bleeding is almost certain. Keep the pressure on that, we need to get the bleeding stopped."
"We can take the command lift down."
"We can't risk moving her, there could be spinal damage."
"The bridge has lost twenty-two percent of its air, ensign. There are perhaps ten of us left. We need to evacuate to the secondary command levels. We can't leave her behind, either."
Hurried footsteps, audible even over the continued barrage of weapons fire, stopped just before her head. "Sir, two lift cars are being held. Recommend one team with all injured personnel report to med bay, the other to the command center."
Hands rolling her slowly onto her side, sliding something under her, something soft and long…an emergency heat wrap, her brain supplied… wrapping her tightly in the wrap as the hands rolled her over onto her back. Her thin scream stilled the hands, had them quickly rolling her back at least onto her side.
The flashes of agony abated enough that she could try to focus again on her crew…the ship, the battle, these were green soldiers, most barely out of final training, their first real battle, and Voss should have already taken command…
"I'll take her down to med bay, sir. She's the only one seriously injured, the others are going to the command center with Captain Harburge."
Harburge? Memory finally coalesced, the battle falling into place. Voss wasn't here, it wasn't the Rebellion that had attacked them. The Vagaari had been waiting for them in this little backwater sector. Backwater even for Unknown Space, almost nothing of value…
"Captain! Enemy vessels have targeted the command superstructure. Shields are at thirty-nine percent--" a blast shook the deck, "twenty-eight percent."
"Get her off now. All hands, evacuate the command levels, repeat, all hands, evacuate to the lower levels. Command staff to the secondary command room."
Arms slipped under her knees and shoulders, a voice whispered a heart-felt apology as they slowly lifted her off the deck. She barely bit back a scream, knowing that she needed to be moved, and now. They held her tightly against themselves, steps ginger but laced with urgency. The sudden drop of the floor drew a muffled groan from behind clenched teeth.
"Don't move too much, Admiral. I'll get you down to the tanks. Don't worry; a few hours in the bacta, you'll be just as beau-good as new. The captain knows what he's doing, he'll beat these aliens."
Lieutenant Pieters, so earnest, young, and talented, was the one who was carrying her to safety. The young man who, for the longest time, couldn't form a coherent sentence in her presence, who had requested to be transferred to any ship or duty station, so long as he wasn't on the bridge. It had taken her too long to realise that youthful inexperience wasn't the problem; rather, youthful hormones had been the culprit. Eri'dantae had laughed himself breathless when he tried to explain that the young human had what they called a 'crush' on her. Nothing so embarrassing to a young man, he explained, except if said infatuation learned about it. She'd kept him on the bridge despite his lack of vocabulary in her presence. No doubt, she reasoned, he would settle down eventually.
The floor stopped with a jolt, the car shifting to horizontal movement. Pieters tightened his hold on her knees, keeping up his monologue, trying to keep her attention, no doubt. Ignore the pain, and try to focus on the battle.
She managed to drag her eyes open just as the lift doors opened to controlled chaos of the medical section. Orders being barked out, the moans of the injured, too many for them to handle, gurneys along the corridor walls met them as he carried her out, calling for the chief medical officer.
"She's been hurt, doctor, she screams anytime we move her, ribs broken, some internal bleeding, we thought her spine might be hurt--"
"Scanner!"
"The bridge's been lost; we didn't have time to wait until the teams could come. I know we shouldn't have moved her, but--"
"It's alright, lieutenant. Just bring her over to the table. Nurse! Get a tank ready with full brace available. Check our Chiss blood supply, prep one bag whole."
Eyes closed against the pain as he lowered her to the examination table, she tried not to scream as her spine touched the hard surface. Couldn't hold back against the deluge. Tried desperately to roll onto her side, hands holding her back down.
"Just a moment more, Admiral."
She counted ten heartbeats.
"Scan's almost done…there, fracture in the lower vertebrae, several cracked ribs. No internal ruptures, nicked a lung with a fragment of bone. Roll her onto her side in three…two…one."
The wrap left as she twitched uncontrollably from the move. Dragging her eyes open, she watched as Pieters, across the room, refused medical aid for a head wound…idiot boy, she thought.
"No, it's just a scratch. I've got to get to the command room, take my post."
Loyal, stubborn, idiot boy, she amended.
He turned to see her looking at him. "Admiral, permission to resume my post?"
"Permission granted," she whispered, and watched him go.
The brace around her back eased the pain enough she didn't black out when they started to load her into the bacta tank for her first session. Only when the entire ship bucked from a massive weapon's hit underneath them did she come close to losing consciousness, listening to the swearing from the doctor as he manoeuvred her back into the sticky liquid.
With a jolt, Mitth'ryl awoke to find Dr. Levine leaning over her to remove the last of the intravenous lines. "Jumpy," the doctor commented, straightening back up. "Just rest there for a while, let the sedative wear off."
"Aye, sir," she muttered under her breath.
"Stay put, and you won't have to spend the night. Overdo it, and you'll pull something and I'll have to put up with you for yet another shift."
Mitth'ryl sniffed. "Your bedside manner--"
"—is saved for those who don't make unilateral decisions on their own health. You left your ship's sickbay with two cracked ribs and a mild slipped disk. If you don't enjoy complete bed rest until I say otherwise, you'll behave next time you have a back injury."
Mitth'ryl raised an eyebrow, scorn dripping from every word. "Then next time I shall instruct the crew to leave my writhing corpse on an exploding bridge, and never mind the lack of air."
"Do," Levine answered, stalking off.
Mitth'ryl winced slightly as she slowly pulled herself into the closest thing she could to a sitting position, looking around the recovery room she had been placed in. One chair across the room held a neatly folded fresh uniform, with shined boots properly placed underneath for her convenience. Her coat had been hung neatly over the back, as well.
"Either Waltz, or Eri'dantae," she murmured to herself, straightening a little farther and twisting to see onto the bedside table. "Waltz would leave a brush," she reasoned, glancing over the collection of medical odds and ends…No brush, so it must have been Eri'dantae who had been here while she soaked.
But there was a datapad propped up against the water carafe, standing ready for her to read. Reaching it took a few tries, and one smothered gasp. Fingers just managing to reach it, she pulled the troublesome piece of hardware to her lap, flicking it on, resisting the urge to rub a hand over stiff muscles.
"Your schedule is attached below, along with the final repair estimates of your flagship. Parck wants to have a small meeting when you're freed from Dr. Levine's sharp manners, perhaps over dinner. After that, I have the workout room booked for stress relief."
Mitth'ryl almost paged down to the estimates, but stopped at the small postscript near the bottom of the screen. "Waltz packed a small bag for you of something or other, and shoved it in the pile as I walked out. I put it in the drawer."
She breathed a soft laugh, and paged down to the report. She managed read a few of the summaries before drifting off again.
After her unexpected nap, Mitth'ryl fully expected Dr. Levine to insist on keeping her in the med bay overnight again. However, with a firm warning to keep her medical inexperience to herself, the doctor let her leave for her dinner appointment with Voss. Slipping into her uniform jacket, she noted wryly that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it did before the dip.
Parck let her into his private rooms, where dinner was set out for two. "I have to admit, a soak and a nap has done you the world of good, Admiral."
She let him pull out her chair, and settled in. "The nap wasn't intentional. You needed something while I was asleep?"
Parck, taking a sip of wine, shook his head. "No, I commed down to the doctor only to see if you were able to come for dinner. The good doctor let me know that you were out of the tanks, and that you needed a little more time to recover from the sedative."
Mitth'ryl nodded, not fully convinced. She vaguely recalled him calling her name while she dozed, and footsteps walking away from her bed. She'd let him have his little fib, though. If he wanted to play mother hen, then she'd let him…to a point.
"Did you receive the rest of the intelligence files you were hoping for?"
Parck nodded. "All as we thought, and as Fernic laid out. We should be able to do a simple insertion/fact-finding mission from what we have, although his aide has made discreet inquiries for more information."
"You've spoken with Reignome yet?"
"He's looking over the data we have tonight. I would suggest a full meeting with the heads of department as soon as Chaf'osh'amgamoc gives us the rest of the intelligence." Parck waited for a moment, watching her face. "Shall I comm the Ambassador's ship and tell them that we will be taking this case?"
Mitth'ryl nodded slowly. "I require all information on him, previous arrests and reports from the officers being a priority. Also, crime scene descriptions from crimes he was either accused of and released, or convicted of. Any and all details, not just those that the Ascendancy thinks is pertinent, are required. If they start playing 'need to know,' I start finding other things to do."
"Agreed."