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"By the harrowing of hell!" Bizhi again falls silent. Finally he shakes his head and says, "I really thought those things were equipped with better fail-safes."
"You were saying?" he prompts Kylah. His mind mostly back onto consumables (what else could go wrong?), he adds, "And, may I get anyone a drink of water?"
The grating, grinding sound of the torpedo leaving its tube is like nothing Nia would expect from a shuttle as well-maintained and lovingly cared for as the Tesla. Those tubes are practically right out of the factory crates. She's disheartened to think of the shuttle so... cludgy. The equivalent of watching a graceful, fleet riding beast go lame.
"Nice work, Lieutenant," she says to Booker as she crawls back to the open panel. "Quick on the trigger. Status on the port torpedo tube?"
Bending until she's almost on her belly, Nia peers inside the open deck panel, checking the lines and circuitry connecting the two mini-warp cores of the port and starboard nacelles--well, when there were two to connect. With the damage thus far seemingly focused to the shuttle's undercarriage, her concern is that the fuel lines, both main and auxiliaries, might've taken the same hit. If her utility belt or tool kit has a scanner, she'll use that to assess the status.
She tilts her face to look back up at the doctor, telling him quietly, "None for me right now, thanks. We're gonna have to be stingy with the water rations until we know what's what--and I need less of it than the rest of you, anyway."
Onn sees that the lines and circuitry between the Tesla's two warp nacelles are intact. From the panel's readouts, it appears that the damage to the starboard nacelle is considerable but entirely outside. The Sidonian officer reluctantly concludes that, outside of a fully-equipped repair facility such as aboard the Yorktown or in a spacedock, it cannot be fixed. The port nacelle, on the other hand, checks out and appears serviceable.
For some reason it seems important, so Rangin makes a note of the quantum filament in his datapad. It is a rare enough anomaly, but knows it is not the time to be really thinking about it.
Hopefully someone else will be able to figure out the means of propulsion to get the shuttle somewhere. To that end, Rangin brings up the charts to quickly figure out where the nearest habitable planet is where they might be able to get some assistance.
Now that things have begun to settle slightly after the torpedo malfunction, he gets on with the more important task of working out how much life support they have and how long it is likely to last for.
Rangin knows from his earlier stellar cartography records check that there are four star systems along the shuttle's planned route to Cavinre VII. Two are in Federation territory, on just this side of the Neutral Zone between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. They have both been surveyed but are uninhabited and have no Class M worlds.
Two systems are in unclaimed or independent territory, neither in the Federation nor the Empire. One has a Class L world, Ollos, and the other, almost twice as distant from the Tesla's expected route at its closest point of approach, has an M-class world, Grinden IV. Given what he's learned about the shuttle's damage, both to the warp drive and to LS, it appears to Rangin that only Ollos is reachable at this point, and even that might be a stretch. Cavinre VII itself is now definitely out of reach.
See post 745.
As for keeping everyone alive long enough to get to Ollos or anywhere else, Bizhi tries to estimate the minimum they need to put into absolutely critical systems like temperature control and air scrubbing, the baseline being survival rather than comfort. When Nia is through with her inspection, he tells the Lieutenant in no uncertain terms what power budget they will need for life support even at the expense of warp drive and further communications attempts, taking into account hacks like using phaser power cells for emergency power, unorthodox use of auxiliary systems for life support, and anything else that came up during the previous discussion.
A fell, weirdly hyper-rational part of his mind cannot help but wonder, if there was some sort of sabotage, on one hand that would account for the exploding torpedo, but why so crude a job that they had any warning at all, instead of being quietly vaporized, their atoms dispersed across space so as to read like an accident, assuming anyone was even able to find any traces?
He has an urge to wash his face and take a drink of water but suppresses it, knowing that they have only just begun to stretch their resources.
Kylah, who shook her head when the doctor asked about water, rubs her hands together as they tremble from both anxiety and what she perceives as a decrease in temperature. It is not uncomfortable yet, but she does hope they will be able to maintain the current conditions for as long as possible.
Watching the others--minus Ens. Rawlings, who at least has a reason for his inactivity--she feels about as useful as a Targ would be in their situation. Less so, actually; at least they would be able to eat the Targ.
Her glance shifts from Dr. Mäkeläinen to Velir to Lt. Graham before landing on Mr. Rawlings. She suspects his emotions are similar to her own, except worsened by pain and the fact that normally his role is a highly active one. He will not have the experience of being... extraneous. She gives him a sympathetic smile before addressing everyone generally.
"If anyone needs an extra pair of hands, or--anything--please let me know." Kylah looks briefly at the mission commander lying on the deck floor, her head stuck in to examine... whatever would be in an access panel in that area. She flushes at recognizing how little she remembers of the basic components of a shuttle as taught back in the Academy.
"My hands are small," she adds, this time focusing on Lt. Onn. "If there is any need for crawling or reaching for something, I might help there. And I can fetch tools you might need, if you tell me where to find them."
Graham checks the status of the port torpedo tube, as well as all weapon and defensive systems - limited as they are on a shuttle -with an eye not just to determining if they can function, but also if they may have been deliberately sabotaged.
Nia exhales in gratitude that the port nacelle is in good shape, if offline at the moment. Should she unlink them altogether? Avoid expending the resources required for the two systems to communicate with one another? It's doubtful it'd make much if any difference in how much fuel might be expended. But any scintilla of energy is precious.
So what caused the systems to shut down like that? She's at a loss, and again she regrets not being able to view the outside of the shuttle. Whether it was an explosion, a bit of space debris, failing components--which Nia can't believe could be the case--finding the origin of impact or rupture or anything would be infinitely helpful.
She hears Kylah's voice outside offering assistance. Glad to be hidden, Nia grimaces. Sure, if you can morph into an engineer--like I wanted in that seventh seat before your boss forced you on me--great. Otherwise, sit down and breathe less. Save it for the rest of us.
She takes her own deep breath, which turns into a little cough. Her throat is swollen, seems like. Sure, why not add a cold to the heaping sundae of crap she's been served up? Then she straightens to look over at Kylah. Is there anything the girl can do using her skills? Not if Nia starts to steal parts from the communications system, which seems like the best option. Also the only one.
Pushing up to a kneeling position, she inhales again, out of breath at the effort. Before she responds to Kylah, Dr. M. provides a solid account of what sort of resources they're working with, and she thanks him for his thoroughness. She points between him and Rangin. "You two should probably collaborate to concoct some strategies for keeping us stable as long as possible."
She addresses the whole crew. "Here's the sitch. We've got one working nacelle, but the power's not getting to it. I have to cannibalize parts from the comm system. If there's anything that can be repurposed, we need to do so." Her gaze takes in Kylah. "Maybe you can figure out any leftover parts we should save if we want to keep our options open--at least for at least some kinda distress call."
Kylah is sensitive enough to get the C.O.'s overall irritation at having been saddled with her. Indeed, it is probable the others who lack empathic senses could pick it up as well. Or perhaps not; Lt. Onn's tone was brusque but not... snide.
She stands. "Yes, of course ma'am," she says softly.
Steadying herself, Nia clambers to her feet and fights the same vertigo as before. The whole what the fuck happened to my shuttle? question nags at her. She mulls things over and grunts. Oh my brain's really on the blink. Check the activity logs, duh.
"Okay, everyone. I'd like all of us to brainstorm everything that could've been responsible for this SNAFU. Speak up so everyone can hear you. Don't hold back: No idea is off the table, no matter how unlikely."
She returns to focus on Kylah. The girl can probably check logs and records, if nothing else--sort of her area of expertise, such as it is. "I can't do everything at once, and I need to start dismantling things. But the answer to whatever went wrong might show up in our log buoy--it tracks a day's worth of the shuttle's activity and system checks. If something failed it might show up there. As would anything caused by the prison techies when they were thoughtfully tuning up the Tesla without my permission."
She aims the next words at Booker. "What do you think? Can you work with her? I know you're not an engie, but you're more than equipped to identify suspicious activity as opposed to normal mechanical failure."
Nia tells him and Kylah how and where to access the log buoy. * Then she heads aft to start digging into whatever shuttle systems that can be used to get the engine up and running.
* - er, however and wherever that would be.
Dr. Mäkeläinen is no engineer, but he knows the limits of humanoid bodies. After swift but thoughtful study and then running simulations on his medical tricorder, he believes that, if LS is reduced to a bare minimum, and if communications, photon torpedo control and other now-nonessential systems are powered down entirely, with sensors also reduced to the minimum necessary simply to avoid hitting anything, the Tesla could probably reach Ollos using a single warp nacelle, if no further problems come to light. He can see no better alternative, other than the extremely remote possibility that the shuttle encounters a friendly ship along the way.
Graham determines that torpedo control - of the shuttle's sole remaining weapon - and deflector shields, both navigational and defensive, are OK. He sees no sign of sabotage, but there was some strange kind of power surge that seemed to arm the first torpedo, without any command inputs to do so. It shouldn't have happened, given all the failsafes, and he cannot recall hearing of something like this ever happening before, but... clearly it did.
The shuttle's very small log buoy, about the size of a tennis ball, has no transmitter and cannot move on its own. Onn knows that it continuously records the last 24 hours of the Tesla's log entries, hull and engine telemetry, sensor readings, navigational inputs and cabin audio/visual data. It has its own dedicated, and also small, control panel up along the port inner bulkhead of the shuttle, next to where Rawlings is now resting, as it happens. Onn points it out to Graham and Kylah.
After troubleshooting aft, the Sidonian woman decides that a total manual shutdown of the starboard nacelle, the cannibalization of most communications components and a little creative reprogramming of the warp drive control and operating subsystem could be enough to bring the port nacelle online. In essence, she has to convince the shuttle that its own starboard nacelle, half of the warp drive architecture, never existed... or at least isn't there now. The port nacelle will not then be smoothly automatic in its operation, and will require someone to ride herd on it continuously, but she thinks it's doable. The shuttle could then, if all goes well, make maybe Warp 1.4.
Maybe.
In response to part of Nia's speculation, Mäkeläinen says, "Ma'am, I can't help thinking, at least one or two things do not add up. If someone were trying to get rid of us and make it look like an accident, a torpedo malfunction is a good as way as any. It almost worked, if that is what it was. But anybody at the prison--- anybody who knew of our mission, for that matter--- would have known our prisoner was already delivered and that we were coming back empty-handed. And, the crash just before--- a saboteur would have just rigged the torpedo to blow; no need to get fancy. Whatever that was, either it was a mighty coincidence, or else not. We are naturally focused on the prison because that was our last port of call, but beyond them our sums will never add up because we do not know what the terms are in the first place.
"No way to examine the torpedo (that would be the point of tampering with it), but as long as we are still more or less in one piece there is always a chance the logs might show something. What do we know about Ollos? We can't yet rule out that somebody wanted to force us there."
Kylah looks across at Ens. Rawlings--and then the panel Lt. Onn pointed out. She hesitates until Lt. Graham is nearer before glancing up at him. "I know very little about engineering other than the most basic information from the Academy," she says apologetically. "I might not recognize anything that is... amiss. I will await your direction."
Rangin starts going through a more detailed analysis of Life Support, how much can we drop the temperature, what can we do to preserve oxygen... and tries to see just how much can be eked out with their current supplies.
Sitting back and thinking, he realises that getting to the planet is only half the issue, surviving once they get there is just as important. No point crash landing only to die of thirst or starvation.
He passes the details across to Dr Mäkeläinen, “what do you think, what else can we sort out?” before turning to answer Lt Onn’s question.
“Sorry Ma’am, the only thing that comes to mind is a Quantum filament for some reason, but it’s so rare as to be inexplicable and grasping at straws. I’d be happier if it had been something more mundane that that.”
Graham listens to the discussion, the ideas, and Nia's instructions.
Before turning to the sensor log buoy with Kylah, he adds his readout: "Shields and the other torpedo check out. Damned if I know how it happened, but there was some weird power surge that primed the torpedo - it may be that's the culprit, but what it was it beyond some freak event--or a trap? No idea, and that torpedo should not have armed as a result."
He sighs before approaching Kylah and the buoy, then answers her more quietly. "Well you're probably better at a computer console than I am, and four eyes are better than two, in any event..." He sighs again. "Especially when we're not sure what we're looking for..." He smiles grimly. "Anything weird, let's just say."
With a nod that hopefully seems confident, Kylah opens the panel to access the log. Does she download the data to the Tesla system, or is it already accessible by the shuttle's computer?
Dr. Mäkeläinen tells Lt. Rangin, "My calculations were based on the resources we have available on this shuttle, and on dree and tholing. And that was assuming nothing else goes wrong; if we lose warp drive completely, or the rest of our air--- well. But, you're right. Assuming we get to Ollos, and need to survive more than a few hours on our own... what information can you dig up on it? Atmospheric composition, surface temperatures and biomes, travellers' reports, anything.
We need medical facilities, to contact the Fleet, supplies, and to make some repairs if possible, so ideally we try extra hard to head straight for the biggest city, starport, or population centre and not crash in the middle of a desert, as much as I could do with a nice walk. Or second-biggest."
Nia heads back to the deck panel to go forward with her plan to reroute the connections to and from the starboard nacelle. With the tools taken from the aft storage area, she gets on her belly once more, shuddering a bit as she feels the cold from the hull through her uniform and even her scales.
After thanking the men for their reports--raising her eyebrows when Rangin mentions quantum filaments, and even repeating the term to make sure she heard correctly--she takes a deep breath and calls up through the open panel. "I agree, Doc." Except she's not sure she heard him right either--did he say 'dree and tholing'? What? Is this an Earth thing? She'd ask but there are probably more important things to worry about.
"You're right," she continues, "that sabotage either before or after we dropped off Hutchinson makes little sense. Unless pure revenge against us for... something. The idea of forcing us to Ollos... huh. Your brain works twistily. I like that." She smiles to herself. He and Rangin will make a good team. "Regardless, I've never heard of a torpedo priming itself without someone's intervention. Doesn't sound like Book's familiar with it either."
The questionable appropriateness (or lack of it) of using Booker's nickname casually doesn't even occur to her. Thinking of the power surge he mentioned makes her scowl even deeper. "Book... Rangin... did you already run a tricorder sensor sweep for anything attached to the hull outside? If not, Rangin should do so. The shuttle's small enough that your tricorder should be able to scan the whole thing." She grits her teeth. "Any other explosives ready to pop off, we'd better know about it fast."
Nia grunts as she tugs on some wires. "Thing is, having torpedoes on a shuttle is irregular. Experimental, like a lot on the Tesla is. They wouldn't have known ahead of time we had such heavy weapons. It's been hush-hush on the Yorktown, even. The only ones who know what this girl's capable of are me, Cheverez, Vargas, and just a half-dozen Engineering crew."
Except that we used one during the Klingon chase, so it's quite possible someone on the Bridge or even the Klingons overheard. Wincing at the thought, she resumes trying to make the port nacelle believe it's the only game in town, energywise.
"Sabotage from our crew is something I don't wanna think about. Well I'll leave you to the whys and wherefores." Another Andyism; she smiles weakly to herself. Shit, my usual goodbye message might actually get read. "It'll help to know how this happened to make sure it doesn't repeat itself, so keep chugging away at the past and present. I'll focus on our future."
Assuming they have one. Rangin's stats aren't comforting.
The crew's doing what they can, and more than capable of figuring out what might have happened. Nia tries to focus on survival rather than detective work. On her part, she needs to extend the lifespan--or at least maintain--the l/s. And of course, to get the shuttle moving.
Nia shuts up and saves her breath. She's been nattering away to buck herself up, but her own energy is flagging and the spinning feeling in her head is not helped by her current position.
Rangin runs some figures and sees that, with LS reduced to a minimum - including O2 and internal temperature - the shuttle crew should be able to make it to Ollos with at least a three-hour safety margin at Warp 1.4.
Kylah accesses the log, which is accessible by Tesla's onboard computer. Hull telemetry and local sensor readings became very odd at the instant the lights went out and the engines failed; she thinks there might be something to Rangin's quantum filament theory. The torpedo, she sees, armed itself within eight seconds of that event.
Rawlings stirs himself and says, "Ollos is nonaligned, a pelagic planet, a waterworld with a bunch of islands. I visited once, years ago. There's one relatively large town and a scattering of smaller ones. It's a major cargo-transshipment hub for the sector. Definitely not a garden spot, but there's a shipyard and we should at least be able to make repairs there, for the right price."
Bizhi's comments interest Kylah, not the least of which due to some unfamiliar vocabulary. She makes a mental note to ask him later. As she reads through the log, a wrinkle appears above the bridge of her nose. "I... I do not know much about this... quantum filament phenomenon. There does not seem to be anything indicating human--that is, non-technical intervention." She glances up at Lt. Graham. "But that is your area. Do you see anything?"
Nia makes one last pass with a hyper-spanner to tighten the rearranged connections, aimed at keeping the port nacelle and its many operations self-contained rather than reliant or expending any energy on its effectively DOA starboard counterpart. Once that's taken care of, she'll get back to the helm to run a quick simulation to make sure. All the while she listens to the others' comments.
By now she's almost dreading having to get to her feet--the expectation of experiencing yet another bout of dizziness. Wouldn't have to keep hopping up and down if she had a dedicated engineer to help her. Again irritation stirs at being stuck with dead weight, even if it's taking the compact form of a short Elasian girl.
But Nia can't get what she can't have. Story of my life, she thinks darkly, and her mind courteously provides her painful images of her infants and her parents and Booker and... and any future, any purpose that remains to her existence. Stop being morose. What's done is done.
And as the doctor told her, she is done.
Shaking her head, she realizes she's not concentrating on the task at hand. Dizziness or not, she'll be happy to get back in her chair. In her current position, head almost buried inside the panel, she's feeling an unfamiliar sense of claustrophobia--the Tesla seems to be sucking her down with it. Her lungs are tight, too.
Again she stands, a little warily. Same vertigo, but she's braced herself for it and doesn't stumble. "All right. Sounds like sabotage is out. Honestly, the cause of whatever-the-hell happened only matters as far as figuring out whether we can expect or avoid any more damage. Quantum filaments are incredibly rare, so if that's the cause, we're probably okay to go." Her impression of being sucked into the ship triggers a thought--the possibility of a gravimetric field, which she suggests to the others. "Either way, let's still get a scan of the hull. Probably nothing's attached to it, but it can't hurt."
While walking down the aisle, Nia reiterates Rangin's findings about reaching Ollos at a slow but steady pace. As she passes Rawlings, she lays a gentle hand on his non-injured shoulder. "I'm impressed, Double-T. You missed your calling as a tour guide." Nia's tone and accompanying smile are affectionate, and unconsciously she transfers the look to Booker. "Water planet. Maybe a chance for some swimming."
Back at the helm where she belongs, she begins running a 'dry test' to see how the impulse engine will work with the new single-nacelle setup. There'll likely be more adjustments to make elsewhere, but aside from life support, moving the shuttle is the biggest question mark.
The impulse engines seem unaffected, either by whatever affected the shuttle in the first place, or by Onn's work since. The port nacelle readings look surprisingly good.
Mäkeläinen looks at Rawlings appreciatively. A couple of abbreviated, out-of-date trip reports in the computer library was about what he had been expecting; first-hand experience is a stroke of unexpected luck. "So we know what to expect. Coming in like old salts, not looking like wide-eyed kids lost far from home, or too desperate, should go a long way to keeping that price down in the realm of vaguely reasonable. I hope. I also want to get you to a proper hospital."
While it is possible to make one's way in the Federation core worlds and many beyond, especially as part of Starfleet, without much need to handle money, that is simply far from true everywhere in the galaxy. Something like repairing a damaged shuttle, he worries, might take a little more than pocket money, or a junior officer's promise. Yet they should be able to deal with it; the trick will be to make it to Ollos first.
He looks at Nia, a little worried. While he has no doubt she would push herself to and beyond the limit uncomplainingly, he told her to get a lot of rest in the short term, and she has simply not had nearly enough. He is not quite ready to say anything, not while she is still working, but Lt. Graham had better be able to handle spelling her at the helm for a while.
He asks Rangin, "These quantum filaments, they are a natural phenomenon? There isn't any chance of running into another one as soon as we start moving again, is there?"
Graham shakes his head in response to Kylah's question. "Hell of a thing, torpedo arming...I guess random cosmic phenomenon is as likely as anything else," he grumbles.
He gives her an instinctive pat on the shoulder as he notices Nia returning to the helm and rises to join her: if Ollos is within reach, then it's down to the two of us handling the piloting and any threats that come along to get us there...
Nia's comment brings him up short. Memories of meeting her. Those are fond on their own, but since all that's happened...
"I, ah, hope the water's warm," he responds, initially to Nia, then throwing a glance at Rawlings.
Surprise lights Kylah's face when Lt. Graham pats her, and despite the unknown future and dangerous circumstances, his friendly, almost paternal gesture--casual as it is--radiates reassurance and even affection. She smiles her gratitude, but he has already moved to the front, as of course he should.
She turns to the doctor. "Sir, is there anything I might do for Ens. Rawlings?" She looks over to her fellow ensign to include him in the request. "Or to... to help parcel out supplies, rations, water..." Her hand lifts futilely, these words having exhausted Kylah's knowledge of what needs to be done in such a situation.
Turning to Velir, she adds intently, "Or research I could help you with, or... anything?" Give me something to do, she thinks, glancing around the small shuttle and wishing she could transmit the message to the entire crew. She probably could, at least one at a time, but for obvious reasons that is not an option.
The possibility of being stuck here is terrifying and the others must feel this as well--but they do such good jobs of remaining staunch and stoic. Kylah feels the edginess, the tense undercurrent beneath all their bravery, and it's thrumming through her like an electric current. So instead of the entire crew, she focuses only on Velir, and very gently touches his wrist for the briefest of instants. If I do not keep occupied I shall fall apart. Can you sense this?
Nia eyes the numerous status lights across the helm. Whatever needs to be done to make sure functions are bypassing the starboard nacelle, she needs to do it. Although it seems like the port is doing a pretty good job on its own already. How is that possible? What did I miss?
She catches a glimpse of Booker sitting beside her, and hears his comment. "Yeah, I'll be happy if anything's warmer than this," she murmurs absently. The temperature is increasingly uncomfortable. Her muscles are so taut they're sore, trying to guard against the little shudders running through her. Side-eyeing Booker, she tries to catch a glimpse of his own comfort level. Doesn't seem to be affected.
Well, he's not cold-blooded. At least... not in that way.
The bitter joke adds some mental levity, but she can't avoid the fact that the rest of the crew doesn't seem to be reacting the way she is to the changed atmosphere. Do they not notice?
"First, Rangin, I’ve got the same question as the Doc. Anything you know about quantum filaments I’d better learn too. Next…” She'd rather not say anything, but... “ Is there an emergency blanket or a jacket back there?" She’s addressing Book, but then expands it to the crew at large. "You Class-M planet dwellers might not be affected but it's a little nippy for us Sidonians. Otherwise everyone take your seat and strap in. I want to see if we can get going without another lurch."
Eyes on her panel again, Nia grits her jaw. The shuttle air's so damn cold and thin, it's as if she's climbed too high on a mountaintop without an air tank. And the dizziness. It's all unfamiliar and she's getting pissed off by her lamed Tesla and her own failing body.
Then she registers Booker beside her again, and thinks of their time as a couple, and some unconscious string of logic links it all together to pair it with the physical issues she's been experiencing. And that's when Nia realizes with a sharp, painful thud of her heart against her ribs that... no. This isn't unfamiliar. This isn't unfamiliar at all.
Gripping the sides of her chair for a second, Nia bends down to check another of the instrument gauges. But mostly it's an effort to prevent Booker or anyone else from seeing her face and the calculations desperately running through her cluttered mind.
Nia's mention of "Class M planet dwellers" reminds him not just about the temperature, but her...special needs, atmosphere-wise.
His concern is no less now than it was that night in her cabin.
Graham leans in close and speaks as softly as he can, for Nia's ears only. "Lieut-- Nia...the, ah, cold, or the--air...is there anything the doc can do? Or--look, a phaser on minimum power and some hunk of metal on the shuttle...I could heat something up for warmth..."
Rawlings says thoughtfully, "Ollos definitely has seasons. Don't know what the weather there is now, though."
The instrument gauges are all encouraging, Onn sees. She should be able to get the shuttle moving again very soon.
Graham remembers that there are thin foil emergency blankets in the aft engineering compartment.
Rangin can pass along what little he - or anyone - knows about quantum filaments. They are extremely rare, come and go unpredictably, can't be detected with typical Starfleet sensors, and are unlikely to pose a further threat to the Tesla... if that is indeed what the shuttle struck.
https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Quantum_filament
Having passed on the information about the quantum filaments, Rangin goes back to doing what he has been asked and scanning further around the shuttle.
Rangin listens to Rawlings details about the planet and then looks up any further details as best he can. Better to be as prepared as possible and find out what the Federation knows about the planet above and beyond.
Trusting the science officer's judgement that they will not instantly explode, at least due to quantum filaments (space travel and Starfleet service especially are never without peril, however, and Bizhi is philosophical about it), Bizhi turns back to the matter of survival. He says to Kylah, who seems to want to help, "See if you can find a blanket for Ens. Rawlings as well. It is important for him, especially, to stay warm. Life support is going to be minimal, so we can all expect to get quite miserable. Chilly, for sure, and it could get humid or stuffy. Carbon dioxide, that's really important; you can help keep an eye on the readings and alert me if it goes over 5000 parts per million."
It is not something anyone normally pays attention to on a functioning vessel, but temperature control draws a surprisingly large amount of power. Bizhi is not yet chilled to the bone like Nia, but he can tell he will be if it gets much colder and does not keep moving around. He continues, assuming others are listening as well, "I don't want anyone getting dehydrated. If you get thirsty, take a drink. I doubt we will be sweating much, in any case. Food is a secondary priority, but we should see what we have left, plus the emergency rations. And when it is your turn to rest, grab a blanket and try to stay warm; don't tough it out."
In his tricorder scans, Rangin finds nothing unusual on or near the shuttle.
There is relatively little in Federation records about Ollos, he sees, other than unremarkable survey and planetology data. It has apparently not been visited by a Starfleet ship in more than five years. The nonaligned waterworld is Class L, meaning it has a harsh climate but a breathable atmosphere. It has over 200 islands, the largest of which, Chebb, in the northern hemisphere, is about the size of Ireland. The largest settlement on the planet, Freetown, is on Chebb and has an estimated population of 70,000. It is, as Rawlings said, a major cargo-transshipment hub for the sector, and has a state-of-the-art shipyard. It would be within reach, if they chose to make a play for it, of either the Klingon or the Romulan empires, but for the moment at least, both seem content to let it maintain its tenuous independence. As to seasons, it is currently winter on Chebb.
Despite the precautions he is advising, Dr. Mäkeläinen knows it would be very much be for the best if the Tesla's crew got out of the shuttle sooner rather than later.
Freezing--both metaphorically and (almost) literally--Nia closes her eyes while Booker speaks, her face turned aside. She swallows and does her best to collect herself. She's the commander of the shuttle and the mission, and if she's panicking, she's not doing right by her crew. Goddamn Booker for being perceptive and concerned.
She’s as breezy as she can get while clenching her jaw trying not to chatter. "Clever, you, but we might need every phaser we've got--if not for weapons, then energy. One of the Enterprise's shuttles was stranded a few years ago, basically no power, definitely not enough to get them very far. The crew did some daisy-chaining of their phasers to squeeze out enough juice to push them out of orbit. Genius move. Enterprising, you might say," she adds, accompanying it with a weak chuckle.
At last she’s ready to meet Booker's gaze with more confidence. "I'm fine. I started the mission with plenty of time before I need to get 'refreshed'--at least thirty hours before I should even start feeling any symptoms. We've barely spent, what, fourteen?"
Nia casually pulls at the edge of her collar to show a hint of the silver chain necklace beneath. "Plus I've got my nebulizer. If I've seemed a little off, it's just that there's another... health issue... that's affecting me a little. But Dr. M.'s got that under control."
Even as she's talking she's listening to Mäkeläinen's report and trying to understand the math, because what she just told Booker is absolutely true. It's only been slightly over a day since she returned to her cabin after that week of living on pure Bilitrium. She usually goes nearly 48 hours, sometimes even more, before needing to replenish herself.
So why the hell does she feel exactly like she does the few times she's pushed herself too far past the deadline? Like she's choking on the very air she’s breathing?
She forces herself to continue. “And this other issue’s probably why my ability to regulate my temperature’s a little compromised. So if you can find something like a blanket, that’d be fine. My uniform’s not so great at coverage. Clearly visual appeal trumped practicality for whichever letch of a Starfleet officer designed female uniforms. Then again, my fault I didn't go with the trouser version, like Collins. If only I wasn’t so vain about my legs.”
Nia tries a smile. She really needs Booker to leave her side, because she really really needs to cough and gasp a little, and she refuses to do so in front of him. "Now go be a good boy and fetch."
Rangin realises that Kylah had asked him a question and that he is yet to respond to her.
“Actually, I can think of one thing that would be highly useful for us all. As the planet is inhabited, and we are going to be limping its way, can you get in contact with it?”
The fact she is the comms officer, well, she is the ideal person to reach out and ask for help. The shuttle is stable for the moment, time to think outside the tiny metal floating box they are currently in.
Kylah is buffeted by an array of information and emotion from multiple people--the emotions ranging from an alarming stab of panic to intense concern. Her instinct is to try and locate the sources, but she refocuses on the doctor, whose instructions must take priority.
"Yes, sir, of course." She takes in the information about carbon dioxide monitoring and glances around for the environmental control panel, then the aft where the blanket must be. Before she heads off, she turns to Velir and takes in his suggestion about reaching out to Ollos.. "I will... try." Her doubt is evident in her tone, and in the examination of her own communications panel--and the mess left in the aft area by whatever Lt. Onn did to the shuttle's inner workings.
"I had poor luck with the system before," she murmurs, "and the Lieutenant warned me she was taking parts from communications to repair the engines. Or... perhaps it was life support? I do not even know..." Kylah inhales deeply and tries to give Velir her most reassuring look. "But I will do my best."
With a nod to both him and Dr. Mäkeläinen, she moves to seek out the blanket--or blankets, if there is a supply of more than one.
Alone in the aft storage section, Kylah rubs her arms--feeling a little chilly herself back here. Maybe the temperature control system has been reduced to save energy for the occupied front section? As she opens different compartments, she frowns at the realization that Velir did not seem to 'hear' her silent question--at least, he did not react to it. Curious: Kylah's abilities should have made it possible to communicate with him, even without his own new senses.
Perhaps he is immune to any unexpected external psi effects? He displayed extraordinary strength guarding against Fellim Palver's attempts at mind control back at OCIII; that was how Velir's power had first been displayed. Blocking such efforts might be one of the abilities developing from that strange Sakathian virus mutation.
She shakes her head to file away the questions for later, and resumes searching.
Dr. Mäkeläinen concludes telling Nia sotto voce, "So, we'll be able to make the trip, barely, but, whatever magic you worked back there, we can't afford to stay here much longer. If we do not make way before too long, it will not be worth the bother.
"Do whatever you have to do to get us under way, but--- please!--- once we are moving take the first watch off and rest, and try to stay as warm as you can."
There are eight emergency blankets in the aft storage compartment, one for each person in the standard complement of a Class-F shuttlecraft, and a spare.
Kylah finds the Tesla's communications system is now completely dead.
Graham nodes and smiles at Nia's instruction--and has to resist the twitch of his hand that was otherwise going to lead to giving her arm a squeeze.
He stands and steps toward the back of the cabin, looking for who's doing what and where emergency blankets are might be.
Graham finds the emergency blankets are now being distributed.
As she completes her work the port nacelle readouts show all in the green, Onn sees. The navigational deflector also checks out, and forward sensors are at least good enough for proceeding at low warp speed.
Kylah keeps one blanket for herself, and distributes the others starting with Lt. Graham, whom she meets on her way back. "Here, sir," she says, meeting his gaze. Is he the one panicking? It seems unlike him, but he has a new family now and perhaps the thought of worrying them... or worse... is causing some agitation. But no, there is nothing quite so strong as panic in his demeanor.
"Do you wish to bring one to Lt.Onn? The doctor wishes me to stay back here to monitor the air quality. There is nothing else for me to do, at present. I fear sending or receiving any messages is beyond our capabilities at present."
This last remark she addresses to the others as well as Lt. Graham, including Velir in response to his request about contacting the planet. Kylah gives him his blanket, and the doctor his. Her sympathetic attention turns to Ens. Rawlings, and she shifts the remaining blankets in her arms. "Perhaps... perhaps you should have the extra one, as well? You are... larger..."
Nodding as the good doctor keeps her informed, Nia stares at the green lights in front of her, with no small sense of relief. The technical issues, life support stats have been battling for supremacy in her mind, but at least now she feels more control over the one domain in which she's always felt most comfortable.
After trying to take in as much air as she can and coughing quietly, she gathers her stamina and sits back up at the helm. Her muscles are getting sore from how tightly she's pulling them to stop shaking. Book, hold me, please?
The tiny plea, coming out of nowhere, irritates her. "I'll sleep when I know the Tesla can handle herself," she says shortly to Dr. Mäkeläinen, then looks back with a little more genuine gratitude and a lot less genuine reassurance. "I'm okay. Look, I'm certainly replaceable as a pilot if we've got nothing heavy thrown at us. But as far as techwise, monitoring the instruments and staying on top of them..." Her eyes hopefully scan the other crew, as if expecting Cheverez to manifest himself like a messiah from the storage area.
Pragmatism returns when that miracle fails to show up. She continues dryly, "We're a little underweight there. Let's talk timing, specifically the worst-case scenario, Doc." She looks over to Rangin. "You too. Let's prep for disaster. At a stretch, how long do we have if everything goes wrong and the engines die?"
She pauses. Most of what she's been doing, aside from repairing and replacing and re-inventing the Tesla's innards, involved adjusting the EPS network taps to ensure that as little plasma gets diverted to power any systems other than the warp coils. But she's still got some leeway; if the shuttle needs to go even faster, there's still room to do so.
"And alternatively, how much time can we buy if we cut the temperature and life support to the bare minimum that we can handle?" We. That implies universal requirements for survival. Which, Nia knows all too well, is very much not the case.
"Thank you, Mr. Kylah, I would" Graham says softly, trying to look reassuring. He shakes his head slightly. "A lot of things are out of the question at the moment--but most important of all, not propulsion."
"Fear is not knowing what to do."
The hardest nosed, most combat experienced officer Graham had ever served under had drilled that into every single one of his command--there's a million things to worry about and even more reason to panic when the chips are down. But they don't matter if you know what to do.
He almost tries to explain, but then just nods and turns away.
One: We're going to give getting to the planet our best shot.
TwoL I'm going to give Nia a blanket.
Three: See one.
Without speaking to avoid interrupting Nia and the doctor, Graham drapes the blanket over Nia's shoulders ad the back of her chair, pulling the edges forward so they meet over her chest, to adjust as she sees fit--being careful to make sure his hands don't actually touch her breasts, something that at a different time, in a different place...
But not here, not now, not anymore.
Mäkeläinen calls after Kylah, "Keep an eye on the concentration, but it will change gradually, so you need not stay glued to it. Just make a note of the levels periodically." Technical details of humanoid respiration, metabolism, and the long list of side effects they can expect come to mind automatically, but he does not launch into a lecture.
That leaves Lt. Onn. Her irritation comes as no surprise. The patient is the best judge of how the patient is feeling and how far she can push herself, except when she is not. In her case, he has absolutely no doubt she will do her duty to the bitter end, no matter how bad things get. And he knows they need her. But, to be honest with himself, Nia is not looking her best. No one on board is. Should they pull through, and it will be a close thing, they will need her skills at the end of the journey at least as much as now. If she continues to burn the candle at both ends, where will that leave her?
The worst-case scenario she, quite rightly, wants to be prepared for? "Lt. Rangin's travel-time calculation [how long was it?] was based on pulling Warp 1.4, and life support will be at bare minimum. If we don't make it? Another three hours, for sure. Beyond that, it's a race between lack of breathable air and hypothermia. They even share symptoms: drowsiness, confusion, decreased performance on all tasks. We could strip phasers for power cells, it seems, but that will not keep an entire shuttle heated for long, so if it comes to that we will freeze first."
Dr. Mäkeläinen is inclined to agree with Rangin's projections that, with LS reduced to a minimum - including O2 and internal temperature - the shuttle crew should be able to make it to Ollos in just over seven hours, with at least a three-hour safety margin, at Warp 1.4.
Kylah sees that air quality is still within acceptable parameters.
Nia adds the latest estimate to the calculations dancing around in her brain. Seven hours. She swallows and stares at the miniature version of a nav panel. How much more distance does this detour put between them and the Yorktown? And, most pressingly, her full Bilitrium tanks?
Uncertain if she can trust her ability to do even basic math right now, she asks the question aloud. "Does that add to our ETA of rendezvousing with the Yorktown? How fast can they get to us, if we're hobbled down there? Again, worst-case scenario."
Seven hours, she repeats like a litany while doing her best to continue slow, measured breaths. Fortunately the others will be fine, at least as far as breathing and eating and sleeping. Whether there are any hostiles down there, who knows. But if Double-T went there for some vacation it's probably not too dangerous, unless things have changed drastically since then. From Rangin's report, doesn't sound like it.
She's about to repeat her question when suddenly Booker is here, draping the aluminum blanket around her, practically tucking her in. Though his gesture is surely just friendly, nothing he wouldn't do for any other crewmate--with one or two exceptions--she closes her eyes for a second to absorb the tender emotions flooding through her.
The nearness of his hands make the tense knot in her belly tighten, then relax. Without thinking she touches her fingertips to his wrist, both in gratitude and also because she's almost freezing and her stiff, numb fingers are drawn to his warmth.
Then she draws away and her gaze flickers back to the nav screen. "Thanks," she says hoarsely before clearing her throat to project the command. "You--everyone--get in your seat. Time to move this tub, or at least make a test. Gonna initiate a thirty-second engine burn."
Outdated tech-speak that lingers from Nia's airship days, but even with a plasma-based engine the principle's the same. Start reaction at the warp core, aim the plasma stream through the nacelles--no, just one nacelle--to the coils, start propulsion.
A lot can go wrong in the process, especially after the Frankenstein monstrosity she's crafted with bits and pieces from other unrelated systems. She again addresses Booker and the others. "If anyone sees any indicator lights turning even just yellow for more than a couple seconds, let me know. Everyone okay to go?"
With little else for Rangin to do, he sits back with the blanket gratefully received from Kylah. If he was an engineer, no doubt he would be fixing the comms unit to try and send a signal, but that is a little bit beyond him, sensors being a little more in his field.
He is going to have seven hours of little to do, so plenty of time to see if the sensors currently have any active component or if it is just passively receiving data. If it is, then there is a possibility to turn it into a transmitter with a message attached, but it depends on just how much it has been cannibalised to allow the propulsion to work.
Acknowledging Lt Onn’s order, he braces until they are underway, and then, perhaps, keep busy during the longer trek across empty space.
Bizhi accepts his blanket gratefully. He, too, straps in following the order, and wraps the metallized blanket around himself.
He does not know how long the Yorktown might take to divert to pick them up, but he imagines taking their chances on an inhabited world is much less a worst-case scenario than huddling together for warmth on a crippled shuttle, gasping for a breath of fresh air that never comes.
He glances at Ens. Rawlings and the others, but there is not much he can do for them (especially Nia), medically speaking, to combat the chill, besides try to brew up some hot chocolate, or whatever can be found on board, after they are under way.
After reporting the CO2 status to Dr. Mäkeläinen, Kylah hesitates before taking a seat. There is definitely someone whose fear is as sharp and cold as an icicle. Since there is nothing to be gained by imposing on their privacy--and because Kylah does not want to dwell on the dire circumstances--she exercises some restraint and enfolds the blanket around her. She takes her seat, now by the environment control panel instead of where she has been sitting throughout this mission, straps in and braces herself.
Brings up a point: what are the current seating arrangements for those of us in the back? Probably doesn't matter much, but if the trip is of any length I'd like to know whom Kylah can see/hear/talk to. I'd guess Bizhi would be close to Rawlings? Where would the various panels be again? Yes this is me being lazy for once and not running down a rabbit hole of TOS blueprints and ephemera.
Rawlings is seated in the back row, to port (left) as you face the stern (back) of the shuttle. Onn and Graham are sitting up front, of course, by the forward control consoles. Everyone else may be seated where they wish. There are no functional control panels near Kylah or anyone else aft, given Onn's cannibalizing work to get the warp drive back online and restore basic ship's functions.
The Tesla's port nacelle starts up surprisingly smoothly, and the Sidonian pilot soon has the shuttle moving towards Ollos at Warp 1.4. An hour passes without any problems, and then two; she thinks she may even chance increasing the shuttle's speed a little more.
While the shuttle is moving steadily at warp towards it’s destination, Rangin starts looking at the comms issue. While the main sub-space communications have been destroyed or utilised in jury-rigging their propulsion, it’s not the only means of sending a message.
Rangin checks to see if there is any active sensor scanning going on from the shuttle and failing that looking at the small shuttle probe to see what kind of communications relay it has for sending data to the shuttle.
He is not expecting to make any long range calls to the Yorktown, but more of an emergency comms device when they come into close range of the Ollos and the crew needs to talk to any people on the planet. Just to let them know they are looking for assistance, not a danger to the planet and so on. Of course, the reverse is true and if they only have passive sensors, then at least he can bend his skill towards listening for any communication from the planet, which may be more useful if and when they get there.
Bizhi wraps the thin blanket more tightly around himself. He urged Nia to try to get some rest and conserve her strength, but he has to admit conditions are not very restful. He wishes he could gaze at the stars (beautiful, but distant, and indifferent) flying by, but there are no observation windows on this kind of shuttle. The only good thing about the situation, so far, is that they only have to endure another few hours.
Like Kylah, Rangin sees no way to establish communications with anyone outside of the shuttle, in or out, receiving or transmitting, emergency or otherwise, except perhaps with a personal communicator. You each have one, but of course they have very limited range, typically from a planetary surface to an orbiting ship, or from one ship to another nearby.
The shuttle's navigational sensors are operating, but with very limited acuity. You won't be hitting any asteroids in your path, but more sophisticated readings are impossible.
The Tesla has no "small sensor probe." But see post 812 as to the log buoy.
Time passes. The air is getting a bit stale and the cabin temperature is quite chilly now, but still nothing life-threatening, fortunately.
At last the shuttle enters the Ollos system.
For hours Nia's been doing her best to breathe normally--or at least without sounding like a rusty-hinged door--and isn't sure how much longer she'll be able to maintain this facade. Waves of dizziness are still pulling her out to sea, but she's fighting hard and, so far, still kicking. Tempting as it is to let herself sink into oblivion, she's kept her head above water.
She rouses herself enough to say with some measure of cheer, "Almost there. Everyone holding up?" Short sentences are necessary for her to maintain her controlled breathing. "ETA, Booker?" Another inhale. "Wish we knew more about the people down there before landing."
After another desperately measured breath, Nia asks something she's been trying to calculate herself without much success, which says a lot for her decreasing mental acuity. "How off-course are we? I mean--" Achingly slow inhale. "How many hours did we add between us and the ship?"
Kylah leans against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. Napping has proved impossible under the circumstances, with too many minds in close contact, all with varying degrees of discomfited emotions. At Lt. Onn's question, she stirs and is about to respond, but the older woman is asking something of Lt. Graham, and Kylah does not wish to interrupt.
She rubs her cold, stocking-clad feet. When the cabin temperature became noticeably cold, Kylah hugged her knees up to her chest, her small frame making it possible to do so on the seat. The less-than-dignified position has enabled her to stay completely beneath the emergency blanket, the extra material tucked under her for complete coverage.
Surreptitiously she has also removed her boots, which is why she is able to rub her feet to warm them. The cabin temperature is not unbearable by any means, but it is uncomfortable--and her anxiety about their situation seems to compound it.
It has been awhile since Kylah checked the CO2 levels. Reluctantly, she unwraps herself from this wrinkly silver cocoon and reaches down to pull her boots back on. Getting up, she glances at the doctor and Velir to see if they are awake. As she passes by Ens. Rawlings she does the same, and if he is up she will ask him how he is feeling. To anyone not dozing, she offers to get them whatever they need from the aft storage area, if anything.
Rawlings replies to Kylah's question, saying, a little dully, "I'm OK." He looks tired and uncomfortable, however, wrapped in his emergency blanket.
Graham sees from the Nav display that, if the shuttle remains at warp, it will reach the planet in just under seven minutes. Of course it is SOP to drop out of warp at least several minutes before entering orbital range, proceeding on impulse power for final approach. The Tesla does not look like it has gone off-course at all, fortunately.
Cabin carbon dioxide levels are a good bit higher than recommended under Starfleet LS protocols, but are still not in the danger zone.
Mäkeläinen responds generically to show that he is paying attention, but the truth is that his mind was partly elsewhere. Perhaps already down safely, sipping hot drinks in a utilitarian yet cosy lounge? To be sure, but that is not the entire story. In any case, the voyage only seemed interminable.
Graham glances at Nia, then back to the console. "Good news: no more than seven minutes at warp speed." He glances back Nia and forces a small smile after her other comments, resisting the urge to squeeze her hand. "I'd suggest one step at a time: let's tackle fresh air, warmth, and terra firma and we can go from there."
Being only a few minutes out perks Dr. Mäkeläinen up, but his demeanour changes little. He reminds the others, "We also have injured. When we get into local comms range and identify ourselves and so on, tell them one of us is hurt, not an emergency but a serious bone fracture nevertheless, and ask them to patch us through to an acute care facility."
The Tesla heads deeper into the Ollos system. Navigational sensors, fuzzy though their readings are, reveal one gas giant, two rocky inner worlds and Ollos itself.
Dropping out of warp as they approach the ever-closer target planet, Nia nods to herself as well as Booker. His idea of fresh air is different from hers, but right now she's finding the shuttle claustrophobic and coffin-like, and she's definitely ready to exchange one atmosphere for another.
"Ensign Kylah. Closer we get, start listening for any signal traffic your communicator can pick up." Nia licks her dry lips--she's been breathing through her mouth and feels dehydrated. "Rather not broadcast our ID until we know who's there to receive us. Agree, Graham?" Her voice lowers, though her volume's not exactly booming as it is. "Maybe you should listen too. You might recognize something she doesn't."
She clears her throat to speak up again. "Doc... Rangin... remind us whatever we need to know about a Class L planet. Double-T visited so it's obviously fine for humans, but just in case." Anything to keep them occupied, especially Dr. M.
Feeling slightly depressed that there is little more he can do when it comes to the comms, Rangin endures the shuttle trip like the rest of the crew.
When news comes in of the close proximity, he’s looking forward to trying to make contact again. Of course Lt Onn, passes that responsibility to Kylah, leaving him to drag out the note on Ollis for the third or, perhaps, fourth time for everyone to remember. As if they have forgotten over the last few hours.
But anyway Captain's orders and all that. “Yes Ma’am, he calls back to her, while fishing out the material. Ok, a brief reminder on what we will find on Ollis. But with no holidays snaps from Rawlings, I just couldn’t find any at such short notice.”
He hopes the slight levity will provide some cheer and help to pass a few more moments as they head towards the planet.
"Yes, ma'am," Kylah says to Lt. Onn, gladly picking up her communicator so she can monitor any signals the small, not-very-powerful device is capable of picking up once they are close enough.
She looks over to the injured Security officer behind her, and after a pause moves to the seat in the back row across from him. "Mr. Rawlings," she begins gently. "Do you remember any contact from your visit years ago? Or even just know of anyone specific we might reach out to? This Freetown settlement... is this where you stayed when you were here?"
Mäkeläinen says, "I could tell you more about what to expect, physiologically, if you show me the planetology data on atmospheric composition and the like. 'Class L' by itself does not mean much." It would be best to ask Ens. Rawlings more about it, but, despite the painkillers, Bizhi is not sure he is up for giving a travelogue and does not want to volunteer him. He shrugs. "We know it's a major hub and has a substantial population and multiple settlements, so how bad can it be? You can even find asteroids with a population of a hundred thousand, or even more, the point being people stay inside the habitats.
"If you are still thinking about the possibility someone lured us here via sabotage, and in that case, for all we know, they could have tracked us all the way, and know we are coming... even if we cannot dismiss the possibility, what alternatives do we have? At least some of us have to make our way to a major settlement to communicate with the Yorktown and to arrange for repairs to the shuttle. I volunteer to accompany Ens. Rawlings to wherever the most advanced medical facility is--- I'm guessing Freetown--- and take care of whatever other tasks I can help with there."
Kylah finds that the shuttlecraft is still too far from Ollos to reach anyone, or hear anything, via communicator. A Starfleet communicator's range does not go very far beyond planetary orbit.
Rawlings says, "Yeah, I was in Freetown briefly, just a few hours. Our landing party didn't go anywhere else on the planet's surface."
The planet is Class L and not M primarily because of its typically cold climate. See post 832 for more info.
Onn tries to take the Tesla out of warp, but nothing happens. The shuttle continues towards Ollos at Warp 1.4.
"Outdoors, we know it will be cold and dreich—" Bizhi would look Lt. Onn in the eye, but she is obviously preoccupied with the helm— "and we have no exosuits, or even a change of clothes, so we will have to buy what we need. The lower the temperature, the more essential proper attire becomes for even short excursions, even if you feel like you can tough it out for a few minutes. I hope it will not come to that, but it is a possibility." Bizhi remembers storybooks where people warm themselves in front of a genuine fireplace. Such a fantasy seems appealing right now.
How long has it been since Lt. Graham's nav announcement? They must be practically there.
Most of Dr. Mäkeläinen's words are crowded out by what seems like a burst of static in Nia's brain, which keeps her from asking him the question "cold and 'dry', how is a Class L planet dry?" that originally leaps to mind but dies the instant she realizes the warp field is still active.
What? She stares at the screen for a second or two--which feels like an hour--before she darts her gaze up to the rapidly approaching system bodies.
Did she screw up fixing the propulsion system? She must have. Fuck fuck fuck. Nia clutches the edges of her seat for support again, then turns to Booker. "The controls aren't letting us drop out of warp," she mutters. "I need to see what's wrong back there. If I don't shut down the field we're gonna overshoot the planet--and that's the best option. Worst is crashing into it. Prepare to nav us slightly out of a direct hit." She eyes him carefully as she gets to her feet. "You okay with that?"
The Tesla races on. The shuttlecraft will hit the planet in just a little over five minutes if you cannot drop out of warp soon - and even then, it will be difficult to decelerate in time to either safely achieve orbit or land on the planet's surface.
Before he replies to Onn, Graham sees, through the very poor-resolution navigational sensor display, that there are at least a dozen ships in orbit of Ollos, as well as what appears to be a large orbital drydock.
Graham listens attentively, having suffered through some rough combat landings in the past but nothing to compare with impacting a planet at warp speed -- bad for shuttle, bad for planet - he thinks.
He starts nodding as he notices the nav sensor display. "Shit - yes," he says sharply to Lt. Onn. "Yes but there's traffic in orbit." He holds her eyes for a second. "If you can't get us out of warp ASAP we may need to juke hard, and send a distress signal slash warning that we're a speeding bullet."
Kylah cannot keep herself from giving a start at what appears to be an electric shock of alarm stemming from either Lieutenant Onn or Graham--or both. But since she cannot hear whatever their concern is, she just swallows and listens to Dr. Mäkeläinen. His remark reminds her of the unusual vocabulary she noted earlier. "Dreich, she repeats softly to herself, carefully recreating the same relatively uncommon consonant sound for someone speaking Federation standard. Of course, it is easy enough for her--not just because of her Starfleet role, but primarily her formative years spent listening to Klingons and learning to speak tlhIngan Hol.
"Forgive me, sir, but I do not think I have heard that term--Dreich. And there were a few others that were also unfamiliar to me. Dreeing? Tholing?" She shakes her head apologetically. "I am embarrassed by my ignorance. To my ears it sounds similar to some Germanic or Gaelic languages of Earth, but perhaps it is vernacular specific to your homeland?"
Hand curling over the top of her chair, Nia nods tightly. "I'll work as fast as I can but until I get back, plot us to steer clear of the traffic and planet, then take a wider orbit so we're circling the neighborhood without going too far out." She hears Kylah's voice yammering on about something and her already dizzy head twitches as if annoyed by a horsefly. She raises her voice. "Everyone: back in your seats. We're having trouble coming out of warp. The inertial dampers won't be enough to keep us from feeling our attempts to slow down and avoid obstacles."
She stalks back, nearly bumping into Dr. M. before she grabs onto Kylah's arm both for balance and to wake the girl up. "Keep trying to contact someone either on the planet or a vessel. Not just you--Doc, I want you listening too. If you make contact, tell 'em we're coming in hot and they'd better get in a tighter orbit around Ollos to avoid our path." Lunging to her knees, she darts a glance at Rangin. "You, I want out of your seat. Go aft and double-check my work. See if you can find what's preventing us from disengaging the warp field from back there."
On her belly again, she digs back into the floor access panel to try to disengage the one nacelle she wanted so much to do all the work for them.
From his seat Mäkeläinen, too, now stares wide-eyed out the front window.
"We can always get a new warp drive," he suggests equanimously, "but not if we slingshot out on a one-way trip into deep space. Worse come to worst, I suggest we emergency scram, disconnect the relays, vent the core--- however it's done. Another hard shutdown and a few more repairs seem like a small price to pay."
He glances at Ens. Rawlings, then at Kylah and Rangin. "Please warn us if there will be more juddering...."
He turns to Ens. Kylah and is about to answer her questions when Lt. Onn orders them to get on subspace radio. He looks at Kylah and follows her lead.
Everyone takes their seats and hangs on as best they can. Rawlings wonders to himself yet again why Starfleet's shuttlecraft designers didn't install seatbelts.
Onn, with Rangin looking over her shoulder, soon finds what appears to be a fused control circuit in the warp-power control assembly. She doesn't know why it would have fused only hours after she disconnected the starboard nacelle and reestablished control over the port nacelle; perhaps too much power went through it, once one and not two nacelles were running? She can't tell. It is actually hot to the touch, which is even more unusual.
Kylah can at last pick up exterior signals with her communicator, but realizes it is an ear-splitting, overlapping cacophony of voices and datatones across the entire subspace spectrum. She recognizes Federation Standard, Yridian and Rigellian; she thinks she also recognizes Drelloan, Low Bachu and a word or two - maybe - of Sazzin A and Uwat. None of them sound happy; she catches "...steer clear...," "What the hells are you...," "...you crazy or what...," "Veer off, I repeat, veer off, or we will op...," "...too fast, damn it, too fast!," and the like. Dr. Mäkeläinen hears much the same, but understands even less.
While he would prefer to be in his seat and buckled in, he acknowledges Lt Onn’s order with a brief “Yes, Ma’am,” before heading back to quickly check what is going on alongside her.
On seeing what has happened with the control panel, he looks across at the senior officer, “Well ma’am, I can’t see anything that was done wrong and I have no idea what has happened.” He shrugs calmly despite the general thoughts that they are hurtling to their own demise. “Is there any way we can just dump the warp core and drop out close to the planet. Perhaps someone will be able to tractor us to somewhere more appropriate than crashing into the planet’s surface.”
Graham plots courses - plan A, wider orbit, steer clear of traffic; plan B...push the shuttle to its limits to veer off at the last possible moment if warp can't be shut down.
Nia stares in dismay and disbelief at the fused control circuit. For one flashing second of paranoia she fears the Tesla's turned sentient and is purposely sabotaging itself to defy her.
Getting unsteadily back on her feet, she contemplates the ideas--her own and the others'--pelting her mind. "Jettisoning the nacelle would slow us down, but its warp bubble'd remain intact. It'd beat us to Ollos and slam into it like a missile."
Something to bear in mind, she realizes, for some future desperate situation in a shuttle lacking a photon torpedo. Weaponizing a nacelle like this against an enemy would be... unprecedented? Maybe not, but at the subpar level her brain's working now, she can't recall a similar last-ditch strategy.
The thought of her own dwindling capacity sends her gaze back to Rangin. He's near enough to hear if she speaks quietly, and she does. "The reset button worked once, so we'll roll the dice again on that. But... either way I'll need your help on another longshot. Your confidential help," she adds with soft but intense emphasis. "If you're willing. Mull it over."
After thanking and telling him to get back into his seat for safety, Nia hurries toward the helm controls and again reaches for the emergency switch. This time instead of trying to restart the engine, she uses the override to shut down the warp drive.
Graham's course options look good to him, but he also knows, given the shuttle's other problems so far, that this approach might be their only chance to arrive safely on Ollos.
After Onn hits the override to shut down the warp nacelle, agonizing seconds pass by while nothing happens, but then with a THUMP and a perceptible shift in momentum, the Tesla drops out of warp. Onn and Graham can both see that she retains far too much momentum for a survivable landing, however; they will have to turn the shuttle around and use the impulse drive at the stern for braking.
Rawlings, watching what's going on, says, "I don't think we'll still want to have a photon torpedo on board for the kind of landing we're in for."
After taking in the blast of anger- or fear-fueled outbursts in disparate languages, Kylah tries to put it all into context. She snaps her head up when Lt. Onn rushes back to the Helm and is about to blurt out her impressions before she hesitates. Clearly the mission commander needs to concentrate.
Kylah turns to Dr. Mäkeläinen, wondering how much he heard that she did not catch. Soon whatever Lt. Onn attempted has worked--to some degree--as the ship's sudden decrease in speed makes Kylah fall forward until she manages to brace herself and return to a safer position.
When there's a window of opportunity, she lowers the communicator and, after glancing at her fellow crewmates, stares at Lt. Onn's back. "Ma'am, I am hearing many interactions and communications nearby. They are all--from what I could understand--there is a high level of urgency and chaos in the region. There are implied near-accidents--vessel glitches, navigation errors, possibly even collisions, it sounds like. And--and if I understand correctly, Lt. Graham, there appear to be threats to one another if they do not change course."
She hesitates and adds hurriedly, "In short I believe they are having the same unexplained problems we are. Vel--Lt. Rangin, do you think this is possible? Given the idea you mentioned earlier?"
Still working with Kylah, Mäkeläinen says, "It is safe to say our approach has not gone unnoticed," stating the obvious. "No question of slipping in quietly— not that we have any discretion but to broadcast Mayday and warn all ships to keep our path clear."
He does not interrupt her. Can a communicator be set to some sort of wide-band mode, or is there a single emergency frequency, or several that must be selected alternately? He watches her work. She keeps addressing him as "Sir." It is true he is technically her senior with an extra tour of duty under his belt, but otherwise she is not his subordinate or even in the same department. She appreciates formality and precision, it seems. So does he, but in his case it applies to his work. But then, communication is her métier.
Mäkeläinen thinks it might be possible the Tesla's precise identity might be overlooked in the wake of all the immediate chaos they are causing, but they will soon enough be infamous systemwide, for better or (more likely) for worse. The vessel, anyway. Or are there indeed other erratic ships out there? His focus right now is on trying to get through this without him or anyone else getting injured (or more injured), then see if direct transport to a hospital can be arranged.
"Commendation, Rawlings!" Graham shouts, spending only a second before hitting the console to attempt to turn the ship around with max burn on impulse thrusters and - hopefully - drop the remaining torpedo unarmed.
"Nia--Lieutenant," he adds urgently , "Good work - agree with Doc and Kylah--do we have a go to broadcast distress warning? And by god, I can transfer all power to slow us down...but I could use your pilot skills up here..."
Graham is able to turn the shuttle around and the impulse drive responds with gratifying promptness to his button-pushing for a max burn. Navigational sensors show the Tesla is now slowing down dramatically - but will it be enough?
Rawlings staggers from his seat, despite the noisy, very bumpy ride, to grab the back of Graham's seat and say urgently, almost in his ear, "Should we detonate the torpedo at a safe distance, sir, or even send it into Ollos's star, to keep it from being recovered?"
Nia turns to stare at Booker from her position only a foot or so away from his side up at the helm, where she just cut the warp engine. He must be so intent on his new navigator role--which he's certainly taking to with impressive skill--that he didn't notice that she's right here.
Her own straightforward choice would've been to pull the ship slightly from their trajectory toward the planet to avoid its atmosphere altogether, aimed safely away from crashing into the population and whatever traffic's in orbit. Then she'd've tried to slow down before pulling back to attempt another pass at Ollos. Basically, what her initial orders were.
But Booker's quick on the trigger, probably part of his DNA, and she didn't have time to order him to do otherwise. Rawlings is feeling his oats too. Nia opens her mouth to protest dumping the torpedo. They've got nothing else, and if there are other ships out there gunning for them...
Well, she's decidedly not at her best. Who's to say she'd be right? Nia wordlessly backs Booker's helm actions and waits for him to give instruction for whatever he needs her to do. She does turn to Kylah and the doctor.
"Sounds like the communications are threatening us, Ensign Kylah. Not each other. At least that's what the Doc seems to be saying? But let's hear it and let the Security officers decide. Rawlings, as you're up and feeling better, you can play lead on that." She sits back shakily, and sideeyes Booker. "You may give the orders, Lieutenant."
Kylah's lips part as she hears the others around her, and her skin tingles with a flush. "Yes, of course they might be speaking to us. Forgive me, I--I did not think--" She peers into the communicator as if expecting the answer on its tiny screen. The presence of the others in such close proximity presses in on her. "There are too many of you," she blurts in frustration. "It is too much to distinguish, I cannot--"
At once she stops, blushes even more hotly. Any more such indiscretion and she will reveal far too much about herself. She realizes she feels even more at risk than usual, and just as suddenly recognizes that... this insecurity is not merely stemming from within her. Her eyes dart around until she lands on... Lt. Onn...? It is wholly unlike the Sidonian woman but Kylah is almost certain that it is, indeed, she who is feeling so unsettled and unsure.
At a loss, she hesitates, then lifts her device again to back out of her own near-admission. "Too many voices, I mean. The vessels. Communicators are not meant for listening to so many disparate broadcasts, not while making each one clear enough to understand. I can try to send a multichannel announcement, warning any nearby ships of our situation. If you do not think it is strategically unwise, should there be any enemies nearby."
Graham's glances at Nia and freezes, momentarily, not sure why she would want him giving the orders...her side conversations with the doctor jump to mind, and he's worried about that--but it won't matter if they crash into the fucking planet in a few minutes...
"Aye," he says, blinking briefly. "Blast that warning out. Make clear this is a Starfleet ship in distress." Then he adds "Keeping us from getting shot down as a threat is ob one, Mr. Kyah."
"Good man, good man, Rawlings," he grunts a moment later. "Into the star it is--can you make it so?" he asks his hulking colleague.
Rawlings bites his lip and says, "Yeah, I think so." He hunches his way forward to the Tesla's small torpedo control panel, thinks for a moment and then inputs several commands. In moments there is a flare outside the forward viewports and, despite the shuttlecraft's continuing shaking and rattling, you all feel a different kind of jolt as the torpedo is launched. "Torpedo away, sir," he says, allowing himself a satisfied smile as he checks a readout, "and headed directly towards the star. Impact in... three minutes, mark."
The shuttle continues braking as it plunges towards Ollos, the waterworld growing larger by the second on the tactical display. The gauges show the deuterium fuel level for the impulse drive is steadily dropping as the aft engines blast away, but Onn and Graham see that there will, or should, still be a small emergency reserve for maneuvering once you hit atmosphere. That is now just seconds away.
Mäkeläinen does his best to hang on for the ride. The piloting is out of his hands, and the feeling from earlier of having no control as he and the people around him hurtle to an unknown fate creeps up on him again. There is little he can do even to assist Kylah— he follows her instructions, but his language skills, not too shabby even if it is himself telling it, are not as extensive as her own (at least as far as the local comms go, evidently), and only one person at a time can speak into the communicator, anyway. But surely Graham and Onn have things in hand (there will not be much time for regrets or recriminations if they do not), and, as usual, there is no time or point to get philosophical. From what he can see, the shuttle is still coming in fast, and he is not sure whether they are trying to make a low orbit or to bleed off their energy completely and land somewhere on the surface. He hopes his skills in emergency medicine will not be put to the test again so soon.
"If you are going for the surface," he tells the helm, "pick any point on land, even if is not close to civilization, in preference to the ocean. We won't last more than a few minutes in freezing cold water."
Against all the warring anxiety, anger and near-despair, Nia can't help a faint smile. "Water'd be practically toasty compared to space, Doc. Trouble will be the pressure, not temp." Her face hardens. "But the sea's more forgiving to crash into than hard land. And the harsh truth is, if we crater I don't wanna endanger any civilians. They didn't sign up for this."
Ignore the following if not technically possible please.
If the Tesla again has the capability to identify ground properties via sensor readings or topographical maps available this close to the planet, Nia will hurry to read them. What she's looking for is any other than sheer ground. A large swamp, mud, marshland... even a few km of fluffy snow if there's any possible way to determine it; worse comes to worst, a desert. Sand's not much better than earth but it is a little better, and she'll take whatever she can get.
(She knows that to aim for any specific location, of course, she'll have to take into account the fact that they're facing away from the planet. Any move she makes has to be reversed in order to have the proper effect.)
Fingers bloodless as she clamps them around the communicator, Kylah does her best to block the crew from her focus and find anyone out there who appears to be within their rapidly changing range. She speaks Standard, but if anyone responds who speaks another language she can speak, she will switch accordingly.
"This is Starfleet vessel Tesla approaching planet with malfunctioning engines. Keep safe distance. No aggression intended. Any assistance possible--"
Her mind shrieks at her. It is insane, they are likely going far too quickly but if anyone can get a lock on them perhaps there is a chance.
"Anyone hearing me with access to transporters? There are six of us. I do not know--we are trying to slow down but... perhaps..." She glances worriedly at Velir and Lt. Graham, her usual sources of support, but of course Lt. Graham is likely too busy piloting (why him? why not Lt. Onn, what is wrong with her?) to hear her. So she adds Dr. Mäkeläinen into her rotation of pleading looks. Is she making any sense at all? There is so little time. Kylah is purposely not staring out the viewports, but she can feel how fast they are moving.
Inhaling, she begins again. "Repeat: This is Starfleet vessel Tesla approaching planet with malfunctioning engines. Keep safe distance. No aggression intended..."
She continues her mayday until and unless she gets a reply--or until she is no longer able to speak.
"Come on, come on..." Graham grumbles at the Shuttle. After the other back and forth conversation he says over his shoulder "Hang on as best you can, doc - if we come down hard you're the number one most important person to be awake and ambulatory if we have injuries."
Bizhi looks into Kylah's panicked eyes. He, too, should be horrified, but it is as though all this is happening to someone else and he is merely a detached observer, albeit of a nightmare he cannot control.
"We have gone below standard orbit without hitting anything or getting blasted out of the sky, so whatever you are doing is working," he says to her. "I am not sure what happens to communications during atmospheric reentry, but keep broadcasting. If anyone offers emergency transport, tell them to stand by. I daresay we may need it, at least after we are down, but I don't know when it will be safe to beam out, and anyway we cannot abandon ship until we get the order."
Onn completes the braking burn and then struggles to turn the shuttle around so that it's belly-down as it hits the atmosphere; she certainly does not want it to tumble out of control and burn on descent. Despite this, the shuttle's buffeting becomes even more severe soon after atmospheric entry. It is all you each can do to hang on and stay in your seats. The noise is incredible.
The Sidonian pilot gets only very broken-up and unreliable sensor readings but believes, from the tactical projection, that the shuttle is on track for a landing on Chebb, the largest island, as she intended. Chebb, of course, has Freetown, the main city, and its shipyard. The island is heavily forested, with scattered lakes and some mountains running right down to the coast, where Freetown is. Even with further braking once the shuttle has made it to the lower atmosphere, however, she doubts that she can pull off a safe landing at the spaceport; coming in hot, the city's defenses might even try to shoot the Tesla down rather than permit its very fast and only semi-controlled approach. A hard, or even crash, landing outside of town, perhaps in one of the mountain meadows or even on the limited farmland available, might be her least bad option.
From some of the fragmentary messages she's hearing, Kylah thinks she's gotten through to at least some of the ships in orbit, and perhaps even to Ollos Port Control, but she can't be sure. The subspace cacophony continues largely unabated until the static of atmospheric entry finally overcomes it.
The sun sets behind you and the Tesla falls down, down, down through darkening skies before plunging into thick clouds. Snow begins pelting the front viewports.
Kylah nods gratefully as she listens to Dr. Mäkeläinen's supportive words and tries to brace herself both physically and mentally.
When she barely hear her own thoughts, much less anything that might be coming through her communicator, she grabs the sides of her chair and bends her head, eyes squeezed shut as she nearly sobs aloud. It is not fair. She was not even supposed to be on this mission. A last-minute decision placed her here. She should be back safe on the Yorktown.
The thought is cowardly but she cannot prevent the burst of resentment and regret that are now added to the otherwise overpowering terror of what lies ahead.
Just when Nia most needs every last ounce of concentration to handle the insane number of calculations she must make for them to survive, she's increasingly aware of just how disconnected, tired and dizzy she is. Exhaustion coaxes her into sleep, like warm water seductively drawing her deeper and deeper beneath the surface. It would be so easy, just closing her eyes and the fear and stress will be gone.
She gasps and rouses herself. Can't wait anymore. In a practiced move she yanks at the silver chain of her inhaler, pulling the device from under her uniform's collar to shove it into her mouth. She's put it off as long as possible--it's the only supply she has on her--but she's close enough to emergency status that now there's no time to waste.
A blast of the button sends a sharply clarifying rush of the BuNO2 compound into her Bilitrium-starved system. The gray curtains that seem to be at the edges of her vision fade, at least momentarily, and her improved focus lets her strategize and do her best to navigate the Tesla to a safe destination.
Not in a forest, not in a city or village, most certainly not into the side of a mountain. When Chebb takes up more and more of her viewport, she scans frantically for the largest meadow at the highest altitude she can find: she wants it snow-covered.
In a last-ditch hope she seeks for something near a lake or some other largish body of water. Her goal now isn't to plunge into it. If she's skilled enough--and her still-dear shuttle is capable enough of being held steady--she might be able to skim the Tesla's belly across the surface, allowing the friction and drag of the water to help slow them to a slightly safer speed before they reach land.
Maybe the snow pelting the vessel means they'll find enough fresh snow-cover to cushion their inevitable halt. The heat will melt it, maybe encase them in ice if the weather outside's particularly frigid. But it's better than a nose-down crash for sure.
"Book, shields up if they're back online," she mutters, her voice hard enough to cut through the din. Still tired but taking advantage of the limited lifespan of her refreshing Bilitrium dose, Nia prays and aims the shuttle as best she can to the safest possible target.
Graham grunts acknowledgement and - if he can - powers up the shields.
Risking a free hand during the turbulence, he puts one on Nia's shoulder. "You've got this, Nia. You're the best damned pilot on Yorktown," he says in a low voice.
The Tesla at last drops below cloud level and the snow squall clears as if a switch was thrown. Onn and Graham can see at once, by the light of the setting sun and despite the long shadows it now casts, the dense forests and not-far-distant mountain range of the island below. There has clearly been extensive snowfall across the region. Onn also sees what appears to be an open, snowy field off to starboard, roughly in the same direction as Freetown, which must lie several kilometers beyond. It might be a large- and long-enough open space for the shuttle to land upon. She can also just see, off in the distance but in the same direction, the blue-green gleam of the ocean across the horizon.
The shuttle's speed is greatly reduced and it is shaking much less, but still it breaks the sound barrier with a loud BOOM as it drops. Onn struggles with the controls. The shuttle is extremely sluggish in handling, and the impulse drive is now nearly out of fuel.
Graham is nevertheless able to power up the shields.
At the compliment--but even more at the sound of the shields powering up--Nia exhales her gratitude in a rushed, "Oh Book, may Sid'Os bless you with eternal rain."
She frets at the distance of the ocean. It would make a perfect place to drag the shuttle's speed before reaching the large snowy but solid landscape. But the way the Tesla is handling, Nia's not confident in the plan. It'd require flying out to the ocean a decent enough distance, then bringing the shuttle around the necessary 180-degree turn back to land, then managing to fly steadily enough to skim the water instead of being plunging underneath. The shields should allow them to skip like a rock, but... there's the fuel problem and possibility of losing the impulse drive. Too quick a loss in speed and there's no guarantee the shuttle doesn't perform a similar insane bucking motion as at the start of this whole fiasco. With gravity now an issue, not to mention a huge deadly planet-sized obstacle, they'd never survive the drop.
Her eyes flick from the fuel indicator to the speed gauge and back to the ocean, calculating desperately how far out she'd need to get them to a low enough altitude that'd let the shuttle's belly touch the waves. And none of this matters if she can't keep the pitch, yaw and roll steady. None of which are typical worries for a starship or shuttle pilot. Aside from basic training at the Academy a dozen-plus years ago, she hasn't done this regularly since her father's airships back home.
If it seems possible, she'll take the risk. Otherwise if the odds are much better for them to hit the field, Nia will start the landing procedure, such as it is.
See setup thread for questions... SG is not as smart at this tech stuff as her PC
Onn decides in seconds, her mind racing, that the odds are very poor for the Tesla to make it out over the ocean and back. The shuttle is falling too fast and her margin of control is so slight that she knows in her gut it's just not going to happen. With a herculean effort, she brings the shuttle about on what she thinks will be a non-lethal glidepath to the open snowy field. You are now less than two minutes from the planet's surface.
Things are chaotic, but it is hard to miss the ground looming and Bizhi can tell this is the final approach. Lt. Graham's comment put it out in the open, but it is not like he was not figuring out the best way to brace himself (not for the first time, it is glaringly obvious the shuttle has not been configured with any kind of emergency safety harnesses or for uncontrolled conditions beyond the capabilities of the inertial dampeners. Dangerously inadequate, and they already have the casualties to prove it.).
He works out what position he thinks will minimize, should they come down hard, the risk of injury from flying debris, of broken limbs, and blows to the head, and also tersely instructs the rest of the crew how they should brace for impact.
He is not really worried. Yet. Maybe just a little. They are still going pretty fast. Dropping rather steeply. Or is that an optical illusion?
In response to his shouted instructions, Kylah manages a grateful "yes doctor" through tightly gritted teeth. The sensation of the plunging shuttle yanks her mind back to the near-disastrous orbital skydiving incident months ago, which nearly killed Velir and put a terrified Kylah at odds with Lt. Graham. Her eyes squint open to spot the latter in the co-pilot seat, hoping that he is safe enough up front; then her gaze shifts back to Ensign Rawlings. She cannot be reassuring since she does not feel so--and he is likely far braver than she is, anyway. With no other resources--Velir is not visible to her in the seat right ahead--she draws herself inward again and sobs, waits, and dreads.
"Full power to forward shields," Nia orders Book--he's probably already done so, way to waste what's left of your breath, woman. Right now she'd give anything for something properly tactile to control the shuttle, a good old-fashioned yoke for example--but her precise, practiced gestures on the Tesla's controls are part of her muscle memory.
The white expanse takes up the entire viewport. "Brace for impact!" she shouts, as her thoughts scream silently: Here she comes. Please, please, Sid'Os... forgive me and spare my crew for many seasons more...
Graham cranks the forward shields to full power, plus whatever power of prayer he can muster.
"Hold together," he grumbles at the craft. "Come on, hold together."
The Tesla falls down and down, the white-and-dark-green forests of Ollos rushing up to meet you, the nearby mountains seemingly close enough to touch. Onn is able to bring the unwieldy shuttle down more or less level, but - unavoidably - still too fast. The aft landing strut is torn away within seconds of the shuttle touching the snowy surface stern first, and then with a lurch the whole underside of the shuttle makes contact. The shuttle races along through the snow on its belly, great plumes of white billowing up at the bow.
There is a wrenching crunch as the disabled starboard nacelle breaks away, its support pylons apparently unable to take the strain as it slides through the snow. The shuttle skews to port slightly and even briefly rises into the air by just three or four meters before coming back down hard with a bone-rattling jolt, as Onn fights for control every step of the way. The command consoles all go dark and the forward shields drop a second or two later, but the interior lighting stays on and everyone is miraculously able to keep his or her seat. You can all feel the shuttle gradually slowing until it comes, finally, to a complete stop. Thick snow now covers all but the upper few centimeters of each of the three forward viewports.
There is a moment or two of stunned silence before Rawlings says in wonderment, "That was a hell of a thing. Good work, Lieutenant."
"Quite," adds Mäkeläinen, following an appreciative silence of his own. He assesses his own limbs just to be sure he is still all in one piece.
Once the Tesla stops digging itself into the snow, Nia bends her head over the now blank helm panel and closes her eyes for a few seconds to gather herself. Every muscle is taut as a wire and refuses to relax; similarly, the scales that erupted as a defense aren't receding yet. She takes long breaths that do very little for her and prays her gratitude before forcing herself to speak.
"Thanks," she says hoarsely to the compliments. "Everyone okay? Doc, anyone hurt?"
Stiffly pushing herself into a hunched but more upright position, she tries to run a system diagnostic, or to see if the emergency reset can perform its magic again.
While her cold, rigid hands work at the various controls and buttons, she gazes with weary concern at Booker. Here, up at the helm, he bore the brunt of the impact, like Nia. Unlike her, he has no scales to protect him. "Book?" she whispers.
Kylah is huddled against the hull beside her. She sees only darkness, caused by the arms with which she cradled her head, as well as the curtain of black curls fallen loose from her clip to shroud her. There are voices, dim and muffled, and gradually she realizes the shuttle remains--at least partly--intact.
Everything seems so far away. Even her thoughts are slow to register. Her face is damp. Probably tears, but some remote spark in her brain notes it might be blood. It takes what seems like an hour to decide she had better check to see, and at last, she attempts to lower her arms and sit up.
I suppose we'd know if we're injured or not?
You all have various bumps and scrapes, and the landing certainly did Rawlings's broken arm no favors, but no one is seriously hurt.
The front consoles, however, are completely dead. Onn is unable to run a system diagnostic. An emergency reset has no effect whatsoever. On the other hand, the interior lights are still on, and there is still the faint hum of the LS system's air circulation.
The Tesla settles a little deeper in place.
"I've had worse," Graham rumbles to Nia, in all seriousness. "Much worse, in fact." He turns toward her. "That was some badass piloting..." He side eyes a viewport and sighs. "But I think we should get the fuck out of here, ASAP."
For an instant Nia drops her gaze, aware that one of Booker's 'much worse' injuries was the disruptor blast during the fight with the Klingons--under her command then, too. Great record she's built up with him.
But she's relieved that no one's seriously hurt, aside from Double-T unfortunately, and Booker's suggestion is wise. "Agreed. I'm not liking the way the shuttle's settling here. Could go still deeper." Even as she speaks she nods at the exit. "The lights may be working but I'm not sure the hatch'll still be operational except manually. If we can get out without using any more power, let's do it. Let's just hope the snow isn't packed too tightly."
Nia pulls the silver blanket from behind the seat, where it slid off during the landing, and takes a wary glance at the nearly covered viewport. As a girl living on a parched planet beneath flaming acid clouds in stifling hot air, she'd've found the chance to burrow a path through fluffy wet snow a thrilling fantasy. Now...
She's not built for this. Her scales evolved to insulate her from the baking sun, not to maintain body heat. And the depletion of Bilitrium in her system has triggered her body's self-preserving shut-down process, including decreased circulation that's turning her hands and feet numb.
Swallowing, Nia draws the blanket around her shoulders and wraps it tightly around her. Her own problems are not those of her crew. Yet.
"Standard security sweep, Lieutenant, to the degree it's possible." She gives Double-T a quick scrutinizing look before pulling out her phaser and continuing to Booker. "I've got your six unless you prefer to deputize someone else."
Her attention switches to the others. "Doc, you, Kylah and Rawlings stay here till we get the all clear. Rangin, if you're near the entrance, can you scan to get a read on how deep and solid a foundation we're on? And Kylah... try to find us a friendly listener to help us get out of here." After a pause, she decides that--for now--a stab at democracy is probably best given that she can't trust her own brain to remember details. "I'm open to suggestions to the contrary on these assignments, if you've got 'em."
Kylah stands, achy and bruised in places but very grateful to confirm that her damp face is from tears and sweat, not blood. As she wipes her face with her sleeved arm, of course she immediately turns her concern to Velir, who seems in much the same shape. Still, she asks him softly, "Are you all right?"
Lt. Onn's command shifts her attention. Kylah would rather stay in the shuttle--her uniform provides little coverage for such weather--so she has no reason to complain. Except the thought of the ship burying itself further into the snow is unnerving.
She moves to stand opposite the hatch, as far as possible but still within sight. Once it opens, however briefly, there might be better reception and thus more likelihood of reaching anyone who can assist them. "This is Starfleet vessel Tesla to--to Ollos Port Control," she says hesitantly, uncertain if this is the best option. "We have landed unharmed." About to continue, she lowers the device. "If they ask, where should I say we are? Is it safe to give our estimated location? I suppose we have no enemies here, but..." Kylah glances at Lt. Graham and Ens. Rawlings, then Dr. Mäkeläinen and Velir for good measure. She is uncertain what to say or ask for, suddenly feeling even more unsure of herself than usual.
"Ollos Port Control here," Kylah hears over her communicator. It is an angry female voice. "What the hell did you think were you doing, coming in-system like a bat of out of hell, ignoring our hails and then launching a torpedo?"
"Understood, ma'am," Rawlings says to Onn, slowly easing out of his chair.
"Aye, ma'am," Rangin says to her, unlimbering his tricorder. He replies quietly to Kylah, with an encouraging smile, "I'm pretty shaken up, but all right, I think. How about you?"
Before she can reply, the Tesla, with a lurch, settles by at least half a meter more.
The lower drop-down segment of the shuttle's tripartite hatch on the port side cannot open against the hard-packed snow, but the two upper portions of the door slide open with a slight scraping noise. Cold air rushes in. There is little daylight left in the sky.
Onn and Graham simultaneously notice the water seeping into the cabin interior along the starboard forward edge, where the hull breaches had earlier been patched. In seconds it is several centimeters deep, and rising.
Nia's arms flail to steady herself as the floor shifts again, and once balanced she swivels to stare at the water encroaching her once tough but now helplessly vulnerable Tesla. Dismayed, she curses under her breath then snaps to face Booker. "Change of plans. We need to lighten our load as soon as possible. So, heaviest out first."
She eyes Rawlings and gestures with her chin to the open portion of the hatch. "That's you. With your arm you need help getting up there anyway." She reaches for Booker to--to reach for him, that's really all. Ostensibly to get his attention, but he likely knows better. "You next? You can do the security sweep anyway. You can also pull us up as needed." Though trying to keep her manner confident, inwardly she's pleading at Book to confirm that she's not utterly fucking things up--more than she already has. "Suggestions?" Her gaze shifts to include Mäkeläinen and Rangin.
Kylah tries to smile at Velir to confirm that she is unharmed--and her relief that he is, as well--but the sharp words of the woman on the other end of her communicator make it difficult. "We could not do otherwise, ma'am, our shuttle was nearly out of control and we lost our comms capability. I am on my personal communicator now."
Time is fleeting and she does not wish to waste time with explanations. "I can elaborate further but first, please, we need immediate assistance. We managed to land in some snow-covered area, buried near--near Freetown I believe, some farmland?" She turns to the others for confirmation before continuing with the stranger. "Are you able to locate our crash site? We need to evacuate as soon as possible. I fear we are not equipped for the weather and have at least one injured party."
When she hears the water burbling into the starboard side--the same side where she is standing--she gives a little gasp and backs away, toward the aft. "A-and the ground is unstable--we are sinking and water is coming through--is it possible we are not on solid ground at all, but on a body of water beneath this snow?" Eyes wide, she stares at the leaking area. "Please confirm you can send help."
Mäkeläinen looks where the others were staring---that is liquid water, sure enough. "I suggest we make our way out single-file and keep a perimeter fifteen, maybe even twenty metres from the boat, just in case." He gently steers Kylah in the direction of the hatch, in the opposite direction from where she was going. He splits with her whatever minimal safety and emergency gear they found earlier which is within reach: a few of those silver blankets, at least? Hopefully they will not be standing around too long. He instinctively makes sure to grab his own kit from where it was stowed during the landing.
Graham nods at Nia and then piggy backs on the doctor's comment. "Fair enough, doctor." He gestures. "Rawlings, up and out, move a few meters away, keep you head down and have a good look around,. I'm up next, and assuming no one is taking shots at us, Nia, you'll come up and take a covering position, then everyone else ASAP."
The woman from Ollos Traffic Control says skeptically, "You've got to be kidding."
Rangin says to Onn, looking at the rising water, "Sounds good to me. I'd say we ought to get out of here sooner rather than later."
Rawlings nods in acknowledgement of his orders and clambers up and over the hatch. He has his communicator and phaser-2 with him. "Uh... Lieutenant?" he calls back, once completely outside. "I don't think we landed where - or on what - we thought we were landing."
Looking out, Onn can see, just beyond the snow and chunky ice surrounding the shuttle, three to five meters of open water in every direction. The shuttle settles deeper on its irregular ice floe, and the water inside begins rising faster.
Please include in your next post what, specifically, you'll be taking with you from the shuttle, if anything. Be realistic as to what your character can carry while swimming.
The dismal prospects surrounding the Tesla freeze Nia's blood as much as the icy landscape could. She backs up a step from the hatch opening to give the others room, and to give herself physical and mental distance to think.
"We're on an ice floe and will have to swim for it," she says quietly to those who haven't seen what's facing them, then returns her phaser to her utility belt and looks back up at Booker. "Everyone, take the blankets and protein bars or anything that'll float and go. Kylah--give me that," she adds, reaching for the device in the younger woman's hand. "You, Doc and Rangin, get moving after Graham. I'll bring up the rear." Nia's gaze briefly takes in Booker, then shakes her head. "I don't abandon ship before my crew."
She swiftly lifts the communicator and snaps out, "Lieutenant Nia Onn of the USS Yorktown. This is no joke. Our shuttle Tesla has crash-landed on an ice floe and is sinking fast." [If she remembers the coordinates she most recently noted before the ship lost power, or any other identifiable features, she'll rattle them off.] "Six Starfleet officers down here in immediate need of transport. We're evacuating but not equipped for the territory or conditions. Get us help now."
After tossing the communicator back to Kylah, she hesitates for only a second before she pulls off her blanket, stuffing it into Kylah's arms. "Just in case I'm too slow," she mutters. "The extra resource shouldn't be stuck down here."
Dr. Mäkeläinen was hoping to avoid a swim in freezing cold water; it goes to show that sometimes things are just not that easy. One must actively pursue one's goals. The goal of wearing dry clothes will have to be postponed for a little while, it sounds like. (Will a low-energy phaser pulse steam-dry a uniform? They may be soon to find out.)
The pouch containing his medikit is not really voluminous, at least not if the contents are kept properly organized rather than crammed in, but the emergency blankets take up almost no space so he stuffs a bunch of them in first (along with his personal tricorder, communicator, and phaser if they were not already in there). He can try to take emergency rations if there is any more room, but he does not think they are a priority compared to what has already been mentioned. He doubts his loaded bag will float, but it can be slung over the shoulder or easily pitched some distance if necessary. The box of repair tools does not look buoyant and he does not want to risk swimming with it. Does Lt. Onn want someone to lug it outside?
He follows Lt. Graham and the others out the hatch.
With her communicator and now the extra blanket in her arms, Kylah just stares stupidly for a moment at Lt. Onn, who does not look back. At last, turning to her now empty chair, she sees nothing that is necessary or even particularly useful other than her datapad, which she picks up. As with most physical activities, Kylah's swimming is not strong--certainly not enough for her to be confident she will be able to do so even without impediments. She is also concerned that the devices might not survive immersion; she cannot recall if they are waterproof.
Kylah stuffs the datapad on her duty belt but keeps the communicator handy in case their contact has any response. She moves toward the hatch and gazes up, biting her lip. She is too short and will need a boost to reach the opening, or perhaps once Lt. Graham is through he will reach down for her as Lt. Onn suggested. Whichever proves to be the case she will make her way outside as soon as she can.
Graham can't do anything but nod at Nia's insistence on leaving the ship last - one she's the officer in command and that's her prerogative, and two she's a helluva a swimmer, although he's worried about the cold...
He hurriedly grabs a phase, communicator, tricorder if one's handy, an emergency blanket or two and (space permitting) some emergency rations - but we'll freeze long before we starve, push comes to shove, under these conditions...
After clambering up, he extends an arm downward to help Kyah up.
The woman from Ollos Traffic Control can be heard briefly arguing with someone in the background, then mutes herself. She comes back on to say. "Understood, Tesla. We have your coordinates and will send out a crawler for you. Ollos Traffic Control out."
Rawlings, looking very unhappy, takes a deep breath and then leaps as far as he can, away from the shuttle and towards the outer edge of the ice. He falls short, not surprisingly, but is able to pull himself, one-armed, up and out of the freezing water on the far side. He is soaked from the chest down. He looks back to see if he can help any of his shipmates.
Graham is able to help Kylah get out of the shuttle. Soon everyone but Onn is out on the ice floe, which is increasingly unsteady underfoot. It is very cold outside; you can all see your breath. Onn sees that the water inside the Tesla is now almost a meter deep. The shuttle starts to tilt to starboard.
Through chattering teeth, Kylah calls out the message from Ollos Traffic Control, hoping Lt. Onn can hear it. She makes sure Velir and Dr. Mäkeläinen are safe behind her and hopes to see the other woman climbing up as well. But she stumbles forward when the floe shifts along with the shuttle, which lists like some gray aquatic beast trying to return to the sea where it belongs. Kylah grabs for something, anyone to lean on, and the nearest hand she finds is the doctor's. Apologizing, she manages to straighten herself and scrabble backwards, unsteady in boot heels not intended for ice.
Now she sees the gap between her and Mr. Rawlings and recognizes at once that she cannot possibly bridge it with a leap, not with her short legs. She will fall farther short than he did. "I--I do not know if I--" Her head shakes and she does not bother finishing. The longer she delays the worse it will be for the others. Lt. Graham will not leave before she does, she is certain of that.
The two blankets she holds... can she tie them together? She hopes that if it is possible, and they are long enough once combined, perhaps she can toss one end to Mr. Rawlings for him to reel her in. Kylah looks across at him, a little embarrassed to require physical help of someone with only one good arm; still, he might be the only one strong enough to pull someone out from water onto ice. Hesitantly, she asks if he might manage it.
If he cannot, or if the blanket material is not flexible enough to knot together, she knows she will just have to take what feels like a suicidal leap into frigid water. She looks toward Velir, offering him a frightened goodbye before she jumps.
Alone in the vessel she's spent innumerable hours improving, customizing, problem-solving and preening over, Nia takes a hard, painful measure of the fate she's led her Tesla into.
How did all this happen? What warning did she miss? How did she screw up so completely, so catastrophically?
No time for this. Heading farther into the aft compartment is now like climbing a small hill, and she grips the edge of the door to pull herself up and toward the storage area. Her numbing fingers fumble to open the toolkit, where she gets rid of everything useful only for shuttle repair, and closes it again. It's much lighter now and shouldn't be too much of a hindrance for either carrying a long distance or, more pointedly, swimming.
Warily eyeing the freezing water that deepens as the Tesla slants downwards, Nia girds herself for discomfort and tries to keep her balance as she moves forward.
The shuttle tilts and Nia nearly falls, her hip landing against one of the starboard chairs. Cursing, she stares up at the hatch, now at a higher angle. The floe must be breaking up and barely stable. If the Tesla sinks further, anyone topside will be sucked down with it. "Evacuate!" she shouts desperately to whoever's up there. "Get to the other side of the ice!"
Mäkeläinen steadies Kylah and looks to see whether anyone else needs help—it looks like only Lt. Onn remains in the arm, abused shuttle. He tries to give her a hand; he is not going to leave her at the bottom of the hatch. He feels the cold, of course. He tries to judge whether the gap in the ice can be safely jumped (despite Rawling's attempt) avoiding a nasty spill if the distance is marginal, or if he will have to resign himself to a dunking. He will throw his bag of gear over to solid ice (their equipment should be able to tolerate a moderate amount of abuse, but the snow, the bag itself, and the blankets stuffed inside should all cushion the blow somewhat) in any case before undertaking any drastic leap, leaving himself unencumbered.
If he has to go in the water, a real dilemma is whether he should leave on his Starfleet uniform (and boots!), any amount of insulation making the swim slightly more bearable, only to have to strip it all off, or to resign himself to the numbing, shocking cold no matter what and leave himself something dry to pull on after, beyond a metallic blanket. From Kylah's communication, it sounds like they will have to wait around an unknown amount of time for physical transport. Therefore, he reluctantly decides to tie his clothes into an easily thrown bundle and make the swim naked (modesty is not even a consideration) for the sake of later comfort. Should he give the same advice to everybody else? No time for lengthy explanations... but, it looks like Ens. Kylah is already going into the water!
"Take those wet clothes off!" he warns Rawlings, Kylah, and anyone else who is already soaked. Anyone not already submerged, he advises to step in slowly and splash their face and chest and submerge the hands, and keep their head out of the water. Even hypothermia is not as dangerous as immediate panic, hyperventilation, and cardiac arrest.
"Go, go, go--move!" Graham shouts, piling on the other admonishments and - thankfully - those already taking the plunge to move away from the shuttle.
When the shuttle tilts he throws himself back across the hatch, extending an arm downwards far as he can. "Nia, here, now!"
Kylah finds that the material of the emergency blankets is too slick to permit them to be tied together.
Rawlings, who is tall as well as very wide across, did not seem to touch bottom when he jumped into the dark, icy water. Dr. Mäkeläinen does not know if there is a bottom that would permit anyone to step in slowly, as he suggests. The Security man, his teeth chattering, shakes his head, saying, "No way I'm taking my uniform off when I'm this cold, Doc, but thanks for the advice. Anyone need help getting across? C'mon!" He is still the only one on the far side of the ice, away from the sinking shuttle.
Onn, with the partially-emptied toolkit, hears Graham and sees his arm extended down through the hatch.
The Tesla settles with a lurch even more deeply into the ice floe, leaning further to starboard.
Dr. Mäkeläinen asks Lt. Graham if they need assistance, and helps steady him or pull Lt. Onn up, whatever they need.
After that, there is no time left to screw around; in fact the unstable situation looks like the point of no time left is already strictly past.
If there be a couple of seconds of stability he hurriedly pulls off at least his boots and his uniform top (which may be used instead of a short rope, should someone need it) and throws them across the gap where he pitched his bag. Since there is no way to wade in slowly, he splashes water on himself and goes in feet first, making sure to keep his head above water. The task is then to make forward progress despite the shocking agony (even though he knew to expect it---at least he steeled himself not to panic) of his muscles seizing up and losing coordination. After a few minutes in the water they would stop working altogether, and that would be it. Fortunately, he only has to make it a few metres. He tries to force himself into a effective breaststroke, and will not refuse a hand from Rawlings (he will be careful not to pull Rawlings back into the water, though, not that it is very probable considering the difference in their weights).
In reaction to Mt. Rawlings's offer to help, Kylah nods but is not sure what he can do for her. Is the gap narrow enough for someone of Kylah's dubious strength to throw the rolled-up blankets (with her communicator and datapad inside) across safely to the other side? If so, she'll toss them to keep them dry.
Then there is nothing else she can do but part-jump, part-slip into the dark water. At once terror grips her, because the cold is worse than she expected, and during that paralyzed moment she sinks a few inches, down to her chin, before she can force herself to paddle her way forward. To the extent that she can keep her gaze steady--her whole body wants to clench into a ball and her eyes long to squeeze tightly shut--she stares up at Mr. Rawlings's large form as her lodestar.
Her swimming has not improved any in the few years since she last tried it, and the water is so cold her muscles refuse to relax enough to allow her to float. So she splashes awkwardly to the other side of the ice. If she successfully reaches it she hopes Mr. Rawlings will reach out for her. (If Dr. Mäkeläinen has Rawlings busy, she'll try to grip onto the edge of the ice to at least remain in one place until she can be helped up.)
Dr. Mäkeläinen is able to throw his uniform shirt and boots across the dark, icy water to the other side, not far from Rawlings. He is in the water only for a few seconds before putting a hand on the frosty far edge, and Rawlings then helps him out of the water at once.
Kylah is able to throw the rolled-up blankets, with her communicator and datapad inside, safely across as well. Rawlings turns from the doctor to help her out, too.
The water is bitterly cold, and the cold air on your wet skin afterwards doesn't help, either.
Graham grunted appreciation at the doctor's offer of help, but urged him to move on. "We need you safe and functional, Doc," he rasps.
He's not sure if the cold might have a greater effect on Nia than a Terran, or if she's otherwise hurt...if he can grip the outer surface of the shuttle harder while reaching his other arm further (even in his own mind) he does so. "Nia, my hand!" he shouts.
Booker's voice and arm, showing he's disobeying Nia's orders--to absolutely no surprise on her part--ignite a flare of mingled anger and affection. She postpones the deserved rebuke she's gonna lay on him in favor of getting the hell out of here.
"Thirty seconds!" she yells back up to Booker, peering ahead. Because before abandoning her beloved ship, Nia has a duty to do what little she can to preserve it. Beneath the pilot's seat is an emergency shutdown that should help seal, lock and prevent whatever subsystems that still work from being utterly destroyed by the elements that are about to overwhelm them. If the shuttle's ever salvaged, it could be flight-worthy again. Maybe.
Luckily the control button for this procedure isn't far from the hatch, so she's heading in the right direction anyway. Careful to stay as far port as possible, she inches down the slope. The accumulating icy water sloshes around her ankles, well protected by her Starfleet-issue boots.
She kneels, keys in a passcode to open the panel, and with a heart heavy with a bitter sense of finality, reaches for the control. Sorry girl, Nia whispers, and presses the button to send her shuttle into an induced coma.
Bizhi has barely recovered his powers of speech, but he thanks Rawlings profusely.
The doctor knows hypothermia does not set in instantly. They have a little time to get warm. It is hard to think straight with his feet gone numb and his heart pounding like it will burst; he is freezing. Shivering uncontrollably. He needs to warm himself back up, and get back to a state where he can help his friends. He can at least help Rawlings, with his one good hand, pull Kylah out of the water first.
He will attempt to put his clothes back on, before the bitter cold makes even such basic actions clumsy. He awkwardly steps over to where his clothes are strewn and flicks/wipes water off his skin before re-donning the (relatively) dry shirt. He massages his feet for a moment and carefully crams them back into their boots. What he needs now are thick jackets, and scarves, and gloves; alas. He lews himself in a cocoon of a couple of emergency blankets, and tries to compose himself quickly.
Rangin, having seen what the doctor did, takes off his uniform shirt, boots and socks as well, and flings them over near where Bizhi, Kylah and Rawlings are. He flashes a wan smile at Kylah, mutters to himself, "Well, here goes nothing," then takes a deep breath and jumps into the water. He gasps for breath as the cold hits him, but is able to swim with a few strong strokes to the other side. Rawlings immediately helps him out. The xenobiologist has his communicator, his tricorder and a phaser-1 with him.
The icy water is still climbing inside the Tesla. After Onn hits the emergency shutdown switch, the shuttle's interior lights and all subsystem telltales go out at once and the hum of the LS system stops. The shuttle is now totally dead but failsafed. A few seconds later, as if in protest, it settles abruptly and even more sharply to starboard.
Onn loses her balance and falls into the water. Graham, by now practically lying upon the lower portion of the exterior hatch, is able to keep his place.
Kylah has never been so cold and even wrapping both blankets around her does little; the clinging wet dress and undergarments seem to be freezing to her body. Still she manages to thank Mr. Rawlings and Dr. Mäkeläinen for helping her , before turning to watch Velir. Her eyes widen in alarm when he begins to undress--undress, in this weather? Belatedly she realizes that the doctor seems to be putting on his clothes too--and for a second wonders if they have lost their minds. Vaguely she remembers from some lesson in first aid at the Academy that this sort of thing can be a symptom of severe hypothermia--a curious compulsion to strip clothing.
But her hopeless effort warm herself in her own soaked uniform proves that she is the madwoman. Thanks to their forethought, the men will have some dry clothes to wear. She wishes she had been clever enough to make the same decision... even if it meant undressing in front of the others, which would have been... well, embarrassing or not, she should have risked it.
After watching Velir helped out by their largest colleague, Kylah realizes that this is the first time she has seen him only partially clothed. Entirely inappropriately, she admires his lean but fit form before glancing away in embarrassment for staring. At least the flush warms her cheeks somewhat.
Just as she turns, there is a sharp crack of more ice breaking and the shuttle suddenly tilts more precipitously. She cries out for Lt. Graham, who is hanging over the hatch now nearly at the top. Why will he not let go? Kylah's gaze darts around and she discovers the answer: Lt. Onn is not yet out.
Plunged backwards into the rapidly rising water, Nia has no time to think before the utter shock of indescribable, stabbing cold clamps her muscles tight as a vise. Her twisting heart seems to slam painfully against her ribcage. Scales erupt across her body--an automatic response, a hopeless attempt to protect her from an enemy her physiognomy hasn't evolved for and can't possibly fathom, much less fight.
Everything goes blank. For a few seconds she can only stare up into the darkness that's drowning her. She's stiff as a board and, unable to float, is submerged into water that's now waist-high. Her barely active mind grows distantly aware that she's drifting downward, tugged by gravity toward the helm. Toward the pilot's seat where she belongs.
The Tesla doesn’t want to die alone.
Nia gasps and her throat fills with ice water. Already suffocating due to Bilitrium loss, organs soon to be shutting down for hibernation, she seizes with panic when even the little sustenance she gets from oxygen and nitrogen is denied her.
Survival instinct jolts her with adrenaline and, temporarily alert, she thrashes clumsily around until she's able to sit up, bursting through the surface and spluttering, choking for air.
For a few seconds she stares incomprehensibly around. No buttons or controls are even dimly lit; no hum of life support, no sign of heat. It's a sarcophagus. The surroundings would be entirely black if not for the light from above, which her bleary eyes recognize as a blurry patch of white. The sky.
No, it's too far away. She’s still impossibly cold and sitting in water that's jealously claiming her. Her limbs don't feel connected to her body, they're just numb slabs of flesh she can’t control. How can she possibly get to the outside if she can't even stand? But she has to get up. The water's still rising and the shuttle's listing and wants to force her back down.
Then she sees movement from within that patch of blurry white above. Looking up, she sees the man up there--Booker, his arm still extended toward her.
He’s insane, he could drown if the shuttle continues its inevitable journey to the sea floor. But he’s there. He's there and expects her to reach for him, and though Nia vowed she wouldn’t reach for Booker Graham again, she doesn’t have a choice right now.
Somehow, through a miracle of will, she manages to curl her frozen fingers around the arm rest of the chair and drag herself to her knees. The shuttle's not quite at a 90-degree tilt, but it's close, and she has to hug the seat back with one clumsy arm to stay upright. The other still holds the shuttle repair toolkit--something in the back of her mind insists that it is vital, that there's something inside that will help them.
At last she summons what remains of her strength and raises her face to the sky and to Booker, staring silently at him because her jaw is clamped shut, too frozen to unclench. This too she gets past, and simply whispers:
"Book. Please."
She hopes he can reach her because she’s about two seconds from losing consciousness and slipping down into the dark, into oblivion.
He is still bloody cold. No getting warm to the bone sitting like this. His trousers and underwear are still wet, too-- perhaps it is worth trying that trick with a phaser? A couple of short, low-energy blasts to vaporize the moisture and leave the garments toasty warm? But what if the result is damp clothes with holes in them? And what would his shipmates think, let alone any strangers that will surely arrive at that exact moment?
After a few long moments, Dr. Mäkeläinen surveys the scene. Before experimenting, he had better see to the others. Someone could easily be in much worse shape than he is. Nearby, Ens. Kylah looks miserable in icy clothes; ditto for Rangin and Rawlings. Before opening his mouth to talk to them, he looks back across the cold water to where the shuttle is foundering. Lt. Graham ordered him to safety. But are things under control over there?
Graham reaches for Onn, hanging by an arm and a leg from the hatch while he extends the other arm if necessary.
"Lieutenant, take my arm!" he shouts in no uncertain terms (although an attentive listener would have no trouble detecting anguish beneath the order).
Nia sees Booker's arm reaching for her, and her own listlessly lifting toward him, and the gap between them seems unbridgeable. "You're too far. I can't..."
But she has to. Every muscle feels stiff, as if she's already freezing, but she has to ignore that. Booker can't come to her, it's way too dangerous. She'll have to find some remnants of her flagging energy to climb up on... something. Without much hope she turns around to see if anything will support her and let at least her fingers or wrist get high enough for Booker to grasp her. The toolkit case probably won't help, and besides, she can't leave it behind; they'll need it.
The seat near her, which is now perpendicular to the direction it normally faces, might be enough. With a groan, Nia musters her strength and tries to get first one foot, then the other, onto the side of the chair that's opposite the hatch above. If she can just manage it, however precariously, she'll lift the toolkit first and beg Booker to grab it for her. After that, her own freezing hands will stretch toward him.
"Yes you can, I know you can."
Graham's not sure what's in the box Nia is trying to hand him - it better be some goddamned tasty bon bons or something really freaking important - but this is not the time for 20 questions so, if he can reach it, he grabs it and swings it up to drop beside him, then turns back to reach for Nia.
With her last ounce of strength, Onn extends her freezing hands just a bit further; Graham grabs them and pulls her out of the shuttle with a surge of strength that surprises him. She bangs her right knee hard on the interior hatchway on the way out. They collapse together on the icy, sodden surface of the floe.
The Tesla settles another meter or so. Bits of ice, big and small, break off from the floe, roiling the very cold waters of the lake around them.
"I-I am f-f-foolish," Kylah manages when she moves closer to Velir, watching him put his dry clothes back on. "I did not--I did not think of that." The blankets crinkle around her as she pulls them tight as casing on a sausage. She covers her mouth with her freezing hands and lets her breath warm them a little before going on. "Do you think we c-c-can use the--"
Her word cuts off when she hears the shouts of Lt. Graham and, after his remarkable display of strength, Kylah sees the security officer successfully pull Lt. Onn from the ship. Their fall to the ice is alarming, but much more so is the sight of the Tesla, which continues to sink and destroy the weakening ice floe. One of her hands immediately clasps Velir's, needing his comfort. "Oh--oh we must help them, they will drown!"
Her throbbing knee aside, Nia lies almost motionless on the remnants of this perilous ice floe. She's been betrayed. First by the Tesla, and now by her own expectations. Because the snow she's lying on hurts.
Nia didn't expect it to. Sure, she's seen snow before but never walked around in it. Or lay in it. She thought somehow it would be fluffy, and warmer than the water in the shuttle. Instead it's so brutally cold it's burning her. And, ironically, she's getting little protection from her scales, because they've begun to recede. Her body's getting too exhausted to produce them, she supposes. The Bilitrium deficiency is probably the cause of that.
So the snow directly against her skin is painful, and that just doesn't seem fair for something so pretty. But pretty things have betrayed her before.
She opens her eyes and sees Booker beside her. He shouldn't be here. Why is he waiting here for her? The shuttle's going down, Nia's going down with it, and the others need a leader. "Booker," she says, her breath too cold even to melt the snow in front of her face. "Booker you have to go."
A shudder runs through her and that hurts too. Her bones, even her muscles, feel brittle enough to snap apart. "Don't be an idiot. Leave me behind. I'll be fine."
"I am an idiot," Graham grunts. "I've always been." He shivers and grunts, fighting for his own self-control. He's sure Nia can't swim in this cold - despite being a clearly stronger swimmer than he is under better circumstances - nor even reliably hold onto his neck.
"Here, take this. Hold on to it." He plops the magic box of whatever the fuck it is onto her belly and places her arms over it. Then he manhandles her facing up, on top him, him on his back, aiming to shimmy across the ice and do a half-assed backstroke with two legs and one arm at a time away from the shuttle toward the others.
"I've got you, stay awake, Nia," he insists. Of course, I may have got you just enough to drop us to the bottom of this lake...
Rangin squeezes Kylah's hand, too. Through chattering teeth he says, "I think... I think they're going to be all right." But then he lets go of her hand and, with Rawlings, goes towards the edge of the ice.
Graham and Onn plunge into the water and the Security man soon has them both, and the repair kit, over to the far side. Rawlings and Rangin help them both out and at once wrap emergency blankets around them.
Just seconds later, the Tesla, its stern now tilted skyward at a crazy angle, breaks at last through the surface of the ice floe and sinks down, down, down through the dark waters of the lake. It is quickly gone from sight. As it goes, the shuttle releases its remaining trapped air in a geyser that shoots at least a dozen meters high.
Dr. Mäkeläinen looks at the shifting and foundering Tesla with growing alarm, but he sees both Graham and Onn emerge from the hatch, finally. Lt. Onn, especially, does not look good. Even from a distance she already seems listless and ataxic, and he wants to tend to her immediately. Their floe is breaking up, though, disrupted from the crash. Luckily, Graham and she are able to make it across. The Tesla going down like a stone (not surprising at this point, but they are obviously cutting things much too close) and the huge geyser (was not really expecting that) are badly ominous.
By the time the others have Onn out of the water and wrapped up he has his equipment ready, but it does not take an expert to understand the basics of what is happening.
"She needs—we all of us need to stay warm and dry," he says out loud as he looks at Nia's pupils and breathing and quickly checks her vital signs with his medical tricorder. Feels a little foolish for opening with the obvious, but continues, "Does anyone know, or can find out, whether a phaser can heat up one of these uniforms without banjaxing it? Or, if not, is there a rock, anything, around here we can use?
"I also want to give her something hot to drink. Again, that goes for all of us. Do we have any coffee, tea, cocoa, sugar, in those rations? Worst case, I would settle for some boiled snow."
He checks that Nia is still conscious. He does not want to have to resort even to mild stimulants, which would be dangerous enough on top of all the medication she is on and that much more so to someone suffering from hypothermia.
Saying nothing while first Booker then Mäkeläinen lift and move her body around, Nia just looks up at the sky and the snow falling onto her eyelashes.
The listlessness she's expected at this phase of shutting down makes her barely able to breathe, which in a way is fine because it's not helping much. Soon she'll be asleep; she'll be glad for that.
But when she hears the doctor mentioning phasers as a source of warmth, she forces words out. "The kit," she murmurs, staring over to Booker, then Mäkeläinen. "The toolkit. Should have a plasma torch. A hydrocoil integrator.1 Soldering pen2." Her brows lower in a tiny frown. Did she see a cutter beam in there earlier? Probably wishful thinking, it's big enough that if it had been there, she'd've seen it for sure. "Any of them can heat up safer than a phas--"
A loud series of cracks and groaning interrupts her and she turns toward the noise, her right cheek falling on the ice. Just in time for her to watch helplessly as the Tesla takes one last dive before it drowns. Goodbye, she thinks before looking away.
1 This is the most common tool sold as part of Trek memorabilia, and this is what it's called. Couldn't find a description but if it's integrating something there's probably some energy involved?
2 Seen held by Kirk here, and I believe Uhura uses it in another episode to solder her comm panel.
"Ph- ph- ph- phasers can do it, Doc," Graham stutters, shivering. "Lowest heat setting then gently ratchet up, I can sh- sh- sh- show anybody who's unsh- shure." He nods. "Phasers out, god dammit," he grunts, before pulling out his own with trembling fingers, working the settings.
He shakes his head at Nia's words. "Don't kn- know about the other stuff--Rawlings get all that shit out of the box now--please, Rangin you're handy enough to know how to make the most of them, have a look." He pauses. "Please."
He turns back to the doctor. phaser in shaky hand. "Please, Doc...tell me how we warm her up. His voice cracks. "Bring her back."
Lt. Graham's voice is so commanding Kylah instinctively obeys the order to pull out her phaser. When she does, however, she stares down at it. Even after having used it before--first to kill the infected Sakathians, and then to stun Mrs. Hsu at Omicron Ceti III--the weapon is a foreign object to her, and she holds it in her palm like a science experiment.
Shivering, she looks from the device to Lt. Graham, who is intently focused on Dr. Mäkeläinen and the quiet woman lying on the ice. Mr. Rawlings is busy as well, and so she turns to Velir. "I do not understand," she says under her breath. "Am I to--to point it at myself?" Her hand gestures weakly at the soaked dress beneath the emergency blanket clinging against her. "My uniform, while I am in it?"
Nia has bowed her head so her face is partially covered by the blanket, but that's only to protect her from the wind and snow. The thermal blanket's not helping her the way it does the others--naturally enough; it can't, can it? Not for her. Especially while she's lying on a bed of ice and snow. She needs to get up, be near something or someone warm.
Booker won't recognize the issue, understandably--they never really discussed the quirks of her biology. The doctor probably knows since he's been paying such attention to her medical records, and Rangin might, if only because he's a curious xenobiologist and she's probably one of the most interesting specimens among the crew. But she might as well remind them in case their brains are as slow in the freezing temperature as her own.
"Doc... I'm ectothermic," she manages through chattering teeth before switching her gaze to Booker. "He'll explain."
Rawlings looks through the emergency-rations container and tells Bizhi, "I don't see anything drinkable like that in here, Doc. Just water flasks, and of course the protein bars."
Rangin says, his teeth chattering, "I don't think we have time to experiment with the phasers. I'll try it on myself." With fumbling fingers, he adjusts his phaser-1 to the lowest-possible heat setting, checks and rechecks it, then points it at his left boot. A faint nimbus of yellow light forms around the phaser emitter and after a few seconds he says with obvious satisfaction, "It's working... it's working!" He increases the beam intensity setting very slightly, and plays it over both of his feet, then up his legs. "It's drying my clothes and warming me, too. Try it!"
Bizhi is glad that Nia is still awake and aware and not in any critical condition, but she could still be susceptible to cold shock at any moment and he needs to get her warm. Her particular sensitivity to the cold, plus the fact that she spent the last several hours chilling (along with the rest of them) together add up to a bad combination. He is fairly sure he knows about ectothermic and poikilothermic metabolism, but he pays attention to what she and Graham are telling him; it is also good that they are focused on something.
He is still miserable and shivering himself, but trying to control it.
Mäkeläinen turns to look at Rangin with some alarm when he realizes he is about to turn the phaser on himself. "Hang on, Mr. Rangin. I did not mean scald yourself, or worse—". He stops short when he sees that the low beam is not disrupting any molecules or cooking him. Clearly Lt. Rangin knows more about phasers than he does— which is not saying much, of course. It is a device he rarely has to think about, and is definitely not used for routine medical procedures. "Right. Well, this material should dry in no time, so be careful. As soon as you are done, could you give me a hand with doing the same for Lt. Onn?"
"Nobody dies of cold in just a few minutes,"— normally— he explains, still addressing Rangin but for Lt. Graham's benefit especially. "These blankets will be much more effective without sopping wet fabric continuously leaching away our body heat. We just bought ourselves some time. Pay attention, though, and if anybody feels their hands or feet going numb, move that limb around to keep the blood flowing."
Kylah gasps at Velir's abrupt decision to point his phaser at himself, and when Dr. Mäkeläinen appears just as alarmed, she gives him a stricken look.
The result, however, is success, gathering from the satisfied expression on her friend's face. Friend? Do I call him a friend? Kylah shakes that question away like an annoying fly and hopes for him to show her the precise method. But Dr. Mäkeläinen rightly decides that Lt. Onn needs more immediate assistance, and so Kylah just stands by. She does not trust herself with a phaser by any means. A dagger, yes, but she has none. (And she cannot even fathom what use a dagger would be for warming up.)
She hears the word "ectothermic" and tries to wrap her head around it, for it is not something she can easily bring to mind. She understands the component parts, which are found often in science. Kylah shivers under her blanket and stares down at her phaser, wishing she felt more confident in her ability to avoid blasting herself to oblivion. But, well, she does not.
Then a thought strikes her and she turns to Mr. Rawlings. "Are you able to warm yourself that way?" If he can, she will humbly (and slightly ashamedly) ask for his assistance to dry her clothes once he has taken care of his own.
Graham shakes his head. "I-S-Sidonia. It's a desert, hot, super hot temps, Doc...'ectothermic' does that mean she needs heat--like from the sun?'," I don't know--" He grunts. "Shit I think we need to get her up off this goddamn ice..."
Graham spreads a blanket down and tunes his phaser for maximum safe heat at close proximity. He momentarily sets his phaser down next to it, then takes hold of Nia lays down on his back on the blanket, pulling her, facing upward, on top of him. He grabs his phased and starts applying along her side (taking advantage of a bit of the heat for his own self).
"Come on Nia," he mumbles. Then to the doctor: "As soon as you and...and Rangin can help, I think she needs this more than the rest of us."
Lizards on rocks, lizards on rocks, Graham thinks.
You're not a lizard but let me be your "rock."
Rawlings sees the phaser setting Rangin used, follows his lead and begins drying and warming himself. He then shows Kylah what to do. At times it hurts just a little if the beam is not kept continuously moving, she realizes, but she soon gets the hang of it.
Rangin shows Graham and Dr. Mäkeläinen what he's done, too. "Need any help, Doctor?" he asks, looking worriedly at Onn.
Night has now completely fallen. Ollos has no moon, but the blaze of stars overhead across the enormous open sky, shining on the snow all around you, provides quite a bit of illumination beyond what your phasers do.
After Rangin shows him the correct phaser settings and offers to help, Dr. Mäkeläinen says, "Yes, please. What we are going to do is carefully heat up all the sodden clothing so that it dries. I want to leave it nice and warm, but not hot to the touch because it's in direct contact with the skin. Two— er— three of us working together will minimize the exposure time. Then we'll wrap her back up in the blankets." Then I am going to do myself. And we need an ETA for that crawler. Can't spend the night standing on a bare ice floe.
"Warn us if it feels like it's burning or it gets too hot," he tells Nia.
While he is busy, he explains to Graham, mostly by rote, "Ectothermy is a way for the body to save energy when the temperature of the environment is practically constant. The disadvantage is that the body then relies on environmental heat sources. If she is from a constantly hot desert, and ectothermic, then she needs that heat— it does not necessarily have to be from direct sunlight— or her core temperature will drop much faster than yours or mine would. Not that any of us are adapted to sitting around in freezing cold for hours without any shelter or environmental suits. I don't even know how cold it gets here at night."
Bizhi did observe Graham instinctively huddling together with Onn. If they cannot get moving off this exposed floe, they may soon all find themselves massed together for warmth. Yet, as he was just saying, who knows how inclement it usually gets here, for them to have classified the entire world as L? Were there no crawler on the way, their best chance would be to light out for town, off the lake at the very least, and hope that their phasers and other tools last long enough to keep them moving and keep all their bits from freezing solid.
"Exactly. I c-can't regulate my temp on m-my own," Nia says in a tiny, shuddering sigh. "W-when I'm this cold I need external heat. Ideally prox-proximal heat." The combination of the sterile, steady heat from the phaser beams, and the physical warmth reaching her through Booker's familiar, strong form, begins to seep past and dissipate much of what feels like several layers of ice enveloping her. Her shivering gradually weakens, with blood returning to her limbs in a painful tingling sensation.
"Oh..." Nia groans and turns over to rest her head on Booker's chest, wincing but still heaving a ragged sigh of relief as the doctor's phaser now beams its warmth to her back and Booker's heartbeat does the same to hers. "It hurts," she says softly. "But that's good. Better than the alternative. At least I feel something." The double meaning doesn't escape her, and she keeps her eyes closed to let herself have one last moment of such blessed warmth.
But she's aware of the dangerous delay she's causing, and that's unacceptable. Bracing herself, she tries to push her heavy body up. She flops down, both from her peripheral numbness and the increasing effects on her nerves from her breathing issues. Fuck. If she doesn't separate from Booker he'll feel her staggering breaths and the uneven pace of her heart--slow from the cold alternating with bursts of rapidity trying vainly to push Bilitrium through her veins.
She'll have to tell them. Not now--she needs Mäkeläinen's and Booker's minds on the group's survival as a whole. The former seems more than capable of objectivity, but the latter...
While Book may have switched his affections at warp speed, Nia knows that overprotective side of him hasn't entirely vanished. So now's not the time to tell him her clock is running out. But... it needs to be handled soon.
"Th-thanks, gentlemen," she says to both Booker and the Doc. "But you c-can't indulge me forever. W-we have to get moving, find shelter." Even as she says this, the tug to remain in Booker's arms is strong, for all sorts of reasons, and she has to fight it for just as many reasons. Her eyes close again. She's so damn tired. But her duty is to her crew and she can't give up on them. Again she tries to rally and get to her feet and a quick look in Booker's eyes begs for him to help her.
Now that Kylah's uniform has been warmed and dried, from top to toe, she feels the benefit of the emergency blanket surrounding her, and she thanks Mr. Rawlings profusely, and Velir even more so. Her gaze is drawn to Lts. Onn and Graham, cuddled like... like something Kylah cannot place. It is a familiar position, a woman in repose atop a man, faces lifted up in the same direction. Soon Lt. Onn has turned over so they are in a more standard 'embrace', if that is what this crisis can be called. It is a good thing that Lt. Graham is here, for neither the doctor nor Velir is large enough to provide her with as much cover, and the person who would be best for such a task is hindered by an arm injury. How fortunate the two Lieutenants are to be together, even if they are not still... together.
Suddenly Kylah's eyes widen and she takes an involuntary step away. Of course, she knows what this pose reminds her of. The crypt, her family crypt, where the cremains of her parents were interred beneath a marble statue of the two of them, hands held, facing the unknown journey of death ahead of them. There were problems in their marriage but they worked well together, and died together.
Shaking her head to dispel the memory, Kylah is glad when Lt. Onn makes an effort to rise, although she seems to need more assistance to do so.
Bizhi is relieved to see Onn relax slightly and begin to rise; he maintains his usual professional demeanour. She voices exactly what he was thinking--- they cannot stay here.
He notices Kylah moving behind him, and he turns to her. Someone is going to ask, so it may as well be he: "Shall we ask for the estimated time of arrival of that crawler? They have our coordinates, right? They must be told we cannot wait here on the ice more than a few minutes. We are on foot, and we need directions to the nearest shelter; it's an emergency."
Thanks to the careful use of phasers, the Tesla party is soon dry if not particularly warm. Even with dry clothes and wrapped in emergency blankets, it's dark and the temperature remains below freezing.
You are all still on the surface of the frozen lake, not on a separate ice floe. The treeline of the surrounding dense forest, relatively well-lit by the many, many stars in the clear sky above now reflected by the snow, is only a few dozen meters away.
Rangin takes a tricorder scan, then points and says, "Freetown is about an hour's walk that way, to the planetary northeast. I don't see any natural shelter anywhere nearby, nor any artificial structures, unfortunately."
The doctor's words bring a faint flush to Kylah's face--not the sort of warmth she is hoping for. "Of course, Dr. Mäkeläinen. I should not have needed reminding, please excuse me." She turns toward the direction of the nearest city for the best possible reception and tries to reconnect with her Ollos Traffic Control contact.
If she manages to do so, she asks, "Our shuttle has completely sunk and we are on some lake, with Freeport to the east--the northeast. Do you have an ETA as to assistance arriving? As I mentioned we have an injured officer--"
Hesitating, Kylah glances back at the others, then turns again and lowers her voice. "Two injured officers, now. The second is impaired more than injured, I suppose... Anyway please have emergency medical personnel at the ready."
She stands, shifting slightly since movement keeps her warmer than being still, and awaits a response (assuming she has been able to have the above discussion).
"Take it slow, Nia--uh, Lieutenant," Graham says to her as she tries to get up. "One step at a time...let's sit up, then you can take a knee and I can stand and give you a hand, OK?"
Assuming Nia agrees and as long as all goes well this is what he tries to do.
While struggling to her feet, Nia makes a mental note to tell Booker to ease up on the formality once and for all. If she's about to shut down and possibly never wake up, she doesn't want to hear Lieutenant from this man. Just Nia.
"Thanks, and sorry for the trouble," she murmurs once upright. Her legs could be wooden stumps for all the feeling she can sense of them, but she does her best to avoid leaning on anyone. The balancing act, the fractional calculations of how much weight to put on one foot, then the other, nearly raises a sweat--if she were capable of it. Visually there appears to be three duplicates of everyone, too. Her dizzy mind's not quite hallucinating, but it's not giving her accurate representations of reality either.
Doesn't matter. She can see clearly enough to know what they need to do. "First priority," she begins, before realizing just how weak she sounds and starting over more forcefully: "Getting off this ice. Seems strong but could crack and down we'll go. Head to the shore, people. Lighter ones first. Kylah at the point--" Nia glances briefly at Booker. "There's no enemy ahead, we don't need a standard defensive formation. Rangin and Mäkeläinen next. Then me, Graham and... well. Sorry, Double-T," Nia adds gently. "You're the most likely to weaken the ice."
Nia does her best to smile at Rawlings. "If you need help I can hang back and we can lean on each other. Kylah, if you're able to get in touch with traffic control, tell em we're on the move. I'm sure they'll find us either way; we won't be moving fast enough for them to lose track."
She looks behind at the vast void in the ice where the Tesla used to be. Her heart aches. Then, after taking advantage of the dwindling light to covertly pull out her nebulizer and inhale one of the last remaining doses, Nia feels clearheaded enough to move on.
Kylah has no answer to her call via communicator.
The party is able to get off the frozen lake in the order Onn specified, onto land and up to the treeline. The snow is almost knee-deep.
It occurs to Graham that he did not check the shuttle's Library Computer to see what predators, if any, the winter woods of the Ollos archipelago might contain. That information would not be on any of your tricorders.
After reporting her lack of success, Kylah continues every few minutes to try to reach someone, anyone, on her communicator as they continue to walk. Despite the cold, she is perspiring--it takes quite an effort to plunge through unbroken snow with such short legs. Still, even in their woeful predicament, she suddenly gets an amusing image of how much easier this would be if she could ride astride Mr. Rawlings's shoulders.
"Uh, about enemies ahead," Graham says to Nia as they walk along. "I should have checked what, if any, native predators there are on this rock..." He shakes his head. "My bad that I didn't. But in any event - I recommend we switch phasers back to stun while we're walking. Or at least me and Rawlings."
"Predators?" muses Bizhi. "I have heard and read about creatures like wolves, and sehlat, and tigers. Many of them would rather ambush their prey than risk a fight. Something to keep in mind if we are going to advance in a single file without watching our backs."
What concerns him more is that they may have to keep up the pace for an hour, in the shape they are in. He would never complain for the sake of complaining, but his body definitely *feels* cold and miserable and he has to force himself to keep walking. Some of them are barely ambulatory; Nia already explained how much she needs a source of heat. But, without rescue or shelter, what choice do they have but to keep marching? And what if one or more of them cannot make it all the way? Could they all indeed huddle together under their blankets? A phaser seems like it would definitely get wood burning, at least, assuming they can find any fallen branches. Altogether it would be better to push through than to stop and take their chances. He vigorously circles his arms for half a minute as he walks, to warm them up, as well as a reminder to the others of what he said about keeping frostbite at bay by remaining active.
Nia thanks Mäkeläinen for his good common sense. Privately, to Booker, shakes her head tightly and mutters just for his ears, "It's not 'your bad.' The 'xenos' are part of Rangin's area of expertise, aren't they? He researched this planet enough, he should've called them out." She pauses to catch her breath and pretends she's just getting a look at the path ahead. "Noble of you to fall on your sword for him--albeit kinda out of character. Anyway, get him to scan for lifeforms. I'd ask him myself but..." She hesitates. "...You're second in command here, might as well give you the fun of reminding him he forgot due diligence."
She'd really been about to add that she's not sure she can walk any faster than she already is, much less pass the others to catch up with Rangin. Watching the group trudge forward, she swallows hard. She wants to lie down and suck on her inhaler until it's all gone and she's unconscious. I'm not gonna make it. I'm just not.
Her false smile dims. "Um... Book, I... I should've told you earlier, but..." Nia meets his gaze, imagines what she has to say... then imagines what he might say or, worse, what he might not. Without too much of a pause she quickly turns away to dizzily find Kylah. "But--but we should be keeping our bigger people up front now. Breaking a path in the snow's hard work for anyone, much less the shorties in our group." Her arm lifts listlessly to indicate the young woman struggling up ahead. "Kylah should be walking in your footsteps. Go on, take her place, or ask Rawlings to take the lead."
Nia gathers her flagging energy and waits until the last minute to follow the rest. I'll tell him only when there's nothing left. When I can just say goodbye and there's no other choice. Please let me have that much dignity.
The Starfleet landing party finds what appears to be an old, unpaved, snow-covered and unplowed road heading towards Freetown. Rangin scans the area for lifeforms and finds none larger than rabbits; all are well-concealed and/or hibernating; none appear to be carnivores.
After about ten minutes of uncomfortably cold trudging, you hear the rumble of an engine somewhere down the road.
Much slower now, Nia takes awhile to rejoin the group. Before she does, she accepts the fact that she has to tell someone what's going on. And there's only one person who makes sense. Hanging back, she pulls out her communicator and directs a private message to him.
Her thumb hovers over the SEND button for a few seconds before she taps it and stows the communicator back on her utility belt, although she keeps her hand on it in case the doctor has questions. At last she stumbles her way forward to the bunched group and listens to the engine--barely audible over the ringing in her ears. She focuses on Booker and Rawlings. "Rec--recommendations?" Nia hears the gasping in her voice and tries to control it better. "What--what does that sound like to you?"MÄKELÄINEN, DR - See Villa's note in my test results re: Bilitrium withdrawal*. Didn't consider that time bt/w treatments might shorten as result. Am showing signs of mid-level hypobilitremia** a solid 18 hours sooner than expected & probably have much less before organ shutdown and/or hibernation. Cold weather not helping. Discreetly monitor my Bu blood level--normally s/b 90%; suspect it's in low 80s. Am using BuNO2 nebulizer but only 2 doses left. Notify me at 70% or signs of cognitive lapses. Will take steps to cede command. Thanks -- ONN, LT NIA.
* - Remarks re: Villa's note about Bilitrium are tucked in posts #705 and #731.
** - See the Memory Theta (TM me) page on Sidonia, specifically the section "Starfleet Medical Supplemental Biological Study" for medical notes. This message brought to you by the Association for Sidonian Continuity and Accuracy.
Kylah can hear other subspace radio traffic over her communicator, but no one responds directly to her.
Rawlings replies to Onn, his teeth chattering slightly, "Don't know, ma'am. Sounds like a heavy ground vehicle's engine. Hope it's the crawler they said they'd send."
Impressive Sidonian medicobabble, SidGal!
Dr. Mäkeläinen reads the message from Nia. Informed, actively concerned about her own health (she would have to be), and listening to medical advice, she is the ideal patient, but right now he is worried for her.
He will oblige her by fiddling with his medical tricorder as he walks, in reality trying to remotely scan her blood chemistry without pointing it at her, waving it in her direction, or otherwise giving the game away, if that is possible.
The sound of an engine is music to his ears. Even if it is not the Port Authority people, surely they will not refuse to help a group of strangers in dire straits? His party is armed and in uniform, though---not an ideal look.
Graham nods at Rawlings' comment. He cocks his head, and as best he can steps toward the direction from which the sound is coming.
"I recommend--well, Mr. Kylah, you're with me," he says over his shoulder while checking the setting on his phaser. "Doctor, Rangin, Nia...get behind us at a 30 degree angle. Rawlings--you're covering fire if necessary, 30 degrees off and behind them." He clears his throat and glances around at his colleagues. "Fingers crossed it's the 'welcome wagon' and we'll all be inside and warm soon."
Kylah's surprise, anxiety and a little pride battle for supremacy at Lt. Graham's choice. She rarely gets chosen for forward placement in such encounters unless situations are very obviously mundane, safe and/or in need of some communication skill. "Yes, sir," she says brightly, after a glance behind at Velir and the others, including their uncharacteristically quiet command officer near the back.
A sudden thought metaphorically taps her shoulder for attention, causing her to lift her communicator again. If this approaching vehicle is the help we requested, surely they will be capable of contacting us directly. Or vice versa, for that matter. She tries reaching out again in a soft voice to see if she is now able to get through.
Even if there is still no success, she thinks it likely that her device might not be optimized for this remote, unpopulated location on a distant planet. Even the technological expertise of Starfleet cannot work against every contingency.
Just in case it does mean something, she voices this very minor curiosity to Lt. Graham. The vehicle will likely be here soon and they will finally be safe and warm again, but it seems prudent to pass the thought to him.
Rawlings's guess briefly makes Nia fear her cognitive issues have already started. Of course it's the help they've requested. She's aggravated that it wasn't the first thing on her mind. Then, shivering beneath her blanket, she exhales in a kind of chuckle. "Right. I'm so used to air- and starships," she mutters. "Land vehicles all sound so c-clunky."
Graham's official commands reach her and without hesitation she adjusts to let Double-T take the rear. She'd crack a fairly obvious raunchy joke to him if it didn't require more energy than she can expend. Also, while as her casual ex-lover Double T is perfectly fine with such comments, the new guy's right ahead of her. She's not 100% sure Doc M. would be keen on vulgarities. So, having given up on keeping her teeth from chattering, she just focuses on getting one foot in front of the other.
Dr. Mäkeläinen's tricorder scan of Onn pretty much confirms what she'd texted. She is not in good shape right now, and the cold - an utterly alien and inhospitable environment for her - isn't helping.
Rangin and Rawlings do as Graham orders.
Kylah still has no response over her communicator.
The engine noise is getting louder. Kylah thinks she can just see twin white lights moving through the forest in the distance, slightly downhill along the snowy road.
Frustrated, Kylah clutches the communicator in both hands and breathes on them for warmth. She tries to pull her uniform sleeves down to cover her fingers, but the material fits too well and does not stretch that far.
Her gaze is fixed on the area where she sees the approaching lights. "They are not moving very quickly," she murmurs, half to herself, half to Lt. Graham and Velir behind her. "If I were trying to rescue passengers from a crash, I should think I would hurry."
Nia notices the doctor's efforts at efficient discretion and sighs in relief. She can trust him. Her feet stomp harder on the ground than necessary as she walks, in hopes of keeping her already lackadaisical circulation moving. But she can barely feel anything below her knees and she's forced to watch her steps very carefully--otherwise she has no certainty that she's balancing correctly or even touching the snow trampled by the others in front of her.
But she can still hear, and the wind seems to whisk Kylah's soft-spoken words back to her. "And if I was rescuing passengers from a crash in a lake I'd bloody well send help by air--helicopter, hovercraft, frickin' hot air balloon." The truculent comment is followed by a reluctant leadership instinct, which forces her to append, "...But these Ollos personnel have their own methods and we'll be grateful for whatever we get."
After a moment, the continuing rumble furrows her brow with curiosity and a sense of precaution. "D-don't suppose they're close enough for us to scan, see how many people--or whatever--are heading toward us?"
Rangin raises his tricorder and is just about to speak when something big, wide and mottled gray-and-white, for an instant looking to Graham somewhat like an Earth manta ray but airborne, silently drops out of the dark sky, envelops Rangin and knocks him to the snowy ground.
Kylah shrieks Velir's name. Not again! Only a few months ago at the Sakath research station, he was attacked by a lunging Denebian Slime Beast, rescued only to be swarmed by the infected, newly cannibalistic Sakathians. And more recently there was the orbital skydiving accident that nearly killed him. Kylah had always tried to rush to his aid, but now she is so surprised by this thing that she is terror-stricken and useless. Finally she recovers and her clumsy, cold fingers fumble to exchange her communicator for her phaser--but she is probably too slow to help.
Adrenaline rush! The monstrous predator sweeping down right next to him irrationally freaks Mäkeläinen out, and for a beat leaves him frozen in horror he does not consciously comprehend.
How best to respond? His first impulse is to safely knock it out before anyone gets hurt (worse). All he currently has in his hands is a tricorder. He has drugs that would probably do it. A phaser blast, of course, not that he would ever classify that as "perfectly safe".
Immediately after: are there any more of them? He looks up into the night sky for anything discernible. If so, he attempts to dodge it. If nothing appears threatening... his initial hesitation may have already cost Rangin. What about Rawlings, who was standing right next to him? If no one else has taken down the manta ray, he decides to take the few seconds it takes to open his bag and prepare a dose of neural paralytic for a (fish? creature?) that size, which he will try to inject while it is distracted by its struggle with Rangin.
Graham's about to reply to Kylah, when...
Fuck.
Personal feelings about Rangin aside, it's Nia's mission, and in terms of professional pride both militate against letting him get eaten by some alien monster.
"Rawlings, eyes up, covering fire!" Graham shouts. If anyone could manually wrestle this thing off Rangin, it would be his extra large colleague - but Graham's well aware of his broken arm.
As he brings his phaser up he gives it an extra glance to ensure it is on stun. "Clear! Clear! I'm taking the shot..."
He steps toward the prone figure as he does this--watching, before firing, for the position and reactions of Nia and Mäkeläinen before firing, since Rangin was in close proximity to them and running to help might be an instinctive reaction.
Everything in Nia's evolution has prepared her for predators--animals, anyway--and as tired and slow as she is, she sinks into a crouch with her phaser out aimed at that thing. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Booker has already got there, and in the unlikely possibility he doesn't hit this fucking thing, Rawlings might. Or the Doc; it'd be great if he has a tranq gun but that seems too much to ask.
From one swift look at Kylah's obvious discomfort with a weapon, Nia can see she's no brilliant markswoman. Can't use a phaser, can't fight physically... how the hell does she keep getting picked for active duty onboard a starship? Why why why did they force her on me?
Dismissing thoughts of just how many times Kylah's been proven extraneous on this mission, Nia stays low but backs away out of firing range; instead she uses her inborn instinct to search for other beasts that might threaten them, calling up her memory of the direction this animal came from. Her scales are slow to emerge, she notices, which is troubling, but maybe they're not helpful. She's not sure what lethal methods this creature uses on its prey anyway. She curses silently at not having any clue about what to expect...
Shit. She literally just insulted Rangin for not doing his job.
That's another useless thought she pushes away. "I'm clear, take the shot," Nia hisses, knowing the order is unnecessary. "Doc, get ready to move in to help as needed. Kylah, get out of everyone's way."
Before the doctor can reach it, Graham fires his phaser-1, set on stun, at the creature, which makes an odd warbling noise and then goes limp. Rangin is unavoidably caught in the nimbus of the phaser hit, and lies still.
Three other identical creatures come down silently out of the dark. One heads for Kylah, one for Graham and another for Onn.
"A ghalla!" Bizhi swears crudely. He already knows for whom the bell tolls. Notwithstanding the uncharacteristic signs of perturbation and his initial surprise, he does not cease thinking and reacting quickly and decisively now. The hypo primed with a knockout dose already in his hand, he turns away from Rangin and gets ready to inject the next closest creature, the one closing in on Onn. A hypo-injector is no gun or ray, though; he will have to make contact for the dose to go in. Apparently the creatures are hard to see or hear coming, but he will also try to use it to defend himself should he get engulfed in the meantime, before the creature can pin him.
Kylah sees the beam from Lt. Graham's phaser before she even gets her own weapon ready, and she blesses his extraordinary skill in the seconds she has to contemplate it. To her frightened eyes, Velir's motionless body does not immediately strike her as "stunned," but rather perhaps harmed from this creature. Without hesitation she rushes forward to kneel by his prone figure, hoping to pull the animal off him.
Then what little light there is above her disappears, and she looks up to see what seems like an ever-growing hole in the sky, blotting out the stars. When her distracted mind senses some random mental activity associated with it, she realizes that it is yet another creature, looming larger the nearer it gets. With a cry she scrabbles for her phaser and shoots blindly upwards.
As Nia expected, Booker handled the attacker with dispatch. And also as expected, she spots a shadow... no, a trio of shadows flying directly to their group. Sidonians are used to being on the alert--as are well-trained Starfleet officers. Cold and slowly suffocating, Nia's not lost her full capacity yet.
Her arms keep her phaser sight linked to her steady gaze tracking the beast heading toward her. A wave of dizziness caused by the swift movement of her head threatens to break her concentration, but she blinks, holds her breath, and once she gets a bead on the target, presses the trigger.
"Circle up!" Graham shouts, moving toward his colleagues, trying to get a bead on the thingie approaching him.
Kylah misses, and the creature winging towards her swoops very close by, brushing her arm but not attacking her. It flaps several times and disappears again into the night. Rawlings shoots at it but also misses.
Onn hits hers, and it falls out of the sky with a muffled thump upon the snow.
Rawlings comes towards Graham, phaser-2 still at the ready. Graham himself now has a clear shot.
Mäkeläinen carefully circles back towards Rangin, with the intent of examining him (and the fallen creature, for that matter, now lying there like a landed fish) as soon as the coast is clear. He keeps an eye out for more creatures (plus who knows what might leap out of the woods) and a tight grip on his hypoinjector in case he gets attacked as well, or if Graham and Rawlings need his help.
Graham takes a shot at the oncoming creature.
Kylah jerks away when the creature grazes her arm, and as she rubs her sleeve she watches the creature fly toward the others. Her eyes search the sky wildly for anything else nearby, but realizes that there is not much she can do if more of these arrive.
Instead she turns to Velir and, seeing Dr. Mäkeläinen kneeling to help him, tries to pull the relatively heavy creature off. She cannot stop thinking of that Denebian Slime Beast, also crowding Velir, and when she tried to help the Beast chomped into her wrist.
She eyes the doctor beside her. "Thank you," she whispers, not quite sure why she does not wish to be heard. Well, it is embarrassing to have missed from such a small distance. "At least this... thing... is stunned and does not seem to have any dangerous defenses--poison-filled spikes or toxic slime or electricity or who knows what else."
Kylah pauses. "'Who knows'?" she echoes softly, then answers her own question. "Velir would. He would know." Blinking away tears, she swallows and tries to steady herself, to be of some use. When she speaks her words are hushed but very rapid.
"This may not matter--it is something you can see in his record anyway--but Vel--Lt. Rangin--was in a coma for a period of time after a skydiving incident where he lost life support. It was orbital skydiving, and we had suits on, but his malfunctioned--"
She realizes too much detail is not needed. "He was not out very long, but it had a very bad effect on him due to this... this virus with which he had been infected earlier. It had been dormant, but seemed to have been triggered by his loss of consciousness and... and... mutated. The effects were... well, it is in his record," she repeats, staring tenderly down at Velir's face, then shifting to Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I just hope it would not be affected by this as well."
With no other immediate dangers visible, Nia drops her arms with a relieved exhale for a moment to rest. Her gaze sweeps the area to see what the others are doing. Security are handling Thing 1, Nia's already taken care of Thing 2, and Thing 3... seems to have escaped?
Swiveling to Kylah, she stares in disbelief. That creature was right over her head. And she couldn't hit it? Nia makes a mental note to order her ass back to the target range for some phaser training, because that's some frickin' abysmal shooting.
She braces herself and rises, more slowly than normal in order to avoid the inevitable head rush that seems to be accompanying every attempt at swift movement. Curious, she steps closer to the stunned creature nearby and gently prods its inert body with her boot-clad foot. Doesn't look like anything on Sidonia, at least not in this light. Nia's vision in the darkening twilight isn't what it should be. But most Sidonian animals--most lifeforms of any kind--have protection against the punishing heat and the rocky, sandy territory. Scales, chitin, claws, hooves. In what she knows is her highly inexpert judgment, the creatures look like marine animals. Maybe they must abandon their usual habitat when the lake freezes over?
She backs up again and keeps her phaser aimed at it in case it recovers enough to renew its attack. Then again... were they attacking? Her eyebrows raise at the thought. Yikes, maybe this was just their version of a welcome wagon. Well, if so, we should be forgiven for thinking otherwise. They need to rethink their style of greeting.
With a scowl she shakes off all thoughts of this distracting incident and remembers what was going on beforehand. She turns toward the direction of that land vehicle. "Doc," she says quietly, "If you get a chance after checking Rangin, maybe take his tricorder and scan the road for other approaching lifeforms? I want to know if we should be taking cover."
Leaving the loaded hypoinjector within reach for now, Dr. Mäkeläinen examines Lt. Rangin. He checks for obvious wounds or trauma first, then scans his body using his medical tricorder. Any toxins and venoms should show up, at least. The phaser blast itself—a single shot from a phaser set to stun should by itself do no permanent damage, even if it is enough to shock one into unconsciousness. He also glances at the ray-like creature to see if there are indeed no obvious stingers, and to note any movement which may indicate it is regaining consciousness (if none, he tries a brief scan of it to make sure it is still alive).
He reacts to Kylah's account. "A latent virus?" he asks with interest. "Thank you for telling me. Let's make sure he is all right and waking up first. We will check him out thoroughly later for any lingering effects." It is true that sudden trauma can perturb the body's equilibrium, even if one has been living with a condition for years. Rangin should be all right, in all probability, but he will ask him about the relevant medical history after they are all safe, just in case.
Graham fires and hits. This creature makes the same odd warbling noise as the other, falls from the sky and lands with a thump on the snow.
Dr. Mäkeläinen sees no wounds on or toxins in Rangin, who remains unconscious, but notes that the creature has four wickedly long, thin, curved fangs in its mouth. When the creature had wrapped up Rangin, its fangs would have been close to the young Coridanite man's throat. The creature, which is well-muscled and covered with a dense fur, still does not move.
None of you see any more of the ray-like creatures against the night sky.
The engine noise is getting even louder. Onn can now see a wide, low vehicle moving up the gentle slope of the hill towards the Starfleet party. Its two front lights have almost reached you.
Dr. Mäkeläinen's calm and welcoming response to Kylah's information is gratifying. The last time she tried to explain Velir's unique situation to one of the Yorktown's other doctors, she was coldly, officiously dismissed. She cannot help a quick warm smile before returning to helping pull the creature off Velir.
When Dr. Mäkeläinen examines its mouth to reveal those cruel fangs, she inhales sharply in alarm at the near-miss--both for Velir and herself. Again she rubs her arm as if still able to feel that animal brushing against her. Fortunately Lt. Graham has stunned what appears to be the last of the group.
"How long will he be unconscious?" she asks, glancing from Velir to Lt. Graham. "I mean--I know how stuns work, but what level stun--" She shakes her head inarticulately. "It will not take an hour for him to revive, will it, sir? Just fifteen minutes?"
Nia bunches the blanket more tightly around her. She didn't notice the fur on the animal until now. Even after all these years, fur's somewhat of a novelty to her--nothing on Sidonia has such soft covering. It looks so blissfully warm and comfortable. If only she could skin the thing and bury herself in its pelt.
"G-good shot," she says to Booker, though her eyes are still on the road. But she hears Kylah's question and raises an eyebrow. Rangin's stun duration isn't what they need to be worried about. He won't wake up and try to attack them. Presumably. But these beasts will, and she's not looking forward to standing around stunning them all night.
Meanwhile, the advancing vehicle will arrive before the creatures are further concern. "Damn it, I really wanna know what to expect here. Doc, if you're busy--Kylah, pass me that tricorder. Or grab it and run a scan, if you know how." The last comment's rather snarky, but it's not unwarranted. Rangin's tricorder is programmed differently, with its own options unique to his specialty. Nia's an experienced engineer, she's used to improvising. She's much less confident in Kylah's ability to adapt to new tools.
While holding her trembling hand out to Kylah, she aims her words at Booker again. "Lieutenant, we're vulnerable as hell out here. Do you suggest cover or not?"
Cover. Oh holy mother, how she wants a cover. The fur will do, as would just about anything other than this blanket that's reflecting only her meager body heat back at her. It's better than nothing, of course. Still... Please, please let this be the rescue group. Or just nice strangers? Anything but hostiles.
Graham rubs his forehead before replying to Kylah. "Not long - I wouldn't set a phaser to heavy stun unless we were expecting something really big, or shielded, or somehow resistant..."
But Nia and the oncoming vehicle command his attention. "Thanks, and I--". He pauses. "You're in command. I think we're in a pickle out here...your, ah, condition, the cold, these friggin' things that will also wake up soon...I'd take our chances, but--if you think the team can manage it...". He pauses. "I can run out and draw whoever-it--is-s attention, while you all can slide off into the dark and, ah, wait to see how that pans out."
Dr. Mäkeläinen finishes examining Lt. Rangin. He covers him back up, picks up Rangin's tricorder as he rises and wordlessly passes it up to Kylah. There are obviously some issues or history between the two women, but he is not sure exactly what. He would have been happy to run the lifeform scan himself, as Nia originally asked, but if the increasingly impatient Lieutenant insists on doing it herself, he is not going to argue.
He announces, "It was a close thing, but Mr. Graham's shot stunned the creature before it was able to do any damage." I assume that M. would have a pretty good idea of how long it should be before one wakes up from a phaser blast, so he tells them. "He needs to rest in a warm bed, though; unconsciousness affects thermoregulation, and we were all freezing to begin with. We must try to get a ride with these people. Hopefully it's not the wildlife patrol."
Nia looks at Booker as steadily as she can with a trembling body and a deep desire to wrap herself up in a ball and fall asleep curled next to one of these fur-creatures. Her hand clutching the blanket... she can't even feel her fingers.
With a stumbling gait she steps tentatively closer. "I trust your judgment. We're stuck with Rangin here anyway--I don't think Kylah and the doc are able to drag him to cover, and Rawlings can't help, and I--I'm not sure I--" Her throat closes and she swallows hard to get herself in order.
She speaks softly. "The truth is, I'm gonna have to rely on you more. It's just...the time may come... well..." Struggling for words, she shrugs the topic away. "Later. For now--you make the call. Please."
Mäkeläinen's words interrupt her piercing gaze, and with reluctance she switches it to face the doctor. "Good points. If you're done with him for now, Doc, I'd rather you run the scan. You'll be better at it than anyone currently conscious." She's glad to tuck her tired, outstretched arm back beneath the blanket.
Mäkeläinen obviously knows his way around a tricorder: it is a versatile tool used in practically every routine medical examination. He probably knows what to do with a sciences tricorder, and he is no stranger to firmware mods, either. In any case, a directed scan for life forms (location, number of individuals, their general type whether humanoid, mammal, fish, etc.) is one of its standard functions, and Rangin's tricorder should be able to scan the approaching vehicle at this range. They do not have much time until the vehicle is right on top of them, perhaps only moments, but he runs the scan and tells Nia what they are dealing with, and tries to squeeze in a scan for energy sources as well, for she and Graham will want to know all about any weapons they may be carrying. He really hopes there will not be any friction, though. Logically, they are the intruders and interlopers here, having landed (in a sense) on Ollos without clearance, and if the occupants of that crawler (or whatever it is) have any sensors or performed the same type of scan he just did, they would have noticed a motley crew carrying a bunch of powered instruments including lethal weapons which have just been fired.
Kylah recognizes the condescension in Lt. Onn's remark without any empathic abilities--in truth, for some reason the older woman's emotions feel increasingly remote: an effect typical when someone is falling asleep or moving far away. Odd, since Lt. Onn is neither asleep nor doing anything but standing only a couple of meters away.
Regardless, Lt. Onn's tossed-off words are embarrassing. Kylah's face burns as she reaches for the tricorder, until instead the nod is given to Dr. Mäkeläinen. Which is the more logical choice, but...
While the doctor uses the device, Kylah remains kneeling and slowly slips her hand into Velir's, giving his fingers an encouraging squeeze. (The encouragement, in truth, is for both of them--perhaps her more than him, since she is the one who is awake.) She turns to look over her shoulder in the direction of the approaching vehicle. Of course she notices what appears to be Lt. Onn's sudden private words with Lt. Graham. Though concerned, Kylah still cannot sense anything from Lt. Onn, nor can she see their faces in the dark.
Kylah just flicks her wary gaze back and forth from the doctor to the looming headlights, distractedly brushing her thumb across Velir's fingers and waiting to learn about this vehicle--one way or another.