Star Trek: Atlantis

Tucking Tail

14 July 2375

Stardate 52604.7

Evacuation Pod #7816

Captain R'Tal Shan—of the T'Lan Empire—moaned softly, as one of many surviving escape pods (from the USS Canberra) continued its headlong retreat into deep space.

The Battle of Chin'toka had been a disaster for the Federation Assault Fleet tasked to holding that system—at all costs. But nobody could anticipate that the fight would be cut short:

Thanks to an apparent energy dampening weapon used by the Breen.

R'tal's mind was both a blur and a blank—as he teetered all over the place from exhaustion, to unconsciousness, to the blessed embrace of sleep itself.

Either of which would be welcome at this point in time.

"Course change to 179 mark 4." Ensign Braddock said—just out of earshot. "Full thrusters."

"Full thrusters," his co-pilot echoed immediately—making the necessary changes on the tiny navigation console in front of him.

The captain's focus dimmed a bit—before someone's hand came into view and dabbed his forehead with a soft cloth: Soaked in water.

He groaned softly, the pain returning in force. He couldn't remember much after the Canberra was rocked by multiple explosions—from too many successive plasma torpedo hits.

All he could recall was being picked up by two Bridge crew members and ushered into one of the portside escape pods—the hatch closing and locking—then a sudden concussive noise propelled the fleeing pod out into space:

And away from the dead Miranda-class vessel.

"Easy, Captain. Easy." Lieutenant Sally Sheffield cautioned. "You've got a minor skull fracture, a concussion, and a laceration on top of that. I've managed to stem the bleeding a bit, but the rest was an educated guess—on my part."

R'tal managed a raspy laugh on his own—before he winced and groaned again in obvious pain.

A hypospray hissed somewhere near him. The pain receded.

"I guess...Starfleet medical training courses are something to be desired—eh, Lieutenant?"

"Well, emergency triage wasn't my first choice, sir. But you know how Erica Fairchild was in that regard. She wouldn't let any of us go—until we aced the basic requirements."

"Why not?"

"I'm a warp field specialist, Captain. Not a field medic." The young woman said plainly. "That's why."

The other being sighed softly—his eyes closed against the soft glare of the pod's emergency lighting.

"I suppose...we all have something to be thankful for," he remarked.

Sally nodded—before returning to her cramped acceleration seat. The pod wasn't as roomy as she would have liked it to be, but it fit four people comfortably: In a pinch.

"Yes, sir. In any case, I'm going to let you sleep. The USS Merkava isn't too far away. We should be able to rendezvous with them in the next ten hours or so—at present speed."

R'Tal nodded tiredly—thinking about the picket line that had been established prior to the battle itself. Grateful that some ships had been left unmolested by both the Breen, Cardassian, and Dominion forces.

But how many escape pods made it—was another question entirely.

And he wouldn't know the answers until theirs reached the frontier and after that...?

Home.