Star Trek: Theurgy

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Music blared through her quarters, even though it was early. It was some old earth music, that if anybody else had to listen to, they probably wouldn’t have enjoyed very much, unless they too enjoyed old music like Cam did. There was a grey duffel bag spread open on her bed, stuffed with a variety of items, almost  none of which had any real value. There were a couple spare uniforms and changes of clothes, some toiletries, a PADD with a couple of books on it, a holographic imager in a case, and a small metal disc with jagged edges.  Her room was neat and tidy, and for the most part her personal affects were limited to pictures and holographic images of loved ones who were incidentally, mostly dead. She stood over her bed in her underwear and a tank top, finishing her packing while she was doing some dancing to herself.

She’d learned that physical activity helped make her feel better, and dancing counted, right? She stopped though as she zipped up the bag and started to get changed into her uniform. She was used to getting ready quickly. She was dressed, and ready to go within five minutes. She snatched the bag off the bed, slung it over her shoulder and made her way to the door. She reached over to the replicator and pressed a button, stopping the music immediately as she looked over the room one more time. “Am I forgetting anything…” she said audibly, to herself, "...nope." She leaned down and sealed the bag in one fluid motion, blowing some stray hairs out of her face as she rose back up.

Cam drew her lower lip between her teeth and thought long and hard on that before she shook her head. The information she needed to hand off was sensitive enough that it was verbal only, so there was nothing to really bring other than herself and some things to make the trip a little more comfortable. With any luck it’d be a quick jump there and back. She left her quarters and made her way towards the lift, where she barked at the computer, “Deck twelve.”

The lift came to life with the ever-familiar hum that she was so used to. Only two decks away, it was a short trip. She watched the members of the crew pass by her as she made her way to the transporter room, smiling at those who acknowledged her, and ignoring those who ignored her (unless they were her seniors). Once there she jumped up onto the pad and pulled the bag up onto her shoulder as she looked down at the sparkling floor beneath her. It always felt so strange being taken apart and put back together. “Upper shuttle bay, please.” Seconds later, she felt herself being beamed over. Another moment, and when she opened her eyes, she was there.

She knew who she was looking for, but she hadn’t actually met him before then. When she found the shuttle, or what she thought was the right shuttle, she started to walk straight towards it. Her hair was pulled back behind her head, and her uniform was pressed. She made certain that she looked like command material for this mission. When she got near the shuttle she dropped her bag and rolled her shoulder a few times to give it a bit of a break from carrying, she looked around for a deckhand and called, “Is this the shuttle set to go out shortly?” She kept it vague on purpose. She didn’t pause to chat or make small talk with anyone. Her whole demeanor was a bit on edge for some reason, and it would be until she was happily sitting in the right shuttle, with the right pilot.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith")| Upper Shuttle Bay| Deck 11 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan put on his pants, and a few moments later, his jacket. He was looking for his sunglasses, which he found on the coffee table near his couch. He grabbed his shoes and put them on one by one. On the bed was his duffel bag with a few clothes for the next days, depending on how long the journey would take. He had been told that this journey might take some time, but that didn't mean that he needed only one set of his uniform. Logan looked in the mirror, his hair sat well, the metal plate in his skull hardly bothered him anymore. He put the glasses on his nose, smiled and threw finger guns at each other. Then he took a last look around his quarters and was sure that he had all his things together. Logan opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. He used his access code to lock the door, only to make his way to the next turbolift. The door of the lift closed in front of him. Logan sighed. It took a moment before the next turbolift was there. In the meantime, another young woman joined him. Apparently, she was part of the ship's engineering section. He threw a friendly smile at her.

"Hello, Lieutenant." the younger woman greeted the pilot shyly. Logan smiled at her and greeted her as well. The young woman wasn't more than 25 years old and she was probably on her way to one of the engine rooms. Logan seemed to be so confident that it had obviously intimidated her a bit. "Where are you going, Ensign?" For a moment she stuttered, "I'm uh, heading to Main Engineering, sir. My duty's about to begin." She tilted her head and examined his duffel bag. "And may I ask where you are going, sir?" Logan shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not?" he said. "I'm on my way to shuttle bay. I've volunteered to fly one of the shuttles." "And may I ask where it's going?" "Of course, you may, Ensign, but then I'd have to kill you." The young woman flinched in terror. Logan looked at her seriously for a moment. But then his features faded, and he showed a friendly smile. "I'm afraid I don't know exactly where I'm heading, but I'm about to find out. Who knows, maybe I'll get a good look at something." The pilot repositioned his bag on his shoulder and was greeted by the lift whose doors had just closed a few moments ago. He stepped firmly into it. "Upper shuttle hangar," he said. Then he shoved his hand into the door. "Would you like to join us, Ensign?" The woman nodded briefly and then stepped into the lift as well, after recognizing the joke in the pilot's words. "Yes, I'd like to. Main engine room, please." she then said, and the lift started moving. She had forgotten that she had to go in a completely different direction. So, the lift first moved to the shuttle hangar.

Logan said goodbye to the woman just before the lift dropped him off at his destination. He entered the hangar. Like the Hunter Hangar, the shuttles were parked inside and waiting to be put into action. Unlike in the fighter hangar, however, there was less activity here. The pilot reported briefly to the chief of deck and made sure that the papers were in order. He was told the position of the shuttle, which he would need for the mission. Briefly he checked the documents for any errors or omissions but could not find anything. Obviously, the shuttles were handled as carefully as the fighters. This was not surprising since they were on one of the most modern ships in Starfleet. Logan received the PADD, which should also serve as his flight log and thanked the Chief, who wished him a good flight.

The lone wolf wandered through the hangar looking for the shuttle that had been assigned to him for this mission and found it soon after. Since there were only two of them on this mission, a Shuttle Type 9 would be sufficient. Logan opened the shuttle door with the access code he had received from the Chief of Deck and entered the space vehicle. His bag was placed in the designated place behind the pilot seat. He sat at the helm and turned up the console. The computers automatically performed a diagnostic scan and was ready for action. In the console to his right, he opened the ship's music menu and played soft rock music from the turn of the millennium. The computers automatically performed a diagnostic scan and was ready for action.  In the consoles to his right, he opened the ship's music menu and played soft rock music from the turn of the millennium. To the beat of Your Love by The Outfield, he tapped his foot and drummed here and there on the console. Logan went through the pre-flight checks and tested one system after another.  Even the experienced pilot found the shuttle airworthy. It would do its job. Logan noted this in his log. Now all that's missing is the passenger. Few moments passed before he heard scraps of conversation outside.  Logan became curious and looked through the window. He could see a young woman, also with a duffel bag. That must be her. He left the shuttle, waved the young woman over and pointed to the shuttle. "No, it's this one. Logan Hale, at your service."

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 1 |  USS Theurgy ] @Nero
[Show/Hide]The soft echo that came with each step of her feet against the bulkhead beneath her blended seamlessly with the hustle and bustle of the shuttle bay. Cam stood dead center in between a couple of landing pads, looking between a few shuttles. “Dammit.” She kept looking around, first moving towards a shuttle that was the completely wrong class before she finally heard the voice over her shoulder.

She saw the man and gave him a smile and a big wave as she started to walk over. Her chocolate eyes studied him closely with each step she took nearer to the Type-9. She picked up her pace and wandered over to the man, offering her hand out to him, “Ensign Henshaw, you can just call me Cam though, if you like, it’s gonna be tight quarters for a few days it looks like.” She looked into the shuttle and pulled her duffle off her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Logan.” She gave a quick glance down to see if she could see any pips, and to see if he was more of the informal sort. She certainly seemed to be if she could help it.

She made her way into the shuttle and set her bag down in the back, on the cargo rack. “I’ll warn you now, I’m uh-” She gave him a wry grin, “Not the best.” She gave a quick nod to the helm then gave him a quick wink, “Thankfully you are though, right?” She canted her head and made her way back towards him, “Need help with anything?” She put her hands on her hips and looked around. She was a little hyperactive. It was probably just nerves. Clandestine missions had a tendency to make her a bit nervous, but they did that to everyone...right?

She licked her lower lip and let her arms lower to her sides, “Were you briefed on what this was about?” She figured she may as well ask before she started babbling on about things she wasn’t supposed to! After a moment's pause she grabbed the PADD from the side-pocket of her duffel and started to flick through it, slowly but then she started to speed up as she moved to the front of the shuttle. Once she was at the front of the shuttle she interfaced the PADD with the computer and initiated a file transfer, moving some of her personal music library over to the shuttle for the journey, but not interrupting the music already playing, which she was clearly into and clearly she knew the words to. She was mouthing them under her breath and tapping her foot to the music. She loved music, particularly old-Earth music. “Good choice.” She offered, over her shoulder, almost as an afterthought.

Once the file transfer was complete, she turned around in the chair, to offer the man her full and complete attention, studying him, watching his mannerisms, and maybe even eyeballing him a little bit in a less than profession manner for a brief moment, but she tried to play that off by looking down at her PADD. Cam was still Cam after all.  She tapped the PADD against her palm a few times before she set it down against the console and looked over the bay once. Her face went from the nervous amusement that was displayed only seconds before to true concern.

This was the first time Cam was being sent on something like this and it felt like her first major Op since Starbase 84. The very thought gave her goosebumps and forced her eyes shut for a moment.

‘Think happy thoughts’ She thought to herself, but coincidentally, also mouthed to herself as she took a few deep breaths. Her fists clenched at her sides and she just tried to calm herself. How could she not be worried? Last time hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.

After a moment though, she spun back around and seemed to have re-centered herself. She checked the time against their departure and then looked over the PADD yet again, obsessively, before she finally offered it over to her pilot. “I’m supposed to wipe the mission data before we go, intel is to be delivered verbally only.” For the time being it was on the PADD, but she intended to delete it as soon as he'd committed it to memory as well.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith")| Upper Shuttle Bay| Deck 11 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan looked after the young woman. She threw her duffel bag into the designated place behind her seat and walked up and down the shuttle a couple of times. She seemed visibly nervous and a bit worried. She babbled away and introduced herself to him as Ensign Henshaw. She offered him to call her Cam, which Logan would like to accept, and he smiled briefly. He did not like to be so formal with people. Unfortunately, he did not really have a nickname for himself. At least none other than Wraith, and he only used it when he was flying with the other pilots. So, he preferred to be referred to simply as Logan. It would keep things simple.
Cameron obviously liked his choice of music. The pilot took a few steps towards the woman with whom he would spend the next time in a small space, before she hissed a few words that were incomprehensible to him and abruptly turned to him, holding out her PADD. He accepted it but did not read it immediately. "Yes, I have been briefed on the nature of this mission and I can assure you that I should be adequate as a pilot."
Logan threw her an encouraging smile and turned to the information on the PADD. His eyes widened as he read the instructions on it. Logan blew an appreciative whistle and handed it back to her. "I think I understand now why this is not being transmitted by subspace radio."
He leaned back on the seatback of his chair and took a short breath.  His gaze fell through the windshield onto the deck, where he could make out the massive bulkheads. Behind them was the great expanse and somewhere out there, according to the mission, he was to bring Ensign Cameron Henshaw where she met with a few Klingons to convey her important information verbally. "I hope the Klingons appreciate this," he explained, forcing himself back into the here and now. Logan reached for the switch for the ramp and closed it. He let himself fall into his seat. "Last chance to change your mind, Cam."

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Upper Shuttle Bay| Deck 11 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy ] @Nero
[Show/Hide]She took a few deep breaths as her eyes fluttered closed and she centered herself, looking out over the deck before she looked back over her shoulder. Yea, she was certainly a nervous individual, but how could she not be? To her, her life recently was just a series of unmitigated disasters. She gave him a little bit of a coquettish grin before she released the PADD and offered, “I’m sure you will be.” She gave him a chance to read it before she took it back, read it over once more and let her finger linger over the option to wipe the file from the device.

Once it was gone, it was gone. She pressed the pad of her index finger down against the device and the computer gave a soft chirp at the input. The file was gone, leaving only her own personal documents on the PADD. “Ooookay.” She drawled before she leaned back, setting the PADD on the dash of the shuttle as she got ready to depart. “Me too, but I’ve never found Klingons to be awfully appreciative people.” She scoffed once. “A few of them, yes. The uh...front liners though?” She grimaced.

She heard the typical hiss of the exit ramp closing and gave a nervous swallow as she looked over to the pilot's chair. “Nope. Good to go. Don’t give me that option.” She laughed a little before she tapped a few buttons. She wasn’t a pilot, but she was still a Starfleet officer and briefed in the usual away team procedures. “System checks clear on my end.” A few more chirps of the LCARS panel and there were a few green flashes from the console, “And pre-flight’s are good.” She smiled. “All yours.” She took her hands off the console and chose to just let him do the flying. If she was needed, she could help. This was supposed to be fairly cut and dry though.

“You done much with Klingons before?” She questioned, raising a brow as her foot idly pushed her side to side, spinning the chair a little bit.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith")| Shuttle Type-9| Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan confirmed her check of the shuttle systems and started the antigraphic thrusters. The shuttle lifted off the ground and he slowly steered it towards the exit. The heavy outer bulkheads opened and released the shuttle, which seemed ridiculously small compared to the Theurgy, into the eternal darkness of space. A short push on the console in front of him and a movement of the thrust controller later, he activated the impulse engines and accelerated further. Logan checked the condition of the scrambler and was satisfied that it was working perfectly. So far, so good, he thought. Logan set the intended course and steered the shuttle in the appropriate direction.
"With Klingons?" he asked. "Yes, a few times. I met them a few times when I was a kid," he explained. "I was born and raised on a freighter. A real void nomad." Logan smiled briefly and thought back to that time. "We flew many routes, but mostly along the Klingon border. That was when I learned to fly. My father had left the controls to me early on. We all had our jobs."

His eyes went to the readouts. They were on course and on target. They would soon reach their destination. Silent running was not the fastest way to travel, but they would still show an extremely low profile. "We ran into a few close calls, got into some Klingon controls every now and then. One time they wanted to blow us out of space because we were on the wrong side of the border, but somehow, we always managed. But those were still good times. The border was still wild and flowing. We traded on both sides."

The stars passed by without much change in shape. They did not need warp. They would travel the entire distance at low impulse. "Later, when I owned a freighter myself, I naturally had more to do with them. I even drank Brotherhood with some of them. Others were my constant trading partners. There, too, I only survived a lot of things somehow, although there were some really dicey situations waiting. One time they almost shot my ship out from under my ass."

Logan looked at the seat next to him and tried to interpret the face of his colleague. „But I'm still here." He gave her an encouraging smile. "What about you?"

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System |[/i] ] @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam squeezed the side of the chair a bit tighter as the shuttle lifted off and watched through the viewport as space grew closer, and the metal bulkheads grew further. She did however, let out a wide smile. “It’s never going to get old.” She leaned forward, bracing a hand against the frame of the window as she looked up towards the shadow of a far off nebula, shaking her head. “I grew up in space.” She added, almost like an afterthought, as she marvelled at the awe and scale of it all.

She let him handle the flying while she just talked and watched. “Me too. Not a freighter though, Starfleet. My Parents were both officers. I ran off a couple times with some Klingon kids at a couple stations.” And a couple Klingon boys too. She thought to herself. “Freighter work sounds interesting though. Exciting.” She gave him a grin and a waggle of her brow before she leaned back in her seat. “They’re definitely a...boisterous species.” She let out a chortle.

She checked her own readouts, but saw nothing of note on her end so again, her attention went back to dancing between her pilot and the stars. “Bet you learned some fancy tricks from outrunning those patrols though. I’m not much of a pilot myself.” Hence why she needed one for this. “I can talk all day, and have a fair bit of science training but piloting?” She scoffed. “I’m more likely to run into a planet then nail an evasive maneuver.” She adjusted her uniform before she asked, “What’d you trade? When you were a kid? And when you had your own freighter?”

She was always curious. “Klingons make great drinking partners. They teach you any of their songs?” She seemed excited by the very idea of that, sitting up in her seat and putting her hands on the edge of it as her eyes locked onto him. “I’ve had a few run-ins with Starfleet but nothing too crazy. Was usually amicable.”

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith")| Shuttle Type-9| Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan listened to her explanations. "Yes, I learned a trick or two back in the day. Use a nebula here for cover, use the gravity of a star there to mask our warp signature. It was worth quite a bit." He smiled. It actually felt good to talk to someone about something other than work.

"Back then, we traded and transported mainly agricultural produce. Wheat, barley, maize, a few tools, tractors, and things like that. But we also brought weapons to the borderlands. After all, those were dangerous times. The fleet could never be everywhere." Logan paused briefly in his narrative to correct course. "Hold on." His hands slipped across the console. "I had to adjust course. A civilian freighter would have gotten a little bit too close." One more look at the controls. "There. That should give us some space. Where was l?" He thought for a second. "Ah, yes. Just after the Dominion war, I left Starfleet and bought my own freighter. It was an incredibly competitive business, as I discovered. A lot of nasty characters fighting over cargo and contracts. Somehow, I managed to stay afloat and made a few Klingon acquaintances. We experienced a lot together and of course we drank a lot too. I think, yes, they taught me a song or two, but I'm definitely not heavy enough on bloodwine to sing."

Logen smiled and checked the controls again. He really did not have to do much. Most of it would be done by the computer and if it were necessary to intervene anyway, it was only slight course adjustments. "Come to think of it. I think it's possible, in my drunken mind, I married a Klingon."

Logan wanted to provoke a laugh. Lighten the mood a little more. He was trying to get Cameron to reveal a little more of herself, too. "If you like, we can switch places, I'll show you some pilot moves, and you can tell me a little bit about your past. What was it like growing up on different ships in the fleet?"

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System ]
[Show/Hide]Cam raised a brow, “Yea?” It all seemed so exciting to her. The prospect of bobbing and weaving between nebulas and stars. “I guess I learned a thing or two on the Pembroke, but...nothing like that.” She admitted, with a little bit of a sigh. “I learned a lot about people though.” She was always surrounded by so many different sorts that it was just a skill that sort of developed and she honed it later in life. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t pay attention to the heroics of the bridge crew though. The Captain once used the ram scoop to collect antiprotons and flooded the warp nacelles to give us a boost, that was a neat trick..or...something like that.” She wasn’t sure of the specifics. Either way, it was a fond memory of her youth.

She gave him a quick nod about the correction and looked at it herself to check on the freighter, making note for her log. She tapped a few times on a PADD before she set it down. Once the course was corrected she let out a breath, “Gives us a while.” She figured they’d be busy most of the day. She went back towards her bag and pulled out a chocolate bar and a silver carafe of coffee. She broke the chocolate bar in half and offered it over to him as she made herself comfortable in her seat. “What was she called? Your ship? When I was little I always dreamed of having my own ship. I suppose...I still do in a sense.” She was a yeoman after all, command track. Though that was obviously put on hold with everything that was going on. “Klingons make the best drinking partners. I made it a point to learn that drinking song they’re always going on about. When we get back, we should have a drink. Maybe...not drink heavily enough to be Klingongs though, I’d rather not end up in sickbay.” She let out a chortle.

“Married one? Oh...well now I’m curious.” She grinned and cracked open the coffee, “Want some? It’s coffee.” She gave him a coquettish once-over before she poured herself a cup of it and re-sealed the carafe. If he requested some, she poured him one too.

“Really?” She seemed excited by the idea. “I’d love that. I've been dying to get some flight time in.” She stood up, not needing to be offered twice as she got closer to him. She didn’t try to push him from his chair yet though. Instead, she just sort of crouched near the pilots chair and looked over the controls first. “I know the basics but…” She gave him a quick glance. “Well I only grew up on the one. The Pembroke. Then I went to the Academy and while I was there…” She frowned and took a drink of coffee, “The Pembroke was destroyed by the Maquis. All hands were killed.” She was going to be honest with him. For some reason she felt like she could be with him.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith")| Shuttle Type-9| Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]"Sorry to hear that." Logan thought back on the accident that caused him to put his career in Starfleet on hold. It has never been easy losing people. It was even harder when it involved friends or even family. Logan cleared his seat and swung himself over into the copilot's seat. For a moment he waited until Cameron moved into his seat. Then he grabbed the silver carafe and helped himself to the coffee. With a slightly melancholy voice and a barely perceptible tremor in it, he added, "But, not everyone has died."
Logan took a sip of the soothingly hot liquid. Cameron certainly did not have much to do with the shuttle's controls. For the next few million kilometers, the autopilot would take over. They would not have to intervene again until they either reached their destination or encountered any obstacles unexpectedly. And even if the latter should actually happen, Logan would certainly take control again quickly. He toasted her knowingly, but in his thoughts, he was with her and thanked her for her honesty.
"Look at it this way: you're still here." His face showed a gentle, honest smile. "Even if you were officially at the Academy that time, your heart still belongs to the Pembroke and you survived."
Logan let himself fall a little deeper into the seat. His gaze wandered through the large windshield into the night-black darkness and after a period of silence he asked: "Do you have any idea how you'd like to talk to the Klingons, Cameron? Have you been prepping for it, or are you just going to rattle off the facts?"

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System|
[Show/Hide]Cam’s demeanor had shifted, closed off in a sense. “Everyone dies eventually. Wish they hadn’t though.” She said nothing more on the matter, and started to move towards the pilots seat. She had a pretty good feel for the controls. She’d taken the basic courses at the academy, of course. She was no fighter pilot though. She could keep her steady, and could maybe even pull of a few maneuvers, but she wasn’t stellar. “Not everyone, no.” She gave him a light smile. In that smile though, there really was a sense of loneliness that she tried, and boy, she really did try, to keep it hidden.

“I’m still here.” And in a sense, that felt like a knife being driven into her chest. She had survived. Time and time again, Cam had survived and in a sense just been left behind, or so she felt like. “I miss them.” She was honest about it. She took a good swallow of coffee and looked ahead for a moment and let out a deep breath. “She was a great ship to grow up on.” She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, “The Captain loved having children aboard. Felt that part of the mission of exploration and discovery, included passing along the spark of that yearning for knowledge to the next generation. We had  right to roam around most of the ship.” She grinned.

“As for the Klingons...no. I don’t have a plan just yet. I’ve found that Klingons can be so..different from one another that it’s best to have a few plans in mind. So we’ll see when we get there I suppose.” She shook her head, though she did look a bit worried. “I have a few ideas in mind though.” She looked down at the main system display, “Why don’t you take the first round of sleep? I’m not that tired, I can keep her steady for the time being. I’ll wake you up if I need any crazy piloting.” She shot him a wink, and tossed her feet up on the dash as she reached over for her PADD, as if settling in for watch, which she was. She watched him, as if just waiting for him to go off to sleep.

If he went to sleep though, it wasn’t long before trouble started, and the ship began to shudder, the main display flashing in tandem with a light outside the cockpit. “What the hell…” Cam leaned forward at once, it was maybe only an hour later. “You might want to get out here…” The readings were all over the place.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan shared her pain. He was definitely no stranger to it. As he listened to her talk, he thought back to the reason why he left the fleet at the time. Logan noticed her lonely smile and briefly squeezed her hand to show her that she was not alone.
"Sounds like your captain was pretty much the exact opposite of this Picard," Logan said, adding after a few seconds: "Starfleet needs people like your captain way more."
Logan saw her making herself comfortable in his chair, her feet over the console. He smiled and nodded. "Okay. I see you've got it all under control, Cam."

He got up and went to the back of the shuttle where he lay down and wanted to close his eyes for a few minutes. The autopilot would do most of the work and warn them if anything really happened. Then Logan would still have enough time to take corrective action. The pilot drifted off into the land of dreams.

But it was not long before Logan heard the excited voice of his pilot in training. All tiredness had suddenly disappeared and the two switched places again. The pilot's fingers rushed across the console. The displays flickered and showed a similar pattern to the light outside the cockpit window. Logan switched on a filter that attenuated light from outside and detected a bandit.
"That's an attack," he almost cursed. "They're trying to overstimulate the sensors and knock us out." He looked away. "The radio is jammed. We got to get out of here! Strap yourself in, Cam, and keep an eye on the techs. I'll try to lose them."

The pilot tilted the nose of the shuttle forward and put it in a spin. Using the Alpha-1 evasive maneuver, he quickly tried to put distance between himself and the attacker. But the attacker quickly followed. Even though it did the shuttle's sensors good that they were no longer under direct attack, the radio was still jammed.
"Bastard," he cursed angrily.

But the distance gave them the opportunity to take a closer look at the enemy. Logan could not recognize any known configuration. Apparently, it was not a Klingon or Aldean ship. He suspected pirates. That would be consistent with the sensory overload. A brave ace of aviators who saw easy prey in that Type-9 shuttle. It is a good thing the guy didn't know there was an ace pilot at work in that shuttle.

Logan yanked the shuttle into a Beta 1-4-0 evasive maneuver. He pulled hooks like a hare being chased by a fox. The inertial dampers were at their limits. Logan took the Type-9 to the limits of its capabilities. But the enemy was catching up without mercy.
Then the shooting started. Fortunately, the first salvos fizzled out without effect on the shield, which, however, lost power with every further salvo. So, the next salvos were already much more dangerous and more noticeable. After each salvo more damage occurred, and Logan cursed. He hated that the shuttle was by far not as agile as his beloved Valravn. He hated being almost defenseless.
"What's the status of the phasers?  Can we return fire?“

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam thought back on that Captain and gave a nod, “He was a good man. It was always rather exciting when he’d re-create the bridge in the holodeck for us, then show us what to do. He was...an amazing teacher. I wish I’d gotten to know him better.” Maybe he’d have moved on to the Academy eventually, even. Cam wasn’t sure. That chance had been snuffed out along with her parents. She too, squeezed his hand, and her eyes met his for the briefest of moments before she turned away.

“I’ve got it. I’ll let you know if anything comes up but, this should be a quick run. Then we can get back and have a drink.” She smiled and leaned back in the chair, keeping her eyes front as he went back to lay down. She kept her eyes bouncing between the controls, and the stars, though they lingered mostly on the vast emptiness of the space in front of her. It always created a sense of awe within her just how much of it there was, though...it was called space after all. She stayed locked in the trance of observing the beauty until all hell broke loose and Logan has to come to the front.

“Yea!” She gave him a nod, almost laughing at the statement, “Truer words.” She shook her head. Once he had control she started taking control of tactical, letting him focus on piloting. As the ship lurched around them, a console sparked behind them. “Dammit!” She tried to break through the jam, but she had no luck. She pressed a button, and the belt came across her chest. Then she got a true display of some ‘edge-of-your-seat- piloting.

Through the spin, she fired a single torpedo, using the momentum of the maneuver to give the explosive a bit more movement so it couldn’t be evaded too easily, but it still went wide, the other pilot narrowly avoiding it. “He’s good.” She added. Logan kept them from getting hit thus far beyond the first strike, which Cam seemed eternally grateful for.

“Checking.” She’d hit her arm in the second salvo but was shaking it off, “Dammit. I need power to weapons, that second hit knocked them offline. I might be able to fire with more power but...it's a coin flip if it’ll work or not…” She paused for a second and stared at Logan, as if staring into the depths of his soul, which...was honestly probably a little strange but she was thinking, “How about...we configure a Tachyon pulse from the deflector array. It’s going to leech most of our power besides...life support, basic thrusters, and shields, we'll be dead in the water but alive...but...he’ll probably be dead. We can’t miss though. You’re going to have to have to shove the pulse right down his throat...it’s a trick I saw the Captain do once back home, but on a larger ship it’s less damaging...I don’t see why it wouldn’t work on a shuttle It’s just gonna hurt.” She was out of ideas besides that.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan set up the shuttle and then put it into a tight curve before aligning it, only to disappear immediately afterwards in the opposite direction. The inertial dampers were quite busy, as was Logan, who tried hard to keep the shuttle in one piece and the bandit at a distance.
Often, with more luck than reason, he managed to dodge salvo after salvo. But Logan knew that at some point his luck would run out. He could not escape it forever. Not with this shuttle. In his Valravn, yes, that would be a completely different matter. Then he would give him hell. Yes, then this would all be over long ago, but no, he had to win this now with this under powered thing.
Then they got hit again. Logan was shaken up badly. Luckily, the seat belts kept him in his seat. He cursed dirty and mumbled around.  His hands flew over the console. His fingers were almost too fast for the human eye as he tried to put some distance between them and that idiot out there.
Cam explained that the Phasers had failed. That bastard had just pulled their teeth. Again, Logan cursed, but would not let up to keep the distance. "My God, he's so clingy," he commented angrily.
Finally, Cam had the bright idea of sending a tachyon pulse through the main deflector to take out her opponent. It could kill him but at this moment it was them or the enemy and Logan decided to keep his life as long as possible. If the tachyon pulse failed, they would be at his mercy, but there would not be many alternatives left. So, Logan agreed.
"Better than all the ideas I can think of. Do it." Again, he had to dodge a salvo.
"I'll buy you as much time as I can."

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System ] @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam watched Logan do his work, stunned at how efficiently he was able to work with the shuttle. It was by no means a fighter craft, and still they were bobbing and weaving through a hailstorm of fire as if it were. They could only hold out for so long though. “Clingy as a pissed off ex.” She muttered beneath her breath before she started to set up the tachyon pulse. It would take her a minute to do, but she let Logan keep doing his work.

She started by realigning the graviton emitter, which only took a moment and once that was done, the pulse would be ready to fire within a minute, it only needed to charge up. “I don’t need long, just keep us whole as long as you can, I can run the pulse along our hull and right back to him.” She tapped away furiously on the LCARS panel, as one console gave her a rather angry ‘denied’ sound, but she just reached beneath the panel and yanked out an isolinear chip. Damn the security clearance to do it, she didn’t have the time to screw around with that. “Ready!” She shouted.

She tapped one more key and the moment she did the deflector would make a horrible screech within the shuttle as the pulse ran across the hull, and the engines would cut out, along with their everything else besides basic thrusters, life support, and shields. Leaving it up to their pilot to come up with any clever ideas of his own to fix that predicament. The pulse however, slammed right against its target. It had basically cleaved through the hull of the small ship, where with a larger ship it might have just disabled it. “That wasn’t my intention.” Then she looked down, on to the next impending disaster.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan had his hands full not to be hit by the constant phaser volleys and to keep the shuttle in one piece. His fingers made lots of inputs to the consoles and made the warp capable ship perform one pirouette after another. Seen from a distance, it probably looked like a dance. A dance for survival.
Cam worked on charging the deflector with Tachyon particles. They were supposed to stop their pursuer, so Logan put a shovel on it and tried to stop the enemy from hitting them. Here and there he failed, single shots kept hitting them.
"The shields are down to twenty-one percent," he reported after a quick look at their tactical condition, when his female copilot suddenly announced that she was ready. Suddenly, the deflector cried out. A deafening scream shook the shuttle. Logan saw blue-white flashes of lightning crawl through the windshield along the outer hull. They magically attracted his gaze and in the following second it was dead silent. On the rear displays Logan saw the Tachyon flash hit the other ship and all its lights went out. Parts of the hull broke away and exposed the interior below. The ship started to spin and began to rotate on its own axis. Shortly after, it overtook the two in its shuttle and headed straight for a nameless moon. Apparently, there was a thrust overload when the lightning struck the ship. A kind of final rebellion. Then an alarm went to the pilot's ear, who stared spellbound at the crashing ship.
All they had left were maneuvering thrusters, life support and shields. The rest was gone. Owing to the energy of the impulse they needed. Then they fell into the gravitational pull of the same nameless moon.
Logan's eyes widened as he tried to engage the shuttle to slow the fall. But nothing came of it. Since the moon had no atmosphere, there was nothing to slow down their fall. "Are you strapped in?" he asked as he used the thrusters as brakes at intervals. "This is going to be a hard landing."
Logan distributed the remaining energy to the bow and ventral shields. He began counting the seconds until the crash landing.
"Brace yourself for impact. 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…“
When the pilot finished the countdown, it got dark inside the shuttle. The consoles went out, as did the lighting. Logan could only feel himself being shaken in his seat. Then he lost consciousness.

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System ] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam held on tight as the ship danced around under the control of her pilot. Her stomach lurched inside of her as she looked out the viewport. She looked back down to her controls. The shield readoff sounded like an echo in her ear and she just shook her head, “Who the fuck is this guy?” She snapped, immensely irritated. She was not as cool headed as he was in the situation. Sure, she’d come up with a solution. The jostling and gunshots though were quickly starting to ware her down. When the blast finally went off, she looked up ahead.

The blast had practically cleaved the top of the ship off of the attacker. “Well...I guess that worked.” Though clearly, she’d only have a brief reprieve, given that their own ship began to rotate. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Cam made sure that she was safely strapped into her seat. She held onto the sides of the chair and looked over to the pilot, then to the viewscreen, to the giant that was slowly swallowing them whole. “Way ahead of you.” She looked down to the straps. “I figured it might be.” She sighed and looked back over her shoulder to check for survival kits, at least visually. She wasn’t sure what they had specifically but she hoped it was enough.

“We’re falling really fast.” She said, as if he didn’t know that already. She tightened her jaw and pressed herself tight against the chair, as his countdown reached zero. She felt them collide with the surface.

After what felt like only seconds she came to, if she’d been unconscious, it wasn’t for very long. She then felt pain. It wasn’t local to anywhere specifically. Everywhere on her body hurt. She’d hit her head on the side of the console and she could feel a wet spot on the side of her skull where she’d smacked it. Luckily, she didn’t think she’d hit it too hard, the straps had kept her from doing that. Just a cut. Heads just bled a lot. She wasn’t unconscious either. She heard alarms sounding, and sparks flying from consoles and she smelled...smoke. “Oh fuck.” She groaned, letting out a pained cough. She realized that she was hanging upside down in the cockpit and her eyes fluttered open. It was chaos. She looked around through blurred vision, smoke, flashing lights, and flame were visible. She thought quick, and pulled the emergency release on her straps, and went clattering to the roof, which was now the floor, landing flat on her face. She let out a groan as she landed and tried to push herself up.

“Logan!” She shouted, in a hoarse voice, trying to stir the pilot. “Get up.” She tried to find an extinguisher to get the fires out. “No atmosphere.” She spoke aloud, mostly to herself. “No atmosphere.” She repeated, trying to get the fires out before they ran out of oxygen.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan coughed heavily as he slowly came to his senses. "No atmosphere," he heard over and over again and suddenly smoke rose to his nose. He opened his eyes and suddenly felt a surge of pain come over him. Incomprehensible grunting was all that left his lips. The whole world was upside down. He looked around dazed. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Cam, who seemed to be looking for something. He tried to get his hands under control and slowly realized that Cam was upside down. Somehow, she had managed to walk on the ceiling. If everything did not hurt him so damn much, he would have laughed. Finally, he saw it flickering orange red in one of the corners. That was the last bit that was missing to bring him back into the here and now.
"Fire," he mumbled and tried to point in that direction. His other hand was looking for the release for the straps. He moaned. More badly than right, he managed to find the button. But it was stuck. Logan jerked the belts several times. He threw himself back and forth and quickly realized that this was not the best idea. He could not get away. A fire extinguisher was out of reach and the flickering, smoking light did not want to go down.
Logan forced himself to look down, respectively the new above. The controls were black. Apparently, they were out of power and if they failed in extinguishing the fire soon, they would soon run out of oxygen to breathe. The pilot raised his arms under the console. Maybe he just put too much pressure on the belts, and they would not open. So, he used every ounce of strength at his disposal and pushed himself up so that the harnesses got some air to work. Again, and again he pushed the release, but nothing happened. The pilot lost his grip and sank back into the belts. His head began to throb as more blood began to spill into his head. Then he had an idea. His hand slid back under the console and to the side wall. After some searching, he found a small box there. He was able to remove it effortlessly and lifted it out from under the console. A small first aid kit. Why the Federation still used such parts was a mystery to him, but he was grateful that they still did.
As he watched Cam try to fight the fire, he opened the box and felt for a pair of scissors. Since he could not see what was inside without unintentionally emptying the box, he had to rely on his currently limited sense of touch. Finally, he got his hands on one. He closed the box again and let it glide gently onto the roof, which now served as the floor. With scissors in his hand, he pushed it aside a little more. He did not want to land on it immediately.
With gravity pulling on you, it was not so easy to work upside down. He had just barely missed his own eye with the scissors when he tried to put them on the belt. But with the help of his other hand he finally made it and cut through one belt after the other. He slipped out of the last belt like this. Logan held on tight and, like the first-aid kit before him, let himself slide slowly to the ground. He had managed to free himself. But now he needed a few moments to catch his breath again. He crawled against the wall and leaned against it exhausted.
"Fire," he squawked with a dry throat and pointed to the now extinguished fire. Then a gesture that could be interpreted in this way and involved the entire shuttle: "Any more?"

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn:
[Show/Hide]Cameron shook her already roughed up hair out of her face and repeated herself, “Logan I need to hear something.” It was said with real concern, and even some fear. She was terrified that she might be alone, even if it was only for a moment. That thought sent a chill up her spine. She couldn’t give him her full attention, she was too busy trying to take care of the flames engulfing the innards of the shuttle. Her vision was hazy, and her ears were ringing from the crash but she held herself upright. “Cameron Henshaw. Ensign. U.S.S. Theurgy. Starfleet ID: Alpha 274491.” She used the mantra to center herself from the growing panic that was in her mind. When he finally spoke, she stood straighter, relief flushing through her whole body. "Oh thank you. Thank you for not being dead."

She saw him point, still upside down, towards one of the flames. It didn’t really need pointing out, but she still made way for it, and began to work on extinguishing it while Logan worked on freeing himself from the straps. Her boots made an entirely different sound against the ceiling of the shuttle than they did against what was usually the floor. They gave a deep sounding echo. The flames continued to spit out from under a console, no matter how much Cam seemed to extinguish the fire, they continued to come. “Motherfucker!” She shouted at the console, aiming a furious kick at the bulkhead. Which did nothing but hurt her toe, leaving her bouncing up and down before she stooped down, and looked for the source, which was a faulty EPS relay. She was no engineer, but she could certainly knock things loose with brute force. It wasn't like she was trying to fix it.

She shook her head and in a swift motion, kicked the relay free causing the flames to cease spilling forth and lighting the cockpit on fire, at least from that source. When Logan came to the floor, she stumbled backwards, panting from the exertion, and likely the dwindling oxygen within the cabin. “You...have a lot more finesse with dangling upside down than I do.” She let out what was almost a snort of laughter before she literally burst into laughter. She rose to her feet, the laughter continuing as the crisis of the moment was averted, and she went to quite literally hug Logan. It was a brief moment, something to celebrate survival. Laughter was probably inappropriate but, the fact they had survived was a small miracle in itself, and she had to just laugh about the situation. Was her luck really this bad?

“No more fire right now.” They’d managed to get it out. She released him, if he’d let her hug him in the first place, and went off around the cockpit, trying to gather up some survival supplies. Food, water, any surviving oxygen tanks. Anything that might prove useful. “We need to take inventory and see if we can get communications online before we run out of oxygen, but with any luck. Someone saw our fireworks show before we went down.” She brought up a hand to her head, and touched the wet spot, looking at it when she retracted it. It was bright red, and there was quite a bit of it. She forgot how much head wounds tended to bleed. She wiped it off on her pants and again tried to brush some of the blood-stained, sooty hair from her face as she got to work. “Unless you have any other ideas.” She looked at him, given that he was the pilot, he probably had some training for this sort of situation. She still kept gathering supplies in the meantime.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Everything hurt, but at the same time he could move all his limbs. These were good signs. Nothing was broken, he thought. Maybe a contusion here and there, but nothing serious overall. Then the next gush of pain followed as Cameron hugged him with relief. Logan had to grunt involuntarily as he held his breath to resist the storm of relief from the woman, but then could not help himself and joined in the laughter. At least until his chest responded and his laughter changed into a violent coughing fit. Obviously, he had gotten injured after all.
Cameron explained to him that they had to turn the shuttle upside down. They had to find out what they had on board so they could get communications back up and running before they ran out of air to breathe. Logan watched as she wiped her bloody hand on her pants and soon discovered the ugly bleeding laceration on her head. The blood soaked through her hair and ran slowly down her forehead in a steady stream.
"Yes, I have a better idea, Cam." Logan explained, breathing heavily. "Calm down. Sit down and take a deep breath first. Over there is the first aid kit." He pointed to the box from which the scissors he had been taken earlier. "Give it to me, and I'll take care of your head wound first. Then we will take a closer look at the shuttle and our situation."
Logan had to get calm into the woman. Nothing was more detrimental to her situation than hecticness and emerging panic. He had to be the calm pole in this constellation, he had already understood that. He watched her for a few moments and when he finally held the kit in his hand, he could also distract himself. He opened the kit and breathed a sigh of relief. The contents were intact. He reached for the dermal regenerator and asked Cameron to sit next to him.
"Such an ugly cut is not for a pretty woman like you. Come here."
He applied the medical instrument and made sure that the wound closed properly. With sterile cloths he could dab off her blood and his free fingers kept her hair at a distance. He took his time, wanted to make sure that she really calmed down and when he could be sure of that, he reached for the medical tricorder in the box. Logan snapped out the scanner and scanned the ensign's silhouette.
"Basic medical equipment is part of every shuttle or fighter. Every pilot must undergo regular training so that he knows how to use it. I'm no paramedic or doctor, but I can tell you that you survived your first crash with flying colors." Logan smiled at her. "No fractures or internal bleeding. A mild concussion, but nothing dramatic."
He scanned himself. "I, on the other hand, seem to have suffered a little more: Three broken ribs. Two of them, fortunately, only broken. But the lungs and other organs are undamaged. Concussion and a contusion of the left ankle. All in all, nothing that a night in a bio-bed cannot repair."
Logan handed the tricorder to Cameron so she could check the results herself. "The box is not sufficiently equipped for surgery. I can't repair fractures with it, but if I'm going to take it easy, it might work."
The pilot looked around and then calmly explained to Cameron what to do next. He confirmed to her that communication and oxygenation were top priority. But he also clearly explained that all work had to be done in a calm manner. The more they tried, the more oxygen they would use and the faster they would run out of air. It was paradoxical, but haste was now precisely their greatest adversary.
"In the rear part of the shuttle, under the storage boxes, there should be two emergency batteries, for just such a case. With the batteries we can power the life support and possibly the Comms. One battery will last about 12 hours."
He described to her exactly where she could find the parts and what she had to do to connect them. The Pilot also explained that the batteries only fit one way and she did not have to worry about putting them in the wrong place. Logan hoped they were not damaged. But because of the tachyon burst, that was unlikely. If one of the batteries was still intact, then they had already gained a lot more time.
"In the meantime, I'll try to get a fix on our position."

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam grinned broadly at the pilot as he joined her in laughter. She continued to laugh with him, even stumbling backwards for a moment when he began to cough. Cam was definitely a bit neurotic. Particularly when she was stressed out, and this situation was stress incarnate. The ironic snap of laughter was short lived before the panic began to set in. She’d entirely ignored the laceration to the head, even though it throbbed had left her with a hell of a headache on top of the stinging of the wound itself. When Logan spoke, she craned her head around, “Wh-” She began to speak but, she shut her mouth and took a deep breath. The blood continued in a steady drip down her forehead and onto her cheek.

Cam wandered over to the box. Then sat down near Logan, on top of a box that she’d pulled out of a rack, opening the kit on her lap. She helped parse out the supplies in the kit. “Medical tricorder.” She set the scanner down. “Here.” She pushed the kit forward so that Logan could dig through it on his own, again wiping some of the blood from her face onto her sleeve.

Once he opened the kit for himself, she watched his hands work, before turning her eyes up to his. She gave him a little smirk. “You think I’m pretty?” Oh now she was going to ramble. “I’m not gunna let you forget that.” She moved her head to one side, even if he was still using the regenerator. “Sorry.” She stood still, realizing she was probably making it more difficult for him. “Thanks...I guess.” She let her eyes look back up to him and seemed to think about something for a moment, while he did his work with the scanner.

“Well it’s good that I’m in good shape. Sad for you that you’re hurt but...good for you that you’re here with me.” She went to get the medical kit from him. “Lucky for you, I did some medical training, being a counselor and all, we sometimes serve as backup to medical...well, before I was Yeoman.” She took the tricorder and started to scan, looking over the results for herself. “Yikes.” She grimaced as she started to look over them. “Alright well, I can’t do too terribly much about a lot of this but...I can give you some meds to clear up some of the pain and maybe work up a binder for your ribs with some fabric.” She let out a deep breath, and scanned to the side, “Given that the moon has a whopping 0.56% oxygen, I doubt we’ll be using the tent, so I’m just gonna use some of that.” She gave him a grin and gave another chortle at their misfortune.

She cut a bit of fabric from the box that contained the tent and brought it over to Logan. “Shirt off flyboy, then we need to wrap this around you. Tight.” She put the fabric aside. If he’d allow her to, she’d help wrap it tight around him and then tie it off, otherwise, she’d just leave the fabric there for him. “Should keep everything in place until we get picked up. ” She didn’t want the injury to get any worse. “Can’t have you getting flail chest on me. We need to make it back in time for that drink still.” She shook her head, still with some humor and looked over to him before she got back to work.

As for his instructions, Cam followed them. She kept her breath steady, and started to work. “First battery is shot to shit.” She tossed it out into the main holding space they had been occupying. The battery was practically a burnt out husk. “Second battery looks okay and isn't as damaged. Might be able to be repaired.” It too had been damaged in the crash, however. “Might be able to get some juice out of it to get a call out to the ship but, we don’t even know if the comms are working so.” She shook her head and offered the pilot a frustrated shrug as she looked around the wreck they were sitting in.

She pulled out a repair kit and sat down on the floor, and got right to work on the battery. “I don’t know how much we’ll get out of this damn thing so we should probably make sure that the things we need, are actually working when we need them.” She made a pained face as she struggled to peel the chassis off the battery. “Son of a bitch.” She grabbed a piece of metal and wedged it between the metal to start wrenching the casing right off.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]The Hypospray worked almost immediately. Cam applied it directly to the aorta in his neck and released the trigger. At about the same time as the applicator hissed, his pain faded into a pale memory. He smiled in relief. "Thank you."
Cameron scanned the moon's atmosphere and confirmed what Logan already knew. Outside it was anything but inviting and Logan was unfortunately no world champion in holding his breath. So, they had no choice but to wait for rescue.
She cut the tent that was in the survival kit into sheets of insulating fabric and ordered Logan to take off his shirt. Cameron wanted to bandage him with the sheet. "One hand washes the other, huh?"
Logan did what he was told and took off his top. The large bruises that adorned his battered body were clearly visible. He had hurt himself badly. Despite the painkillers he grunted several times unintentionally. It took a moment until he finally stood in front of her with his naked upper body.
Painful sighs left his lips as she wrapped the temporary pressure bandage around his chest. The petite woman had strength, you had to give her that. The bandage did what was expected of it. It was stuck and even if Logan moved, it stayed in place. He smiled slightly tortured. The bandage additionally restricted his breathing. "By the way, the drink is on me," he explained.
Logan crawled over for navigation. The console he was using before and now the one that was upside down was dark. Just like every other instrument in the shuttle. He opened the cover and lifted the display. Underneath, he recognized many chips and conductors, which probably made a technician cry because most of them were charred. But Logan did not need them either. His target was the black box. At least the access to it. After a few moves, which he needed to remove more panels and covers, he found it too and luckily it was still intact.
The pilot heard Cameron complaining about the batteries. He had expected at least one of them to be damaged, but he did not like the fact that it had to be both. Cameron believed that she could repair the second battery and set to work. He hoped she could. At least they had to try.
"I'll get to the comms in a minute," his eyes looked for the console. "The console looks pretty beat up. I hope it looks better underneath."
Logan connected the tricorder to the access to the black box and hoped it had survived the crash. It took a moment. The tricorder first had to identify some access points and supply the box with its own power source. But when the display turned green, Logan allowed himself to cheer for a moment.
"Yes, damn it! It works."
Logan downloaded the last position data and separated the two devices again. He wanted to save the battery of the tricorder for as long as possible. He sat up strained and saw the ensign trying to open the case of the emergency battery with a piece of metal. The casing of the thing had been dented quite a bit when they crashed. It was almost a miracle that the battery was still halfway intact.
While he was processing the data from the tricorder, he opened the cover of the communications console and found a complete mess. Logan checked some of the isolinear chips. At least the ones that were not fused to the motherboard. But unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. The device was broken.
"Damn. This is dead. How about you, Cam?"

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam removed the medication cartridge from the hypospray and set it aside, looking quickly to see how many doses were left before she gave Logan a smile. “I live to serve.” She said it plainly before she gave him a sort of wry grin.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.” She hadn’t ever heard it put that way before but she still bandaged him up the best that she could. Cameron, still being Cameron, couldn’t help herself but stare a little as he stripped himself out of his top. Even through the bruising, hell even because of the bruising. She cleared her throat after a moment and refocused her attention on the task at hand. “Drink’s on you? Well in that case, I like tequila.” She gave him a smirk. “What about you? What’s your drink?” She continued working on stripping the battery out of the casing and getting it to work as she made smalltalk with the pilot.

While Logan started to work on the dark console, Cam finally managed to get the chassis off the battery. It had taken plenty of muscle, and a spanner to get it off but she’d managed it. “Chances are it doesn’t.” She quipped back. She was planning on just about everything in the shuttle being in rough shape. She just hoped that they could cobble enough together to keep themselves alive long enough to get rescued. She picked up a laser scalpel from the medkit, and shaved off some of the carbon scoring that was intruding on one of the ports of the battery before she jumped out of surprise when Logan had an outburst of excitement. “Hey, delicate work here.” She took a breath and kept shaving around the sides and smiled. She was damn happy that something was working though.

“I think I’ve got some juice in this too.” She reached beneath a console and grabbed an EPS manifolds connection distributor and plugged it into the battery. Some of the lights within the shuttle began to flicker. “It’s not much but...it’ll give us enough...at least for a bit.” She pursed her lips. She stood up and moved closer towards the pilot, and the communications console. Her excitement was quickly dashed. “Comms are dead.” Awesome. “So we have to make our location obvious without comms.” She ran a hand through her bloodied hair before she sat back down on the ground and bit her lip. “How about...tell me what we do have? Or what we can at least repair enough in time that it’ll make a difference. We have to figure something out.” It was time to brainstorm. “Wait. We’re not going outside anyways. Can’t we vent the warp plasma? That’ll create a hell of a thermal signature. It’ll get hotter than hell in here but with any luck someone will pick us up before it gets too hot. We can use the battery for basic life support functions until it dies.” That’d buy them some time. She looked over to Logan, clearly wanting to see what he thought. She picked up a canteen off the ground, and uncapped it, taking a drink before she offered it over to him as well.

Cam looked like she had a thousand ideas running through her head. It was just the matter of parsing through them to find the ones that actually mattered. She didn’t stay idle for long, she got back to work hooking up the battery and trying to squeeze as much power out of it as she could. She mounted it in one of the cargo racks and tied it down with a strap. She made her way towards the after of the craft to see what the status of various hardware was; thrusters, weapons, shields, anything they could use. As she was going through the ship, she found her bag, and saw her PADD. It came to her in a flash that...there was another party she’d entirely forgotten about.

“Logan...what about the Klingons. We can’t reach Theurgy but...do you think we could somehow reach the Klingons?” She dipped her head to one side in questioning.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]"I mainly drink beer, preferably German beer. Shots or long drinks?", Logan thought for a moment. "Black Mamba," he then replied and was sure she must think he was a weird guy right now. Logan took another deep breath as much as he could and thanked her for the help.
When Logan realized that he could not get any further on the comms, he let himself sink to the ground and picked up the tricorder with the last position data again. "Good news," he replied to Cameron's message that she had got the battery back in working order. Her talent for improvising tools was remarkable. A skill that had certainly helped her a few times before, not only in life-threatening situations.
"What we have?" Logan thought for a moment. But apparently Cameron was engaged in some important thinking process at the time. Apparently, some ideas were forming behind her forehead and shortly after that she was expressing them verbally. Her idea with the warp plasma was actually not bad. "But then they'd have to find us within the next ten minutes. After that, we'd only be useful as a tasty main course."
It was a good idea, and under other circumstances, if they were adrift in space, it would certainly work. Here on the moon's surface, however, the ejected plasma would not spread far enough, and the shuttle would be misused as a pressure cooker by the gravity shortly after. However, they could try to tap the nacelles and pass small amounts of the plasma through the hull. This would allow them to heat the interior, which in turn would mean that they could use the battery longer for other things. Logan parked the idea for a moment. He would come back to it later. Right now, it was more important to draw attention to them.
Logan took the canteen and took a sip. He made sure not to take any more. They would still need the remaining water. He was sure of that. He looked around. The various compartments and containers were mostly empty. In addition to the tool and first aid kits he had already found, he found a few blankets and a gun box containing two type-2 phasers. Logan brought all the items together in one place and thought about how he could use them to generate a signal strong enough to reach the Theurgy. Then Cameron had another brilliant idea.
"The Klingons?"
Logan looked at her for a moment. His mind raced, searching for possibilities. He wanted to slap himself on the forehead with understanding, but then quickly remembered the diagnosis of the tricorder and let it go. Instead, he lent words to his insight: "I think this can work.” The pilot limped over to her and squeezed past her. For a moment he stopped in front of her, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "You are a genius."
Logan searched the new roof for a smaller compartment. "Ah, here." He opened the flap and pulled out a heavy silver cylinder the size of his forearm. "The emergency buoy. I did not eject it during the fight, because it would have been destroyed anyway. It is the black box of the shuttle and if we configure it accordingly, we can use it as a transmitter and draw attention to ourselves." Logan looked around for the tool. "The Klingons certainly noticed our little skirmish, and if we're lucky, they're still around."
He handed the buoy to Cameron and pulled out the tricorder. The analysis of the device had been completed in the meantime. With a few short inputs he was able to trace their route from just before the attack to the crash landing and thus calculate their position.
"We crashed on one of the moons of Seosire, or Epsilon Mynos VI. We are about a whole planet away from our destination. And because of the gas giant out there, there is a lot of interference. This might make it a little difficult to send a clear signal..." Logan hated what he had to say now, but it was the only way he could see. "But if we connect the buoy to the battery, we should have enough power to emit a reasonably strong signal."
He had no idea of how much energy would be needed and how much would be left for them to keep the life support running but Logan agreed with Cameron. The Klingons were just their best chance for rescue. He did not want to leave it untried.

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam continued the casual conversation through the work. Oddly, it kept her calm; centered. It was good to keep calm, even if she didn’t understand some of what Logan was talking about. “Shots, hands down.” She added quickly, “And no synthahol.” She physically shuddered at the thought of synthetic tequila. “German beer is good. I’m not a huge beer drinker myself, though.” She wasn’t beyond a beer or two here and there though.

Cam took a small break and wiped off oiled hands on her pants. It didn’t really matter what she wiped them on, between the blood in her hair, the oil on her hands, and the dust and soot smeared everywhere else in the cabin, it wasn’t as if either of them was particularly clean. Much to Cam’s irritation. She liked to be clean. “Ten minutes.” She grunted, “Dammit.” She could almost hear Ian in her head, chastising her for the very idea, but she shook the shade away and focused. “Okay, so...nix that.” She crossed her arms and got back to thinking, drawing one lip between her teeth as she did so.

She took the canteen back, and capped it quickly, making sure it was tight before putting it back inside the survival kit and taking note of how much was left. They had enough food to last them a while, and enough water too. They’d run out of air long before they got through that stockpile though. Air and power, meaning they’d suffocate and freeze to death before the starved or dehydrated. Which she supposed was some small comfort. If she had to choose a way to go, it would not be death by dehydration. She watched him putting all the gear together, having no clue what he was planning to do with it all. She gave him one nod when he repeated the word. Klingons. She figured they would be their best bet. They were probably close by, maybe...scratch that not maybe. They were likely waiting for them.

Cam stood still for a moment and let herself be grabbed before she grinned and gave him a nod, her body loosening up under his touch. “I know. I try.” She shot back. “Emergency…” She looked a bit cross with him for a moment. “That should have a built in transmitter.  Shit, I mean...it won’t go too terribly far but…” She moved over towards Logan and tried to get a good look at the cylinder. “I mean, in space it can go far but in atmo…right?” She shrugged. In any case, she shut up and listened to the pilot.

“They should be. Hopefully they’ll be keen to help too.” Cam took the buoy and got to work with programming it to how they needed it to function. She reached towards the battery and grabbed a wire off the side, plugging it into the side of the buoy. It was as if her mind was working in conjunction with Logan. She was doing it right as he was saying it. She gave him a smile. “Okay…” She finished up a few things and set her tricorder next to it. “Done. The tricorder will function as a computer. Just...talk when you’re ready. Or I can.” She looked over at the battery.

“And then we hope to hell they’re quick because this transmission is going to fuck the battery. We’re going to have...an hour and a half of power. Tops.” She gave him a worried look. This was their best shot though. She clenched her hand and moved over beside him, holding the tricorder between them both. The shuttle gave a lurch and a creak around them as the battery began to divert power into the device. The lights flickered for a moment and Cam straightened where she sat. The excitement grew to nervousness in what felt like minutes, but really had only been seconds. The only remaining console still live in the shuttle, went dark. All that remained was their makeshift transmitter, and their ticking clock of life support. She looked to Logan, expecting he would know what to do, or what to say, so she held the tricorder his way first.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan enjoyed the small talk. It was a nice distraction from the shitty situation they were in. He hated it, but he had to admit that the bastard's tactics were pretty brilliant. With the stroboscope he had made them practically blind and overloaded the sensors. Navigation had become impossible for a less experienced pilot. Logan was sure that if he had not been at CONN, the fight would have been decided much earlier and unfortunately not to the advantage of the hunted.
He saw Cameron connecting the battery to the buoy. He saw her nimble fingers cobbling the wires and cables together while he summarized the position data of her crash in a message as compact as possible. Logan read the data further and realized that the bandit's crash site was not far away. Even if he did not want to, he added this information as well. After all, the guy over there could still be alive and then he would need help, just like Cameron and him.
The young woman managed to connect her tricorder to the temporary radio transmitter. She explained that it should serve as a computer, or rather a microphone. Logan could not help but admire her for her inventiveness. "Well done."
But then she explained that the transmission would actually use up most of the battery charge. But spending an hour and a half knowing that the chances of being found had improved was much better than slowly suffocating for over twelve hours, hoping that someone would find them.
"Better than nothing."
Logan took a deep breath, coughed briefly, and took the tricorder in his other hand. He established a wireless connection between the two devices in his hands. Because their mission was secret, he had to encode their call for help. Otherwise the Klingons would certainly not react and disappear quickly. He pondered for a few seconds. Then he began to speak in an accented Klingon. He did not want to add an automatic translation to the computer.
<This is nightshade. We have been caught in a storm and are off course. The storm has abated, but we need urgent pickup.>
Logan repeated the message as many times as possible, always adding their coordinates. He tried until the battery went up in flames. There was a short crackle followed by a hot flash. A small fire had to be extinguished quickly, then they were back in complete darkness. Only broken by the lights of the tricorders and a faint glow that penetrated through the windshield into the shuttle.
"Let's hope they understood the message."
Logan reached for an emergency light and turned it on. The soft glow bathed the interior in a half-bright orange red. He looked at the clock.
"So, an hour and a half to go." Logan knew that they should actually move as little as possible and stay calm so that they could save as much air as possible. He had been in life-threatening situations many times before, but rarely did any of them look like this one. Some did not expect them back until the next day, others might not care that they would not show up. And in the middle of all this, there was not much hope for rescue at the moment. So, Logan decided for himself to make his maybe last hour as he wanted it to be. He offered Cameron his hand with an inviting smile.
"May I ask you to dance?"

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of the Epsilon Minos System] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cameron gave a quick shrug at the compliment. “Well it’s going to sound like garbled shit but, it’s better than nothing. They should be able to make it out, and they should be able to pinpoint us.” She gave a telltale nod one more time. As she passed off the Tricorder she checked a few of the remaining connections to the battery, and from the battery to the life support systems as well. “Better than sitting here for twelve hours while our death looms ever closer as we grasp at straws.” She realized how she sounded and looked at him apologetically. “Sorry.”

She ground her teeth and formed a fist with one hand. Really, what she was doing was steadying a nervous, shaking hand. She watched him encode the transmission and closed her eyes for a split second as he began to speak, almost as if the device in his hand was going to explode. She looked back over her shoulder to check the battery, and she saw the cell reading on it plummet as it began to transmit. Her heart sank as reality set in. Ninety minutes. If the Klingons chose to not aid them, she had ninety minutes of breathable air left, and then that was that. Lights out. Game over. She rolled her neck and took a long, deep breath. Her chest rose once, and then slowly fell. When the battery began to smoke, and finally torched itself, she fired the extinguisher at it. Then they were swallowed by darkness. Even if it was brief, Cam shut her eyes. She gave off a sharp intake of breath, and her hand reached out instinctively for her companion. For the first time, she truly felt fear.

“Hope so.” She offered in a quiet voice to her pilot. She tried to sound cheerful but with the battery now gone, things seemed much more real. The orange light lit up her face and she turned her eyes at once up to his face. The fear began to melt. For a moment, she brought her knees up to her chest, and hugged them, starting to make herself comfortable where she sat. If she was going to die there, she was going to die sitting how she wanted to sit, damn if she looked a bit strange.

With Logan’s offer though. Her head tilted back, and leaned to one side and she just...blinked for a second. “A-a dance?” She smiled, showing some white teeth. “Why not.” If she was going to die, might as well die having a little fun. She took his hand and pulled herself up, drawing herself in close to him. “We don’t have any music though.” She gave a grimace, but she rallied. She placed one hand on his shoulder and kept the other hand gripped tight in his. The rest of her body was remarkably close to his and she kept her eye locked with his face. “Fair warning, I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.” She laughed, something that was akin to almost a giggle. It was amused though, and she was clearly enjoying herself even though they’d hardly begun. She waited to keep step with whatever dance he had in store for her, keeping herself drawn close to him, her voice quiet in the low glow of the derelict shuttle.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan smiled softly as she told him that she was not nearly drunk enough for something like that. He helped her to her feet and pulled her towards him. Her hand rested on his shoulder and from the movement, the pilot reached for the Yeoman's Padd. It was quiet in the wreckage. Except for their movements and her slight giggle, there was no sound. Then the pilot found the music database on the device of his companion. He looked over her shoulder as he took the first, gentle steps and they began to slowly spin around a little. Finally, he found a suitable piece in the list and turned it on. He joked, "Don't worry, Cameron. I didn't drink enough for that either."
Logan was not a dance professional, but for most occasions his skills were sufficient. He mastered some ballroom dances and a few more exotic variations of various planets he visited with his family when he was younger. His eyes found Cameron's again and he consciously perceived their color for the first time. They matched her hair well and if her head weren’t soaked with blood, they would certainly frame her pretty face beautifully and accentuate her eyes. He could not help but smile. "You are beautiful," he whispered into her ear and finally put his hand on her back. In the background the music swelled up and Logan led his partner to the beat. He enjoyed her closeness and the warmth that her body radiated.
Logan did not know what to feel. His thoughts were resting. In a moment he thought about suffocating in agony and what he would leave behind. Over the years he had made many friends and fought some battles. He had won some of them, but others had been pretty bad for him. Logan thought of his comrades, those he had left behind when he had defected to the Theurgy and those who were now on board this ship and counting on him. Logan thought of his parents on Earth and what they would think of him now and he thought of his numerous cronies from the time when he was a smuggler.
But the next moment he only thought about the girl in his arms and how deeply he could lose himself in her eyes. He thought of her sweet giggling and her certain appearance as she improvised the necessary repairs. He admired her inventiveness, like connecting the tachyon flash or the tricorder to the battery. He... thought he was falling in love with her and decided to put all his eggs in one basket when he bent down to kiss her.
Whether she would answer him or not, Logan had at least tried. He would either spend his last moments with someone he liked or even loved, or, if she actually rejected him, his shame would last only a few moments. In the face of certain death, it was a win-win situation for the fighter pilot.

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]The fact that Logan had been able to recover her PADD somewhere in the wreckage was a small miracle in itself. She let out a laugh and smiled at him, “Thought that would have been toast for sure.” She looked around once to see if her bag was somewhere, but it was buried under the debris of a destroyed console. It would take some digging to get at it. When he turned it on she gave a soft nod, “Good choice.” She held onto him, and let him lead the steps. “You know, when I was packing, I thought about bringing a drink too, but thought better of it.” Boy, did she regret that now.

Cam’s steps were nervous at first, but it was clear that Logan actually had a bit of practice, so she placed some trust in his steps, and followed suit. She locked eyes with him for a moment, but only for a moment, before they broke away. She leaned her head against him for a split second and took a deep breath, then chose to again look back up at him. If she was going to die, she wanted to do it looking into the heart of another person. She flushed at the compliment. The proximity of his voice to her ear made her skin erupt with goosebumps down her arm and her head sipped to one side, her back straightening along its arch under his touch. “Logan…” She warned him, though it was hardly a harsh warning.

She felt the music become nothing more than an echo. This very likely could become her cold, dark, airless tomb. Someone would find her at some point. Maybe Theurgy, hours later, but hours too late. Maybe the Klingons, just in time. Maybe it would be Starfleet in a year, thinking they’d found the bodies of two traitors. Maybe they’d be found in centuries, like some fascinating archaeological discovery. No matter who it was, she knew that just then, she’d accepted that likely she was dead. It was up to her how she was going to die. On her feet, enjoying her last moments. Or on the ground, cowering.  She had nobody at home. She only had Theurgy.

When Logan leaned down, she broke away at first and looked at him, but after a moment, she leaned back into him. She pressed her lips against his, stopping the movement of her feet. She didn’t reject the pilot's advance at all. Quite the contrary she reciprocated it. Cam was a remarkably physical woman. She thrived on touch and contact at the best of times, to the point it often got in the way of things. Just then, it felt like a rush of relief that someone had finally put a hand on her, skin to skin. She reached around his head, running fingers through his hair, only part of her hand brushing up the metal side of his head. It didn’t bother her one bit. The other hand pressed up against his chest. Only once did she come up for air. She stepped forward, as if moving to press him against one of the shuttles bulkheads.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Apparently, Cameron had similar thoughts in her mind as he did, for she was involved in his advances. At first, she was coy for a moment. Logan thought he had already messed everything up. She avoided him, only to surprise him. She pressed her lips to his and suddenly time seemed to stand still. He felt her soft lips, tasted her, felt her fingers glide through his hair, gently stroking them across the metal plate in his skull. He felt her heat, her desire. Logan was completely blown away.
He grabbed her hip. He felt her figure close to his body. Her curves pressed against his chest. He liked the way she pulled the rudder and between the many kisses, he showed a demanding smile. His eyes sought eye contact with the twenty-centimeter smaller woman. She pushed him in front of her and pressed him against the bulkhead. The pilot groaned painfully for a moment as the air was squeezed out of his damaged chest. But he did not interrupt her playing. On the contrary, his hands were now also searching for touch and found Cameron's taut body. He grabbed her, pressed her tighter, pushed one of his legs between hers and forced her to change positions. Now it was she who was pressed against the bulkhead.
Logan let go of her for a moment and took a few steps back. Full of desire he looked at the probably last woman in his life. Then he took off his top and carelessly threw it on the floor. Sweat shone on his hairy chest and seeped into the bandage. His breath went faster. He was clearly aroused, but he wanted to appreciate the moment as long as possible, to enjoy the sight before he approached her again and helped her get rid of her uniform.
First the top. Logan put his hands under the fabric of the uniform and slid his hands over the ensign's skin. He kissed her constantly while his hands slowly but surely lifted the shirt further and further. At some point the fabric fell to the ground and he was presented with a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life. Logan could not imagine a better ending.

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam stood, pressed against the bulkhead of the shuttle. She was apprehensive at first, of course. Though it didn’t last for long. After what seemed like only a breath, she was lost in the moment. While her fingers ran through his hair, her thumb ran against the metal plate embedded in his skull. She wasn't sure what he could feel of it, but the coolness of the plate against the warmth of her flesh felt...strangely nice. Cam wasn’t the sort to idly stand by. She gave his lip a bite and laughed, face pressed against his, as she pressed herself up against him, while she still had him against the bulkhead.

She broke away for a moment at the groan he let out, “Sorry.” She offered, with a wry smirk, and she looked him over for a moment. How long had it been? How long did they have? She really wasn’t certain and that made her even more nervous. To hell with it. When he spun her around against the bulkhead, she didn’t fight him. One hand moved out and away from his head and down the front of his neck, then down his chest until she reached the point of the abdominal binder that she’d manufactured out of the tent. She didn’t push beyond that but instead let a finger run along the border of it to trail its way around his torso, until she’d wrapped her arm around him in a sense, using  only the tip of a finger against his flesh. The tease was short lived though, as he’d stepped away.

When he moved back upon her, she helped remove the uniform top, undoing the zipper as he made to strip it away from her. It left her in little more than her uniform trousers and the duty-bra. It was certainly not the most flattering undergarment in the galaxy. It was supposed to be functional, not attractive. Still though, Cam stood there, eyes afire, cheeks flushed, staring at Logan. She stood for a moment before she reached down to her waist and unbuttoned the trousers and slid out of them, leaving herself in nothing but the Starfleet-issued underwear and bra. She walked back over towards Logan, barefeet gently padding through the shuttle, careful not to step on anything sharp, and she reached for his hand first with one hand. She gave it a squeeze. The gesture wasn’t one meant to be sexual in any way. It was one of mutual comfort beyond just the pleasurable physical comfort they were offering one another. She was scared to die, and she wanted a hand to hold, if only for a moment. The other hand reached for his face and her head went towards his, to again press her lips to his, this time though, she tried to drag him to the ground. Once she'd reached for hsi hand each mvoe was done with purpose but was shockingly, remarkably gentle.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]Logan did not resist. He returned her gesture and took her hand. His fingers crossed with hers. He felt safe and hoped that she too felt comfortable in his arms. With death before his eyes, he was glad that someone was there to give him comfort, someone to be close to, and it was important to him that this did not remain one-sided. Logan tried to make Cameron comfortable.
When she gently forced him to lie down, he let it happen. He enjoyed her closeness. Just when they were falling over each other with pure, wild passion, they now cared tenderly for each other. He wrapped his arms around her almost naked body and gave her his warmth. Her lips touched again and with each further contact, Logan felt a slight tingling sensation. He was about to fall in love.

The pilot found himself lying on the ground. The individual parts of the two Starfleet uniforms were a soft cushion for the otherwise hard ground. Logan stroked a strand from the ensign's face behind her ear. His fingertip traced the contour of the auricle. He touched it very gently, soaking up the sight before he started the next kiss. His free hand opened her brassiere and freed her from the piece of cloth. To fit in with her dress code, he wanted to get rid of his trousers. He left it up to Cameron whether she wanted to help him or not. For Logan, however, it was clear that he wanted to show her his entire self in all its glory. He trusted her and wanted to take the next step in her very short relationship. The togetherness gave him stability. It distracted him from an inescapable truth. He hoped that it would never happen. Logan looked into Cameron's eyes and wondered if she felt the same.

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cameron felt as safe as one could when they were slowly running out of oxygen. What she was doing was something solely out of seeking the comfort of another. She lay there, with him. She moved with a certain intimate passion and pressed warm lips against his, giving his lower lip a gentle bite.

She allowed him to free her of the bra and she let out a sharp breath as he traced her ear. She sat up, using one hand to press herself up. She wasn’t as ‘in shape’ as some of her colleagues as to just shoot straight up with the sheer force of her abs. When he started to get rid of his pants, she helped, pulling them away one the zipper and button had been dealt with. The way that she looked at him however, was very different than the way that she was being looked at. It was not strictly a look of love, or falling in love. It was a look of lust. She’d sought physical comfort in Logan. She put a hand on his cheek and gave him a warm smile, trying to comfort him in her own way, and she leaned back into him, trying to keep up the façade for him for as long as she could.

The shuttle was hot, and the visible skin that showed had a thin layer of sweat on it. She gave him a gentle push and started to crawl over him if he allowed it. “You know the Klingons could show up any minute, right?” She whispered to him as she pressed her lips to the space right below his lowest rib, on the right side, looking up at him. “That would be incredibly embarrassing.” She smirked and moved up his chest, to the third intercostal space, and pressed her lips there, looking back up to him before she smiled and again, saw his face. She stared for a moment before her smile faltered and she moved back off of him. She stopped what she was doing and moved slightly back from him. “We-I, shouldn’t be doing this. I can see the way that you’re looking at me.” She curled up into a sort of fetal position, naked and hugged her knees as she looked at him, looking guilty.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]"For the Klingons? Maybe. For me? Certainly not," Logan joked with a gentle smile, knowing that he would surely be embarrassed after all. He pulled off the last bit of his pants and enjoyed the sight Cameron offered him as she crawled over him. She kissed her way up to him. With every touch a wave of ecstasy shot through his body. In turn, he caressed her shoulders and back. His fingers slowly and tenderly traced the contours of her spine, which was slightly visible through her skin on her back. He was fascinated by how soft her skin felt. Velvety and tender. It was a strong contrast to his.
He liked to look at her face, see the longing grin. Like a predator ready to snatch its prey. But suddenly her expression changed to a kind of sadness. No, it was rather guilt or remorse. She let go of him and huddled together. Her guilty eyes looked at him. Logan no longer understood the world. One moment they were passionately loving each other and from one moment to the next everything seemed to be history. He straightened up. He sat opposite her just as naked as she was.
"You don't need to worry, Cameron," he began the conversation after a few seconds of silence. "After all, I started the whole thing here."
Logan pointed to himself to substantiate his point. "If anyone had to apologize, it would be me."
He reached for the blanket from the survival kit and put it around Cameron's shoulders. "If you're afraid that I might fall in love with you and you want to spare me the pain, rest assured. I fall in love with every woman I sleep with."
At the same time as he was saying that he realized how stupid his statement was about to sound. "Sorry, that sounded wrong."
Logan did not want her to feel guilty about him just because she did not feel the same way. He was aware that he was developing feelings for her and he knew about this character trait on his part.
"I should have warned you before, right? I fall in love very quickly. This is my kryptonite."
He grabbed their clothes and handed her hers. Slowly, he put his clothes back on and finally sat down beside her. He wrapped his arm around Cameron. Even though the situation was a little uncomfortable for him. He did not want her to feel bad about him. He wanted to give her comfort and not wait alone for death to approach inevitably.

[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Mions VI ] Attn: @Nero
[Show/Hide]Cam looked surprisingly guilty. Not for long though. She knew that she couldn’t feel guilty for choosing to not hurt someone else. “You don’t need to apologize.” She took the blanket and pulled it tight over herself, covering up to the best of her ability. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable blanket. It was after all, a survival blanket. It was designed for warmth and nothing else. The fabric was coarse and harsh against her bare skin.

“That’s quite an Achilles heel.” She gave him an awkward smirk before she again, pulled the blanket tighter, as if it were some spartan shield and she were holding her ground with it. “Yea maybe some warning. I uhm-” She shook her head, “Look, you’re sweet. You’re good looking. I don’t know you though. Outside of the couple hours we’ve been here.” She tried to be as kind as she could. She was actually, a little upset though. “Wine and dine me before declaring your love.” She took her clothes from him, and though he’d seen it all at that point she felt strangely exposed to him.

She pulled her clothes on as quickly yas she could and tried to fix up her disheveled hair as she checked the rooms O2 saturation. “25 minutes.” She offered before she just shook her head and sat down. “Great.” She heart had gone out of her voice. There was no joy in it. Facing death down, right in the face, was entirely different to what she’d dealt with before. Being in battle was one thing. Understanding she was about to suffocate and freeze to death was entirely different. “I think I get why the Klingons talk so much about dying in glorious battle now. This fucking sucks.” As he wrapped his arm around her though, she didn’t pull away, instead she leaned her head against his shoulder and wiped the wetness from her eyes.

However, she shot up after a moment, because as if on queue, the entire cabin was lit up from a light from outside. There was a roar from an engine overhead and the headlight from a ship ignited the inside of their cockpit. “Oh-oh shit!”  She shouted with absolute joy. She shot to her feet and ran to the front of the cockpit trying to make herself visible. “It’s them!” She shouted over her shoulder. “It’s them!” She again repeated.

[Lt. JG Logan Hale, callsign "Wraith" (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Logan_Hale,_callsign_"Wraith") | Shuttle Type-9 | A Moon of Epsilon Minos VI] Attn: @BipSpoon
[Show/Hide]"I can offer you the emergency rations over there, Cameron," he joked in response to her explanation. Logan then made it clear, however, that he understood her. He could see her point, understand her request. Logan blamed his behavior on impending death. It tempted him to act rashly and foolishly. He was sure of that now. Somehow, though, he was glad Cameron backed off. He was extremely embarrassed to overwhelm her with his feelings, so he tried to use humor to cover the situation.
Logan held Cameron in his arms, who dried her tears on his shoulder. "There's something to dying for a cause or for someone you like. Something honorable. But to suffocate..." Logan swallowed hard once before continuing. "That's a whole other thing, and I actually thought I wouldn't have to go through it again."
Logan remembered the Dominion War and how he managed to take out the Jem'Hadar ship. He had been able to save himself in time then by leaving the Peregrine fighter. From then on, he could only wait and watch the battle. He was drifting in space without any control and nothing but his EV-Suit protecting him from certain death. His time was running out. His air was running out with each passing minute. Only at the last moment could he be saved. Still, it had taken some time for him to recover from near death by asphyxiation. At that time, he had earned his reputation name. From that point on, people called him Wraith. He had appeared on the sensors like a ghost, shocking the crew. And now he sat here, imagining he could hear the clock ticking as it mercilessly counted down his death, waiting for his breath to run out a second time. But this time, he was not alone. As much as he wished she did not have to share his fate, he was glad not to be alone. It was a gut-wrenching dichotomy that the pilot was in danger of falling into. His concern for Cameron, or his selfishness. He was not sure which would prevail in the end.
Slowly, his eyes fell closed as Cameron suddenly jumped up, rejoicing like a little child that rescue was finally arriving. She made her way to the front window and tried to peek through. The cabin seemed brightly lit and a gentle vibration shook the shuttle. Logan, meanwhile, was having trouble breathing. The broken ribs and lack of oxygen were no help, but even the pilot somehow made it to the front of the shuttle. He lay down on his back and looked through the small gap to the sky. His eyes saw nothing but blackness.
"Cameron...there...is..." Every breath was labored. Suddenly, he was seized by a familiar tingling sensation. The world around him disappeared in a soft white light and was shortly replaced by another, more familiar Starfleet one. He looked around the newly arrived Type-11-Shuttle who seemed to have picked them up. Someone was trying to put a breathing mask on him. He resisted. His first concern was the safety of his former passenger.
"Hey, LT, how are you?"
"Cameron..."
"Ensign Henshaw is right here in the front, see? She's already being taken care of."
"What... with... the Kling.... Klingons."
"I don't know what you're talking about, LT. But there are no Klingons to be seen for miles around. Fortunately, we happened to intercept your radio transmission. Boy, were we surprised to find a Federation shuttle here. Take it easy, LT. Here, I'll give you a sedative. We'll take you back to the Theurgy. You'll be properly cared for there."
"The tractor beam has locked on and released the shuttle, Commander. We're ready for takeoff."
"All right, Jones. Well then, let’s go! Back to the mother."

-- Fin --