Work Text:
The shuttle shook as the shockwave rippled past it, Erica Ortegas gripped the controls, focused, steady. She had been in similar situations years before during the war, but trying to outrun explosions while in a shuttle was something she had no desire to repeat. “I am dropping us down lower, hopefully it will confuse their sensors.”
Nyota Uhura frantically tried the comms, desperate to report their status to the ship. But the distortion field was still interfering with all communications. “If we could continue further to the left, away from the source of the missiles it may put us out of their distortion field.”
“I’m on it. Just trying to…” Erica’s voice cut out as an alarm sounded.
“Erica-” Nyota began.
“I see it.” The shuttle rocked to the side as Erica turned quickly, trying to divert the path of an incoming missile into a cliff face. The controls shuddered under Erica’s hands as the inertial dampeners tried to compensate. They skirted the edge, close enough Nyota was sure she could make out the details of the rocks through the window if they were going slow enough.
The missile detonated against the cliff face, debris slamming the hull. Alarms screamed.
Nyota wasn’t an expert at engineering, but even she could tell that the shuttle was failing. Engines unstable. Shields fading. Not enough power for both.
An alert sounded as another missile locked on.
Erica turned to her with a look. Nyota wasn’t able to quite read it in the moment, but in hindsight she knew there was something to it, a flicker of fear. Erica knew exactly what would happen with her decision, but knew there was no other option.
“All power to shields,” Erica yelled as she banked the ship widely before reducing engine power. The shields flashed as the missile hit them, rocking the shuttle forward. But the hull held.
For a second they continue forward. A fragile, fleeting success. And then the engines failed completely. The sudden absence of thrust added a sense of weightlessness, Nyota’s stomach dropping from the motion. The shuttle continued forward with its existing momentum, completely uncontrolled.
“Brace yourself!” Erica yelled.
The shuttle began to drop. Fast.
The shuttle groaned as they skimmed the edge of a cliff face. The shuttle spun, the sound of metal tearing ringing through the confines.
Nyota didn’t have time to panic. But her mind still flashed, brief and unwanted, to her family. Wondering if they had known what was happening in their final moments.
The world turned black as the nose of the shuttle crashed into the sand and then a silent stillness.
-Earlier-
The meeting center was carved into the cliffside, a monumental merging of ancient stone work and modern day glass. Nyota walked around the outside of the space where ancient reliefs carved into the lower stone revealed hints of mythologies long forgotten. Her fingers traced the rough sandstone, the details smoothed with time.
They were on day three of negotiations in the hope of determining whether the planet might join the Federation. The councilor’s aid had mentioned the artwork and some neighboring marks that might represent a previously unknown alphabet. Nyota jumped at the invitation to investigate them up close as Pike and Spock continued the negotiations.
Up close she was sure they were a language, repetition of symbols, common patterns that repeated along with unique structures. She was hoping to take some tricorder readings of them to analyze later.
“Uhura to shuttle,” Nyota began as she pulled out her communicator and was met with only silence. “Erica, don’t tell me you’ve taken a nap.”
“Ortegas here, but you’re cutting out,” the comm crackled.
Nyota turned to the aid who was leading her through the carvings, “I’m going to go back to the shuttle to get a tricorder to take some readings.”
“Do you know the way?” The aid asked, turning away from the carvings.
“Yes. Erica I am returning to the shuttle.”
The walk back was uneventful. The place was quiet, barely populated. A historical ruin turned into a place of government, but seemingly mostly ceremonial.
Nyota found Erica leaning back in the chair of the shuttle, feet up on the console, reading something on her Padd.
“How were the carvings?” Erica asked as she looked up when Nyota entered.
“Amazing. There are symbols carved into the walls, all together they seem to suggest that…”
“-ica do you-” The shuttle communication crackled with distortion as Pike talked.
Nyota slipped into her seat, turning to Erica, “We are getting something distorting-”
“-Uhu-...-take cover-” The system crackled again.
Erica dropped the Padd and turned powered on the shuttle, closing the loading ramp. “Captain, repeat message.”
In the distance the sound of explosions sounded, a low rumble that could be felt across the floor panels.
Nyota worked at her console, trying to find a way through whatever was distorting the signals.
“Rebels attacking, find cover.”
“We are in the shuttle. I have Uhura.”
“Get away. The councilor has a way we-” The sound cut off as an explosion sounded nearby, shaking the shuttle.
“I can’t get through the distortion, not without more time,” Nyota explained.
To their left an impact slammed a cliff face, the explosion rock raining down to the space below.
“We’re a sitting target,” Erica began. “I’d rather be a moving one.” She powered up the thrusters lifting the shuttle off of the ground.
The shuttle skimmed through the canyon walls and out to the open, missiles streaking past them, carving lines through the sky.
---
Smoke was what greeted Nyota as her mind cleared: thick and choking, heat pressing in from all sides. She pushed herself off of the floor of the shuttle, stumbling to her feet in the darkness.
The air was wrong, the smell of burning plastic, thick. Her eyes watering instantly, the chemicals stinging.
Another explosion, a thankfully distant sound.
“...Erica?...” Her voice cracked from the smoke, the effort of talking scratched at her throat causing her to cough. The hatch, she needed to open the shuttle, get some light and air.
The emergency release was easy to find, dropping the hatch down with a thud on the sand as light bathed the space. Breathable air moving in, carrying the dryness of the desert heat.
The viewport was dark, cracked, buried in the sand. Jagged lines, cracks along the surface. The frame was bent inward, panels loose. Crushed.
“Erica!” Her voice clearer as the smoke cleared the space, breathable air moving in, carrying the dryness of the desert heat.
“-yeah…” The voice is tight with pain, Nyota can hear it immediately. But it answered.
Relief hit her hard as she stumbled to the front of the shuttle. Erica was half-pinned in the remains of the pilot’s seat, the console pressing in against her. The front of the shuttle crumpled inward. Erica’s hands shaking slightly as they gently pressed on her upper thigh.
Nyota’s memory flashed back, smoke rising through the trees, painting the sky black. A shuttle, nearly unidentifiable, twisted against the red dirt.
She stumbled to the side for a moment, a wave of dizziness passing over her as she mindlessly reached up, fingers tracing her hairline and coming away with blood.
“Hey, hey,” Erica begins, voice cutting through, sharp and focused. “Eyes on me, Nyota.”
She hadn’t realized she had frozen. Erica was pale under the sweat, jaw clenched hard, but eyes clear, determined.
“You’re good,” Erica says, stating it like a fact no one could dispute. “You’re up. That’s good.”
Nyota tried to answer. Her voice came out thin, “You’re leg, is it…?” The question lingered, she couldn’t finish it. Femur injuries were dangerous at the best time, sitting in a broken shuttle on a seemingly at the brink of war was not one of those.
“Yeah, broken,” Erica stated bluntly, breath catching as something shifts. “We’ll get to that, not first.” The smoke was rising in the shuttle again. Nyota coughed as her throat tightened from the acrid smell.
“We don’t have time to panic,” Erica stated, calm and firm, “So don’t.” It was not unkind. It was instruction, experience.
Nyota swallowed. “What do you need?”
“We need to get out of here, the smoke…I cannot stand on my leg. You will need to pull me out.”
Lifting her out of the seat was awkward, painful. An unwanted scream burst from Erica’s throat.
By the time they made it several meters from the shuttle, away from the smoke billowing into the air, Erica’s throat was raw, sweat dripping into her eyes. She lay on the sand, trying to center herself. The sun was oppressive, beating down on them, unescapable.
“Stay here,” Nyota directed, though the words were unnecessary as she hurried back to the shuttle, opening compartments and returning with what medical supplies and food and water remained. She placed these down and looked back. The shuttle was mangled, the hull plating on the right side strewn across their path.
The sky was clear, a deep blue, save for the dark trail of their smoke, drifting up from their shuttle. The air was still, it carried the smoke straight up, a sign post in the sky. For a moment she saw it again, the memory. A hillside with trees against the blue sky, smoke trailing up into the air. Over the hill her parents…her brother. Gone. Shuttle crash, no survivors. She ran to it, ran to the smoke. The loss.
“Nyota?” Erica began, snapping her out of her thoughts, pressing the dermal regenerator into her hand. “Treat your head wound first.”
Nyota nodded, running the device over her forehead. The pain decreased by the moment. Head clearing. “Okay, there should be a general purpose brace in the kit,” she spoke aloud as she rummaged through the supplies. “Yes!” She turned back to Erica. “It may be painful, I could use the hypo.”
Erica shook her head, “Not an option. Not yet.”
As a team they worked to brace the break as best as possible. If nothing else it would make moving safer, they were too exposed. Erica was thinking the same thing. “Nothing from the communicator?” she asked.
“No,” Nyota replied. “The distortion field. But if we could…” She looked around, cliffs behind, endless desert and sand dunes beyond. Distance. There had to be a limit to the reach. Her eyes drifted back to Erica’s leg. A sled? Something hobbled together. She could pull her along. No. It would be too slow.
Where they were now was too exposed, visible in the open next to the shuttle. She couldn’t just leave Erica behind. In the distance a curved section of the hull, torn off in the crash, lay at an angle partially embedded in the sand. Space for someone underneath.
“There,” Nyota pointed. “If I can get you there it should be sheltered, you could hide under it. If anyone comes they will see the footsteps leading away, they wouldn’t look further.”
“Let’s go,” Erica agreed. The trip was awkward, but the braced leg gave some stability.
Nyota lowered Erica down to slip under the debris. With a slow exhale and wincing with pain as her leg shifted, Erica pulled herself into the cover of the hull plate.
Nyota looked worried, she knew it as she darted back to the shuttle, they’ve been too long already. She returned with a phaser and the hypo. “Just in case.” Erica nodded in response.
“You’ve got this,” Erica encouraged. “Far enough out the signal has to go through. And the ship will eventually be looking no matter what.”
A rumble passed overhead, a plane, not space worthy as was the case with most of the transportation on the planet. They didn’t know if it was military or what, but both ducked down out of instinct.
Uhura pulled a water packet out of her emergency bag and pressed it into Erica's hands, “Don’t say no. You need to be hydrated with the injury. And I have another.”
Erica nodded, “Keep the food rations, I don’t think I can stomach them right now anyways.”
Nyota needed to go, she knew it, but she couldn’t take the step.
“You need to go,” Erica stated firmly.
Nyota stepped away, looking back after a step. “We’ll get you.”
“I have no doubt,” Erica replied.
Nyota nodded and turned to the seemingly endless sand, trudging forward under the unforgiving sun. She pulled a cloth from her pack, something scavenged from the emergency supplies, draping it over her head as a scarf for some protection.
As she reached the top of the dune, she looked back. Smoke snaking up through the sky from the shuttle. A signpost for anyone searching. If Erica was watching she couldn’t see her under the debris. It was a comfort as she moved down the other side, refusing to look back again.
---
The sun was relentless. She conserved her water, just a sip to wet her mouth. A drop to help her swallow the emergency rations. As she crested the next dune she tried the communicator again, but nothing. There was no escape from the heat, sun beating down. Ahead was a ridgeline, something to walk towards, to orientate her direction under the overhead sun.
A distant roar. She dashed down the dune, sliding half way and pressing herself small into the sand. Sand stuck to the sweat beading up on her forehead. Two planes passed over in the direction of the smoke.
The sound faded.
She didn’t know, was it distance that quieted the road or did they land. Each small sound her ears searched for was a phaser firing. But she continued moving away. To turn back would be resigning to defeat.
She moved forward, continuing the monotony. Black spots flickered in her vision and she stumbled to the side, her boots sinking into the sand. She needed to cool, rest just a moment in the shade of the next dune, what little she can find. She sat for a moment, a sip of water, nothing more.
Her mother’s voice, Nyota a little girl, trying to sleep on a hot summer day as her mother sings to her warmly in Swahili. The words reached Uhura’s lips now, the voice quiet, barely a whisper, but she pushed up off the ground. One foot in front of another, the song on her tongue weaving through the wind of the dunes.
By the time she reaches the top of the next dune her arms and legs feel like lead, pulling her down. She falls to her knees, just for a moment, too exposed. For a moment a breeze whips at the scarf on her head, rippling along her back. Sweat evaporating away, a moment of cool reprieve.
Her father’s hand reaching down to pick her up, she was a clumsy child, but energetic. The sting of skinned knees. This time she pulled herself up, moving, communicator in her hand.
She tried again. Nothing and then a crackle. Not enough, but a promising sign. She tried to ignore the feel of her heart racing, pulse too fast, the clamminess of her skin as she steadied one hand against the other.
Heat exhaustion. She sipped the rest of her water slowly, trying to bring down her temperature. She couldn’t linger.
She hears her brother’s laugh, his joy radiating out, encouraging her on a long walk. She was a small child, weary of continuing, tired. Together they count with each step.
One…
Two…
A sound, something from the communicator. Undiscernable.
Three…
Four…
The communicator crackled again. “...Uhura?”
“Yes! Yes, Uhura here. Can you lock on me to beam aboard.”
She felt the familiar pull as the desert around her faded to shimmers and then the almost unbearable cool of the ship and the transporter pad.
She turned to the transporter chief, “We need to get Erica, I can give you the coordinates. Beam her to the medical transport pad, she has a broken leg.”
There was a moment and then, “We’ve got her.”
Nyota was out of the room and in sickbay before she realized she was even walking. By the time she reached it Erica was already on a biobed, leg outstretched, smug grin on her face.
“Wow, you look terrible,” Erica joked.
“I am not sure you are one to talk right now,” Nyota replied with an exhausted laugh.
“You both had us worried with the outbreak of hostilities down below,” Doctor M’Benga began as he came over. “Erica, Nurse Chapel will prepare you for surgery. Nyota, sit. You need to be cleared as well.”
“One moment.” She closed the distance to Erica and gently pulled her into a hug.
“Thank you,” Erica whispered. Nyota stepped away.
“Erica, I’ll help you lean back, then you’ll need to be sedated,” Christine explained as Erica nodded. She was out by the time Captain Pike walked in, dust still clinging to his hair from his own escape.
Nyota had to grip the edge of the bed for a moment, steadying herself as the realization hit. She hadn’t even had a chance to think…to wonder. “Spock’s safe as well. You did good out there,” Pike stated.
Nyota nodded, “Thank you, sir.”
The room was quiet for the moment as Nyota lay back against the bed. Memories of smoke drifting up into the sky. This time she stood beside the wreckage and no one was gone.