“Shields at 50%!”  Chief Engineer Ryong Ki held onto the console in main engineering as the Miranda Class took another pounding.  She had an open channel to the bridge where the captain had taken over the helm while the XO battled with a limited tactical scope.  They’d come into this battle knowing they were the underdogs.  They were now fighting for their lives as phaser fire screamed through the air.  The glare of photon torpedoes reflected off every hull as the pitched battle continued.

The USS Flathead Lake banked for an attack run and let loose a flurry of fire, sending one ship into an explosive fit while taking its share of the attack.  Ryong growled, “Shields at 35%!  We need an exit strategy, bridge!”  Another thunderous clap shook the decks, and sparks erupted from EPS conduits across the room and ship.  Two consoles exploded as the power overloads cascaded.  And still, Ryong stood at her console, hands frantically shifting power to shields and weapons, pulling from everywhere she could.  She was a fresh Lieutenant and had been desperate to prove herself on the Flathead.  The deck shook again, “Shields at 20%!  Bridge, I’m going to lose warp engines next!”  She waited for a response.  Nothing.  She reopened the channel and called out again.  Silence.  The Chief could hear crackles of fire in the background.  She knew.  Grieving would come later.  She tapped at the console and took control of the helm, sending them on a skittish course as she fired what weapons they had left.  Engineering shuddered, and vents burst open.  Ryong kept at it.  She pushed the ship as hard as she could and smiled wearily with satisfaction as another ship burst into flames.

Then engineering exploded with a roar.  And her world went black.

USS Denver…

“Captain,  the USS Flathead Lake has sustained major damage,” the tactical officer announced.  “Their warp core is going critical.”

“Survivors?” Rebecca asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Picking up four escape pods and half a dozen life signs on the ship concentrated near engineering.  The bridge has been obliterated and is exposed to space.”

“Beam the survivors,” Rebecca ordered.

There was a pause as he entered commands into the console. As he did the Flathead Lake exploded in a brilliant explosion.  “I got twenty of the fifty I was reading, ” the tactical officer said regret in his voice.

Rebecca blinked.  There would be time to mourn later.  “Helm, evasive manoeuvres.”

“…you hear me, Lieutenant Ki?”  The emergency physician held on to the biobed as the deck shuddered.  “I’m Doctor Josiah Kurtz…can you hear me?”  The woman’s uniform was torched, and the orderly on the other side cataloged the injuries and severity.  Twenty survivors from the USS Flathead Lake had landed in the tumultuous room that was main sickbay.  The orderly tossed the PADD into his waiting hands as she rushed to the next triage case. Kurtz read through the report as a nurse slid up and began to stabilize the patient.  This was all done silently.  The medical staff of the Denver had been through enough hell and enough war to fall into an effective rhythm that, from the outside, would seem to lack care or bedside manner.  The reality was that war was hell, and the repetition of injured spilling into sickbay forced a team to be the best they could to get through until the next one.

“Ma…Comman…”  The nurse completed the last dermal treatment and went about sealing each wound.  Ki wasn’t sure where she was, but she knew it hurt.  “Pain,” she croaked, her eyes squeezing shut as the waves of suffering buffeted against her.  The waves kept crashing against her harder and harder until she felt tears spilling down her cheeks.  She still couldn’t see anything, and her ears were filled with a mix of noises she couldn’t decipher.

Kurtz gently pulled her waving hands into restraints, “Lieutenant Ki, you’re aboard the USS Denver.  Your ship was torn apart…you’re one of twenty survivors.  We’re doing our best to save you and your crew.”

The sounds slowly started to make sense.  She listened, her eyes still shut against the blunt pain of brightness pressing against her.  “Denver…safe.”  Ryong felt her heart sink to her stomach, “Only twenty?”  She fell silent.

Josiah also secured her legs, “You’ve had significant burning and internal injuries.  I’m giving you some pain medicine to help you feel better.  We must operate in fifteen minutes to repair the internal bleeding and injuries.  You’ll be out for the procedure, but I need you to stay still.”  He glanced up as he was called to a critical patient, “Steady, Lieutenant Ki.”

She sputtered out, “Call me Rye, Doctor Kurtz.  Please.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Very well.  Keep breathing evenly, Lieutenant Rye.”

She followed his directions.  She was safe.  She was alive.

A young ensign approached Rye, “Excuse me, ma’am. Our engineering department is severely short-staffed at the moment. Captain Talon asked us to see if there were any survivors that could help us.”

Rye laughed morbidly at the situation.  She’d nearly died.  They would be doing a procedure to put her back together in fifteen minutes.  And now they were asking for her help.  She replied, “If they clear me after my procedure, I’ll do whatever you need, Ensign.  Least I could do for the crew that saved my life.”  The ensign made a note on his PADD and moved on with purpose.  The duality of the chaos and order in sickbay redefined every metaphorical meter the young chief engineer had.  She lay back and waited.  Fifteen minutes could seem like an eternity.  The ensign returned a moment later as the medical staff began to prep her for her procedure, “The Captain will inform Lieutenant Crawford – he’s holding down engineering on loan from operations.”

Rye smiled faintly, “At least someone competent is holding her together.”  The drugs went to work, and she faded into darkness as they began to complete the procedure quickly.  Time was of the essence.