The USS Crazy Horse had been towed into the port unceremoniously by the USS MacKenzie. The ship was completely dead in the water so umbilicals from the Markonian Outpost supplied power to the stricken ship allowing crews to enter and inspect the damage.  Sections of hull breeches were sealed off and equipment was being secured so it could be towed back to the Alpha Quadrant when the tugs arrived. 

Captain Murphy…

Órlaith picked through the rubble of her quarters turning tables over and setting chairs upright. Sighing she found a picture under some rubble.  Digging it out she held the damaged frame up to examine it.  The frame was cracked and the glass shattered.   

Órlaith peeled the photo free and smiled looking at it with one of those happy/sad expressions of a bittersweet memory.  She was at the Academy wearing a flight suit and her arm wrapped around another pilot.  They were both fresh faced ensigns recently graduated and in the advanced tactical fighter training school.  Her friend,  a shorter blonde grinned back making a peace sign towards the camera.  Ensign Marla Davis was killed three weeks later at the Battle of Golundon’kor.

“Well, against all odds here I am,” Órlaith said to the picture.  “Wish you were still here my friend.  I miss you.”

Órlaith wiped the tears from her eyes and shoved the photograph into her duffle bag and continued digging through the quarters.  She had few personal items, but what she did have she wasn’t keen on losing. 

Commander Torin…

Kevan Torin surveyed the dark birdge.  It was illuminated by a singled emergency light that cast the consoles in dark and leaving odd shaped shadows upon the deck. There was an uncomfortable silence with all the systems dead. Oxygen and minimal power was being provided by the Markonian Outpost. 

Torin had climbed six decks of Jefferie’s tubes to get here after visiting his quarters.   The captain’s chair was covered in debris and he brushed it clean letting bits and peices of the damaged ship make soft thumps as they fell to the carpeted floor. He did the same for the XO’S seat and slid into it.  He sat there, staring off into the nothingness of the blank viewscreen.  

Hayden & Washington …

Marcus walked into sickbay with Erin at his side. To their surprise the medical facility was fairly orderly.

 “What are you doing?” Erin demanded. 

“I’m getting the EMH,” Marcus replied.

Erin stopped disbelief on her face. “What?” She demanded incredulously, “Why?”

“I put too much work into it to just abandon it,” Marcus said as he kneeled next to the EMH control station.   He set his bulging duffle  bag off to the side and and jiggled the access panel free which he simply just tossed to the side.

“You’re telling me I climbed through meters of Jefferies tubes for this?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Marcus said.

She sighed.  She’d ran into Marcus outside of his quarters and just sort of followed him.  She assumed his destination had a reason that wasn’t completely insane.   She was here, and it was no one’s fault but her own.  “How can I help?”

“I got it,” Marcus said holding up a softly glowing yellow cube.  He partially unzipped his duffle and shoved the memory module into the bag, and after a few seconds of struggle he closed the zipper.

“So we can go now?”

“Uh… Not exactly.  I have a favor to do for Doc Mulder, but it won’t take long.  She had several patient files on PADDs in her office and for confidentiality reasons she doesn’t want them floating around for anyone to see.”

“And she trusted you to do that?” Erin replied skeptically. 

“Apparently” Marcus said with a grin.

“Fine, let’s get them and let’s get out of here.”

Lieutenant Shrin…

Shrin entered the science labs. Everything that had been on a flat surface was now on the deck.  Shrin was a fastidious individual and it bothered her to see her lab in such disarray,  but here and now… was not the time to rectify that. 

Kicking around the debris she found one of several items she was looking for. A small stone statue carved from a peice of jade.  The figure was of a pregnant female alien.  What it’s true purpose could only be speculation. Shrin shoved it into her case.  

Along the far bulkhead she found her PADD containing her research notes.  As she scrolled through the device she smiled.  All of her research since joining the Crazy Horse was there. The highs and lows.  It was irreplaceable data.

Her last stop was at a storage cabinet.  The latch made a soft click and the door swung open freely.   Samples slid off the shelves and crashed to the floor. Almost all of them were biological samples,  once carefully marked, cataloged and stored, now ruined and useless.   She knew that, and that wasn’t what she was looking for.  In the back of the middle shelf and seemingly undisturbed was the odd artifact that made Captain Mackenzie and Commander Halstead vanish.  She carefully set it in her case, and with one final look at her ruined lab she walked out. 

Ensign Talon…

Anthony really had nothing he wanted to salvage from his quarters except for his black Stetson cowboy hat. The hat had mostly survived the attack unblemished except for the turkey feather shoved into the hat band.  It was bent at the shaft near the end the the vanes had seen better days.  He straightend it the best he could, but it would never be like it was.

But he had another objective coming aboard.  He grunted with effort and foced the doors to Lieutenant Diego Garza’s quarters open. Wearing his hat and picking up a duraplast trunk he entered. 

The quarters were decorated in Diego’s Mexican culture.  He set the trunk on the desk and with two flicks of his fingers he undid the latches and opened it. Sighing Anthony turned to take in the quarters.   “This sucks Buddy.  You should be here to do this. I don’t know what’s important to you.”

Crossing the room Anthony removed a black Sombrero Diego had used for his mariachi.  Removing his Stetson he placed the hat on his head.  Looking into a nearby mirror he frowned and shook his head, “Naw, that just isn’t me. He carefully placed it in the trunk along with a guitar case. 

Anthony spent an hour going through Diego’s things.  It was sad to see a life reduced to just a handful of objects in a trunk to be sent to family. Anthony slowly closed the lid and when he latched it closed there was a finality,  and for Anthony,  Diego now actually felt dead.

Anthony dropped into the couch with his hat in hand. There he sat in the chaos of a quarters void of all personalization with bits an peices strewn across the quarters.  A chair sat on its side. PADDs littered the floor.  

“So here we are,” Anthony said softly.  “Got you all packed up.  I hope I got the important stuff.”  He paused for a bit, “I’m gonna miss you Old Man. You were more than a mentor, you were a good friend.  Maybe the best that this dumb cowhand could hope for.  I wish I could have shown you the ranch. I think you would have liked it.”

Anthony wiped the tears from his cheeks, “I gotta cowboy up.  There’s no crying in rodeo,  but damn I’m gonna miss you.” 

Standing with purpose he placed his hat on his head and picked up the crate and headed out of Diego’s quarters.   At the door he paused and looked back inside, “See you around buddy.”