Saving Mar

14 DAMAGED

The Orion ship was more damaged on the inside than the outer hull. It bore signs of both a firefight and sabotage. Scorched, demolished patches along their chosen path made it tricky and difficult to move forward.

So far, though, not a sound that wasn't the ship sighing in pain had reached their ears. Their tricorders hadn't picked up the faint biosign, either.

Jon took point. The women were instinctively placed in the middle, but didn't protest—Mar was hurt and Erika had decided to inconspicuously keep an eye on her, so Jon wouldn't have to risk compromising the mission because of her. Shran and Morkal took the rear guard.

"Is it just me, or is there something strange going on there?"

Shran pensively regripped his disruptor rifle, watching the almost visible tension among Jon, Erika and Mar. The subtle looks, the heavy silence. At any other time he would just ask Jon and then make fun of them all, but the ship was falling apart around them and he found himself wondering whether their leader was up to the task of keeping them all alive.

"Harumph," said Morkal, obviously unable to care any less. He'd been quietly cursing Orions under his breath ever since they stepped on board. "I only met them yesterday, Shran, what do you expect me to gossip about?"

"Thought you wouldn't miss an opportunity to insult everyone in your field of view," Shran raised an antenna.

"It's much better when they can actually hear it," sighed Morkal. "If you like, I can insult you."

"Let's leave the pleasantries for after the mission," Shran suggested, a bit of exasperation finding its way into his tone. "I'm worried, that's all."

"Then maybe you should talk to them, not me."

"I would, but Archer's so touchy about such topics," Shran lamented quietly. "Whenever I bring up the subject of mating, his ears turn red, and he starts deflecting and evading."

"Aren't all humans like that?" Morkal had met a few humans during his time on Salvo 14, but never quite reached the point of asking them about their mating rituals. "Or perhaps just these Starfleet types."

"Oh no." Shran shook his head and chuckled. "Some are quite shameless. He calls it 'old-school'. No idea what humans were taught at schools when he was little, but it doesn't seem healthy."

"Harumph," Morkal uttered in agreement.

They walked in silence for a time, the only sounds around them the tortured moans of overstressed alloys and the irritated hissing of exposed wiring.

Shran couldn't help but devote a sliver of his attention to Jon's body language. It wasn't unusual for him to be protective—'Captain Starfleet' led by example. Shran had just never seen him look so self-conscious about it before, as if he was doing something wrong.

As he was musing over which of the women was making Jon so uncomfortable, the floor underneath them gave in.

They only fell a couple of inches before the bent metal hit a more solid layer, but in that split second they were all picturing a long descent to their inevitable deaths. The shock and horror stuck to their faces for a few seconds before they regained their footing, both literally and figuratively.

When they cleared the damaged flooring, Shran's eyes caught movement above them. Before he even opened his mouth to shout, a chunk of broken ceiling held in place by sheer faith had already detached from the crumbled alloys.

Jon turned to follow the treacherously quiet sound and his eyes widened in alarm. His arms outstretched towards the women, but he was too far.

Mar seemed to be the one to have seen it first. By the time Shran managed to yell his "watch out!", she was half-way to shoving Erika away with her good side, landing her on the floor and putting herself in the path of the falling debris.

The bulk of it hit her shoulder and cracked her braces. The jagged metal edge grazed her back, tearing her jumpsuit. She dropped to all fours next to the shell that no longer supported her fractured bones, long locks falling around like a veil, hiding her face.

"Mar!"

Jon finally found his voice, concern dripping from it. He kneeled next to her, palm reaching for her hair, but ending up hovering undecidedly above it.

So it was Mar, Shran thought. She was the one making him so awkward.

She hissed and removed her weight from the broken clavicle that was once more free to move around within her tissues and cause her pain. Then, to everyone's surprise, she slowly stood up, ignoring Jon's willing hand.

She shot Erika a glance. "You okay?"

The lower end of the gash in her jumpsuit was beginning to soak with blood, but she didn't pay attention to it. Erika's eyes were as wide open as her mouth. She snorted in astonishment.

"I'm fine. Aren't you in pain?"

"Yeah, so?" Mar frowned. "If I let so little slow me down, I'd be long dead. We gotta leg it before this can falls apart."

She offered her good arm and helped the still shocked Erika to her feet.

"Thank you," she said softly. Any issue she'd held against Mar before seemed to have evaporated.

"You need some patching up," Jon gingerly touched her injured arm. "Let me see if it's possible and safe to beam you out."

"Forget it, Captain," she forced through her gritted teeth. "We're almost there."

Shran chuckled under his breath. Her sort wasn't uncommon on Andoria; he was used to watching similar scenes. Jon seemed to be drawn to difficult personalities.

Morkal unexpectedly stepped forward, holding a long piece of cloth he'd fished out of his kidney bag. Without asking for permission to do anything, catching Mar by surprise, he wrapped the thick middle around the wrist of the limp arm and tied the loose ends around her neck. Leaving his act without a single comment, he retreated back to the rear as if nothing noteworthy had happened.

"Thanks," Mar tossed him a grateful glance. He just shrugged, but Shran suspected the twitch around his tusked mouth was a hint of a smile.

"Didn't know you're a medic, too," Shran cast Morkal a once-over as they continued their perilous journey through the dying ship.

"I'm not," he said plainly. "I just understand how things work. Always have."

"Huh. So you solved a faulty arm as an engineer?"

"You could say that."

What a curious day, thought Shran. He was glad he'd answered Jon's call for assistance. The pinkskin had a way of bringing him new experiences and Shran found it to be a pleasant way of learning about other species. No amount of spying could substitute for a real-life encounter.

Jon turned to them with an anxious air around him and waved his tricorder.

"I'm picking up a biosign."