I Faced It All and I Stood Tall

Posted on Wed 3rd Oct, 2012 @ 2:11pm by Colonel Horatio Drake

647 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/2
Location: USS Bretagne: Main Bridge
Timeline: Boarding + 15 Hours

ON:

REMAINING AIR: 11 Hours + 8 EVA Suits

He could feel himself start to sweat a little as he wiped his forehead - the feeling of an infection causing through his veins, threatening to take away his sanity and having no defence against it, terrified him. Or was this just a placebo? Was the fact that knowing he probably had an infection simply heightening, or creating, symptoms?

'Perhaps the last log would reveal some answers' he thought to himself, almost panic stricken.

Quickly he selected the last log, it was dated only a few hours past the second to last one. The frozen initial image that came onto the screen was of the Captain, covered in sweat and with a phaser rifle over her shoulder. The last ounce of composure had clearly been lost a long time ago and a mixture of anger and fear was evident in her eyes. Her face glistened through the black dirt that caked most of it. With trepidation, Ashton pressed the button to begin the playback.

"Nearly four hundred crew launched their escape pods into a nearby nebula three hours ago - I ordered those not showing the most extreme signs of this disease can also go with them. Those heavily infected remained on board with the Senior Staff and a skeleton crew.

Nearly an hour ago these primary infected individuals broke out of quarantine - we've already lost Engineering and Sickbay. From the reports we're getting in, it seems like they believe they are doing the right thing... they believe the mutiny has already been launched against them and that this is their counter-attack to re-take the ship, as it were. The problem that we face is that these crew are still mentally fit, just doused with paranoia... taking control of the ship for their 'collective mind' is proving an easier task than I first thought.

Whatever their reasons, they outnumber those uninfected still on board by about six-to-one. I have ordered the Bretagne into the same nebula the escape pods launched into. The turbulence is extreme, but I am hoping it will act as a sort of safe haven. With comms down we have had to launch a general distress beacon - as of yet, there has been no reply from Starfleet or anyone else.

Lieutenant Drax believed he saw signs of some sort of temporal anomaly in the nebula - anomaly or not, we've got no option but to go in. The infected have no qualms about killing fellow officers and, with control of Engineering, it won't be too long before they also have control of impulse engines and weapons - despite our best efforts at locking them out. It is my belief that the make-up of the nebula will slow their progress due to systems failures.

My other concern is... Oh...May God have mercy..."

The screen went black as the Captain disappeared from view over the sound of phaser fire, that was clearly originating from the Bridge.

'So...' he thought to himself 'the mystery has been solved... and it looks as though our fates have been sealed'.

Drained of energy he made his way back onto the Bridge, slumped against the bulkhead and scanned the Bridge... the Conn and Ops consoles at the front, both with bodies slouched over them... the sweeping, curved consoles of science and engineering round both sides, the command centre with the empty Captain's chair... he froze and every hair on his body stood to attention... the empty Captain's chair now occupied his mind and vision... where in God's name had the body gone.

He forced his arm up to his chest, despite every inch of him not wanting to move a muscle. "Drake to Graves" barely a whisper came out of his mouth, both for not being able to speak louder nor wanting to. "Get to the Bridge, on the double".

OFF:

 

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