From: Erik (felldoh_at_voyager.net)
Date: Mon Jan 14 2008 - 20:17:50 PST
"Grief" continued from "Picking Up The Pieces" Location: GATEWAY STATION Stardate: 2.80112.1657 Scene: Temporary Quarters. GATEWAY was in shambles, and that included the habitat module. Vast sections of it were completely uninhabitable, and many others, despite having functional life support and clear paths of access, had few units is good enough shape for quartering. The number of people needing quarters had been reduced significantly by the attacks, but nonetheless the injured station now faced a housing crisis, with much of the stations population unable to use their homes. Appropriate action had been taken. Within hours of the retaking of the station, Starfleet crews had converted every large open space they could find into what station personnel were calling "refugee camps." Basically a collection of tents with communal amenities such as restroom facilities, and a replicator. Of course, power was at a premium, so most replicators on the station were shut down, and the ones that remained working were rationed. The relatively few uninhabited quarters that remained were being assigned to Starfleet officers who had been displaced from their own quarters or, like the survivors of the PATRIOT, were currently without ship. Upon his release from sickbay, Captain Kenta, was assigned one such set of quarters. He had refused private accommodations in sickbay, but was happy to take advantage of his rank now. As the highest ranking guest currently on the station, he was given a room with minimal damage. It was smaller than his quarters on the PATRIOT, and it's replicator did not function, but the standard furniture was intact and a secure channel was set up allowing him to communicate with the admiralty, and access the latest news on the war. He had been remarkably lucky in many respects. The bulk of his injuries were burns, always easily treated if the victim survived receiving them. Broken ribs were also easy to repair, the main danger being that they would puncture an organ, which hadn't happened in this case. The shrapnel was the most worrisome aspect, but here his luck had shown brightest. Most of the pieces were small and did not penetrate very deeply. The largest pieces in his back had made some close calls. An inch to the left would have left him with a partially severed spinal cord, resulting in the loss of use in his legs. Operations to repair the damage exist, but are risky and rarely preformed, with long recovery times. Another piece stopped only a few millimeters shy of puncturing his lung, an injury that would have killed him before help could arrive. After his treatment he had remained under observation on the MERCY for 48 hours. There was little risk of complication, but the sheer amount of repairs done to his tissue left him too weak to do much but sleep anyway, so he had not objected. He did sleep through most of it. When he was awake he read reports left by Commander Davidson, or if she had been lucky enough to catch him they'd discuss them directly. She came whenever work allowed her, and he was more aware of it than she believed. More than once he had feigned sleep until she had to return to her duties. It was awful, he knew. Everything about her, her posture, her voice, the way she talked to the nurses, all told him she wanted reassurance from him. She knew he would be fine, she could read it on the chart, but she wanted to see him act it, make her feel it, and he was denying her that satisfaction. It was maybe the worst thing he'd ever done to her, and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. She wasn't there when they released him, and he was secretly grateful. It only delayed their inevitable private confrontation, but he was happy for any delay. Hours, minutes, whatever he could get. They beamed his directly to his quarters, a service he appreciated since he wasn't sure he could make the walk from the transporter room unaided. His body wasn't sore or weak or stiff, but it was tired. A deep seeded fatigue that sleep alone could not relieve. It was easy to forget when he was at rest, but it returned quickly with any effort. He would remain at minimal activity for several days still, perhaps a week. Fine since he didn't have a ship to command at the moment anyway. "Computer, locate Commander Davidson." He intoned as he eased himself into the rooms only chair. [[Commander Davidson, is in main operations.]] The computer replied in the stations unfamiliar monotone. "How long until the end of her shift?" [[Seven hours, twelve minutes.]] It replied after a pause. Hours. It would have to do. Ben turned his thoughts to a topic that weighed equally heavily on his mind. "Computer, state the time and location of the funeral for Lt. Martin Soldat." "The service will take place at 1000 hours tomorrow morning on the USS PUGET SOUND." Like many Naval officers Martin's remains would be committed to space. He considered it more dignified than being shipped home in a bag, and it had the added benefit of being practical. Transporting the dead was time consuming and costly, especially since few soldiers from a given ship called the same planet home. Martin was from a small colony in the NARIS system, and since leaving for the Academy he had never met even a celestial neighbor. "Considering they'd have to send a ship all the way out there just for me" The young officer had once confessed in a casual conversation over cards. "I consider it my final duty." Ben had messages his friend had recorded for his family in the event of his death. He would send them, along with a personal note offering condolences, and requesting permission to visit when time allowed. He would like to meet them, though such a trip would probably have to wait until after the war now. The list of casualties for the PATRIOT was not short, and though he normally would, Ben's condition would prevent from attending most of their funerals. But that one he would not miss. Ben checked the chronometer again, and decided he had best get some rest before the next shift change. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- NRPG: I have so much more I want to write, but so little time this week. It will have to stop here for now, sorry I didn't include anyone else, but it is shoreleave :) Patriot people, we're on break for about two weeks staying on Gateway, and then we'll be off on another mission. We'll be back a few times before the war is over, but for now if there is any interaction between crews you still want to write, seize the day. Rahul: Do you have your plans for an EXO character figured out yet? Erik Walz Captain Benjamin Kenta Commanding Officer USS PATRIOT 5781-A & Lt. Seloron Junior ACT Instructor Starfleet Academy, Earth From HyperNews_at_youth.net
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