Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2014 13:37:56 GMT -8
The Talon hung in space, buoyed by tractor beams from multiple directions, its hull breached to the black, but the contents kept secure by temporary forcefields set by Starfleet engineers. Where once its skin gleamed in the starlight, a dull sheath of gray clung to it from plasma burns and other insults upon its surface. The bodies had already been removed, notices to next of kin sent, and memorials held in various locations on the planet below. Still, as one walked through the empty halls, a dropped, scorched PADD or other odd item where it shouldn't be indicated the owner probably didn't need it anymore. A brotherhood of mixed stains in Sickbay told a bloody tale of haste and chaos.
Hunter had observed all of this and more as he moved through the ship. It didn't take any convincing to allow the work team to let him on board; the orders from Monroe were enough. Already, Hunter had collected the nanites from Sickbay. Thankfully, the container had remained sealed. Now, he made his way to the lab, intent on securing key data and equipment before the workers began gutting that section. When that was done, he would move to the botany and animal labs. It was doubtful that any of the organics were still viable, but it didn't hurt to check. Such things were not high priority when the lives of a crew were hanging in balance, but now he was given leave to save all he could.
As he entered the lab, a wave of regret fell over him. So many memories there, so many laughs and discoveries, and failures. While failures were expected in his line of work, the Talon was expected to prevail constantly. He could only imagine how it would feel to be the Captain. It was still unknown whether the ship was even salvageable. Was that the ultimate failure of a Captain? Every death had to be a knife to the heart to the ones in command. It wasn't even known to the crew where they would end up next. Spread to the winds, all sent to various other ships of the Fleet, or would they be pressed into service on Earth to help with the rebuild? Only time would tell. The fact, though, that the Talon was in an energy hammock at McKinley said volumes. Starfleet couldn't waste resources, especially now, with many of the Shipyards and Stations destroyed. Maybe they still had faith in the ship.
At his station, Hunter discovered that fluid had leaked out of the eyeworm tank. Picking it up, he shook it gently, watching the desiccated remains shift for a second before he set it down. Grabbing a stool, he righted it from the floor and sat in front of his console. As he pressed the power button, the screen remained black for longer than normal, but finally came to life. Several minutes later, extremely sensitive data had been transferred to his PADD. While he knew Starfleet would have already backed up everything, it was human nature to not trust their life's work to someone else. That finished, he checked his list and began backing up the work of others, having received their requests hours ago.
Satisfied, he scanned the area for any dangerous breaches or dangerous compounds and signed off on the work order, allowing the work crews to begin. Next, he moved to the botany lab and was surprised to find more than a handful of plants still clinging to life. These, he transported to the small cargo ship that hovered near the Station.
Taking in a deep breath, Hunter moved to the animal lab. Closing his eyes, he stepped through the door, but immediately opened them and grabbed a facemask from his bag. The smell was overwhelming. Breathing the filtered oxygen, he took a moment to settle his stomach before beginning his scans with the tricorder that hung around his neck. Nothing much remained alive. There was an Etimonian snail that was still thriving, and a scrawny orange cat, but nothing else. Taking the cat into the crook of one arm, he let it snuggle into the warmth while he transported the snail to the cargo ship. "Let's get you out of here," he said to the feline. It purred into his chest as he carried it out into the hallway. Sitting down in the hallway, he took off his mask and put it back in his pack, then set a PADD on the floor. Tapping on it, he finalized the two reports. His free hand rose up as he leaned against the bulkhead, his head tilting backward, and he began absently stroking the animal. He knew he should get it to water, but for a moment, he needed to breathe.
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Hunter had observed all of this and more as he moved through the ship. It didn't take any convincing to allow the work team to let him on board; the orders from Monroe were enough. Already, Hunter had collected the nanites from Sickbay. Thankfully, the container had remained sealed. Now, he made his way to the lab, intent on securing key data and equipment before the workers began gutting that section. When that was done, he would move to the botany and animal labs. It was doubtful that any of the organics were still viable, but it didn't hurt to check. Such things were not high priority when the lives of a crew were hanging in balance, but now he was given leave to save all he could.
As he entered the lab, a wave of regret fell over him. So many memories there, so many laughs and discoveries, and failures. While failures were expected in his line of work, the Talon was expected to prevail constantly. He could only imagine how it would feel to be the Captain. It was still unknown whether the ship was even salvageable. Was that the ultimate failure of a Captain? Every death had to be a knife to the heart to the ones in command. It wasn't even known to the crew where they would end up next. Spread to the winds, all sent to various other ships of the Fleet, or would they be pressed into service on Earth to help with the rebuild? Only time would tell. The fact, though, that the Talon was in an energy hammock at McKinley said volumes. Starfleet couldn't waste resources, especially now, with many of the Shipyards and Stations destroyed. Maybe they still had faith in the ship.
At his station, Hunter discovered that fluid had leaked out of the eyeworm tank. Picking it up, he shook it gently, watching the desiccated remains shift for a second before he set it down. Grabbing a stool, he righted it from the floor and sat in front of his console. As he pressed the power button, the screen remained black for longer than normal, but finally came to life. Several minutes later, extremely sensitive data had been transferred to his PADD. While he knew Starfleet would have already backed up everything, it was human nature to not trust their life's work to someone else. That finished, he checked his list and began backing up the work of others, having received their requests hours ago.
Satisfied, he scanned the area for any dangerous breaches or dangerous compounds and signed off on the work order, allowing the work crews to begin. Next, he moved to the botany lab and was surprised to find more than a handful of plants still clinging to life. These, he transported to the small cargo ship that hovered near the Station.
Taking in a deep breath, Hunter moved to the animal lab. Closing his eyes, he stepped through the door, but immediately opened them and grabbed a facemask from his bag. The smell was overwhelming. Breathing the filtered oxygen, he took a moment to settle his stomach before beginning his scans with the tricorder that hung around his neck. Nothing much remained alive. There was an Etimonian snail that was still thriving, and a scrawny orange cat, but nothing else. Taking the cat into the crook of one arm, he let it snuggle into the warmth while he transported the snail to the cargo ship. "Let's get you out of here," he said to the feline. It purred into his chest as he carried it out into the hallway. Sitting down in the hallway, he took off his mask and put it back in his pack, then set a PADD on the floor. Tapping on it, he finalized the two reports. His free hand rose up as he leaned against the bulkhead, his head tilting backward, and he began absently stroking the animal. He knew he should get it to water, but for a moment, he needed to breathe.
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