Disclaimer: I do not raise claim to the Halo universe, Halo equipment, or any references to the games or franchise. I do own the characters in the following story.
Hall opened his eyes. He blinked once, then again. His vision was clear, and he could see. The fire on the flight deck…he had been…
He immediately went to work checking to see if he'd lost any parts of his body he cared for. Satisfied that nothing was missing, he laid his head back again. The fluffy pillow somehow sent a sharp pain through his head.
"Careful!" Hall's eyes traced the voice and saw a man in a white lab coat approach. "You'll aggravate the wound."
"You a doctor?"
"Something like that," the man leaned out of Hall's field of view and appeared to be talking to someone, "He's awake. No, you can't seem him yet. He's weak enough as it is, miss, with his head split open. The last thing he needs is to be excited, it might make him relapse."
Hall couldn't see if there was anyone else in the room, and judging by the pauses between each comment, he was probably on a private ship comm. Not uncommon on the older battle cruisers, and more effective under fire, as they were harder to damage. The newer ones were some of the first ship systems to go. Fragile little bastards.
"Look," The doctor continued, "he's conscious but not strong. Uou want to throw him into a relapse fine, but I'm the one who gets to fix him, y'know!" The man finally stepped back into Hall's vision and approached the bedside, "How ya doin'?"
Hall didn't have much to complain about. His back hurt a bit, but not too much, and he still had that strange tingling on the back of his head.
"What happened?" His murky memories were of no use to him in that respect.
The doctor crossed his arms, "You don't remember?" The man's attitude was corrected by Hall's immediate annoyed look. "Oh, yeah. Your head."
"Oh, yeah. My head." The sarcastic tone was perhaps over the top, but it got the message across.
The doctor cocked his head to one side, obviously irritated by Hall's disdain, "You cracked your head against a bulkhead. That tingling sensation? That's your fractured skull under Narcosep pain killer. Your head is open to the air."
Hall wished he hadn't asked. The thought of his head bleeding on the cold deck made his stomach turn. It also brought to mind the image of all the others in worse condition. Those closer to the explosion….Hall thought he'd puke.
He rolled over in bed away from the doctor. In the cot next to him was a man, asleep, his heart monitor pulsating with a regular beat. The sheet covered the man up to his chest, but unless there was a trap door in the bed, the man had no legs.
"Hey!" The forgiving sound of a familiar voice brought Hall back from the edge of total digestive meltdown. Hall turned away from his thoughts towards the doctor, who was rapidly overtaken by his three companions, the woman engineer in the lead.
The marine crossed his arms, a smile on his face, "You made it."
Hall raised an eyebrow, "I guess I did." A chuckle was his only response.
"We thought we'd lost you," The tech said, in a strangely upbeat tone.
"Well," Hall raised himself up on one elbow, "You're not that lucky."
The woman, the engineer simply smiled, "I'm Rachel; Rachel Willows."
Hall was taken aback by this sudden opening up. She was ready to trust him to stay alive…right after he almost died? "John Hall."
"The name's Rick Mackenzie." The marine's name fit him well.
The lab tech spoke up, following suit, "And I'm Alvin Ferris!"
Unfortunately, Hall barely heard as the men uttered their names. He continued to stare at the engineer, Rachel Willows, who seemed all too pleased with Hall's survival. He locked eyes with her, and for the time being, found himself falling into an endless sleep.
The damage to the Exeter that Hall had seen it the hanger bay was an insect problem compared to the rest of the ship. Entire bulkheads had been ripped from their placements, people blasted out into space from their beds. Weapon emplacements were shaved clean off, rendering the outer hull of the Exeter harmless to enemy bombardments. Life support had been cut for over an hour, and longer in other places. The air had been depleted in a few cabins entirely, and the people who had been locked inside by emergency airlocks had nearly been starved of oxygen. Many were dead. The few survivors were cursed to be slightly better than comatose for the rest of their lives. The Exeter had burned out it's engines getting away, and the slip space drive was non-operational. In essence, the cruiser was more of dead weight than a real ship anymore.
Hall stood on the bridge of the ship, next to his three companions. Or at least, what used to be the bridge. The entire front of it was now a gaping hole, where a plasma torpedo had disintegrated the front wall, tactical computers, and main consoles. The vast expanse of space, now half the bridge crew's resting place, was open to the naked eye. A emergency shield was place over it, but such a thing ran on emergency power, which only lasted for a short while. And something with the force of a falling wrench could break it. The Exeter was on the verge of falling apart. Literally.
Standing on the edge of the 'bridge', staring into that vast expanse, probably towards the many eyes of his fallen comrades stood a man. A Navy man, judging by uniform, and probably second-in-command by stripe, this officer's solemn gaze gave truth to one simple fact; one of the many faces out there was his captain. It meant one thing; he was now in command of this vessel.
"Second Mate Jacob Anderson. Or should I say Captain?" Corporal Mackenzie asked, saluting. The navy man turned slowly to face the four assembled on his bridge. Mackenzie snapped off a quick salute, "Reporting for duty, sir."
"Good to hear," the man said. "I suppose…you can call me Captain. Field promotions have happened before. And this ship does need a Captain."
Hall remained silent. Regardless of what he thought of it, he had been trained to not speak unless spoken to. It was the way of the military. Discipline, order, respect. If you did not value the man, respect the rank.
Anderson rocked on his heels as he observed the assembly before him. "Well…this is combat ineffective, and we know there's a hostile cruiser nearby, along with it's escorts. Lieutenant Willows!"
"Yes sir!" The woman responded almost out of reflex.
"I need you to head to deck fifteen; that's Engineering. Assist where needed until further orders. Science Officer Ferris, you are to assist Ship Doctor Haslet in treating the wounded. Lance Corporal Mackenzie, they'll need you in the hangar helping out repair crews. Assist wherever you can. First Lieutenant Hall-"
"Yes sir!" Hall snapped his hand up out of reflex, bumping his head. The sharp pain was a single to not do that, even though he was bandaged.
"You're to head back to Medlab and heal up. We'll need every good pilot we've got, and I can't have injured ones overworking themselves. Understood?"
"Sir, with all do respect-"
Anderson did not hesitate to interrupt the junior officer, "That's all, Lieutenant."
Fighting his necessity to stand up for his ability, Hall shut his mouth, biting hard on his tongue till he could taste blood in his mouth. It was a feeling he was certainly getting used to.
"Yes sir."
