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Bleeding out

Posted on 05 Jan 2017 @ 4:53am by Lieutenant Commander Temerant Bast

Mission: Click Three Times
Location: USS Cochrane - Engineering
Timeline: MD10 || 0720 Hours

The ship rocked as the asteroids hit the hull, tossing the ship about. Bast held on to his console, trying to keep a clear head. His left shoulder hurt him terribly, where one of the Hunters had shot him during their escape from the asteroid base. The blood loss was severe. He constantly had to shake his head to clear it.

He shifted his feet to keep his balance, but his left foot slipped in the puddle of blood that had formed on the floor. His left leg gave out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground, his chin hitting the console as he fell.

Ensign Johnson was at his side within five seconds.

"Commander!" She called out, kneeling next to him.

When he didn't reply, she slapped her combadge. "Medical emergency in Engineering!" she called.

The image of him hitting his head on the console as he fell was fresh in her mind. She placed her hands on either side of his neck, immobilizing his spine until Medical showed. She looked into his face, and saw that it was deathly pale.

- - - - - -

Silence.

The symbiont could only hear silence from the Host. Of course it had felt his weakening state over the past hour, and its concern had been growing. However, given the current situation, dropping everything to report to Sickbay was simply out of the question. But now that the Host had lost consciousness, the symbiont was blind and deaf to the world.

Sorrow.

The symbiont knew that it was now alone. There were no other Trill among the Cochrane crew. If Temerant died, the Bast symbiont would die as well. All in all, it considered that it had been lucky, and had led a good life. A top musician, a renowned physicist, and a loyal, competent and devout Starfleet officer. Not such a bad run, really. Granted, most symbionts had the chance to lead ten to fifteen lives, and Bast had only gotten three. Had they been back in their own universe, maybe things would have been different, and Bast could have continued. But it was over, and the symbiont was sad.

Solace.

At least none of it had been in vain. They were far from safe, but at least they were off this damned base - and the base was no longer a threat to anyone. At least they stood a fighting chance. The symbiont took comfort in that.

- - - - - -

"Where the hell is that medical team?" called out Johnson over the comm. Her fingers were positioned on either side of his carotid arteries, and she could feel his pulse weakening.

 

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