SubAccount: Abas Th'vyrrol

[Sickbay]

Primum non nocere. First, Do No Harm. This was the core tenet of modern medicine. Most cultures of the Federation had their own spins on the phrase, their own philosophers and codes of ethics which drove what they did. However, regardless of culture, it was a belief that almost everyone in the medical fields shared. When Abas saw the phasers and weapons being distributed, and their patients carted off to the brig like nothing more than cargo, a scowl firmly planted itself on his face.

Things only got stranger when the CMO decided now was the right time to pick a fight with the Captain. Nothing made sense - the Lieutenant was challenging the Captain's orders, trying to block the man's exit from the room. Under Starfleet medical orders (Regulation 121 to be precise) the CMO had the ultimate authority to remove officers from command if they were medically unfit. Abas didn't know what metric the Lieutenant was using to substantiate the assertions, but it was within protocol. With his patient mostly stabilized, he turned his attention to the proceedings. He couldn't get involved - at least not yet - but Abas was curious as to how this would go.

As it turned out, the Captain had no intention of complying with the order. With a flash, the man had locked the door with himself on the other side. If the Captain had wanted to dispel any idea that he was unfit for command, he'd done a bang-up job of the exact opposite. A short phaser blast later and the door was open, with the Captain long gone.

Abas pondered his options as the Lieutenant declared himself the Captain. They were on the knife's edge - if the man was right, he was acting within orders and trying to stop a hostile takeover of the ship. If he was wrong, they'd all hang for mutiny from the yardarm.

To Abas, it was no choice at all. He was a pacifist, but that didn't mean he would be passive. While he didn't take a phaser, he could still do his part and actively defend life and the peace. He followed the Doctor, a medical kit in hand. Perhaps he could at least patch up whatever carnage was about to follow. He didn't care much who he found, he'd help anyone he could.

Dylan, Nice, Love it, Only question I have is, Can we still post from our main account as our other characters? Or do we have to login into theta certain account to be able to post as them?

You can't from the quick editor, but you can from the full editor! (Click "Preview" in the quick editor to go to the full editor)

[Sickbay]

Abas was confused as the man started blabbering on about "Thinkers" and "Clones". Clearly, the man was delirious. What he didn't understand was the aggressive attitude of the Captain - whom he'd not met yet. Abas didn't know Captain Nevir, his command style, or his personality. Captain Galloway back on Challenger - outside of a seeming inability to speak the language properly - had been much more diplomatic and calm, closer to how a Captain in Abas's mind should be. However, he was the Captain - the ultimate authority on almost anything on the ship. Abas was a crewman sworn to follow the orders of the officers appointed over him, according to regulations. As such, he prepared the sedative as instructed.

As the patient began to resist, Abas raised an eyebrow. He couldn't get a solid read on the situation. Why had the presence of the Captain caused the man to continue to struggle? He checked his tricorder and medical readouts again. What had the man contracted that would explain his erratic behavior? His grip on the hypospray slacked a little bit as he tried to piece together what was occurring, which was accelerated by the next voice he heard - one of the attending Doctors.

As unusual as the Captain's behavior may have been (or was this normal for the man?), the reaction of the Doctor so publically was even more erratic. Here Abas found himself caught between two sets of equally valid orders, an uncomfortable situation to be sure. His antennae flared as he tried to process what he should do. The Doctor was one of his direct reports in his chain of command, but the Captain was the ultimate authority on the ship. "Sirs?" he asked, his arm beginning to lower as he sought clarification as to his orders.

He never got the answer.

In a moment, the Captain's hand had flashed and snared the hypospray from his slack grip, jamming it into the scientist's neck. Abas sprung back with a start, a shocked "Captain!" jumping from his lips as he tried to process what he'd just seen. He didn't even know what dosage the Hypo had been set to, as he'd not finished preparing the dose. He didn't know the CO's background, or why he'd taken the actions. It was, however, incredibly irregular for any officer to have acted as he did. What type of ship was this"½

He looked on with confusion and a hint of fear as the Captain gave orders to transfer the patients to the Brig. Abas didn't know their crime or what they'd done as he moved to recover the Hypospray and check the dosage. Merfadon, and too high of a dose. Abas had been intending to dial the dose all of the way down, but he'd not had a chance before it had been snatched from him. Inserting himself, Abas grabbed a fresh hypospray and kit as he called out for assistance. "Crash cart, overdose," he stated loudly to the room as he turned his back to the Captain. If they didn't work quickly, the dose would be lethal. It didn't matter what the man said now, the emergency situation was more pressing. Hopefully, someone would grab the equipment as Abas began to work.

As the Patient drifted off, he felt a voice in his head, barely a whisper, but there. 'Beware of the clones' it had said. But what did it mean? It seemed clear the man had been mentally screaming the warning, trying with his whole being to get the message out. But what did it mean? "Clones?" he muttered to himself before he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and he began treating the man for the overdose.

He could process that later. For now, they had a patient to save.

[[USS Discovery-B | Sickbay]]

[USS Discovery-B | Sickbay]

A flicker of frustration flashed across Savyn's face, but only for a moment. He placed his hands back down on the man's chest and pushed him back down with a bit more force.

"Our captain is... Unavailable, for the time being," Savyn explained carefully. "And even if he were, we would be much more willing to speak with you if you were well. Now, please lay back and allow me to treat you, or I will be forced to administer a... A sedative..."

Savyn's words seemed to slow as he could sense Fvienn's nearby vexation-- though he couldn't entirely tell if it was from his Vulcan hearing, or the telepathic bond he had with the boy.

[Sickbay]

What was it with Starfleet ships and finding themselves in the worst situation possible?

Left reeling after the attacks on Earth, Starfleet had been reorganizing and shuffling across crew to a variety of postings. It seemed the only constant in life was change, and with that came all the complications of a new posting. No matter how much one studied deck plans and schematics, there was never a substitute for the actual walking of a new ship. Some corridors were slightly smaller than advertised, and others had slightly uneven deck plating. Each ship was bespoke, with a variety of small variations. It took time to get used to, time that Abas simply put didn't have.

He was still learning where the important places to be were, having transferred from the Challenger to this new ship just in time to be thrust into the action. For the last little bit, he'd been scurrying around the background of the sickbay, doing what he did best, and assisting those as he could.

Hearing the Vulcan request assistance against a combative patient, he stepped forward, tapping his foot as he came to a stop once in order to try and communicate he was there to exist. His blank white eyes sat unmoving as his fingers deftly found his hypospray with one hand and assisted in trying to restrain the Romulan.

Why were there so many injured onboard to begin with? The Aenar cast a momentary thought toward the conundrum they found themselves in. Abas didn't know why anything had happened, why these patients were onboard, or what situation the ship found itself in. The limits of his knowledge were the four walls of the medical ward - and a base familiarity of the command staff. He'd not even really paid much attention to whatever he might be able to pick up with his telepathic abilities - he'd been too focused on other details to even consider opening his mind and had kept hit highly shielded.

Of course, things changed when the Captain entered and started an interrogation of the injured man. Abas didn't speak for now, and simply awaited orders, or the next pressing thing. Why was the Captain here? What secrets did the injured patient have? And did the Captain really say that a whole space station was in revolt?

This truly felt like the ship of the damned.

[Schoolroom]

[As Maddy]

Maddy looked at the teacher and the nurse as he was leaving. She couldn't tell why, but something was really bad out in the greater scheme of things.  Bad enough for the little girl to forget about the issues with her own head and even her teacher's attempts to get everyone back to learning things. if she tried really hard, she could "hear" the people on the planet below.  "œUmmmm"¦. What's going on?  There's a lotta people talking really far away and they don't sound happy. "œ

[Schoolroom]

Abas frowned as the small girl started speaking of people "Far away". How could she have possibly kno....

His thought process ended abruptly as he realized how foolish he'd been. He brushed through medical records on his tricorder, feeling and "seeing" the information despite his non-functional eyes. She understood people elsewhere were hurt the same way that Abas knew it. The same way that he was able to see. In seconds, his suspicions were confirmed. She was part Betazoid. If he focused, he could reach out with his mind and feel her presence responding differently than others who didn't have these gifts. It was subtle, but it was absolutely there. Fascinating.

"Trust the Captain. He'll sort everything out. It's his job," he said, giving a quite defined non-answer to the child's question. He didn't know what was going on - but he wasn't lying either. The Captain's first duty was the protection of the crew and company of the ship - Starfleet Regulation 3 also gave the Captain broad discretionary powers. Abas didn't need to know what was going on - only that he followed the orders he was given. Sometimes, it took blind faith in your crew.

[USS Challenger - Bridge]

It felt like an eon before he heard from Th'vyrrol, though it was really only a matter of minutes as Alex dealt with the other matters. Maddison and the other children being safe and in good hands took a crushing weight off his shoulders, and he felt inordinately grateful towards the crewman. "Understood, thank you. If Ms. Atkins doesn't require your assistance, you can report back to sickbay." There were still several injured according to their last report, including some who had collapsed during the first temporal pulse and hadn't regained consciousness.

Understood, Sir, was all he said, before the channel clicked shut. Their work here done, he looked to the teacher. "If there's nothing else, ma'am?" he asked before the medical team took their leave and headed towards sickbay.

[Minutes later - Sickbay]

The team returned, with Sickbay now looking much more like a modern medical facility than a torture dungeon from the Dark Ages. Replenishing their supplies, the team then turned to see what was occurring, and where they might be useful.

[NPC Post: Teacher Muriel Atkins]

[USS Challenger - Schoolroom]

"Sorry to bother you, doctor, I have one of Maddy's parents calling and asking for an update on her, a Lieutenant Wu? He also asked about the other children as well." Muriel stood next to the medical officer, leaning closer so her commbadge would be able to pick up his voice. Many of Maddy's classmates seemed to gravitate towards them as well, finding the pale man's reassurance and his ability to make everything better comforting. Some of the braver ones even looked like they were on the cusp of raising hands to ask more questions about the spaceship and planet he had mentioned. "Lieutenant, are you still there? I have the doctor on the line now, Maddison's here too, she's looking much better after her medicine!"

[School]

While those around him continually referenced Abas as a doctor, it wasn't technically accurate. He didn't hold any doctoral licensure, nor was he a registered MD in any jurisdiction he knew of. No, he was in fact a nurse in licensure, with his medical certifications from his time in the Andorian Guard and time on his home planet. Regardless of that fact, he still had a duty to care and was more than capable of handling minor bumps and scrapes, as well as quite a bit of battlefield traumas one might come across.

However, when Abas heard a Lieutenant was on the other end, that changed things. Officers could get particular, especially when their children were involved. Ideally, he'd let one of the other medical staff in the room - one of the officers, probably, deal with the situation. However, the teacher had come to him, so he would answer and deal with the repercussions later. "Sir, this is Petty Officer Th'vyrrol. All of the children are present and accounted for, no lasting impacts," he stated, keeping his tone level. "Same effects as the rest of the ship, looks like the second wave was blocked as intended."

Abas didn't react or note the hands being raised, not that he could see them anyway. With no further seeming actions - and the gaggle of children all seemingly fine - he simply waited for additional orders or the response of the Lieutenant to determine his next course of action.

[Schoolroom]

Maddy tensed at the thought of getting a shot, but she let the doctor give her the medicine. She wasn't going to show her new friends she was scared.  They were already scared enough.  "œOkie." she said, giving a brave face. She was feeling a lot better now. It didn't hurt all that much like she thought it would.  Why her mom didn't like getting shots or seeing doctors, she didn't know.

"œ Did other people get headaches too?  Why'd everyone get hurt all at the same time? Can I help?" she asked, her normal curious self returning as she noticed the teacher come over to the doctor with a message.  "œI guess Daddy is worried . "œ she said, noting that as she could finally hear him again without it hurting.

[Schoolroom]

The quiet hiss of the hypo was all that gave away the injection, over as soon as it had started. The medicines worked quickly, and either through the fortune of modern knowledge, the impact of the placebo effect, or maybe a combination of both the young girl's headache soon disappeared. Abas nodded, blinking his pale-white eyes as he deftly placed the hypo back in its case. "Yes, many people got headaches. I got one too, quite severe. But it passed and we're okay now," he said, trying his best to be reassuring.

When it came to what had caused the situation, Abas was in many ways not that much more knowledgeable than Maddy herself. He also didn't want to scare her, but he shared what he knew and what he thought would be best for her to hear. Abas wasn't a parent - and he wasn't exactly good with children. He didn't like talking aloud at the best of times, but far less when he had to limit his words even further. "A planet we're around was testing a spaceship, and it had side effects. They didn't mean to, I'm sure," he said. It wasn't the full truth, but it was all he really knew. He didn't mention what he knew about other ship crewmembers stuck on the planet, or what he had overheard on the bridge - and it wouldn't have done Maddy any good to hear it.

He was also keenly aware of the other children in the area listening in. If one started to panic, they would all panic. If he could keep her calm, maybe they could keep the rest of the children calm enough to continue fine. The little shows of strength from each of them would hopefully set them up well for whatever was to come next. But only time would tell how they would react, and if anything Abas said would assuage them. He sensed the presence of the teacher walking over to him, and without looking up, spoke. "How can I help, ma'am?" he asked, fidgeting briefly with the enlisted rank insignia on his neck before standing back upright from where he had been with Maddy.

[Schoolroom]

[As Maddy]

The class had kind of stopped as the teacher read them all a story instead of  doing any real lesson, mostly to help calm everyone down after that scary moment in particular.   Maddy  still wasn't sure what all just happened, but after what seemed like a really long time, it looked like a doctor came to help. She was still really dizzy, but she still tried to get back up, dizzy as she was.

"œMy head  really really hurts. Something big happened and I could hear a hun-dred people being really scared  in my mind and I'm really dizzy." She said, trying to explain the emotional overload.

"˜And teacher says that everyone blacked out.  It was really scary, but I'm not scared. My mommy helped me not be scared... "

[School]

As the child described the incident that had happened, Abas nodded. It seemed that the children were describing exactly the same thing that had happened to the rest of the crew. "Same thing happened to everyone else. It'll pass," he said, snapping his tricorder shut.

"You're doing well to not be scared. Here, take this", he said, prepping a small hypospray dose. "It'll help"

As Abas moved to distribute the dose, he felt compelled to continue to comfort the young patient, or at very least keep her distracted and talking. "I felt it too, it was quite overwhelming. But nobody has been severely hurt from it. Just keep taking deep breaths and stay strong. It'll be okay."

[Schoolroom]

Could I get someone to the Schoolroom? We've got some kids here that got hurt in the blast.

[Bridge]

Thankfully, the boffin-isms had seemed to be successful. The quick work of the engineering and science teams appeared to have mitigated the damage being done to the ship, and the repairs seemed to be going smoothly, beyond the Captain playing fast and loose with the prime directive. Then again, given the circumstances, there wasn't a lot he could do here. The first duty of a Captain was the safety and security of the ship's crew, no matter what that took.

The three-crew medical team's commbadges all chirped simultaneously when the call for assistance from the school came through. The computer had calculated which medical away team was closest to the school - located on deck three - and determined the team on the Bridge was the best able to respond immediately. As a unit, the crew began to stream toward the now-working turbolifts, barely a word spoken as they disappeared from the Bridge, tricorders, and hyposprays already being prepared.

[School]

The team entered the doors of the school, looking around for the casualties that had been reported. It simply wasn't right - that those so young had to be forced to go through so much. Why oh why had Starfleet decided to put children and families on ships which routinely intended to go in harm's way? Abas could understand the thought of families on Starships, or even on the long-duration exploratory vessels that sat parked in front of stars or studying stellar phenomena. But on patrol ships, long-distance ships pushing the boundaries of the known and unknown, ships that went intentionally into the dangerous or unknown? It seemed like almost wanton disregard for safety.

Regardless, however, the children were here. They needed help. Abas knelt down next to one of the children - Maddy, it sounded like her name was - and began a scan with his tricorder, attempting to discern exactly what was the matter.

"What hurts?" he asked, his tone passive but trying to be comforting. Hopefully, it wasn't too serious.

[Bridge]

Just as the crew had fixed one issue, it seemed another had been waiting in the wings to make its debut all along. The injuries among the bridge crew were minor - nothing a few moments of care couldn't take care of with modern medicines. The actual mental state of the crew, however, was another thing. The Counseling department would have their hands full for the next few weeks, but since when was that anything new? Abas had no clue how to deal with the returning space probe, but thankfully, wiser minds than he had managed to take stock of the situation and react accordingly. He kept his ears open, however, as the Captain and the now-returned Lieutenant... Wu, was it? had conversed and come up with a suitably crazy Starfleet solution. Abas reminded himself to file a protest with Engineering that the universal translator didn't have a matrix for the language "Highland Scot", whatever that was. Perhaps some derivation of Bolian?

With the rest of the bridge crew, he'd heard of the probe's return. He braced himself against a bulkhead and console, but the majority of his preparation had gone to his mind. He'd been unprepared for the psionic onslaught that the probe had generated the first time. He wouldn't allow himself to be caught unaware again. His antennae curled in sharply to a concentrated point as his brow furled and he prepared his mind. Inwardly, he began humming melodies and other common patterns, anything to build up the barriers for what was to come.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing..." he muttered under his breath, to nobody in particular, as he awaited to see if they would decide it was in fact a good day to lithobrake into a planet.

["Ah, good. Mister Espada is still out and I'm fair certain Mister Booker thunked her head when she fell. The rest of us are well enough and up ta our armpits trying to reboot the bridge systems."]

[Turboshaft]

"œYou'd better not," Ardy  smirked  as she clambered down the rungs of the ladder behind Alex, keeping well in pace with him until he slid down, almost fireman-style. landing rather suddenly in front of the medical team. "œIs everyone  alright down there?"   She was trying to catch up as fast as she could while also not slipping and falling herself, causing even more chaos to the already tight quarters.

As Alex gave the sitrep on the bridge, she nodded to the medical folks passing by. "œDunno if you've figured, but there might be something affecting the mind in whatever hit us." she mentioned as a bit of an afterthought.  She wasn't sure if it would help, but maybe it would.  She definitely wasn't looking forward to that point in time when physicals had to be done. How much could these docs be bribed to not call for a physical?.

They had to part ways for a bit now, as she had to head to the thruster controls "œBe back in a bit. Try not to crash into other things." she smirked, giving him a hard time.

[Turboshaft]

The team acknowledged the additional report. The more data points they could come up with, the more likely they could record, document, and diagnose the issue. Abas in particular frowned with the new information. It appeared it wasn't just the telepathically active species which felt the onslaught.

[Bridge - USS Challenger]

When the medical team arrived on the bridge, for a moment, it looked as if no one was conscious. As all that could be seen were legs sticking out from consoles, but before the team could rush forward to perform triage, Ian poked his head up from under the helm.

"Ah, good. Mister Espada is still out and I'm fair certain Mister Booker thunked her head when she fell. The rest of us are well enough and up ta our armpits trying to reboot the bridge systems."

Ian then ducked back under the helm to return to the repairs.

[Bridge]

As the three-person team began to survey the surroundings, the voice of their Captain filtered through to them, strangely fixated on the Helm console. The bridge appeared to be in disarray, much like the rest of the ship, with panels and bulkheads torn asunder and only half the bridge actually showing signs of life.

"Aye sir!" came the response from the team, as Abas peeled off to care for Mr. Booker and the Ensign went to care for Mr. Espada. The remaining member of the team went about finding ways to be useful - checking on the others and then joining in with the slapdash repair job that was being set up. Of course, none of this care would excuse the officer from their next regular physical. At least, not without sufficient reason.

But for now, all hands were on deck to fix the ship, and the crew were part of that task.

[Turbolift Shaft - Deck 1>Deck 9]

"I'd offer ladies first, but then I might fall on you." Alex flashed her an apologetic smile before starting down. It was a long way to Deck 9, and for the first few rungs, he used the traditional hand-foot-hand-foot method until he gained enough confidence that he wouldn't lose his grip. There was a little trick they used to do as SAR specialists, as much a parlour trick as it was useful, and something he hadn't done since he was in his much fitter 20s. With the gravity plating still working, gravity was therefore his friend so long as he was going down. Pulling his sleeves over his hands and gripping the vertical railings, Alex took a deep breath apprehensively, glanced up to see where Ardyn was, and despite the seriousness of their situation appreciated the view for a split second, then shifted both his feet out to the side so the railings tucked into the inner arch of his boot soles. "Here's something you might not have done before." He called to Ardyn before loosening his grip slightly, just enough so he began sliding down, faster, and faster-

"Merde!" Alex immediately gripped hard with his hands and feet, squeezing the rungs with the insides of his arms and knees, a grimace forming as he felt heat growing rapidly from friction spreading through the fabric of his uniform into his skin. His arms and quads ached in protest, but he managed to slow just enough to catch the rungs, coming to a stop only a few feet above the medical team. He was sweating slightly and flushed, not just from the exertion, but also from chagrin at being caught doing something so recklessly at his age. "Sorry! We're coming from the bridge, there's still Lieutenant Booker and the helmsman who need help. I administered tri-ox and put them in the recovery position, but I didn't see any obvious external injuries to explain why they're still unconscious. Listen, are your tricorders or anything in sickbay working? One of the engineers figured out that all of the isolinear chips onboard were reset somehow by that pulse which hit us. It took out everything with a chip in it, from tricorders to the main computer. To get your devices working again, you have to manually pull the chip out and put it back in. We're going to be in for some long shifts if we don't fall out of orbit first."

[Turboshaft]

As the Lieutenant came hurtling down the shaft, the Ensign who had called out let out a noise that could only be described as a terrified squeak as she tried to "get skinny" on the ladder, even though it would have no bearing if the collision of bodies had occurred. As Alex screeched to a halt, the medical team scrambled and clamored to find purchase somewhere other than the ladder, be it a tiny bit of exposed pipe or a maintenance toehold. However, this momentary terror didn't last long. In a few short moments, the conflict had been cleared and they were no longer at risk of playing the royal game of physics or finding out how many seconds it took to fall to the bottom of the turboshaft. It was currently a small miracle that nobody had tried to get the turbolifts working - and run the risk of turning the medical crew into a pancake to be mopped up by some deckhand. Policies and procedures were very clear on such matters, and to not bring the lifts into service without proper clearance, but since when were regulations ever truly followed?

As the Lieutenant relayed the crew's condition above and the steps needed to bring their technology back online, the team who had been paralyzed for a moment became a flurry of activity, as circuits were opened, removed, inserted, closed, and checked. The echoing nose, chirps, beeps, and whines of technology once again filled the space as the medical crew quickly performed a once-over of their equipment, with noises of celebration joining the din. "Thanks for the update, happy hunting sir!" called out the Ensign from earlier, letting the crew heading down pass by.

Of the four-man crew, a runner was dispatched to Sickbay to pass along the update as to how they could get their technology working again. Now down to three, the crew included a Bolian nurse, Abas, and the Human Ensign leading the party scrambling their way back up to the bridge.

As the crew arrived on the bridge, they paused for a moment to catch their breath before looking up. "Medical here, Captain! Ensign Meshin, reporting. How can we assist?" she asked, as the small three-person team attempted to quickly take stock of the situation and render assistance as needed.

[Sickbay]

On one of the walls of the sickbay, there was a simple panel. The panel looked very similar to the master status diagram down in main engineering, but instead of a massive, wall-covering display that broke down the current working status of every part on the ship, this unassuming little display simply broke down where on the ship calls to sickbay were occurring from. Each section was triaged in green, yellow, red, or black, depending on the current medical situation in each section, the utilization of medical resources, and the need for rapid-response medical crews. Even the status of the triple-redundant life support systems was tracked. Everything on there was currently green, indicating a nice, simple day. The medical ward was blissfully unaware of the danger the landing party was in, or of the incoming affront to reality that was about to take hold.

Moments later, Abas found himself on the floor, screaming mentally in agony, his antennae flaring relentlessly before he realized that it wasn't just him. Hauling himself to his knees (unable to scramble to his feet) he felt the entire ship transform from the living, breathing being he called home to what was more tantamount to a tomb. The gentle hiss of the air recirculation systems, the vibration of the deck plates, the hubbub of scanners and experiments and diagnostic equipment. In moments, everything had died. Nobody had seen the status diagram go from green to yellow, to red, to dark black in the milliseconds it had to process before the display had failed.

To Abas, the total lack of power instantly clicked a few memory items into place. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he ran down the rapid-response checklist that every crewmember on any vessel that relied on bringing its life support with him had been trained on, from submarines to aircraft to spaceships - oxygen was life. And right now, no oxygen was flowing. With a total power failure of a ship (which hadn't happened in a very, very long time), no oxygen was generated, no carbon dioxide was scrubbed, and no heat was generated. This meant the air would slowly become toxic, and the ship would passively begin to lose the heat the crew needed to survive, being leached out into the void of space. And that's before the solar radiation cooked them all alive.

All in all, it was a very bad, no good time. Of course, that hadn't happened yet - they had a few hours before the first signs of hypoxia began to set in for most of the crew. He heard several people try hailing various parts of the ship, but quickly their situation became clear - the Challenger was dead in the water. They had to rely on good old-fashioned muscle to dig themselves out of this hole.

In the event of such a situation, some things could be done. Emergency lockers across the ship had ready supplies of chlorate candles, sometimes called an oxygen candle. In a few hours, those would need to be broken out. These candles (which burned at 600 degrees centigrade) were made of sodium chlorate and iron powder. When ignited properly (usually by a chemical reaction) these candles converted 2 NaClO3 into 2 NaCl + 3 O2 molecules. This would quite literally generate oxygen, at least in the short term. This, and whatever supplies of Triox that were still accessible, would keep the crew alive. For now.

Quickly, the medical team broke into their rapid reaction teams. A team was dispatched to manually find their way to Engineering, one to the Bridge, and one to the main crew lounge to turn it into a triage ward. The remaining crew would stay in the sickbay and set up another triage and treatment center there. Certain crewmembers were designated as runners, to keep every section in coordination. Abas had been assigned to the Bridge team. Dutifully, they set out with whatever bandages and medical gear they could scrounge up, crawling through access tubes and turboshafts, slowly making their way northward. Only six decks stood in their way...

[Turbolift Shaft]

As the medical team was making their way up, it appeared someone else had started making their way down. The small medical team of four blinked as the sight of one Lieutenant had begun making their way down.

"Hello there!" called one of the nurses, an Ensign of some sort. "Is anyone up there injured?"

As they'd fought their way toward the bridge, the four-person team had noted signs of life beginning to return to the ship. A panel here, the odd light fixture there. Slowly but surely, the ship had begun to come back to life. Maybe they weren't dead yet after all.

[Enlisted Crew's Mess]

As Abas finished his meal, he sat back and let his mind wander a bit. To be honest, he couldn't tell you how long he'd sat and relaxed there, but it couldn't have been for too long. He tapped his commbadge and queried the computer - it'd only been about 8 minutes it total, but it felt like so much longer. 12 minutes till his shift... which meant at least 5 or 6 more minutes of relaxation before he had to head out. Or at least it would have been, until one smarmy-faced petty officer decided to play a prank on the whole hall. This particular crewman was the three-month running voice impersonation champion on the Challenger, and noted for one particular impression.

That would be the voice and uncanny intonations of one Captain Ian Galloway.

As soon as the man spoke, half the room shot to their feet, their eyes snapping around while the other half quickly scoured the room for anything untoward that might not want to be gracing the eyes of their vaunted CO. Things such as the leaderboard for the aforementioned impressions that everyone would vociferously deny existing on pain of death should anyone with a pip on their collar ever ask. But as soon as the prank was revealed, a collective groan rose from the group before all manner of litter and debris were hurled in the general direction of the little punk. Abas made a note to schedule him for a capsule endoscopy his next time through sickbay. Maybe a little probe would help the man fix his behavior.

Regardless, Abas stood, depositing his own garbage (not thrown at the prankster) before exiting the room, the sliding doors shutting with a hiss drowning out the hubbub of the room and the general disarray within. In only a few short strides, he was at the turbolift doors, pausing only a moment before they opened and he stepped inside. "Sickbay," was all he said, before the whir of the lift zipped off toward his normal duty station.

[Sickbay]

Abas entered the room exactly two minutes and six seconds before his shift was due to start. Checking in with the crew on duty, he began discussing with one of the other attendants what had happened over the last shift, any particular patients of note, or anything else that they might need to consider for the next several hours.

[Deck 4 - Enlisted Crew Mess Hall]

Almost as if it had been timed to perfection, Abas felt the thrum of the ship as she dropped from warp into L7-425977. Modern ships were marvels of engineering, from the ground up designed to be beacons of comfort, Federation style, and technological innovation. However, at the end of the day, they were still massive mechanical beasts of burden, an interconnected hive of systems and harmonics. Abas couldn't pretend to understand everything when it came to how he could tell (that was the domain of the Engineers), but he could still somehow feel when the ship dropped from warp. Something about the subtle vibrations and hum of equipment.

For Abas's part, the days continued to run together smoothly. Day in and day out, the average life of an enlisted crewmember was rather benign. The ship relied on the unseen, unheard true lower decks - a phrase that belonged to the Enlisted crew no matter how much idealistic, upstart Ensigns might want to claim it - to keep the ship in working order and ensure that the crew was on their A-Game. While Officers led, gave orders, and did chip in their fair share of work (for the most part), it was the Enlisted who turned the button-presses on the Bridge into action and dutifully carried out the commands they were given.

The last few days had been just like any other days. With over 500 crew onboard, the needs of the medical staff were constant. Physicals, Lab Tests, responses to normal everyday bumps and scrapes, and the occasional disease of random origins, the days were constantly abuzz with activity, though little of it was particularly exciting.

For the moment, Abas was enjoying a few minutes of peace in the Enlisted crewman's mess hall. While not as ornate or fancy as the other mess facilities, this was a perfectly sufficient place to grab a quick meal, where it was exceptionally rare to run into any officers. This made the hall a hotbed of gossip among the lower-enlisted information superhighway, which seemed to travel faster than any isolinear circuit, as well as a place where a relaxed, carefree attitude could be adopted like sailors of old. No ranks, no responsibilities, just a place to let loose.

He listened to the dull hum of voices as he ate his meal. He had around twenty minutes before he had to report back to his station - one of the ready medical stations on deck three, home of the children's primary school. It was a hotbed of injuries, routinely coming in the top parts of the ship for minor medical incidents. But that was the life of schoolchildren - and so life on the starship continued.