Ours Are The Furies: Executive Decision

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Gradoona's reply was to brusquely push the Commander into his office.

"There's noo tiiime Commander, just g--"

krshh-THWOOM

The initial pyrophoric agent of the breaching charge bit white lines into the periphery of the blast door, followed by a concussive shaped charge to crack through like an egg shell. Ruined halves of durasteel peeled inward with a peppering of spall, followed quickly by a dozen men and women. Some in uniform, more in plainclothes. All Cizerack.

"Go!"

The Herglic gave Akiena a final shove as the last half dozen defenders mounted a final fallback perimeter at his office. Blaster fire peppered the doorway, a pair of shots stitched Gradoona in her right thigh and shoulder, sending her tumbling to the ground with a pained cry.

"Get out of here!"

[Kes Akiena]

Mr. Ek'ette took hold of Kes' arm, swinging him further into the office before squaring himself off with the rest of those left, and lifting his rifle up, pulled the trigger.

Another officer further pulled him along, despite his protestations.

"C'mon, Commander, can't lolligag, y'know... "

Kes gave a snarl, almost wrenching himself from the hold on him in order to help hold the line, but a second pair of hands grabbed him, and a moment later he was stuffed unceremoniously into the escape hatch.

"We'll hold 'em off."

The last view he had before the hatch panel was fit back into place was of Mr. Ek'ette's back, and Gradoona lying on the deck in pain.

And then his world went black, and he was shut away with the others in the confined space of the escape tunnel.

[Tu'arr Korrtaurro]

The last line of defense put up by Jovan's command crew was a valiant one. But it was also futile.

His brothers and sisters spilled into the hub with ease, swarming in like a wave of bodies to overtake and subdue those inside.

And stepping through the mangled wreckage of the hub's blast door, Tu'arr Korrtaurro watched in silence. His soldiers knew what needed to be done without him having to order them about like an overbearing ruler.

With hands behind his back, the towering Cizerack watched as the last bits of resistance were ground down.

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Geepers, so this was what getting shot felt like.

Gradoona huffed heavy panic breaths through her blowhole as she tried to get up to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, and nerves screamed like they were burning from the inside out, but she dug deep, gritting her beak together as she strained. The Herglic was about halfway through the effort when a boot-heel ground into the blaster wound in her shoulder, pinning her back to the deck as she cried out in agony.

Around her, nothing else was going well. Preita'rrou Taassaurra had been disarmed and sent to the deck with a rifle's buttstroke to her midsection. She fell next to Gradoona, coughing to recover her robbed breath. Su'taun'rrou Aul'ssentai and Ensign Antillies were put down with stun shots. Su'taun'rrou Sai'farroa had the good sense to surrender in the face of overwhelming opposition. Lieutenant Nellis did not. He took a shot to the knee, falling to the deck. With a second effort, he brought his pistol up to bear. A plainclothed Cizerack woman kicked his pistol free, then reached a hand to his throat, pulling her claws free as Nellis' neck gushed with arterial spray. As the female terrorist cleaned her fingertips with her tongue, Gradoona averted her eyes, returning to the fearful expression on Taassaurra's eyes as Lieutenant Ek'ette reluctantly surrendered his weapon under duress.

"It's ookay..." Gradoona reassured, as much for herself as for the young Cizerack officer. "...we'rre goonna make it."

Oh penguins, I hope so.

[Tu'arr Korrtaurro]

Overtaking the hub was a much easier task than he'd anticipated, and it put Tu'arr Korrtaurro on edge. His features remained in a dark, thoughtful scowl as he loomed over their new captives. There was no way that this was everyone, and as calm blue eyes scanned the small contingent of Alliance and Pride officers, his mind was turning over in remembrance. He'd studied all of the available files and dossiers of those in command of this station... one particular face of which was conspicuously absent. The Cizerack furrowed his brow.

One of his lieutenants hung back, and she turned questioning eyes up to him.

"Ssjirr?"

"The Commanderr. Wherre jis he."

The underling cast her gaze to their prisoners, and without waiting for any sort of prompt, she stepped forward to confer with one of the soldiers standing over a herglic, his boot on one of the blaster wounds in the female's shoulder. A brief moment of conference, and she glared angrily down at Gradoona.

"Akjiena," she spat, "Wherre jis Commanderr Akjiena."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

The woman's words cut into the fog of dulling-yet-persistent pain spreading through Gradoona's mind. She wheezed, her blowhole taking in arrested breaths due to the discomfort of her prone position. She vaguely began to recall Alliance Code of Naval Doctrine, and the bits specifically referred to under behavior as prisoners of war. Name, rank, and serial number. Good enough if she were to be interrogated by stormtroopers, but this was an entirely different reality.

"I doon't knoow..." Gradoona winced as another wave of pain came from the boot pressing harder on her gunshot.

It wasn't exactly a lie. The moment Commander Akiena passed through the access hatch, she had no clue where he'd head. The fact that she didn't even know about the hatch's existence meant that it wasn't exactly something the Empire placed on the station's public access schematics.

[Tu'arr Korrtaurro]

The woman knelt down, leaning over the Herglic with a twisted set to her lips.

"jI can make hjim sstop, jyou know."

Despite the look on her face, her voice dripped with sweetness.

"Orr... " her tone turned a shade darker then, as her eyes flitted to the female Cizerack held at gunpoint. A snap of her fingers, and the cold barrel of a blaster was pressed to Taassaurra's temple.

"jI can make thjiss ass unpleassant."

And in the meantime, Korrtaurro moved, his long stride bringing him to the Herglic, and he looked down at her with a level, ponderous gaze.

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Gradoona's eyes widened at the escalation. It was impossible to avert herself from the Preita'rrou's terror-laden face. Tassaurra lay wide-eyed under the weight of gun barrel at her temple. The Cizerack stayed true to her training even with her own life on the line. She could have easily given the Commander's escape route up. In her silence, she put her own life in the Herglic's hands. Cold dread had a strange anesthetic effect on her pain. She couldn't feel anything now.

What should I do, sir? She squeezed her eyes shut, wheezing. Could they all take his secret to their graves? How many lives were an acceptable cost to pay before giving it up?

"He left the Caamand Deck soome time agoo. Our caamms are ouut...."

All true enough. Hopefully enough truth to stay the triggerman's hand.

[Tu'arr Korrtaurro]

At that, the female looked up to Korrtaurro. He was motionless as he stared at the Herglic. A single hand moved then, lifting and sweeping away in some flippant gesture.

Spare them for now, was the obvious message.

Korrtaurro let his gaze move to the Cizerack woman, and he sidestepped, his hand gently pushing the blaster aside as he knelt down in front of her. He ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek with calmness, maintaining eye contact with her.

"Don't be afrrajid, ljittle Ja'aaala Flowerr."

A faint henh, coupled with a knowing smile.

"You'rre with equalss, now."

Tu'arr allowed his gaze to dip momentarily, his head going down for a brief moment before he looked back up from over the tops of his eyes.

"We arre all the ssame."

His hand traced fingernails down Taassaurra's jawline.

"Wherre'ss jyourr commanderr?"

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Preita'rrou Taassaurra flinched at the uninvited contact, her blue eyes burning with intensity at the male's audacity.

"Taassaurra, K-Kiimiti. P-Preita'rrou. Ss-sserrjial GV-5331-31-A."

[Kes Akiena]

* * *

The effort of sliding through the escape hatch with a rifle slung across his shoulder was like stepping back in time. But, unlike before, Kes Akiena could not hang back. He could not stay to help. Perhaps the grim reality of being in command was that you had to let others fight for you. It rankled him. He should be back at the hub; back in the thick of it all. He was lost in a sea of resentment, crawling blindly through a previously unknown tunnel headed to who knew where.

The redhead grit his teeth as he simmered.

But, there was another feeling that sparked to life. And it was a feeling that he knew was the notion that he had to focus on in the here and now. The small group that had escaped had to find a safe haven of sorts, and with the comms down, it would be that much more difficult to make any sort of contact with anyone else.

A sharp cry, then a muffled groan sounded from the front of the procession, and Kes called ahead in a hissed whisper.

"Doctor, report!"

[Vek Vek]

There were aspects of military service that Vek Vek had difficulty in reconciling. The key being an oath to do no harm. The second was the culture of the military, often so over-wrought and disrespectful of the immediate needs of medicine. As the group of survivors escaped from the hidden tunnel and onto a corridor three levels below, Vek tried to juggle the tasks of keeping time with the wounded man's flagging pulse, alleviating the effects of a pulmonary edema with a vibroknife sanitized in someone's vodka flask, and now...reports.

"This man is dying, Commander. Report hasn't changed. Renal failure, edema, blood loss, cause irrelevant."

The men carrying the body were moving as quickly as possible, but this was without the aid of a proper repulsor cot. He'd barely had time to evaluate the balance of life-threatening problems this man was facing, and instead had hovered over merely the worst of them.

"Without the infirmary, I cannot help him."

Vek turned his head to Akiena gravely, his nictating membranes flicking over his eyes as his expression remained taut-lipped.

"Hurry."

[Kes Akiena]

Sidling up to stand beside the Doctor, Kes looked down at the wounded man. He was delirious, his midsection a gruesome display of blood and applied alcohol. With a grimace, the Commander turned back to Vek before sending his eyes left, then right. For now their small group had emerged from the escape tunnel into relative safety, but safety meant nothing for a man staring death in the face. Kes suddenly felt as if he'd been transported back to the nightmare that'd been the Siege of Cartao. Or the Second Battle of Cartao. It didn't really matter what people called it; either way it'd been a crushing defeat for the Rebellion, and one that had cost so many lives. Some nights, he could still hear the haunting blaster fire and cries of those falling into death. On those rare occasions he never got any sleep... instead letting his mind torment him with the 'what if's'.

For as genial an exterior that the redhead tried to exude, there was so much more beneath the surface. He was a survivor. And bore the unseen scars.

"We'll try for the ward, then."

His lips pursed in thought as his gaze fell on the printed blue number stenciled on the bulkhead across from them.

S7 L4

"Or at least the closest satellite."

His hand came down on the Doctors shoulder, giving it as reassuring a pat as he could.

"Faith, Doctor."

Kes only hoped that - in this moment - he could find the very thing that he asked the Durwi to have.

[Vek Vek]

The meager first aid kit had only the means to staunch the routine. Antiseptics, topical anesthetics, field dressings. It wasn't designed for this. Even to stabilize, it was beyond the pale.

"Faith, a belief despite empirical evidence to support. A placebo."

He didn't dismiss Akiena's advice. To the contrary, he took it to heart.

"Then this is an experiment to determine it's effect."

The proper infirmary was still thirty decks away, but the Commander had steered them to a secondary facility. Fortunately, the corridors seemed to be free from trouble, enabling Vek to command his ad hoc assistants without complication. The group hauled the stricken man onto the nearest examination table, and the Doctor unslung the medikit from his shoulder, letting it spill to the ground.

"You and you."

With no words minced, the Doctor singled out a pair of junior officers who had accompanied the exodus.

"This is a medical emergency, and I assume responsibility. Act as my assistants. There is a sanitation basin to your left. Wash up."

He turned sharply to Akiena, blinking in a snap.

"Triage. Ascertain the gravest injury and prioritize effective treatment. My triage is here. Yours is elsewhere."

[Kes Akiena]

For now, the gravest injury was but the one. And a hellacious one, at that. Kes grimaced in answer, but understood the Doctor's intent and words.

"Kourraani, Darrik," he motioned to the two officers he'd called upon before. Before their flight from the hub. The two officers moved close.

"We need to set up a parameter; give the good doctor space and time to work."

The limitations of their temporary medical shelter was more than obvious, but in truth it wasn't any different than what his own past experiences had afforded him.

A sound reached his ears then; a sobering sound. The rifle was slung from his shoulders as that unmistakable clank-clank-clank could be heard coming from down the corridor.

"I need a line, people!"

[Vek Vek]

Vek quickly worked through the motions of sanitation, running his hands under the sonic basin until the all clear diode lit up. He placed both hands into waiting apertures in a compartment on a counter next to the basin, which sealed him in a sterile, breathable membrane. Holding both hands aloft, the Durwi met eyes with the Ubese petty officer who had been pressed into surgical service.

"Drawer 15B. Open and retrieve sterile sealed tray and place on prep table. Computer..."

Vek's eyes drew upwards as the droid brain on the surgical assistant module above the operating table came to life.

"Time is 09:49. Patient Kilbrael, Serj. Human male, approximately 90 kilograms. Patient suffered puncture and continuous single deep tissue laceration from the abdominal to thoracic cavity. Observed pulmonary edema, peritoneum puncture and suspected lower gastrointestinal trauma. Ascertain blood type and prepare to transfuse."

A robotic arm came down in a precise motion to the pale man's neck, irradiating a swatch of skin in a sterilizing band of radiation before another instrument quickly stamped at the skin, drawing a bead of blood that was retrieved by a pipette tool. The reading was instant.

A positive.

Doctor Vek's eyes turned to the second assistant, a human female with red headfur.

"Donor carousel in cold storage on the left. Require four units whole blood. Go."

[Kes Akiena]

The steady clank of approaching droid feet was coming closer, and Kes hefted his rifle up, sighting down the barrel as did the rest of the small group that'd formed up. It was a motley group, some with rifles, others with standard issue blasters. But each one had determination, and the redhead used that to his advantage.

"Hold the medstation," he ordered. Now things were starting to feel like those old days.

"Nothing gets past us, understood?"

A chorus of 'Yes Sirs' answered him, and he felt his body tense.

The first two battledroids rounded the corner, and a volley of blaster fire cut them down in no time. Another two followed, their own weapons up and firing. One of the Lieutenants went down with a smoldering wound to his leg, but his trigger finger stayed on point, and the man kept his blaster up and continued to fire until there second pair of droid hit the deck just as the first had.

A lull.

No more sounds, no more clanking. The line stood for a few moments in silence before springing back into action.

"Get him to the doctor," came the order, and Kes followed the two Cizerack who took up the stricken officer's arms, helping him to his feet before bringing him back into the medstation.

[Vek Vek]

The transfusion was hooked into the intravenous rack, and Vek began working on identifying the major areas of artery damage to seal. A half dozen of the more obvious ones were patched with synth tissue that would encourage cellular regeneration from a timed release of bacta.

"Begin saline wash. Twenty cc's thiometurol, fourteen cc's koltyazine. Computer, monitor blood toxicity levels and prepare to intervene with forced dialysis. Suction."

Bulbous eyes flicked to the helper who had retrieved the blood for the transfusion. Not everything was automated, and the Durwi motioned his head to the tube on the rack with a canted nozzle.

"Suction. Please. Apply here."

Vek pointed in the man's abdomen with a bloody gloved hand, and the soldier gave a squeamish swallow as he complied. Blood and the contents of a perforated intestine were slurped out in a sudden rush of vacuum tubes.

A flurry of motion in his peripheral vision caused Vek to turn his head, and the doctor momentarily took the few seconds needed to triage the next wounded man. He inspected the blaster wound with a cursory glance, satisfied that it wasn't a life threatening one.

"Triage observation, low priority. You."

The Doctor pointed out the next helper, who presently had no task at hand.

"Ten cc's agrapan, cabinet six-b. Go."

Rushing back to his priority patient, the Doctor passed the door of the infirmary once more with only the briefest of eye contacts with the Commander. They were both in the thick of their own fights.

[Tu'arr Korrtaurro]

* * *

The Command Hub was a scene of controlled calm. It was a projection of the man that now presided over it. He held lives in his grasp and kept so many eyes trained to his every movement.

A far cry from the chaos before, it had settled into a quiet hum of activity. But, it was not the activity that normally held. Instead, it was a new brand. A new way.

The bodies of those who'd died had been pulled away, placed in the side area that held lockers and other less-than-crucial terminals.

But Tu'arr Korrtaurro didn't care for that. His initial attempts to divine the location of the Commander were unsuccessful, and now, sitting in the office that was Akiena's, the Cizerack surveyed his newly conquered land. His hands rested palm-down on the glossed desktop. A single claw extended, and he let it dig a furrow in the veneered coating.

His lieutenant approached, and he made a disgusted expression. This lack of information was getting tiresome.

"Brrjing me the Hergljic. And the Elomjin."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

It took two of the males to wrangle Gradoona with effort, and their rough handling elicited pained whistle-moans from the Herglic as she was brought to the terrorist leader. Her blowhole panted in uneven breaths as she saw Lieutenant Ek'ette also being frog-marched into Commander Akiena's office, this time by some of the smaller females. The Elomin was the senior-most of the remaining command deck staff - sharing rank with Gradoona who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That didn't seem to matter much to their captors however.