“Captain?”  Calog Tir stood over the limp body of his CO, Helena Dread.  The Douglas bridge was dark, except for the auxiliary lights that had clicked on.  He coughed as the smoke circled in the air above him.  Dread’s straps had held her securely, but debris had flown around the bridge as explosions loosed fiery debris, becoming flying objects capable of bodily trauma.  He had woken up from his operations station and found his corner of the bridge had sheltered him from major injury.  He accepted a tricorder from a dazed William Prentice, who slumped down into the left-hand chair.  The helm officer’s head was bloodied, but it was dry – whatever had bled had slowed.

“Is she alive?”  Prentice was worried about the rest of the bridge crew – some were moving.  His ears began to hear the sounds of the residual and immediate injuries being announced as more of them shook loose from their collective unconsciousness.

Tir sighed with relief as the results scrolled across the device’s screen, “She’s alive, and her vitals are stable.  She’s going to need sickbay – significant head trauma is the best it can tell me.”  He looked around the bridge and called out, “Report in – name and condition!”

“Ensign Athena, shaken but alive.”  The Bajoran struggled to undo the safety belt and growled as she snapped it off.   “Injuries are minimal.  I’ll check on our people.”

Lieutenant Atega snapped awake as Athena moved to check on her.  She asked, eyes wild with concern, “Ensign…what happened?”  

The tactical and security chief caught the tricorder tossed by Tir. She started scanning the communications chief: “No idea, Lieutenant. It looks like you’re shaken up, but nothing serious.”  She extended her hand: “Let’s see if we can get you up.”  

Atega took a deep breath and grasped the hand offered, pulling herself out of the chair. Groaning as her muscles protested, “That hurts like hell.”  She remained standing with the help of Athena, regaining her balance. She took a long look at Athena. The officer was looking everywhere but herself.  She felt compelled to ask, “Are you okay, Ensign?”

She dismissed her question, “I just want to know what hit us and if I can hit it back.”  She returned to searching the bridge.

Reminding herself to check on her later, Atega grasped her hands on the railing, controlling her breathing and the rising panic at the state of the darkened command center.  She spotted Fowler slumped at the science console and pushed herself until she leaned painfully against the console, checking on her friend. “Sadie, can you hear me?”  Presley put her finger to Fowler’s neck and found a pulse, but it wasn’t strong.  “Tir – do we have medical supplies?”

The Trill was working that angle – he’d found and triaged other bridge crew.  He kicked at the panel behind the center chair, and it fell open.  Three medical kits were inside, and he distributed two of them, tossing one of them to Atega.  He cracked open his box and began to work on the unmoving body of Captain Dread.

“Ensign Soojin?”  The world was a hazy mix of light and sound, but her name kept circling back in her ears as the blunted vision spiked her anxiety.  She shook her head, trying to clear whatever clutter was clogging up her mind. “Ensign Soojin?  Can you hear me?”  She moaned as the sharp tones of her injured body screamed through her nerves with each moment.  “Ensign Soojin?”

She garbled a, “I’m here…who…what…ohgod.”  She turned and felt her stomach heave as a thick, sour sludge erupted from her throat, spilling with a splash across the floor.  Her vision cleared little by little, giving her a momentary hope.  It was shattered as she ejected what was left within her a second time, grunting as the reflective shudder of her body shook her once more.  The hazy world around her coalesced all at once, her sigh of relief easing her stress.  Her body rebounded with an answer of crescendoing pain, her lips still stinging.  “Why does it hurt so bad?” she cried.  The flitting vision she had spotted as she’d awoken clarified into the concerned face of her department head, Lieutenant Commander Milton Ford.  “Oh, Mr. Ford…I am so sorry.”

He pulled her up carefully, “ No need to apologize; you took a helluva beating, Ensign.  Your initial triage tells me we need to get you to sickbay.  I’ve given you some meds to stabilize you.”  He gently pulled her up and assisted her to her feet.  She wobbled, and he remained at her side, “Sickbay is just four corridors away…I can get us there with your help.”

“Captain Halsey, we’re nearly there.”  Ensign Alanna Barker had climbed up from deck three with the executive officer after the Douglas had hit…whatever they had hit.  They had been working in a briefing room when the ship had gone literally sideways.

Halsey limped beside her, his foot bound and stabilized.  “I can’t imagine the bridge looks any better than we do.  Auxiliary power can only do so much.”  He glanced at his watch, “We’ve got limited time to get emergency and eventually main power back online.”  They approached the door and went to work, just as they had done on their journey here, manually opening it with trained precision.  A long screech pinched the air until a deep thud signaled the door had opened.  They both glanced in and gasped in shock.  Tir was working on the unmoving body of Dread, and various others were being evaluated and propped up to see if they were well enough to be moved.

Leopold pushed onto the bridge, “Tir—how is she?”  Barker slipped past him, putting her hands to work with others as they triaged and stabilized. The XO walked carefully down to where Tir was working.  

The operations chief replied, “Initial diagnosis of head trauma – she’s got a heartbeat and is breathing – lungs are struggling a little more as time passes,” he gestured to the smoke that was hanging above them, “…and that is not helping.  There could be internal bleeding, but the medical tricorder in the kit was shorted out.”  He gave a thankful smile when Halsey snapped his own, which he carried with him, and handed it over. “Thank you, captain.”

On the other side of the bridge, Barker took over inventorying the injuries as the work continued around her.  Three were critical, most would need some level of intermediate care before the day was out, and a few were mostly unscathed.  She breathed a sigh of relief – no casualties were on the bridge.  What awaited them on the rest of the Douglas was unknown.  She spotted Atega scanning Fowler with a medical tricorder.  She made her way over,  “How bad?”

Presley handed her the tricorder: “Looks like a concussion—hand me a cortical stimulator.”  Presley had taken the requisite medical training courses required by Doctor Reid. She’d focused on studying the brain, having been fascinated by language and its connection. She felt some relief at least knowing the right device to help address the condition.  

Barker handed her the device, “If we’re going to have any luck at getting answers – we’re going to need her to do it.”  Sadie Fowler’s reputation had continued to climb – her scientific studies, research, and overall acumen had shaken the science department team up – some had left when they’d transferred to the Obena class, and others had seized on the chance to work with her.

Ataga secured the stimulator. “We’ll get her back.”  Her voice didn’t betray the mild doubt that was whispering in her mind’s ear.  She knew was doing, she told herself.  She’d trained for this.  Atega went through the setup process to treat the specific condition, going through her memorized steps from the training.  She muttered as she worked, “Tap command A, set condition B, asses treatment strength C, and activate.”  Repeating a few times and drawing a look from the Yeoman, she shrugged, “If you want to do it right, put it in your brain.”  Another minute of repeating the instruction and tapping the controls until she had triple-checked the settings, “Here we go.”  There was a whir and a beep. The stimulator went to work.

Barker watched, fascinated. “You’re lucky that thing works—whatever we hit impacted not just the Douglas but also the systems and equipment.”

The unit continued to work as Atega turned to take in the bridge. Debris, draped cords, circuitry, and even an errant EPS conduit were scattered across the bridge and from the ceiling.  Consoles were darkened, but most of the crew were either sitting up or starting to stand.  They would need to get the fans working – the air quality was acrid and smelled of sweat and smoke.  A beep from the device brought her back to Fowler.

“Oh god, that hurts like a mother…oh, Presley…Alanna….what the hel..heck happened?”  She felt her head as it pounded and ran up against the device, “How bad am I?”  She turned to the console, dark and unanswering, “That’s not good.”

Presley checked the unit’s status and released it from her head: “Concussion—stabilized for now, but we’re going to need to get you and a bunch of others to sickbay. Do you remember anything?”

Sadie winced as Atega put a hypospray up against her neck, dispensing pain relief.  “There was a…massive disturbance.  Like a…wormhole…but it wasn’t a wormhole, at least not in the classical sense.”  She thought back to the screens before they’d gone dark.  “The gravimetric readings were off the charts…was it a tear in space?  I didn’t have time to check for chronometric readings…mirror universe, maybe…or time travel?”  The pain was fading away, freeing her mind to think beyond survival, “It wasn’t a known connection – came out of nowhere…did heavy damage…wherever we are, we’re going to need to keep an eye out.”

“Already on it,” was the reply from Ensign Athena as she worked on the security storage units in the walls of the bridge, “I was able to reach some of my team below decks – it’s not much better down there.  They’re working their way  – no casualties so far.  Nobody’s been able to raise sickbay.”

Halsey and Tir gently unclipped Dread from her chair and laid her down on the ground.  The XO pushed himself up, “Captain Dread’s going to need that sickbay – along with a few others here.  I’m taking command of the bridge.”  He looked around the command center, “The Douglas is down but not out.  We’ve got limited time to get her back on her feet.  Atega, I need a solution to our internal communication troubles.  Tir and Barker – we need a path to Sickbay.  Find us one.  As for the rest of us, let’s see what we can do with auxiliary power.”  

The bridge crew went to work, energized at the possibility they might just live to see tomorrow.