Marie Devereux opened her eyes.
Almost at once, she began coughing as her oxygen-starved lungs struggled for air. For a moment, she wondered why she was lying on the deck of the bridge, why her head pounded and her fingers tingled, but a quick glance at the shattered COM board quickly reminded her. She could recall Captain Tucker's urgent shipwide order to brace for impact as the shockwave from the exploding Vigrid Station raced toward Endeavour. She remembered the terror that turned her stomach into a ball of ice as she waited for the inevitable impact, and the sensation of flying as Endeavour was sent tumbling by the raw concussive force of the shockwave. There had been explosions and cries of pain and the sounds of metal tearing.
And then ... nothing.
Pushing herself up from the deck, Marie glanced around, wincing at the damage she could see. Her COM board was a complete loss, shattered beyond repair; live connections still sparked and hissed intermittently. A thick layer of smoke covered the entire bridge, blanketing it in a thick gray haze that limited visibility. Small electrical fires - the source of the smoke - still raged, many unchecked, but the suppression system was already kicking in. A gentle spray of white foam rained down from the ceiling, coating everything it touched and looking incongruously like snow. Alarms flickered erratically, bathing the bridge in a surreal scarlet light, as the klaxons continued to howl.
Shock finally receded and her wits slowly returned. Ignoring the stab of pain that climbed up her side, Marie staggered to the NAV station, fervently praying to whatever gods would listen that Dan would still be alive; until this very moment, she had not realized just how essential he was in her life, how much she looked forward to seeing him every day, or how deep her feelings for him ran. Sprawled out over his board, his face a mask of blood, Hsiao was still and silent; her heart lurched up into her throat but Marie forced herself to reach forward and check his pulse. At her touch, he stirred; the relief that swelled within her in that moment was staggering.
"Marie?" he asked in a slurred voice. He looked at her through unfocused eyes and she gave in to her impulse; wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tightly.
"Don't die," she whispered as she held onto him. He muttered something incomprehensible in reply but the sound of cursing drew her attention to the captain's chair. A gasp escaped her before she could restrain it.
A durasteel support girder had fractured and collapsed inward; now pinning a semi-conscious Captain Tucker to his command chair, the three plus meter long metal beam shifted ominously with each indrawn breath the captain took. Precariously balanced, the beam appeared to be on the brink of toppling onto him and crushing him with its substantial weight. Tucker had so far been lucky: the command chair bore the brunt of the girder's mass but was even now groaning with the effort.
Lieutenant Commander Eisler, his scalp leaking blood from a jagged cut and his uniform seared with electrical burns, knelt before the chair, one hand steadying the girder as he looked for a way to move it off Tucker. At once, Devereux realized the lieutenant commander's concern: any miscalculation and the beam would collapse on the captain, likely killing him instantly. Letting go of Dan, Marie took two rapid steps to Eisler's side before cautiously reaching out to take over the job of keeping the girder balanced. The tactical officer let her do so without comment.
"Sir," the lieutenant commander growled to Tucker in that intimidating voice of his, "we have to move it before it slips." The captain grimaced as he nodded slightly.
"T'Pol?" he asked.
As if summoned, the Vulcan commander climbed to her feet from behind the SCI board, shaking her head as if to clear it, and her eyes sought out Tucker. Standing with her back to the TAC board, Marie had a clear view of the first officer and felt a jolt of surprise wash through her as the Vulcan's eyes widened in what could only be fear.
"Trip!" the commander all but cried out, emotion leaking into her voice. For someone with a leg injury, she was surprisingly fast, darting to the captain's side in a limping half-run. T'Pol said nothing as she shoved Commander Eisler out of the way, barely acknowledging the tactical officer's surprised grunt as he stumbled backwards. Without hesitation, the Vulcan grabbed the metal girder and lifted it free as if it weighed only a couple dozen kilograms. She dropped it to the deck, a surprising amount of emotion in her eyes as she stared intently at the captain. Marie gaped at the first officer with open shock on her face, more stunned by the feat of strength than at the depth of the commander's feelings for the captain. It was common knowledge that Vulcans were stronger than humans, but Devereux had always assumed the difference wasn't that significant.
Apparently, she had been wrong.
"Ow," Tucker muttered as the Vulcan touched his shoulder in concern, her features once more composed. "Starfleet really needs to reconsider this stupid design," he grumbled as he tried to stand. His bloodstained right leg buckled, and he collapsed back into the chair. "Status?" he demanded, not even trying to hide the wince as he began to remove his jacket.
"Captain," the Vulcan started to say, but Tucker interrupted.
"Not now, T'Pol," he said grimly as he began to tear strips from the uniform jacket. They exchanged a long look, neither speaking for an extended moment, before T'Pol nodded and limped back to her station. "I need status reports," the captain repeated.
"Sir." Eisler was crouching behind the DCO board; Marie realized that she hadn't even seen him move there. "Master Chief Mackenzie is injured. He has severe burns and appears to have trouble breathing; we need a med team up here ASAP." The TAC officer glanced at the damage control board with a look of incomprehension on his face. "And I don't know how to operate this station," he finished.
"My board is a total loss, sir," Devereux quickly volunteered, eyeing the captain as he began binding his wounded leg.
"Impulse is still inoperative," Dan announced. "Docking thrusters and maneuvering jets functional. Warp drive online." Once more perched at her station, Commander T'Pol spoke, her eyes glued to the sensor feed before her.
"I am detecting only one Romulan ship intact," she reported. "It has suffered considerable structural damage." There was a brief pause before she continued. "Significant damage among the Boomer fleet, but ships are continuing to transit to warp."
"Devereux," Tucker said into the momentary silence, "take the DCO board." She nodded and turned to obey as he continued. "Eisler, I need a weapons report. Hsiao, begin plottin' a course out of system. T'Pol, I want a threat analysis of the last bird of prey." He stabbed the comm button on his chair; it hissed and popped, but functioned. "Medical emergency on the bridge."
As she took the seat before the damage control console, Marie winced at the sight of the COB. Sprawled out beside the DC console, he stirred but did not wake; ugly burns covered one side of his face and he seemed to be straining to breathe. Not for the first time, she found herself struggling to focus all of her attention on her duties.
As the data began crawling across the damage control board, she was suddenly glad for the cross-training that Commander T'Pol had insisted the bridge crew undergo following Pacifica; according to the first officer, it was a requirement for all members of a Vulcan bridge crew to know how to operate every station in the event of casualties. The captain had backed the idea at once and Devereux had to admit that the additional training was logical. Having been aboard Endeavour for just over a week, Lieutenant Commander Eisler hadn't even started the training program yet.
Engineering updated their latest assessment about repairs and, as she read the data, Marie mused that it would probably be quicker to list the systems that weren't damaged.
"Engineering reports multiple coolant leaks," she informed the captain. "They still haven't locked down that radiation leak and -"
"Four ships dropping out of warp," T'Pol interrupted abruptly, "unknown configuration." The Vulcan's pause was barely noticeable. "Multiple weapon ports, heavy shielding and armor detected," she continued before glancing up. "Warships," she concluded.
"Onscreen," Tucker ordered and the viewscreen snapped to life. Marie could almost hear the frown as Tucker spoke. "Those look like..."
T'Pol finished his thought, her voice grim.
"Romulans."