Chapter 2: What You Wish For
Jordan woke up to the sound of an alarm. He reached to the small control console on the side of his bunk to turn off the sound, there was no way it was time for his next watch. "Must have set the alarm too early", he thought. His hand finally found the console he pushed the control that should have turned off the annoying buzzing. The sound continued. Jordan pressed the control a second time, but still the sound persisted.
All of a sudden something grabbed and shook. He ripped back the small curtain that covered the opening in the wall to his bunk. He saw his roommate, Matt Hudson, half dressed and obviously excited.
"Jordo, wake up, wake up now!" Hudson yelled.
"Hud! Would you get your hands off me? What's wrong?" Jordan slapped Hudson's hand down.
"Don't you hear the damn alarm? We're at red alert!" Hudson zipped up his uniform and went looking for his boots. Jordan rolled out of his bunk and grabbed his own uniform.
"What's going on? We can't be under attack; we're too far from the line."
"I don't know Jordo, I've got to get to engineering." Hud dashed out of the room.
"I guess I better preflight the McCoy." Jordan said to himself, before heading off to the shuttle bay.
Jordan saw that the Runabout Phlox had already powered up. He climbed into the open cockpit door, where he found Chief Reilly finishing up his preflight procedures.
"Do you have any idea what this is about Chief?" Jordan asked.
"Ensign Singer, you are in the wrong Runabout. As for the red alert, we are going to extract injured personnel from MN-1375. Some barely M-class rock Starfleet installed a monitoring post on. Apparently the Dominion has discovered the monitoring post."
"Why can't we just extract them with transporters?"
"The genius of a ground commander deployed transporter inhibitors all over the surface so the Jem'Hadar couldn't beam down reinforcements." Reilly explained. "You should get the McCoy up and running, we've got another long day ahead of us."
Lieutenant Junior Grade Franks was at the helm of the Nightingale as it shot through space at warp speed. The bridge was diamond shaped with a door at one point and a chair and console recessed into a pit at the three other corners. The most forward pit was the Helm were Franks sat, the other two pits to the port and starboard both contained consoles that could be configured for engineering, tactical, or systems control. Centered in the diamond, on level with the deck, was the command chair, which had its own console that could be configured to control any of the ship's functions. The Nightingale's systems were simple in comparison to other ships. Even now at red alert only the command chair and helm were manned. Lt. Rosh found this a professional annoyance, but there were simply not enough of them to keep all of the bridge stations manned.
Franks was constantly conscious of Lt. Rosh who sat looking over the bridge. "Lieutenant Franks to Ensign Singer, why haven't you completed preflighting the McCoy?" He said into the comm. loud enough that Rosh would be able to hear his concern for his position as operations officer, even though the men he commanded resisted his authority.
"I'm bringing her online now, JG." Jordan's voice came across the comm. Franks hoped Rosh heard the utter insolence Singer took with him.
"Well, make sure it is ready before we arrive at MN-1375." Franks instructed.
"It'll be ready faster without further interruption, Singer out." Franks considered contacting Chief Reilly as well, but the Chief was even worse than Ensign Singer.
The McCoy had been ready to lift of for twenty minutes by the time the Nightingale arrived at MN-1375. Jordan made sure that he had made Franks aware of it as soon as he had finished the checklist. He then updated the status of his runabout at five minute intervals, "JG Franks, this is the McCoy, still prepared for flight operations." Franks found the updates somewhat less than helpful.
MN-1375 itself was somewhat less than impressive as M-Class rocks go. The conflict between Federation and Jem'Hadar was relegated to the northern and southern potions of the planet. From the equator to about thirty degrees of latitude either side of the great circle, the surface of the planetiod was too hot for even the Jem'Hadar, a race genetically bread for war and survival.
The monitoring post had been sacked and disabled. Federation forces were falling back. The only saving grace to the Federation troops on the ground was the two excelsior class ships that had arrived in the system to defend against the possibility of Dominion ships reinforcing the Jem'Hadar. The USS Mayweather and USS Calusa had fended off six Jem'Hadar assault ships so far, but the Dominion continued to send wave after wave.
The plan was for the Nightingale to extract the injured before the rest of the Federation ground troops retreated to the two starships defending the space above the planet. MN-1375 had been lost; the goal was to get as many as they could out alive.
The Nightingale and her runabouts were to be kept far from any fighting. Jordan set the McCoy down in the landing zone without incident. The Phlox followed moments later.
"Hope you don't have a weak stomach, Singer." The Chief's voice came across the comm.
"I don't know if Nightingale has a sickbay large enough for all of them." Jordan said, looking out across the barren landscape littered with a staggering amount of injured Starfleet troops.
The doors of the McCoy's medical hold opened and Doctors Sovek and Kizmet led twenty nurses out onto the flat of land where the injured had been gathered.
Kizzy winced, "That smell."
"Charred flesh," Sovek said indifferently. "Jem'Hadar weapons are designed to maim and kill."
Kizmet dropped to a knee next to the first victim she came to. The man's breathing was shallow, he twitched in pain, moaned almost inaudibly. His right arm had been blown off and the leg on the same side was hanging by a thin strand of tissue. The energy bolts from the Jem'Hadar weapons had torn through him as if they were a meat cleaver. She scanned him quickly with her tricorder, and then began to stabilize the patient for transport.
Kizzy turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Lieutenant Commander Marion; he had come on the Phlox. He squatted behind her and whispered some advice into her ear. "We have little time. Don't just treat the first patient you come to. This is triage; we help the ones with the best chance of survival first." Marion patted her on the shoulder and then headed off to get to work himself.
Kizzy turned back to her patient. He wasn't twitching anymore. The vital readouts on the tricorder were flat lined. He was dead
Elsewhere among the wounded another man lay bleeding from a shot in the leg as Sovek attempted to stabilize him. The bleeding officer groaned and shifted in pain. On the screen of his tricorder Sovek saw the femoral artery in the man's right leg began to retract towards the abdomen. Sovek's hand shot down towards the open wound. He shoved his finger into the flesh and caught the artery between his thumb and fore finger. The man cried out in pain.
"Be as still as possible." Sovek instructed. He needed a medkit. His own was out of reach. "Nurse." Sovek called loudly, scanning his surroundings for anyone who could simply pick up the kit and place it in his free hand. As he turned his head from side to side he noticed that just below the foot of the man he had his hand is was a Vulcan officer craning his neck to see Sovek.
"Sir." The ailing Vulcan forced the words out of his mouth.
"I will be with you in a minute. Please hold on." Sovek assured the Vulcan who was growing paler with each passing moment.
"I shall use all my strength." The Vulcan did not take his eyes off of Sovek.
"Nurse!" Sovek's voice momentarily lost the emotionless monotone typical of his race, never breaking eye contact with the other Vulcan.
After what seemed like an eternity a nurse arrived to help Sovek. The doctor averted his eyes from injured Vulcan and concentrated on securing the artery he held. When Sovek looked back to the other Vulcan's gaze, the will for survival in his eyes had been replaced with the glazed over look of a corpse. Soveck scrambled toward the corpse and placed his hands on its face while closing his eye. The mind was as dead as the body.
Sovek stared back at the Nurse. After several moments he finally spoke. "This one is dead. We should move on."
In the cockpit of the McCoy Jordan watched another Personnel Carrier drop off new wounded from the battle that raged in another place on the planetoid. In the space above the planet two starships continued to repel intensifying waves of Jem'Hadar assault ships. Jordan was there, he was at the front, but the helm he sat behind was that of a runabout sitting on the ground. His orders were to sit with it. Sit and wait until the medical hold was full. Then, after ferrying the patients to the Nightingale, he would return the runabout to this very spot and wait again. People were dying, Jordan could see that happening before his eyes, but he could do nothing about it. His actions made no difference.
Jordan turned when he heard Nurse Haas entered the cockpit from the medical hold. She gave him a curt nod and exited back down to the medical hold. Jordan checked and saw the exterior doors were closed. He then opened a channel to the Phlox.
"I've got a full boat here Chief."
"Roger that McCoy. Don't be too long, I might get lonely." Chief Reilly answered.
The McCoy lifted off the ground and headed back the Nightingale. Once clear of MN-1375's atmosphere the McCoy picked up the three federation ships in orbit. For a moment the sensors registered a dominion ship as well, but soon it was just debris thanks to a well placed torpedo from the USS Calusa. Both the Calusa and the Mayweather, had sustained a fair amount of damage, but they held the line solidly. The Nightingale was unscathed, and as pristine as any Federation ship had been during peace time.
In the hospital ship's shuttle bay the medical staff stood ready to unload the McCoy's patients as quickly as possible. The moment the runabout set down the nurses and doctors began moving to the doors of the medical hold to unload the patients, and Jordan waited.
It was hard, it broke her heart, and as the hours dragged on it didn't get any easier, but Kizmet was taking Marion's advice. She passed by those that would die regardless of her help. She passed by those whose care would take up too much of her time and cost two or three others their lives. She passed by pleading looks and pained faces. Those who had the best chance for survival got treatment and a free ride on a runabout to the Nightingale, but many didn't.
Kizmet turned to see a runabout landing again yet again. It was Jordan's, the McCoy, if she wasn't mistaken. She had lost count as to how many times the runabouts had taken off and returned. It had been a long day and it was only getting longer. She pulled out her tricorder once again to find her next patient. Walking across the field of bodies she felt a hand on her ankle. She looked down to see a man of a species she had never seen before covered in blood. The alien's skin color might have been flesh toned under the brilliant red pool of blood. He didn't look like he was going to make it.
"Help me doctor." The man said through heaving breathed.
"Someone will be with you shortly." Kizmet said as she began to turn to find someone she could help. The man grabbed her ankle once more.
"A convenient lie, but I assure you I am not as injured as I appear." His voice was forceful. Kizzy could see the will to live, the need to live, in his eyes. "I am a Nevlian, I will not die from blood loss, my body will not allow it. However, I fear my third stomach may have ruptured. If you do not help me I will digest my own organs."
Kizzy scanned the Nevlian. He was right, his bone marrow was producing new blood at an incredible rate; he would not die from bleeding. It took a moment to figure out which organs were which in this new species. The Nevlian was right again; his third stomach had a small rupture and was leaking a highly acidic fluid into the lower abdomen. She pulled a tissue regenerator out of her med kit and went to work. The rupture sealed quickly. She put away her instruments and looked down at her patient.
"You're going to be just fine." She told him. "That was a really good self diagnosis. Are you a doctor?"
"No, I'm in intelligence. Thank you doctor, I owe you my life." He then lay back with a content look on his face. Kizzy called over a stretcher for him before continuing on to the next patient.
Chief Reilly was piloting the Phlox back to the Nightingale with another full load of the battle tattered Starfleet personnel from the landing zone, but this time the skipper himself, watched over them in the medical hold. For a moment the runabout's sensors registered an extreme spike in radiation, then it was gone. The Phlox was still in the atmosphere of MN-1375. Sometimes the ionosphere of a planet can play tricks on sensors, but Reilly quickly dismissed that theory. A planetoid this size wasn't capable of generating interference at the levels he had registered. He checked his sensors again, something was wrong, and it wasn't with the sensors.
"Nightingale, this is runabout Phlox. I'm not picking the Mayweather up on sensors, and I doubt she's hiding behind any bushes."
"Runabout Phlox, this is Nightingale." Lt. Rosh's voice came across the com. "The Mayweather has been lost. Lieutenant Commander Marion is on board your runabout, is he not?"
"Down in the slaughter house."
"Colorful description, Chief. Please patch me through to the CO."
"Aye, sir." Reilly replied.
In the medical hold Marion did little to keep the patients stable. His doctors and nurses had performed well in their duties, resulting in virtually no problems while transporting the patients through space. This is what the Nightingale was all about, saving lives.
"Lt. Rosh to Lt. Commander Marion."
"Yes, Mr. Rosh?" Marion had always found Rosh a bit trying. The Andorian was so militant. But he knew how to get the ship from one place to another, so he served his function well.
"Sir, one of our escorts, the USS Mayweather, has been destroyed." Rosh said matter of fact.
Marion contemplated the ramifications of the loss. "What about the other one?"
"The USS Calusa has taken damage. As of now her shields are holding at fifty percent and her captain assures us that he will continue to provide protection for the Nightingale."
"Fifty percent?" Marion looked at his stabilized patients. He didn't want to loose the lives they had already saved. "We should probably leave, shouldn't we?"
"There are still Starfleet personnel on the planetoid's surface that need our help."
"But who will help us if the remaining escort is destroyed? We should leave, recall the other runabout. Marion out." The Nightingale wasn't supposed to be operating this close to the front anyway, Marion thought. And he couldn't risk so many lives on the hope of saving only a few more.
Jordan was tired. He hadn't had a full night's sleep and as the hours of this operation dragged on consciousness was something that was becoming hard to maintain. Finally succumbing to the overwhelming weight of their lids, Jordan's eyes closed and drifted off to sleep.
"Nightingale to McCoy. Ensign Singer, respond!" Rosh's voice over the comm. startled Jordan awake.
"Sir, yes, sir!" Jordan said shooting up out of his chair and coming to full attention.
"Recall the medical unit. All personnel are to return to the Nightingale as soon as possible. One of our escorts has been destroyed and we are leaving the system as soon as you return" The XO instructed.
Regaining his bearings Jordan realized that what he had heard was the comm., and not Rosh himself. He relaxed his posture and took note of the runabout's status. "Lieutenant, the medical hold is not even half full. There are still people out there who require treatment."
"You have ten minutes to get that runabout off the ground. You know what you have to do." The channel closed.
Jordan ran to the door and leapt onto the planetoid's surface. The shift from the runabouts artificial gravity to MN-1375's lesser attractive force caused Jordan to tumble forward as soon as he hit the ground. He pushed himself up and went running towards the first person from the Nightingale he saw.
At the helm of the Nightingale Lieutenant Junior Grade Franks grew more anxious. The sensor read outs showed that the USS Calsusa's shields were at thirty percent and dropping. Without the protection of the escort, the Nightingale would be a sitting duck. And Franks had no desire to find out just how much more maneuverable a Jem'Hadar Assault ship was in comparison to the Nightingale. This monitoring station, it hardly seemed worth the effort the Dominion was throwing at it.
"The Dominion sure wants this rock badly. It must have some strategic importance." Franks speculated.
"The monitoring station has been destroyed, the planetoid has no useful resources, it's barely habitable, I don't think it's MN-1375 they want." Rosh said.
"Then what do they want?" Franks asked.
Rosh thought for a moment before answering. "I don't know."
Kizzy had finished stabilizing another patient and was moving on when she happened across Sovek. It was the first time she had seen him since they left the runabout together.
"Sovek, it's incredible, isn't it? That two societies that are so advanced could cause all this death. I feel... I don't know how to feel about this." Kizzy said.
"That society wields advanced technology, does not guarantee that the society is governed by a similarly advanced morality." Sovek explained. Then he added, "This experience is... new for me as well."
The two Doctors heard shouting and turned to see where it came from. Jordan was running in their direction. He was seemed to be hollering to nurses and wounded alike as he ran, but Kizzy could not make out what it was. Whatever it was it seemed to make the nurses work fast and the wounded to try to stand on their own.
"What do you think he's saying?" Kizzy asked Sovek.
"He is saying, 'Get to the runabout. We're leaving in ten minutes.'" Sovek's Vulcan ears could hear Jordan quite clearly.
Jordan recognized the two doctors ahead of him and increased his pace. Out of breath, he stopped in front of them. Through heaving breaths Jordan spoke. "We have less than ten minutes, you two have to get to the runabout."
"That's unacceptable; there are still a lot of people in need of our help here." Kizzy protested.
"One of our escorts has been destroyed, the other isn't doing well. The Nightingale has to leave now." Jordan urged them.
"The logical course of action would be to withdraw." Sovek agreed.
"But all these, people. We can't do anything for them." Kizzy pleaded.
Jordan thought for a moment, then stooped down and threw a wounded man near his feet over his shoulders. "Get as many of them as you can, but we're leaving in ten minutes." Kizmet and Sovek followed suite. It was not the best way to move injured people, but it was the fastest. And if it got them back to the Nightingale, it would increase there chance of survival. Soon the nurses were also abandoning any type of treatment in order to get as many bodies as possible onto the McCoy. Even some of the wounded, those strong enough to walk, were picking up their comrades and helping them to the runabout.
Rosh was growing impatient, the McCoy was still on the surface and the Calusa's shields were down to sixteen percent. As a secondary concern, Rosh had been informed that the Nightingale did not have enough space for the amount of patients they had taken on. The medical staff had moved all those they could into they patient quarters, but a good deal of them that were still waiting for treatment had been placed on stretchers on the desk of sickbay. However, finding space for the patients was not a top priority right now. Priority number one was getting out of this system with the ship still intact.
"Nightingale, this is Calusa. Get the hell out of here! We can't hold them off for much longer." The message was garbled, but its intent was perfectly clear.
"Lt. Rosh to Ensign Singer, get your runabout off that rock. I have no great desire to leave you behind" Rosh was insistent, but still had not lost his cool.
Jordan awkwardly tapped his comm. badge. It was a difficult task while carrying an uncounscious Denobulan on his back. "Singer here, understood. I'll be there." Jordan didn't even try to get the injured Denobulan into the cargo bay, he threw him into the cockpit as he himself stepped up into it. He got behind the controls and engaged the thrusters on their lowest setting.
Outside the runabout's thrusters had the desired effect. Kicking up dust and producing the unmistakable sound of a ship preparing to depart, the Nightingale personnel began flocking to the runabout. Kizmet, carrying an injured Trill, went to the cockpit of the runabout and heaved the Trill next to the Denobulan. She herself then entered the cockpit and glared at Jordan.
"There are still people out there, Jordan. We need more time." Kizzy insisted.
Jordan, already into the preflight sequence looked back as Kizzy, then at the Denobulan, who was beginning to hyperventilate. "He needs help." Jordan said pointing at the Denobulan, he then left his chair and hopped out of the cockpit again. Nurse Haas came running up to him.
She was shaking her head, there was no more room in the medical hold.
"Make room for them." Jordan ordered. "Put them in the cockpit, the passage way, the head, anywhere you can find." He said. Nurse Haas returned to the runabout to carry out his orders. Jordan then jogged off to the nearest wounded person and heaved them over his shoulders.
Now carrying a Bajoran, Jordan was stopped by Sovek on his way back to the McCoy. "Ensign, it would be prudent to expedite our efforts." The Vulcan then pointed off into the distance. Jordan squinted trying to see what Sovek wanted him to. He saw a dark line of people on foot in the distance.
"Can you see who it is?" Jordan asked the Doctor, fearing the worse.
"I have never seen one in person, but they match the description of Jem'Hadar soldiers."
"I'll get the McCoy ready. You make sure everyone still alive gets onboard."
"It is illogical for us to risk the runabout to help the few that are not yet aboard."
"We aren't risking the runabout, I am. And I will not leave until we get those people onboard. Logically it would beneficial if you do what I say." Jordan yelled.
"I shall contact you when it is done," Sovek relpied, "no one will be left behind."
Kizmet screamed when a body of a Bajoran literally flew into the cockpit. Shortly after Jordan heaved himself into the cockpit. He put his hand on the groaning Bajorn's shoulder. "Sorry." He said before heading to his chair and preparing the runabout for launch. He checked how much time had passed since he was ordered to leave, just past twenty minutes.
Kizzy finished stabilizing the three patients in the cockpit and then turned to Jordan. "Thank you Jordan, you helped a lot of people."
"You can save your thanks. I didn't stay because of you." Jordan retorted. This was the second time Kizzy had been in the cockpit of the McCoy, but this time it had not been her that Jordan held the door for.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Kizmet asked, confused as to why Jordan's personality seemed to have shifted one hundred and eighty degrees.
Jordan, becoming frustrated, searched for a reply when Sovek's voice came across the comm. "Soveck to Ensign Singer, all personnel accounted for with the exception of Doctor Kizmet."
"Thanks Sovek, she's up here." Jordan turned and looked at Kizmet. "It means we're leaving." He turned back to his controls and powered the thrusters to full.
In space the Calusa released a volley of photon torpedoes. The brilliant shimmering red objects flew through the ether abruptly stopping as they impacted a Jem'Hadar Assault ship in the ventral port bow. The explosions sent the small ship tumbling until the shattered vessel lost warp containment and was consumed by its own antimatter coming into contact with its inner hull. Another wave of Dominion ships had been stopped.
"Nightingale, we will not be able to stop another attack. You must leave now." The message was very weak, and thoroughly corrupted with static.
"Calusa, our last support craft is returning now. Thank you for your protection, we are preparing to leave the system." Rosh assured the Nightingale's protector.
"Nightingale, this is McCoy, request docking clearance." Jordan felt a wave of relef wash over him as the words left his mouth.
"Get that runabout onboard Singer. We'll talk about you're inability to follow orders later." Franks voice hissed across the comm.
Kizmet, who had monitored her patients silently in the rear of the cockpit throughout the flight, now leaned towards the side window. "What is that?" She said, finally breaking the silence.
Jordan quickly glanced back to the window. He saw the damaged form of the USS Calusa. "That's our escort."
"Not that. That!" Kizzy moved her head away from the window and pointed. Jordan had been paying to much attention to his approach to notice, but three new ships had appeared on sensors.
"Three more assault ships. No, it's two assault ships, and a Jem'Hadar Battleship." The Battleship easily out classed the Calusa. Jordan had a sinking feeling in his gut. There was a flash of light from the window.
"The Starship, it's, it's..." Kizmet sat down in an empty chair. "I wonder how many people were on board."
The runabout set down on the deck of the shuttle bay, and Jordan contacted the bridge. "Bridge, this is McCoy, we're docked. A little late, but docked." The McCoy's sensors then lost all contacts. The planetoid, the Dominion ships, all gone in an instant. The Nightingale had gone to warp.
Jordan opened the cockpit door and jumped down. He slipped and fell when his feet touched the ground. The smooth deck of the shuttle bay was covered by a slick film of blood in a path between sickbay and the runabout's berth. He helped Kizmet get the injured Trill, Denobulan, and Bajoran down to the deck. Nurses quickly came to aid the two wounded aliens. Jordan saw Hud standing at the end of the bay, watching the McCoy be unloaded. He walked over to his roommate and watched with him.
"How's the McCoy? Any problems?" Hud asked.
"No problems." Jordan replied.
"How about you, Jordo? Any problems?" Hud asked.
"I made it Hud. I made it to the front."
"That you did. How does it feel?"
"Frustrating. Those two Excelsiors…" He sighed. "If I had been there, maybe I could have made a difference."
Hud patted him on the back and nodded towards injured personnel being taken to sickbay. "To those people, you made a difference." Jordan gave a half smile to his friend. He appreciated what Hud was trying to do.
Without warning a siren began to sound and all lighted surfaces flashed red. For the second time in the same day the Nightingale was at red alert. Hudson moved to an information console on the shuttle bay bulkhead. His jaw dropped at what he saw.
"What is it?" Jordan asked.
Hud, mouth still gapping, looked to Jordan. "The Jem'Hadar Battleship. She's following us."