It was just as well the canopy was designed to resist the strains and stresses of spaceflight, or the cockpit would have been filled with trees. That was good on two fronts, Nia thought as she stirred weakly in the safety webbing of her seat. She hadn’t been impaled by a tree branch, and there was some sort of life, probably a breathable atmosphere, on this moon. Light slid between the crush of leaves and sticks that cast jagged shadows across the canopy, and she could see the silhouettes of her comrades likewise moving.

That was of a higher concern than the state of outside. What was the state of inside?

With a groan, she leaned forward and tried to level out the spinning of her head enough to examine the controls. She did not need much strength of mind to assess the simple fact that they were dead, the power was completely gone, and she did not have the capacity to do anything about it right then.

From behind her, deeper towards the door of the cockpit, there was a low groan that still travelled. “Hey,” she creaked weakly. “Everyone okay?” While the quickest of glances assessed that the sound was none of her fellow cadets, her hands fumbled with the clasp and she almost fell out of the chair as she tried to get to her feet. It was not a particularly heroic check-in.

“No,” came Katlyn’s response. Her safety webbing hadn’t deployed properly and now she was bound up in it, unable to reach the release. The runabout’s tilt to starboard and her chair having rotated so she was looking that way as well wasn’t helping. There was no net meant to spread forces across her body, but a mere handful of thick strands she was hanging against, the first stages of the webbing at least having worked. “I feel like I’ve been kicked by a Gaen,” she uttered, short of breath.

“I think I’m in one piece,” chimed in Cadet Parze, although she didn’t sound terribly certain of that fact.  Alternating hands, she was patting her limbs, checking to see if everything was still there.  Finding no blood on her scaly palms, Parze continued the self-pat-down, looking for the release clasp for her own seat’s webbing.  Knowing that it would drive her crazy without a computer at hand to search for the answer, Parze asked, “What’s a Gaen?”

Pushing his way past several broken and burnt-out systems and a fallen bulkhead, Horin made his way back to the cockpit. He could feel the massive cut he had received from the moment the ship had crashlanded which had sent him flying off his feet and smacking directly onto the deck below him. As he had attempted to escape from the small access way he had crawled in, he had ended up ripping most of his jacket, so once he had found his freedom out of the hatch he had yanked his jacket off, now he just wore his undershirt along with his trousers (which were also torn apart in places). Instantly he was confronted with a number of bruises up and down his hands and arms along with a few cuts. They didn’t bother him as much as the massive headache he was experiencing. Touching his forehead he felt the blood that was there and just smeared it upwards against his dishevelled hair with the back of his dirty hands. He could smell the smoke from the fires he had put out earlier emanating from him. As he stepped carefully to get back to the cockpit he found a nearby medkit on the floor. He picked it up before heading to another equipment locker that was open and pulled out a phaser. Strapping it to his side, along with his tricorder he clambered his way up to the cockpit to see his fellow cadets all appearing alive for now. 

“Anyone need a hand?” He asked between breaths. 

“I’m not too proud to ask for one,” Kaylyn said from her perch. “Stupid thing had to deploy funny and trap me didn’t it?” She shook her head, then winced, realising she probably shouldn’t have done that. “And a Gaen is a giant rock person. Crash landing, getting kicked by one, same thing right?” She gave a slight cough and looked about. “Anyone seen the officers?”

Nia staggered over to Katlyn, unsteady on her feet. “No,” she said, clearly not up to more than one problem at a time. Her fingers shook as she tried to untangle the webbing to get to the clasp to release her fellow cadet. “No, I don’t – oh, this damn thing -” She fumbled, struggled – then she found the release, pressing it a couple of times before it could unbind Katlyn in a truly undignified manner.

Only then she did turn back to where Horin had appeared from, peering into the shrouded gloom of the briefing room behind the cockpit. She drew a shuddering breath. “Lieutenant! Ensign!”

And only then was there a faint response from deeper into the runabout than Horin had passed, a hoarse, “Here,” that sounded like it had taken far too much of Callahan’s energy to say even that.

Staggering towards the aft showed an unpleasant sight. Not all of the hull had withstood the impact perfectly, metal buckling and warping. This had brought a large section of a wall console down, tumbling atop where Lieutenant Callahan had been thrown in the crash, tossed about before he could strap himself in properly. From the cockpit door they could see him only if they squinted, visible from the waist up. But from above the right knee, all that could be seen was heavy metal equipment crushing down on his leg. If he hadn’t spoken, it would have been easy to think him unconscious.

Upon releasing her own webbing, Parze tumbled out of her chair, while keeping a grip on her darkened console to keep from completely loosing her footing.  She grounded her boots against the deck and slid along the bulkhead towards the aft of the cockpit.  Steadying herself at the edge of the hatch, Parze took a long look at Callahan, wedged beneath the warped bulkhead.  “Is this one of those… uh, don’t move him situations,” Parze asked the group, hoping not rhetorically, “or a move him quickly situation?  I’ve only read about spinal damage in texts.”

“It’s not my spine,” Callahan croaked. He was flat on his back, staring at the opposite bulkhead, skin ghoulishly pale and skin waxy from a sheen of sweat. “I don’t think. Can I pass out yet?” It sounded like the sort of calm had swept through him that was either through grim acceptance of pain and the situation – or, possibly the onset of hypovolaemic shock.

“Uh, you -” It was unclear if Nia was gesticulating to help get the words out, or just flapping because she needed something to do with her hands. “If it’s just crushing his leg, we either definitely move it or we don’t, it depends on how long it’s been pinning him down.” She paused only a beat. “I don’t remember if it’s like, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen – Lieutenant, how long have you been pinned?”

“Didn’t count it out, Hargreaves.”

Taking the medkit he had in his hands, Horin approached the others where the lieutenant was. Pulling the medical tricorder out he wiped his forehead one more time with the back of his hand and started to scan the lieutenant. “Hold on sir,”  Horin remarked as he hovered the scanner just above his superior. The scanner started to malfunction so Horin just hit it slightly trying to get it to work again. Finally, it responded the way he wanted it to. “Sir, you’ve got a concussion, but you’re bleeding out heavily.” Horin looked up at Hargreaves and Parze. “We need to get that rubbish off of him to find out where he is bleeding the most. Help me, but do it carefully.”

Scampering into the damaged section of corridor, Parze followed Horin to crowd around where Callahan had fallen.  “Aye,” she said automatically.  Parze reached out to the protrusions from the twisted hunk of metal that was pinning Callahan to the deck.  She gave the metal a gentle wiggle to see where it was  most likely to shift and where it was impassive.  As she found her grip on one section in particular, Parze squatted halfway to the deck and positioned her body close to the slagged bulkhead, posturing herself to deadlift it.  Looking around, Parze asked, “Ready?”

Dropping the medical tricorder on the floor to help Parze, Horin jumped up as the cadets got hold of the broken bulkhead and together they moved it off the lieutenant. Like a flash of lightning, Horin zipped back over to where he was before and continued to take scans of the lieutenant’s condition. Now he had more of better view of his condition, the cadet was able to see what the damage was. Looking down at the lieutenant, Horin spoke. “Sir, this isn’t looking good. My scans show your leg is broken in multiple locations, I can use a dermal regenerator to stop the bleeding and give you something for the pain but I’m not sure what else we can do.”

“Wasn’t expecting a lot more,” Callahan groaned. He’d screamed as the bulkhead came up, and now was even more out of it, head back, eyes half-closed. “I’ll settle for ‘not dying’ right now, Cadet.”

“Stupid question here for anyone really,” Horin asked as he took out the hypospray and injected it into Callahan’s neck,  “but did this runabout come equipped with an EMH?”   

Nia had hung back from too much of the medical attention, trying without success to get anything out of any of the panels. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but if it did, it’d be a massive power hog when we’re struggling to even open doors. I wouldn’t bet on us being able to get it active.”

The first thing Connolly was aware of when he came to was a dull thudding in his head. The second was a throbbing in his right wrist. Using his left hand, Connolly pushed himself into a sitting position. Natural light streamed in through a nearby viewport. He cursed before getting to his feet, careful not to jostle his sore wrist. It felt more like a sprain than a break but he couldn’t be sure and it was best not to test the theory. Connolly carefully made his way forward, eventually coming upon the sight of an injured Callahan being treated by some of the cadets. “What’s our situation?” He asked no-one in particular.

”Broken, battered and bruised,“ Katlyn helpfully replied, staying back from Callahan and the mass of others. Too many cadets spoil the first aid after all. “Power is gone, hull breaches in multiple places.” That was obvious from the light streaming in from a few places it most certainly shouldn’t have. “We haven’t gone below yet to check on our guests yet, sir.” The stairs down led into a black hole after a few steps. “And the emergency subspace radio is down there anyway.”

“Oh God.” Nia scooted over to the semi-briefing of the ranking officer who could actually stand. “Should it be a cadet who checks up on the Romulans? Shouldn’t it be an officer? What if they’re dead?” She didn’t outright sound like she was panicking, so much as externalising her thoughts. Then she paused, and drew a deep breath. “I should, uh, get a tricorder and either see if I can use it to get our sensors working or just check out our immediate area, shouldn’t I.” She plainly looked to Connolly for guidance.

“I’ll go,” Katlyn offered as she stared down into darkness, eyes never moving away from the stairs. “A torch, or a padd with a working screen will do.” A deep breath in, slowly out. “Check on our passengers, get them up here if possible, find the emergency radio and bring it out as well, yah?” She blinked a few times and turned to Connolly. “Always been good in dark conditions, sir. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Connolly hesitated. This was supposed to be a simple training mission but now he was in charge of a group of cadets and some Romulans while Callahan was injured. It felt like the water was up to his neck.  “Um, yeah. Mianaai, you go and check on our Romulan guests.” He thought for a moment. “If, uh, if they’re in one piece, bring them up here. It’ll be easier if we’re all in one place.” Connolly turned to Nia. “Hargreaves, see if you can do something about our sensors. It would be nice to get to know about our new temporary home.”  

And with a mixture of awkward nods and the fleeting confidence which came from necessity, the pack of cadets and junior officers set to work. The initial damage was assessed. But the true extent of danger remained a gaping chasm of the unknown.