Pinned Down (Time Zone 1)

Posted on 26 Aug 2018 @ 9:22pm by Lieutenant JG Charles Carmichael

1,012 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Fractured
Location: USS Black Hawk, Science Lab Two
Timeline: TZ1 || 1045 hours

A loud sound reverberated in his eardrums, an unnatural groaning of space-framemembers against bulkheads, followed by a gasp as Charles appeared to suddenly start breathing again. The room was dimly lit, leaving it hard to identify where he was. His mind flashed with dozens of memories, each one wrestling for dominance in his mind. His past, his identity, his purpose aboard this starship. Ultimately, it was panic that took hold when the wall groaned once more.

But Charles couldn’t move. Breathing uncomfortably, he looked up to see that a crossmember had fallen from the ceiling, pinning him underneath at the waist. He wiggled his toes and other extremities, finding that he still had feeling. Plus, nothing actually felt broken. He was just trapped.

Trapped with no way out, and no way to save himself for when the next piece was about to fall, especially as the ship groaned once more, this time followed by some scraping and a puff of smoke.

Only some part of Charles feared for his life, especially since the lieutenant still had much to do, much to see. If anything, he cursed the name Black Hawk for it seemed that any ship bearing that name had to suffer some kind of punishment. Maybe if they came up with another name, like Albatross or Goldfinch or Scarlet Tanager or something like that, then this ship would have far better fortune.

Yeah, Charles huffed, trying to free himself, that would work.

Another groan. This wasn’t going to last too much longer.

Charles prepared to huff again and braced his arms to try and push himself out from under the rubble, but paused when he heard a new sound. “Who’s there!?” he called out. “Hello?”

“Hello?” shouted back a raspy voice. A small amount of debris was moved around, followed by a few loud sounds hitting the floor.

“Over here!” shouted Charles, and the ship replied with a louder groan. “I’m stuck. Help!”

Charles caught sight of a Vulcan crewmember. His memory informed him it was Ensign T’pyr, an astrophysicist assigned to the ship straight from the academy. His eyes had been on her from the moment he’d come aboard for a multitude of reasons, from her exotic olive tinted skin to the way her uniform outlined her figure to the woman’s grasp on the sciences. Only the Great Bird could create a more perfect match.

The Vulcan approached to examine Charles precarious position. “Is anything broken?” she inquired, but not looking at his face when she did.

“No,” Charles said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling and not the Vulcan as she completed her assessment. “I've got complete feeling as well.”

T’pyr turned now to look at Charles to see what support he could provide. “I will attempt to lift the crossbar. You will need to push upward as well. I estimate we only need to lift it two point seven inches in order for you to be freed.”

Charles clumsily chuckled as he leaned back to gaze upward at the groaning ceiling. “Only two point seven?” he asked aloud. It was such a ridiculously small number between him and certain doom. When this was over, he certainly wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Affirmative,” replied the Vulcan, assuming a lifting position. “Push with me on the count of three. One…”

Charles assumed a pushing position, and adjusted his legs so he could slip out quickly.

“Two,” said the Vulcan, adjusting her own grip, having felt a defect in the damaged crossmember. “Three.”

T’pyr lifted as Charles pushed. Another groan sounded from the ceiling, though this one was not as brief as the others. This was it, Charles’ last chance to escape. He acknowledged this by shouting as he pushed. Every bit of energy left in his body would be expended whether it would help him escape or not. He continued to struggle as the crossmember was raised until finally he could slip out from under it. “Move!” he shouted, grabbing T’pyr by her waist as he scrambled to his feet. He pushed her backwards, causing her to lose her grip on the crossmember. Both fell out of the way as the ceiling gave way, dropping a collection of light panels, EPS taps, and bulkheads where Charles once laid and where T’pyr had acted as a fulcrum.

Leaning against the door panels, Charles gasped for breath now that he was safe. Next to him, the Vulcan ensign did the same as her eyes examined what had just transpired. “You saved my life,” he managed to say in between quick breaths.

“It seems that our acts were mutual,” T’pyr admitted, her breathing much more controlled than the human beside her.

“Mutual or not,” Charles gasped. “I owe you my gratitude. You could have saved yourself and left me to die.”

“That would not be logical,” T’pyr stated. “This ship is undergoing an unknown crisis, and there will not be any ability to replace any fallen crewmembers until we leave the zone. Your death would increase the department’s workload by eleven point six percent. Attrition such as that would not be sustainable.”

Charles could only laugh. Only a Vulcan would see saving a life as a cold, mathematical equation. “Still, Ensign, thank you. Besides,” he turned to look at her, “I need your help with something. I promise that it won’t add to your workload, and it will be quite beneficial to all when it’s through.”

Like most Vulcans, T’pyr looked emotionlessly at the scuffy human beside her. She was intrigued by his proposal. Perhaps it would help her advance her career at the necessary time in the future. “Very well,” she agreed.

Charles stood to his feet and helped her up as well. “Follow me.” The lieutenant led her out of the science lab and down the darkened corridor, thinking all the while what Ensign Mackie would say when he found out their small number was about to get just a bit bigger.

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