Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [118]
A few seconds ticked past before the bridge’s emergency lights kicked on, bathing the scene in an eerie orange glow. Will struggled to sit, aware that he had landed near his command chair, his back up against the upperlevel support frame for the bridge’s raised aft work stations. He heard Deanna moan, and saw her sit up from where she was slumped over her chair’s armrest, held in place by the autorestraints.
Riker placed his hand against the deck, feeling something wet and warm there as he turned toward Vale’s chair. He saw that she was sitting in it, held in place by her harness; she looked dazed, though not obviously harmed. An errant thought flickered through his mind: Clearly the lesson here is to stay in my chair.
As Riker struggled to his feet, he heard the other members of the bridge crew moaning and moving around him. He stooped near the conn, where Ensign Lavena lay after evidently having opened her restraints; her suit had sprung a leak, and its fluids were rapidly spilling onto the deck. Riker realized that this was the source of the moisture he had felt on the deck, and was thankful that it wasn’t anyone’s blood.
“Everybody, sound off,” he said, turning. In quick succession—though accompanied by many moans and groans—Lavena, Rager, Jaza, Deanna, Vale, Akaar, Tuvok, the Rossini twins, and three other members of the bridge crew called out their names.
Which left only Keru.
Riker turned to see Tuvok kneeling beside one of the aft consoles. “Captain, your tactical officer is badly injured.”
Riker tapped his badge, as Deanna and Christine rushed to the upper level. “Riker to sickbay. Prepare for incoming wounded.” He sighed, and turned to Jaza as the science officer moved back toward his station. “Status report.”
The Bajoran ran a shaky finger across his console’s monitor, following as he read. “Titan was turning when she was struck. We were lucky. We appear to have sustained only minor hull damage. There’s a small breach on deck five, and emergency forcefields are already in place. But our shields were overloaded by the impact.”
“How badly?”
“They’re down to thirty percent, Captain. Sir, we can’t take another hit like that.”
“Will.” Deanna was calling him from the upper part of the bridge, aloud this time.
“Contact Khegh, Rager. We’re going to need the Klingons protecting our flanks.”
“Will!” Deanna’s voice had become more insistent. He moved in behind her, steadying himself against a console as he looked down.
Ranul Keru lay in a crumpled heap, contusions about his face from the console circuitry into which he had crashed. But of far, far more serious concern was the spanner that protruded from his chest. Deep red blood oozed out around what he recognized as one of Ensign Rossini’s tools.
Then he noticed that the large Trill was not breathing, either.
Simultaneous to this observation, Vale tapped her combadge. “Vale to transporter room four! Beam Commander Keru directly to sickbay. Sickbay, prepare a trauma team. We’re beaming Mr. Keru directly to you. He’s critically injured.”
As the shimmering curtain of energy surrounded and dissolved Keru, Deanna stood. Riker saw that her eyes were wet. “I could barely feel him, Will. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
Not caring how the gesture would look to Akaar or anyone else, Riker gathered Deanna into his embrace. He looked over her head at Vale.
“Let’s get this ship running again,” he said grimly.
SEVERAL MINUTES EARLIER
Olivia Bolaji had screamed so much that her voice was hoarse, and not even all the asinolyathin in sickbay seemed to be of any help.
Ogawa checked the biobed display again, then kept her voice as low and calming as possible as she addressed her infuriated patient. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I don’t see any change. If we don’t get your baby out now, we’d be risking both of your lives.”
Axel Bolaji stood near the biobed, his dark-hued hand now purplish from the hard squeezing Olivia had been giving