Deep Dark Deep Down Part 3

Posted on Wed Aug 5th, 2026 @ 9:16pm by Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu & Major Samantha Snyder & Captain Wolfe Sean

2,360 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: The Hand That Rocks The Babe
Location: Various

Hours earlier, its concrete corridors had echoed with the deafening roar of phaser fire, the crack of kinetic rounds from the insurgents, shouted orders, and the cries of the wounded. Now, only the occasional groan of twisted metal and the distant rumble of settling debris disturbed the suffocating stillness.

Captain Wolfe Sean sat slumped against the cold wall of what had once been an administrative office, now little more than a casualty collection point. Emergency lanterns cast long, wavering shadows across blood-streaked floors, their dim amber glow barely piercing the darkness that had swallowed the buried complex.

The air had grown stale and every breath tasted of concrete dust, smoke and dried blood. Wolfe closed his eyes for a moment as another wave of pain rolled through him.

His uniform had long since lost any resemblance to the crisp Marine attire he'd stepped off the shuttle wearing. The once-dark fabric was torn in a dozen places, stained with blood and coated in the grey dust shaken loose by repeated explosions. A deep knife wound in his side had soaked through every field dressing applied to it, while another puncture high in his thigh had left his right leg stiff and unreliable. Bruises darkened nearly every exposed patch of skin, and the cuts scattered across his face and forearms stung each time sweat found them.

His knuckles were split open, his ribs protested every breath, his left eye had swollen enough to narrow his vision, the knife wound continued to trouble him.

Still...He remained conscious.

A combat medic knelt beside him, methodically replacing another blood-soaked compression bandage with fresh sterile gauze. "Hold still, sir." The young corpsman's voice remained calm despite the fatigue written across his own face.

"This one's going to hurt."

Wolfe managed the ghost of a smile. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd say that." The medic snorted softly before pressing firmly against the wound. Pain exploded through Wolfe's side. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Outside the improvised aid station, the bunker remained unnervingly quiet. Marines occupied defensive positions behind overturned furniture and shattered bulkheads, weapons trained on every corridor that disappeared into darkness. No one trusted the silence anymore.

Wolfe slowly pushed himself upright despite the medic's protests, wincing as fresh pain lanced through his battered body. He looked around the room, counting faces almost by instinct. Many were not moving. Casualties continued to climb and supplies were running low.

* * * Above Ground * * *

The shuttle settled onto the shattered avenue with a muted whine of its impulse thrusters, the landing gear finding purchase amongst fractured duracrete and the twisted remains of civilian transports abandoned in the desperate evacuation days earlier. Before the rear ramp had fully lowered, Major Samantha Snyder was already moving.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Her voice carried across the ruined streets as three Marine squads poured from the shuttle in practiced precision. Marines fanned out into overlapping security arcs, phaser rifles covering every rooftop, alleyway and broken window while combat engineers hauled gravimetric scanners and portable sensor arrays from the cargo bay. Corpsmen followed close behind, already preparing triage equipment for casualties they all hoped were still alive.

One of the reconnaissance Marines suddenly raised a clenched fist.

"Halt!" The formation froze instantly.

Samantha moved to the front. "What have you got?"

The Marine pointed beyond a collapsed government administration building. "There, ma'am."

At first it looked like little more than another pile of rubble. Then Samantha saw it. The debris wasn't random. It had fallen inward. The fractured supports radiated outward from a single central point, as though an explosion beneath the street had lifted the entrance before thousands of tonnes of concrete and steel had crashed back down upon it.

Combat engineers hurried forward, tricorders already scanning.

One of them slowly lowered his instrument. "...This wasn't structural failure."

"No."

Another engineer knelt, exposing the remains of reinforced blast doors buried beneath slabs of duracrete.

His expression grew grim. "This was an access point." He brushed more debris away. "A bunker entrance."

Samantha felt her stomach tighten. "This is where they went in."

"And someone collapsed it behind them." Silence settled over the Marines. Even without seeing beneath the mountain of rubble, they all understood what it meant.

Within moments of Samantha's orders being given, the controlled urgency that defined Starfleet Marines took over. The assault teams widened their defensive perimeter while the combat engineers surged toward the collapsed bunker entrance, each carrying equipment specifically designed for situations where brute force alone would prove fatal.

"Geological scanners online."

"Structural integrity matrix compiling."

"Deploying gravimetric mapping."

Voices overlapped as tricorders and larger engineering sensors projected holographic images above the rubble. Brilliant blue wireframes slowly formed, revealing the mountain of collapsed concrete and steel not as an impenetrable mass, but as a complex puzzle of fractured load-bearing beams, collapsed corridors and unstable voids.

Daniel Mercer, the senior combat engineer, knelt beside one of the scanners as it completed its first pass.

"Easy..." His fingers danced across the holographic controls. "...easy..." The image sharpened.

There.

Buried nearly twenty metres beneath the surface lay the reinforced blast doors of the bunker entrance. Beyond them, the first security corridor remained partially intact, though almost completely blocked by debris that had poured through the collapsed ceiling. "Major, we have a problem." He enlarged the projection.

"We need to reinforce these sections. this whole section is hanging on fractured supports." Mercer pointed to one particular section they needed to go through. He highlighted several crimson beams within the hologram. "Disturb these...and the rest comes down."

Major Snyder stepped beside him, studying the display. "Options?"

Mercer was already thinking three steps ahead. "No heavy demolition. No directed explosives. No industrial transporters."

He looked up. "Too much risk of secondary collapse."

Samantha nodded. "I wasn't planning on blowing half the city apart."

A faint grin crossed the engineer's face. "Glad we're on the same page." He turned back to his team. "Bring in the grav-lifters."

Almost immediately, four Marines wheeled compact anti-graviton excavation units toward the rubble. Unlike civilian construction equipment, these machines were designed for battlefield rescue, capable of lifting enormous slabs of duracrete with delicate precision rather than raw power.

Nearby, another engineering team deployed portable structural integrity field emitters.

Metal pylons were driven deep into the fractured ground before humming to life, invisible force fields extending into the rubble itself.

The unstable debris shifted slightly. Then stopped. One engineer watched the readings carefully. "Integrity field holding. Eighty-seven percent."

"Compensating for lateral stress."

Mercer nodded approvingly. "That'll buy us some breathing room."

Behind them, another team unpacked portable matter replicators already configured to fabricate replacement support beams on-site. Lengths of reinforced tritanium emerged layer by layer, still warm from the molecular assembly process before being carried toward the excavation.

Samantha watched the operation unfold with growing admiration.

This wasn't simply digging. It was surgery.

* * * Underground * * *

The first impact was so faint that Wolfe almost dismissed it as another section of the bunker settling.

Almost.

His head lifted from the casualty report spread across his knee, every instinct honed by years of combat immediately sharpening. Around him, the Marines occupying the makeshift aid station paused in their own conversations, several heads turning instinctively toward the ceiling.

...Thud...

The vibration travelled through the reinforced concrete beneath his boots.

Not an earthquake. Not structural movement. Deliberate and measured. Wolfe slowly rose to his feet despite the protest from every injury he'd accumulated throughout the day. His ribs screamed in protest, the hastily bandaged wound in his side threatening to reopen as he steadied himself against the wall.

Again.

THUD... THUD... THUD...

He stepped carefully toward the nearest tactical display, one hand pressed unconsciously against the bandage at his side as fresh pain flared beneath it.

"If they know we're trapped..." His breathing remained controlled despite the ache in his chest. "...they won't come through the collapsed access." His finger traced another corridor branching away from the primary entrance.

"They'll breach somewhere unexpected."

A combat engineer standing nearby studied the schematic. "The maintenance galleries."

Wolfe nodded once. "Or the service tunnels." Another distant impact reverberated through the bunker. Closer this time. Dust drifted steadily from the ceiling.

Several Marines instinctively tightened their grips on their rifles. The wounded who could still fight struggled upright despite protests from the corpsmen treating them.

He keyed his combadge out of habit. "Sean to Dreadnought..."

Static.

Nothing.

The dead silence that answered him had become almost familiar. He lowered his hand. "No communications."

He looked around the room. "So we assume we're on our own."

Hours had passed.

Time had become impossible to measure beneath the earth.

The emergency lighting had dimmed further as reserve power steadily bled away, leaving entire sections of the bunker swallowed by darkness. The air had grown noticeably warmer, heavier, every breath carrying the stale scent of concrete dust, sweat and blood.

Captain Wolfe Sean sat where the combat medic had finally managed to convince him to remain, though "resting" was perhaps too generous a description. Every few minutes another Marine would approach with a report, another wounded trooper would require reassurance, another defensive position would need adjusting.

The burden of command had never felt heavier.

Then...A sharp metallic crack echoed through the corridor.

Not from ahead. Behind them.

A high-pitched whine followed as something powerful bit into reinforced duracrete. One of the engineers beside Wolfe frowned. "...Plasma cutter."

The words barely left his mouth before a fist-sized hole suddenly appeared in the collapsed wall. A shaft of brilliant white light pierced the darkness. Every Marine instinctively squinted.

It was the first natural light, artificial though it was, they had seen in what felt like an eternity.

The hole widened. Chunks of concrete broke away. Someone on the opposite side shouted through the opening.

"...CONTACT!"

A combat engineer forced an optical probe through the gap before swinging it toward the waiting Marines.

The tiny camera froze. Then hurriedly pulled back.

A voice echoed through the rubble. "I've got them!"

Another shouted immediately afterward. "Federation Marines!"

Wolfe's grip tightened on his rifle. He still wasn't taking chances. "Identify yourself!"

"Chief Warrant Officer Mercer!" The voice spoke. "SFMC, U.S.S. Dreadnought. We're here to bring you home."

For several seconds...No one moved.

The words hung in the stale underground air as though none of the trapped Marines quite believed them. Then someone laughed. Another Marine lowered his rifle. A corpsman quietly covered his face with both hands. One exhausted corporal simply sat down where he stood, overcome by relief.

Wolfe himself remained motionless. Not because he doubted what he'd heard. Because after hours of expecting another attack...

Hope felt almost unfamiliar. He lowered his rifle at last. "...About damn time."

A ripple of weary laughter spread through the bunker.

The engineers attacked the remaining debris with renewed urgency. Portable structural integrity fields shimmered into existence around the breach while anti-gravity lifters eased aside slabs of duracrete weighing several tonnes. Piece by piece, daylight from portable floodlamps spilled farther into the corridor.

Finally...The opening became large enough for a helmeted figure to squeeze through.

Mercer dropped into the corridor, dust covering every inch of his combat armour. He looked around at the battered Marines filling the bunker before slowly removing his helmet.

For a moment...Neither officer spoke. Mercer's eyes took in the wounded lining the walls. The improvised operating stations. The Marines too exhausted even to stand. A row of the fallen.

Finally they settled on Wolfe. The Captain was barely upright, leaning subtly against the wall to hide just how much effort standing required. His uniform was soaked with dried blood, his face swollen and bruised, fresh bandages visible beneath torn fabric.

"We've got medics, stretchers and fresh supplies coming." Above them, the engineers continued widening the breach while medics poured into the bunker carrying fresh equipment, anti-grav litters and cases of emergency supplies. The trapped Marines watched them arrive with tired smiles, some offering handshakes, others simply bowing their heads in silent gratitude.

"Shuttles will ferry you and your men back to the ship for treatment." Mercer spoke just as Wolfe was being 'encouraged' into a stretcher.

* * * Above Ground * * *

The bustle of engineers and corpsmen seemed to fade into the background as another familiar figure emerged through the newly opened breach.

Major Samantha Snyder.

Her uniform was coated in a fine layer of concrete dust, her face streaked with sweat from hours spent overseeing the excavation. She paused only briefly as her eyes found Wolfe being stretchered amongst his battered Marines.

For just a heartbeat, the professional mask slipped.

Relief.

Pure and unmistakable.

She crossed the remaining distance and stopped in front of him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite the exhaustion written across her features.

"You really know how to worry people, Captain."

There was gentle humour in her voice, though it was quickly replaced by something more sincere. She looked him over, taking in the bandages, the bruising and the blood that stained what remained of his uniform. "...You look like hell."

She paused. "And before you ask..." A knowing smile crossed her face. "Penny's fine."

The tension in Wolfe's battered expression eased ever so slightly.

"She's worried absolutely sick." Samantha gave a quiet chuckle. "The moment she heard you were listed as missing, she wanted to come down here herself."

Samantha met his eyes, her voice quieter now.

"She loves you, Wolfe." A brief silence settled between them before she added with unmistakable warmth. "So let's get you out of here...You've got someone waiting very impatiently to tell you off for scaring her half to death."

Sam watched as Wolfe was lead away on the stretcher to the gathering area for shuttle extraction. =^= Major Snyder to Beaulieu. Could I trouble you for a prompt extraction, single person. Penny Haskell at base camp, back to the ship?"

=^= Of course Major, Sierra 2 will be enroute in a moment, ETA 3 minutes. =^= Ferrand spoke. He tried to keep his voice level and controlled after hearing that Victoria had been infected with what ever virus was killing everyone.

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