Some Kinda Of Hurts

Posted on Wed Dec 27th, 2023 @ 7:35pm by Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Aries

2,070 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Ethics, Morals & The Prime Directive.
Location: Alpha Hanger
Timeline: Post Engagement with enemy forces.

As a Pilot Ferrand was trained to realize that there were dangers to tunnel visioning. To put so much focus into saving the craft that such a drive would ultimately drive them into the hard deck. All through history the lives of countless pilots were lost as a result, it was an easy topic to teach, to read about, but to teach was something else entirely.

The damage to the fighter was substantial. System failures, some flight control thrusters but the worst part of it was the cockpit transparent 'glass' on the right side had shattered leaking the fighter's oxygen, the life support wasted to the void of space. His own flight suit and helmet supply was running low as he peered to the large Dreadnought that grew closer which was a solitary relief in light of how difficult it was to control the craft. Ferrand found himself talking to himself, reminding himself of training, and procedures. Things that were easy to hold on, to reassure, to solidify determination.

Victoria's eyes moved away from the damaged craft that she had been looking over as the ground crew worked to disarm and defuel it. She'd given it a close once over to make sure it wasn't dangerous after they'd gotten the pilot out of the cockpit and into the hands of the medics. Now that it was in their hands, her eyes looked towards the expanse of the landing zone once again. There was debris being swept by one set of crewers, a stain of some sort of fluid being cleaned off the deck hurriedly and another array of craft returning and now visible.

"Dreadnought, this is CAG, declaring an emergency. Heavy damage, leaking atmosphere, reserve supply dwindling. I am on the starboard side flight path to approach." Ferrand keyed into his comms with no idea if he was even transmitting, his own receiver damaged from the battle.

The one in front displayed a crest on the nose and... Victoria's heart leapt and convulsed as she saw the craft making a fast approach and the cockpit began to clarify in her sight. It was shattered, wisps of atmosphere still leaking out of it, but not nearly enough. Despite the damage and the speed, it still maintained control, but only two of the landing skids were down. "HOT LANDING!" One of the ground crew techs yelled, before grabbing Victoria's arm and tugging her out of the way. Before she was forcibly moved, she saw the third skid partially deployed, no... Broken off. It must show green on the cockpit screen, else the pilot would..

Ferrand had no idea the extent of the damage, with the damage to his systems to him he'd deployed the landing gear and it showed deployed. At best all Ferrand could do was steer his craft towards the hanger bay in the hopes fate would grace him with but a moment of straight and level flight to put it on the deck. How gentle....was optional at this point.

The nub of the landing skid collapsed under the weight and the fighter lost control for several seconds, scraping across the hanger deck and throwing sparks everywhere as it screamed towards the gathered crews. Then the tractors caught it and brought it to a stop fifteen meters from the mass of people and instantly several ran towards it, "Wait here, Commander." The tech held Victoria back though she too tried to surge towards the craft. Instantly, two people were up on a wing and the nose, releasing the cockpit seal, what remained of it at least, the rest playing fire extinguishers around the craft in a preventative measure as the two at the cockpit began to extricate the pilot and lowered him to the deck, then began to hustle him away from the crippled craft.

Victoria finally broke away from tech and sprinted towards him, now certain of who it was, the gold stockings flashing as her black skirt blew with the air currents caused by the extinguishers. He was just being released by his helpers when she all but ran into him, throwing her arms around him as if making sure he was real. Tears were streaming down her face as she buried it in the shoulder of his flight suit, "God Ferrand, you're alive! You made it!"

This was perhaps the first time in what felt like hours that Ferrand was able to relax, to switch from Pilot to Human being. Feeling Victoria's arms around him seemed to feel, that firm embrace, like the trouble was over and everything was ok now. "Only just."

Victoria choked back a sob as she squeezed him tightly right there on the flight line, "Do you need to get checked out by the doctors?" She looked frantically over her shoulder, "Medic!" She shouted loudly, knowing there were some corpsmen that were there for any wounded pilots, but she didn't want to let him go just yet, "You're going to be all right, I promise, I promise."

"No, I'm fine. Little cold but the suit took the brunt of it." For which he was thankful. Now that he was out of his craft he could see the true extent of the damage inflicted upon it, remembering his systems told him one thing, but had he fired a munition mid dogfight, it would have taken the rest of his wing in the process. "Lucky this time I guess.

"That was you that..." Victoria said quietly, "I was watching the fight on the screens and I saw one hit on the cockpit, must have been an indirect hit, but lost atmosphere and vented and..." She hugged him tightly again, "Thank God for these flight suits and their self-contained life support. I.. I don't know what I'd have done if-" She cut herself off.

Procedure was that any landing that was out of the norm the pilot had to be checked out, that was why Ferrand delined the earlier medic, because he'd have to go see one anyway. It was saddening in a way looking at his fighter, brand new and it lay broken, giving its self to save the pilot. "Come on, let's get out of everyones way, so much to be done and reports to be made." He'd no doubt get some questions as to who this woman was hugging him so intently...but those questions could wait.

"I want to check your fighter out to see if it can be salvaged." Victoria shook her head slowly, "YOU need to go see a medic Ferrand, as in right now. Exposure is nothing to joke around with and your life support had to be on its last legs so you may even have oxygen deprivation."

"Be nice to my crew chief at least." Ferrand spoke seeing the other medical teams arriving. "I'll go see one of them, I doubt I'll be hard to find once you are done." Probably in Sickbay or in his quarters resting. The amount of medical staff on scene though made him wonder how many he lost, how many were injured and what he'd do about replacement

"And as soon as we get everyone back and the craft checked out, I'll be around to find you." She leaned up on her toes and kissed him on his cheek, "Listen to them, or you're going to have to listen to me nag you, all right?" Victoria forced eye contact with him, to make sure he knew she was serious.

"Ill take the medics." Ferrand wasn't up to taking on the wrath of a woman especially at this moment. He smiled at her, the kiss was a welcome addition that brought with it a measure of calm to the chaos around them. Letting her go he walked to the waiting medics giving her a over the shoulder look, another smile and then into the attention of the medical staff.

Victoria watched him until the medics took him, then turned back towards his craft as the ground crew was busy around it. She walked towards it with purpose and intent, ignoring everyone around the fighter as she activated the footholds to climb up to the cockpit and began to look around it. She shuddered as she glanced outside the immediate area at the rest of the damage on the bird before she began to make as if she were going to get into the damaged fighter.

Scans were run as he sat being checked over in the hallway. He was what they considered walking wounded, nothing life threating like bleeding all over the deck but injured enough to need attention. Others were being beamed away, some helped down the hallway to the right. "Do we know how many?" He asked, a shake of the head came his only reply as the medical scanner ran down him.

Sliding into the cramped cockpit put Victoria into a different world. She was smaller than Ferrand and it still seemed too right of a space for her. She verified that everything had been shut down, noting that the control panel was still intact. She triggered the cockpit control to lower it, but after an abortive attempt, it remained locked open and she looked up at it, seeing the hole where something had blown right through it. She craned her neck around to the left to look right behind her and stopped, seeing the divot in the small armor plating that protected the pilot from behind and stopped. With the helmet and that height... Tears sprang into her eyes again and she sobbed as she realized just how close he had come to dying.

Aside from the edge of a chill due to exposure to space, elevated heart rate and dropping levels of adrenaline he was otherwise cleared to go but told should anything change then to report to Sickbay. Training had saved him, though it was easy to make that claim after the event that needed it because it was more than just training that saw him get home and he knew it, it reminded him of the time he had to eject for the first time in a training flight, something every trainee had to experience.

The cold....reminded Ferrand of that moment.

Victoria let things come out until she finally felt the craft shift underneath her and she wiped her eyes and nose with one sleeve before hauling herself out of the seat and starting to make her way down to the deck. She looked around at the other damaged craft, but waved over another of her own personnel that had come down to assist as needed, “Charlene, take over here.” She dabbed at an eye again, “I need to go deal with something.” Without waiting for a confirmation, she left the junior engineer and vanished to go try to find Ferrand, wherever he was on the ship.

Ferrand knew that before he'd be able to sit in the cockpit again he'd need a full medical work up, complete an after action report, physically he was fine, and the cold could be fixed with a shower but he didn't want to take up a moments time from medical staff when others needed it more. He knew there would be a few words exchanged with the Captain because this would have been the first instance of combat engagement since he took over and it was a loss for 'Team Dreadnought'. Hardly a fitting start. When the doors to his quarters opened he stepped in tossing his flight suit and gear onto the sofa.

Wiping tears away, Victoria all but ran for Ferrand's quarters rather than use the transporter system. She needed to compose herself, she knew, but there wasn't much that she'd been able to do to stop her emotions from taking over. Dammit, THIS was why she'd avoided relationships at nearly all costs, because being in Starfleet wasn't a safe job, wasn't an easy job and the likelihood of someone coming out in one piece was getting lower and lower rather than growing. She slowed down as she got within a hundred meters of his door, behind which the computer had faithfully informed her that he was, but the door didn't open at her approach. Something else she'd have to ask him if she could do: Let her into his quarters when she wanted. Instead she pressed the chime and hoped he'd allow her entry.

RSS Feed