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The corridors were somewhat dimmed as the ship moved to the Gamma Shift. “Scotty?” Erica questioned, as she walked back from the training room with Christine.
“That’s what Pelia said, he claimed he was a chess expert back at school, was in the club and everything,” Christine explained. The ship was quiet. The Gamma shift was reduced to needed staff only, general repairs and maintenance put off to the other shifts.
“Yeah, but Spock I don-”
Then space ripped apart, an explosion tearing into the hull.
Erica felt herself crash against the wall of the corridor. On each side of the hallway bulkheads crashed down, lights flickering off completely before powering back to the bare emergency lights along the floor.
Erica stumbled up as the ship shuddered again, another hit. She tried to feel anything to suggest what the pilot was doing, her brain going blank as she tried to visualize who would be at the helm at the moment.
“Computer, report.”
Nothing.
“-Erica-” A voice called out from the wreckage along the floor. She turned fast enough to almost throw herself off balance, head still ringing from the impact.
Christine. Pinned under a collapsed support. Clambering over the debris Erica moved to her side. “Hey, I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Christine’s eyes found hers, “Its…I can’t breath…you need to lift…”
Erica moved without speaking, trying to lever the piece up slowly. It remained still. Eventually she shoved her shoulder under it and pushed hard, the metal digging into her, muscles screaming before it finally moved. Metal screeched as it dragged along the wall and away from Christine before falling away with a loud crash.
As the pressure lifted Christine groaned and then steadied herself, breathing heavily through her nose. Trying to maintain control. Without even looking Erica knew it was bad.
Erica dropped down beside her. “Talk to me.”
Christine’s hand grabbed her wrist. “Left side. You’ll need to apply pressure.”
Erica pulled Christine into her arms, pressing down against the wound hard as Christine’s breath hitched, fingers tightening around Erica’s wrist.
“That’s good. Keep pressure.”
Erica glanced down and wished she hadn’t when she saw the red stain against the stark white uniform. Too much blood. “No,” she panicked for a moment before trying to reverse course. “No, it’s fine. We’re fine.”
“Erica,” Christine began gently, ever the reassuring nurse. “Focus.”
“I am focused, very focused,” Erica shot back as she felt the warmth of her friend’s blood on her hands.
“Good. Then listen. They are coming, you know that. But…don’t let up, even if…” She cut herself off for a moment as she winced in pain.
Erice leaned closer. “Even if what?”
“Just don’t let up,” she finished instead, hand still gripping Erica’s wrist.
Another impact rocked the ship. In her head Erica knew that each impact meant more delay before they would possibly be found. “Computer!” Erica yelled louder in the futile hope that might do something. “Medical emergency!”
Nothing.
“Okay, it’s fine. Nothing like some good old field medicine,” Erica muttered in response to the silence.
Christine let out a weak breath that seemed half way to a laugh before her eyes closed briefly.
“Hey, hey. No,” Erica snapped, panic welling up quickly. “Stay with me. You don’t get to check out of your own rescue.”
Christine turned slightly to look up at Erica as she leaned back against her. “I’m not,” she explained, voice barely above a whisper. “Just…conserving.”
“Yeah, great plan. Love that. Just keep doing that while conscious please, I need you to yell at me if I do something wrong.”
“I prefer to gently redirect.”
“Which you can only do while conscious.”
“Bossy.”
“Only when my friend is bleeding onto my uniform,” Erica replied gently. Her hand slipped slightly and she repositioned, pressing down. “Pressure good?” She asked, suddenly needing some reassurance.
“Yeah. You’re doing it right.”
---
Time stretched. But the ship was still, the impacts having subsided. It had been some time since Christine loosened her grip on Erica’s wrist.
Now there was only the pressure under Erica’s hands, the weight of Christine pressed against her, and the gentle movement of Christine’s chest as she slowly breathed.
“Okay,” Erica stated, tired, to Christine…to herself ...it didn’t matter any more. She just needed something. “Okay, we’re good. We’re still good.”
Only silence answered. Christine was quiet. Had been for a while, though Erica had no real sense of how long it had been.
Her muscles shook as she continued to apply pressure. She shifted slightly to reduce the trembling, immediately pressing back down hard when she was sure she could feel the bleeding change.
“Nope. You stay right there.” She was rambling, but the words were something. A distraction, a constant… “You are going to be so annoying about this later. Some critique of my technique. I know it. ‘Lieutenant Ortegas, your hand placement was’…”
Her voice broke, but she swallowed down the emotions, falling silent.
“Whatever you want. Extra training on field medicine with Doctor M’Benga fine…”
Erica dipped her head down, pressing her forehead briefly against the top of Christine’s head. She couldn’t move her hands. Couldn’t check.
“Hey,” she whispered gently. “I’m still here. You’re still with me, right?”
Silence. But she could make out the faint movement of Chrstine’s chest as she breathed.
She pressed her hands down harder.
“You told me what to do. I’m doing that. I expect some acknowledgement when you are stuck in sickbay getting better. Perfect form. Never let up pressure.”
There was no response.
“Just…you have to stay. Okay? Just a little bit longer.”
Her arms continued to tremble slightly, she didn’t let up.
Erica fell silent. The words turned from a distraction to a reminder of the silence around her.
---
The first sign of rescue was a loud sound, then a beam of light as the bulkhead doors were pried apart.
“...over here…” Erica’s voice was barely a whisper at first and then a shout. “Over here!”
Boots, clattering over the floor.
“I’ve got you Christine, I’ve got you,” Erica says, turning down to her.
The tricorder moved in front of them. “What is the situation?” Someone asked. “Lieutenant?”
“Laceration, left side. Heavy bleeding,” Erica explained, hands still pressing down.
“We need to move her,” the voice stated.
“I can’t let up, if I do she’ll…”
“We can take over. We have the dermal regenerator that will close the wound well enough for transport. You can let go.”
It takes a thought to be able to let up, to move her hands away after so long. They fell down to her sides as they medics move in, patching the wound before Christine was lifted off of her.
“Erica?” She looked up to see La’an crouched down in front of her. “Are you okay?”
Erica shrugged, pushing herself to her feet where she swayed slightly. “Just tired, I think.”
“Doctor M’Benga will want to see you nonetheless.” She offered a hand, helping Erica move over the debris. Following her to the sick bay.