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The dinner was a difficult place to sleep. There was an eerie quiet, strained between the pained breathing of injured colonists, the restless shifting of too many bodies in a small space, and the occasional distant screech of a Gorn.
M’Benga watched Pike slip out as he tended to a patient, having already abandoned any pretense of sleep. Sam and La’an rested, eyes shut, but minds still racing. Erica slipped out from the corner she was leaning against to quietly talk to M’Benga. “Are we just pretending we didn’t hear the Captains sneak out?”
“I thought for a moment of stopping him, but we need that device and a larger party would only draw more attention,” he whispered.
Erica picked up the dermal regenerator again, quietly resuming her task of helping M’Benga treat the colonists. Helping felt like honoring Christine. Though she felt too scared, too exhausted to really grieve. It felt like being back in the war.
Footsteps nearby as La’an came over. “Comms are still down. What can I do to help,” she asked. Abandoning her attempt to rest as well.
“Keep them calm, right now…” His voice dropped, “As long as the transporters are down, we have few options. Panic is our greatest enemy.”
Sam soon was up, joining La’an checking in on the colonists.
Around an hour later a huge explosion from outside rattled the building, dragging everyone that was resting up out of sleep. “Comms are back,” Sam reported.
“Transporters too,” La’an replied.
“We need the injured grouped together,” M’Benga stated as the team got to work, helping support those who needed it, finding seats for those who couldn’t stand.
Erica felt the familiar feel of the transporter begin to rise around her. The tension that had been in her shoulders since they entered the town began to drop, she looked over at La’an…
Then…something was wrong. She could tell La’an noticed it too. The sound wasn’t right. Too low. Too muffled. It sounded wrong.
“La’an?” Erica’s voice cracked. “La’an, does this feel—”
Nothing.
Then impact. Wet, yielding, suffocating.
Erica choked as the space pressed in around her. The air was thick, rancid, warm, organic. It was wrong. She tried to move her hands, her legs, but the more she tried to move the more she felt pulled down. Panic seemed to surround her. Nothing made sense. Her vision started to fade to grey. She tried to scream, calling out to the rest of the landing party. Maybe one of them was safe, free. Maybe one of them made it out. Maybe there was hope. Maybe…
Erica gagged as the membrane tightened around her. Then a pulse rippled through it, slow, rhythmic, hypnotic. A warmth spread through her muscles. Slowing everything down.
A sedative.
Erica’s last sensation was the feeling of her fear dissolving under the sedation. Fear drifting away. Then everything slipped into a merciful, monstrous dark.