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The USS McCoy

Posted on Mon Mar 1st, 2021 @ 4:21pm by Commander Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw

Mission: The Rise of the Killer Vulcans
Timeline: Day 2 at 0335

Commander Botan Mol--"Molly" to some of the crew--sat in the first officer's chair and rubbed obsessively at the makeshift bandage on her arm while trying very hard to not rub obsessively at the makeshift bandage on her arm. Her somewhat compulsive nature had helped her rise through the ranks and eventually become the first officer of the USS McCoy, but it wasn't doing her any favors in this particularly, highly-uncontrolled situation. The Bolian's mind continued to wander to questions like, "How much bacteria is in a Vulcan's mouth?"

She had, to put it bluntly, been bitten by one of their awakened cargo during the somewhat rushed escape to the bridge.

"Stop it," a somewhat wearied CMO said from where he sat leaning against a console. The senior staff had been cramped onto the bridge together, along with a small handful of others they were able to bring into this compartment in time, for hours now. Patience was wearing thin.

"How long do we think the Osmium alloy will be able to keep them out?" one of the aforementioned "handful" asked. The ensign looked pretty well terrified, and it was no surprise. He had come aboard what was supposed to be a pretty boring trip full of Vulcans in cryo-sleep. Zombies hadn't been on the menu. Being stuck inside the only area of the ship that proved to have any protection at all from "the beings" hadn't been on anyone's list either, especially given that they had no idea how long they would be here for.

'Hopefully not forever' was what they were all thinking but trying to not say aloud.

"Do you think the call got out?" the CMO asked tiredly. He'd already treated a variety of wounds with whatever could be found on the bridge or made to come out of the replicator, before it stopped working. Molly's bitemark was tied shut with a strip of uniform, after all. At least it was still command red, she'd commented at the time, attempting levity and falling flat.

"I hope so," Molly replied. "We weren't so far off the beaten path that there's not a good chance someone was around. Any chance that the comms are working again?"

The ensign looked at the console beside him, banged it with his fist a couple of times, then said, "No, sir."

Every so often, a shudder ran through the ship and then ran through each of them. There was a distant sound of the Vulcans and their crew making noise beyond the bridge. Sometimes, it was just incoherent shouting. Other times, there seemed to be words to it, although from behind these closed doors, none of them could tell what those words were. Every so often, there's be pounding and shouting on the doors themselves as "the others" tried to pry them open to get inside, but to no avail.

"I guess we'll just have to have a little faith," the Bajoran CMO said, letting out a long breath.



Shuttlebay


Although the McCoy was in a ragged and ailing state by the time the shuttle from the USS Alliance arrived, the poor frigate managed to respond to the transmitted data convincing it to open the doors to the shuttlebay. Whether they would shut again was an open question, but the shuttle was able to guide itself in and come to a landing. The forcefield protecting those within from the vacuum of space did spring up and it held, restoring atmosphere and allowing the people on the shuttle to disembark into the bay.

That was about where their luck with functioning ship parts left off, unfortunately.

Recessed lights lining the corners where the floor and wall met, as well as set into the ceiling, were either not working or sputtering with life. Everything was generally dim except for a flash or flicker, giving it a rather discomfiting feel--if one was being generous with the description. Several access panels lining the walls had been torn open--as evidenced by the way they hung askew from single bolts rather than neatly anywhere else--and the inner wiring and circuitry was sparking.

Security officers were first off the shuttle, assuring there was no immediate threat before the rest of the team. Jacky frowned as she took in the site. Most of her wanted to turn right around and go back into the shuttle, but she kept herself from doing so. (The sight of a bloody handprint beside the door into the corridor nearly broke that resolve.) "Three teams," she declared, steeling herself. "Myself, Doctor Lucas, and Commander Quinn will each lead a team of medical and security personnel. We need to find out what happened here.

"Regularly check-ins every fifteen minutes. Report in soon if you think you may be experiencing any effects from telepathic projection. I'm going to take my team to the bridge and try to make contact with the senior staff. Lucas, your primary objective is locating the awakened...passengers and ascertaining their state. Don't get any closer than you need to. Commander Quinn, proceed to engineering. The ship is in bad--" The whole thing shuddered. "--shape. Let's see what we can do about that."

 

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