By Ensign Dalca
80211.16
During Hitting the Fan
-=Bridge USS Alchemy=-
80211.16
During Hitting the Fan
-=Bridge USS Alchemy=-
I am water. I am serene. I am at equilibrium.
I am water. I am serene. I am at equilibrium.
The silent mantra continued in Warren Dalca’s brain as his narrowed eyes scrutinized the Gateway on the view screen, and the Alchemy’s readings of the anomaly on his own display. The bridge continued to shake, and it was only getting worse, and then, the image of a placid lake that had been forming in his mind was shattered.
Shattered by waves, rocks, and strangely enough… a shark.
He tried to explain to his mind that it was fresh water, thus there could be no sharks, but the image continued to fray, and all of that mental practice that he’d used to keep his empathic abilities under such precise control was essentially swept out the airlock.
I am water! I am serene! I am…
He glanced at his arms.
…holding on for dear life! “Screw the training,” he muttered under his breath, when Talbot, who was standing at the secondary tactical station, yelled something about losing the Gateway.
Warren forced himself away from his station. “Let me look.” He attempted to reinitialize, then had to stop himself from smacking the display when he failed. The security officer tried to stabilize his footing while the bridge continued to shake, wiping sweat from his brow.
The wetness on his hand snapped him into his own little world again.
“How..?”
Talbot leaned over while Blane issued orders to engineering.
“Something wrong, Dalca?” he spoke as quietly as could be done in all the commotion.
“I don’t remember the last time I broke a sweat.” Warren replied quietly. “Well, I do. A year ago, on Vulcan.”
Talbot eyed him with more than a little annoyance. “Right…”
Warren ignored him. He didn’t feel like explaining physiology to him right now. A ship in crisis just made that seem like the wrong timefor such things. Call it a hunch, he thought to himself sarcastically.
Instead, he watched the screen a little more. The rest of the crew was coming to the same conclusion he was: this was no anomaly. It was a deliberate attack.
The next hit made him nearly take a dive, and he heard an unmanned station fry somewhere behind him. It was getting very serious, very quickly. He stumbled back to his station and gripped it again just as the Alchemy lurched into a frantic transwarp jump. They came out of it just as quickly, and he found himself experiencing a thrill, a powerful rush of adrenaline, only after they’d come out of warp.
Warren felt like his control was slipping, and he was not happy about it. He prided himself on his professionalism, and he felt like he was becoming just a bit… unhinged. Not that it was enough for anyone else to notice. On the outside, he was still the picture of calm control.
Save for his grim expression and the sweat on his brow that shouldn’t have been there.
He quickly surveyed the other crewmembers on the bridge. None of them were showing any signs of physical distress, except for February Grace, and she only looked a little ill. Warren decided that whatever was happening to him needed to be redirected into work.
[Medical Emergency in Engineering! Code White! Repeat, Code White!]
Dr. Terasha was at the turbolift, having just arrived to continue her own work, studying the effects of the radiation on the crew. She immediately about-faced and stepped back onto the lift. "Beam the patient to Sickbay!"
"Transporters are offline!"
Warren wiped another layer of sweat off of his brow. It was something to focus on. And if his gut was right, having a ship’s doctor nearby was probably a good thing. He marched quickly to the lift.
"I'll go with you,” Dalca stated, nodding at the doctor. He stood at her side, and watched the bridge disappear behind the turbolift doors.
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Ensign Warren Dalca
Security Officer
USS Serendipity/Alchemy
Ensign Warren Dalca
Security Officer
USS Serendipity/Alchemy