First Command

[Naula Kahtier]

Tick-tock, tick-tock…

The chronometer descended, each beat a tremor of anxiety throughout the assembled. The metronome was a tune that they all danced to; harmonizing with the pulse of blood that pumped with adrenal fever throughout tired looking faces and stress-laced eyes. All was silent in the void outside the bridge and all was silent within it: Twelve people watching the mottled blues and greys of hyperspace dragging them on towards the translation point. No one coughed, spoke, or moved. The clock hit ten but without announcement. Every second that passed was a second of life bought and none aboard would tempt that fate. The stenciled digit hit zero and a brief wave of inertia caught their breaths. Lights came to life on panels, diagnostic equipment thrummed into being, systems that had remained dormant these past hours suddenly remembered their sole duty; and the curtain of entrancing blue stripped back into star-lines before finally resolving into solid stars. With a collective heave of held anticipation, the crew of Revived Dynasty relaxed. For Cadet James at the weapons station, it was a slouch in his chair. For Lieutenant Masters at the helm, it was a hug shared with her co-pilot. For Naula Kahtier – recently assumed captain of the Pelta-class Command Ship - it was a moment of diverted trepidation as her attention turned to the field of stars before them.

No tears. Not until everyone is safe.

“What of the Chaser?” She asked, her voice broadcast with far more clarity of purpose than she felt. The question was answered near immediately as a bright flash of engine flare lit-up the view.

The battle-worn Corvette flickered into reality, trailing fluid like a comet. The On-going Chase was in-system barely a second before it's automatic sub-lights kicked in and ruptured in a brief flash of discharged coolant and plasma. The effect was like a ion barrage; flickering tendrils of released energy dancing across her hull in sizzling waves that overloaded circuitry and forced safety mechanisms to pop valves, cut power-lines, and shut the ship down. The Corvette bent into a drift, floating like deadwood on a river current it had no control of. At least they are alive, Naula thought. A second support craft rushed into existence a brief pause later: Nebulon-B in class and declaring relatively little damage in comparison to the other two. All three craft had made it. Naula felt her heart flutter and her kneels beg to give out, but she stoically remained stood.

“Request medical staff from Jovan station and make them aware of our presence”. It seemed unlikely anyone had missed that arrival, but protocol was protocol and no one would suggest Naula had not followed the book to a word. “And a tug-boat; or something.” She added, flicking her wrist to where the now derelict looking Corvette was gently spinning in its own entry point. Her orders were carried out without acknowledgment or fuss. They had all accepted her advancement to the chair as she had done when the need arose. As least they were bringing Captain Yarris home, not that the Bothan’s would see it that way. What would she tell his window when inevitably asked how he had died?

No crying until off the damn ship…

Revived Dynasty rumbled to life as sublights cracked the whip of motion. The world of tiny dots began to slowly alter as they picked up speed, one dot growing larger and larger before her: Jovan Station. It hung like a morgue in the blackness; a final resting place for Alliance captains deemed beyond redemption. This would likely be her home now, too. Just another failure among the stars. Forced to live out the rest of her career stopping cargo ships at the boarder and requesting permits. The thought made her sick, though that may have been the relief of survival.

“Please ensure you are all checked out by a qualified physician.” Naula continued, still marveling at the calm she heard in her own tone. “Thank you for getting us home. I know Captain Yarris would be very pro-.” Her voice chose that moment to break and a haze of quenched emotion began to seep bit by bit over her impassive face. Not now. Not whilst she was so close to making it back. "Very prou-"

Too late…

[Lorna DeLaTour]

Lorna was inputting her reports from the morning's medical checkups she had conducted on a few diplomatic personnel's members, when she received the comm requesting her help to assist ships arriving to Jovan Station. She reviewed the minimal information about the ships, with a few images and the message they had received from the still moving Pelta-Class craft. That wasn't much to go on.

She checked the dispatch orders, and saw that she was to go to the latter, while another team was sent to the drifting Corvette, along with the team that could bring the malfunctioning ship to the station. Lorna requested the help of a few nurses and one intern who had been working with her in the last months, telling them to rendezvous at the docking bay where a shuttle was awaiting them, along with a list of medical supplies to bring with them. She also called for two other medical teams to join them depending on what the doctor leading the Corvette efforts would require. With a command ship, she knew that it would take days for her first team to go through everyone; but they had to start somewhere.

The doctor knew she might have the easiest job of both medical teams at first sight; but she knew better than judge so quickly with so little information. They didn't have anything to go on from the Revived Dynasty except the request for help: no crew manifesto, no details on what exactly had happened. All she knew was that there must not be any contagion going on, for she believed they would have been warned as such.

The docking crew had let her know that the shuttle would be ready within ten minutes; so she only took a few extra moments to power up a couple of medical droids for them to come along. It was a simple precaution; but it might make their life easier, given the size of the ship, and how they had no precise number of the people aboard.

She made it to the hangar only moments after the nurses and intern, who were boarding the shuttle right after loading the equipment. She followed suite after the droids were aboard too. She took the copilot seat at the front, nodding to Cadet Ashlor, who was flying them to the Pelta-Class.

It didn't take long for them to be out of the station, heading straight for the command ship. Lorna opened a channel as they would reach them shortly.

"Revived Dynasty, this is Shuttle Norsen 12. We will be with you in 8 minutes. Are we able to dock or must we use a pressured junction to come aboard?"

[Naula Kahtier]

The call came accompanied by a hiss of static, the sort that garbled words into a metallic drone as if over a combat encrypted channel. Naula's frown to the communication station was answered with a single mouthed word: Dish. Naula acknowledged the response with a curt nod, pivoting in smart fashion to face Cadet James at the weapons station. James had also been given diagnostic duties and showed his acceptance of her wordless stare by thumbing an intercom switch and participating in a hasty conversation with someone presumably on the lower deck. Naula waited with a patient expression painted on her pink cheeks and puffy eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her posture was held high. To the untrained observer, she may have given off an air of assumed superiority and status - as if she were looking down at those under her. To those who had just witnessed the tears roll down her cheeks, she was forgiven moment of overcompensation.

"Dish took a hit. But we can send and receive. Hangar bay is also a-go" James reported, one hand still pressing half a headset to one side of his face. "Port side has taken heavy damage however, so ensure they approach through the other. Something about there being a fire but the Jackal's are dealing with it." The Jackals were the known name of the Alliance Green Squadron 3rd Division, piloting RZ-1 A-wing interceptors. At the mention of their name Naula felt the pit in her stomach rise up, but she was in control now and forced it down with deliberate effort. The Jackal's had lost half their number at her command. Men and women who's names she had never ever bothered to ask - dead as a result of her words. Answers to unasked questions bubbled into her brain, fighting for attention alongside excuses and exasperated cries for understanding that there had been no other way for the support craft to escape. Fight or flight triggered yet again and her body filled with adrenaline; anger, sadness, and disgust all begging her to lash out or run away. She did neither.

"Shuttle Norsen 12." Naula began, moving with frigid steps to the communication station and going as far as to bend towards the relay input. "Please approach from starboard-side relative to our fixed position and land in the main hangar. There is a spot waiting for you, though cautious flying is advised" That was professional code for I have never attempted to land a shuttle in the small bay that usually holds simple strike craft. It would very likely depend what sort of mess the missile barrage had made of the starboard side. Naula made a snap decision to find out for herself and straightened up with a nod to Lieutenant Masters at the helm. "I'm going down-ship, call me if anything else blows up" She let a brief smile cross her lips, but it was brief.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

What came back through the channel was slightly garbled; and Lorna exchanged a look with Cadet Ashlor. They must have been hit at the dish among other things given what they could tell from the shape of the ship.

"Copy that, Revived Dynasty. Norse 12 out," Lorna replied before ending the communication. There was no need to chatter further. They had their course of actions.

She looked at the Cadet who groaned before moving the shuttle along the given course. The medical doctor looked through the viewport, seeing more damage as they headed towards the main hangar.

"Cautious flying, yeah right," the Cadet muttered as he shifted the shuttle's angle with slow precision into the hangar.

"Thanks for not flying casual," Lorna observed in a stoic tone. While it sounded like a quip as they had exchanged several times, they both knew that it was a tricky operation. Yet, the Cadet smirked and managed to land among the mess with little to no extra bumping.

"Dr. DeLaTour, next time, you drive," he teased back once he powered down the shuttle.

Unbuckling herself, she got to her feet and gave him a look. "You know you'd want to do that again. I heard you're closing in on a promotion."

His face brightened a bit and he shrugged with a sheepish smile. He was a good element and easy to work with. Reliable people made her life easier.

"Let's start unloading," she told the medical team with her as she went to open the hatch and lower the boarding ramp.

She looked around the hangar bay, and saw that one of the accesses was blocked due to damage, but at least the other one had a path cleared enough for them to move the equipment. They might have to carry things the old fashion way though, for the medical droids weren't really designed to do heavy lifting.

Expecting that someone from the crew would meet them here, as wandering aimlessly across a command ship would be stupid, she worked on helping the rest of the team to carry everything into the hangar.

[Naula Kahtier]

"Professional exterior radiating calm, collect, and cool" - General Iilkir, Four Stations of Command, chapter three.

Naula drew herself up further as the lift doors sprung apart. Her chest pressed outwards, her back formed a straightened curve, and each step was implanted with the same rigor as the next. To those who passed she needed to be a fixed point: A singularity of efficiency and authority around which all the planets of the galaxy could revolve. She felt like a singularity all right; unfortunately for her the stellar body she most resembled was a black hole. But whilst this wasn't known to the crew all could still proceed with discipline and with grace. The lift opened onto a scene that was anything but and all her well prepared notions of command shattered at the sight before her.

The walls were black, the floor was black, and everything was painted in an eerie red of impatiently flashing emergency lights. There wasn't any sound and it made things so much worse. Naula took a step onto the deck and felt the trapped heat radiate through her boots. She danced back from the metal instinctively, panic rising within her but the heat dissipated from the boot near immediately. She attempted another step, then another, gradually realising her life was not in any immediate danger. This was the location of the fire. The air was thick with carbon and tasted of metal, soot, and something acidic. A body lay plastered to the wall, left where it had fallen and burnt to a crisp. Naula thanked the stars she couldn't identify who it was.

"Commander!" Called a red faced girl in an orange coloured pilots jumpsuit. She hadn't even noticed the corridor was occupied. "Please, commander. He's dying." For a line delivering the gravest of news, the girl couldn't possibly have sounded calmer. She was dripping with fire-suppressant form, her mousy looking face staring up with near disinterest at the assumed captain of the ship. Naula reacted with haste, her safety concerns all but disregarded as she crossed the corridor, dropping to one knee. The man between them shared the pilots uniform and wheezed with rattling breaths that barely made it past his cracked and parched lips. His eyes gazed up with a weary lack of focus, though his body appeared entirely unscathed to a recursive glance. "We were tackling the fire when he just collapsed. I think it's probably the smoke. There was a lot of smoke before someone got the ventilation system going and it begun rapid replacement." The calm mousy girl just ploughed on, describing to Naula details of the fire and how they had all rushed from the ready station when they discovered it. No one knew how the deck had caught as there weren't any obvious breaches, but the compartment had filled with flames and at least three hadn't made it. The more she talked the more Naula saw the increased signs of shock in the girl: Clammy palms, blue tint to her lips, general disinterest in her lack of self-perception.

"Hello?" Naula called to the corridor, her tone sprinkled with doubt. No one responded. The blood-red strobe of warning lighting washed the black corridor with dread. To her credit, she didn't panic. There were many reasons crew might be staying away from a burnt out corridor. Naula rose, retreated to the elevator and punched the internal coms switch. Nothing happened. "Stay" Naula commanded and with a toss of her hair broke into a run down the blackened, scorched pathway. Behind her the mousy girl begun to protest, her cries growing in panic as her emotions broke free but Naula ignored her. She knew this ship like she knew General Iilkir's Four Stations of Command. They were right along from the flight deck, which meant the hangar was a simple step away.

"Don't run if you don't have to, don't shout unless it is necessary: Your serenity is your crews weapon against their own inner chaos." - Chapter three, continued.

Naula burst into the hangar-bay at full tilt, twisting around a protein rations crate and very nearly sending the entire lot flying. Her arm went up as she twisted, attempting to balance her would-be fall with an ungraceful flail of acrobatics. She tripped, stumbled, regained a footing and came to an abrupt halt against the railing. Looking across to where the shuttle had now arrived she spotted her prey and a wave of relief swept her features. All command authority lost to her Naula bellowed, letting her voice fray as it attempted volume she simply didn't have.

"Medic! This way. Two patients. Shock and breathing difficulty" Her arm flew out towards the corridor she had just come from, eyes wide and starring; and still blotchy.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

While Lorna was no stranger to command ships of various sorts, and had learned to find her way with ease aboard several models, the damage sustained by this one gave them little information about which was was safe, and especially where they were immediately needed. That was why she had chosen to stay put with her small team of medical personnel and droids, until someone would come fetch them, given that they had managed to dock at the given location.

She heard a noise as they finished unloading, followed by the apparition of a bellowing woman. The blonde believed it might be the one she had spoken to over the comm, but it mattered little now. Without hesitation, she gestured towards two of the nurses to follow her into the hallway.

Lorna knelt next to one of the wounded, while Nurse Arones did the same by the other one. The doctor assessed the situation, a frown on her face. The man had died in the short time it had taken for the redhead to find them. She hated that and attempted to revive him for good measure. She wasn't one to give up easily, but to no avail. On the other hand, Arones was able to stabilize the woman.

Closing the man's eyes, Lorna got to her feet. "I'm Doctor DeLaTour. What's the status of the crew?"

The sullied insignia on the redhead's uniform showed her as no canon fodder. Hopefully she would be able to direct them to where they were most needed.

[Naula Kahtier]

The question passed right over her, dissipating into the background static and seeming to drag on as if every syllable were somehow elongated. Naula's sub-conscious mind registered and stored the inquiry, tugging on her consciousness like an itch she was trying to ignore. Time slowed as Naula and the man locked gazes; her's wide and disbelieving, his closed forever and yet still staring at her in mortal judgement. DeLaTour may have moved on from the dead man's expressionless face, but Naula was still trapped there, her eyes hanging on as if expectantly waiting for him to awaken or show some sign of life. She didn't even know his name - yet another Jackal dead under her command and she had no idea what to call him. The itch won and the doctors question rang sharply into focus, becoming suddenly much louder in her head and making her start.

"Oh." Naula exclaimed, her eyes opening wider as if suddenly remembering something. "The crew? They are shaken. We took some heavy combat damage. The medi-bay is not functional. In fact I would avoid the entire aft area of the ship. We've asked everyone forward of the flight deck, where you will find the Jackal's-" What's left of them, a voice at the back of her mind whispered "-I mean, Green Squad 3rd Division. Lieutenant Baytings is their head. We call him Biter, but you probably didn't need to know that..." A small flicker of a smile traced Naula's lips, her voice meandering like a river that flowed without direction. The smile didn't reach her eyes however. The voice in the back of Naula's head spoke again: Over half dead now including this one, all on your orders.

You killed them.

"For the front section I have a small compliment, formerly mechanics, now mostly just waiting with our service staff on the lower deck and above you will find the bridge crew, all of whom have been through a great deal and may require looking over." Naula's arms shot out as she spoke, directing with clear hand signals. Her fingers came together and out-stretched for forward, bending to either the left or right to signal a corner as she spoke. "Mostly just cuts and bruises. We took a missile hit to the Port side during our final engagement before retreat which left several burn victims, all of which you can find in the forward lower section after the Medi-bay had to be evacuated." Naula paused, her voice growing quieter the longer she spoke. "I believe they were Type-7's, likely Merr-Sonn Munitions obtained illicitly. High yield and a good distance of travel. Fronted by a barrage of Intruder-class warheads which is how the shield failed." Her voice all but collapsed, becoming a near whisper. "At least that's my theory."

[Lorna DeLaTour]

Lorna listened to what the redhead explained. The exhaustion and the shock were obvious in her demeanor. The doctor took mental note to have all the crew go through psychological evaluation and support once they were aboard Jovan Station. If that was how a higher up behaved like, she could only guess about the rest of the crew's state of mind.

She exchanged a few looks with the rest of the team that was catching up. It gave them a solid way to begin. She returned her attention to the woman before her. She still had no name for her, but she let it slide, as long as information was provided.

"More medical personnel will arrive shortly, but you need to make sure they have space to board. In the meantime, my team and I will transport everything to the flight deck, and begin to take care of everyone."

One of the nurses was working on prepping the wounded crew member for transportation to the deck. Lorna gestured towards her. "Ma'am, please help Nurse Dinser carry her to the flight deck as we move everything there."

On cue, the rest of her team joined them in the hallway carrying more equipment. Lorna herself fetched a backpack and a crate. Hover sleighs would have been practical but the state of the ship didn't allow for it. So good old fashion was the way to go.

"How many crew members are there?"

She knew they were understaffed, but having an idea of how many they needed to handle would allow her to update Jovan Command about how many more teams would be required, as well as setting up medical bays back aboard the station, possibly some temporary ones as well.

[Naula Kahtier]

Naula's nostrils flared as the movement of those around her disturbed the thick and still cycling atmosphere. The corridor smelt of death - whatever that smelt like - though it wasn't the usual stench of bodies or decay of blaster-burnt flesh. Ash filled her lungs and the heaviness of each breath fell like a weight against her heart. She wasn't feeling the death's caused by the fire, but rather the sheer number of boots no longer stampeding down this blackened and desolate corridor. The red strobe swiped it's emergency beacon back and forth across the room as if in somber agreement. They had lost too many, especially for mission against such a pathetic enemy. Naula bit back the anger swelling at what she perceived to be a meaningless sacrifice, her eyes blazing with vengeful intent. The moment of rage returned some of her clarity.

"The crew." Naula stated in retort, her eyes snapping to DeLaTour's as if noticing her for the first time. Calculations ran behind her crystal clear eyes, a noticeable furrow crumpling the spot between her glazed eyes and noticeably unkempt hair. Naula would never have put on a uniform with even a single strand of hair out of place, but the last few hours had seen to her appearance. "They will require support, both psychiatric and medical." The ship was a Republic Model, designed for a crew of hundreds but no such luxury was afforded the alliance. Wiring and reforging had automated many of the systems that would have previously been manned. Slaving the guns had quartered the number of gunnery teams needed and many of the forward facing weaponry was controlled from the bridge. The ships army compliment was smaller than in the days of the Republic, too. If Naula recalled correctly - and she nearly always did - the ship had set sail with just over 100 on board. She began mentally ticking off losses, her brow creasing the further down the list she went. "Sixty-Seven left." Naula concluded.

Her chest rose and fell with increased frustration at the number. Pirates: Simple pirates with weaponry she could have never predicted. Anger at their loss flashed through her like a lightning bolt; frustration at her inability to do anything; hatred for the enemy and for herself and finally the whole lot resolved into simple sadness again. The vitality that had entered her eyes vanished and a dull hue replaced the moment of passion.

"I will be required to report to the Admiralty, regarding the fall of this vessels captain." As if hearing her words, Captain Yarris took his place in the corridor of death behind her. If Naula had been spiritual, she might have even said she could feel the Bothan's presence as she relayed the news of his passing. "Is there a member of the leadership aboard Jovan station?" Her own words bit, but they were delivered with calm and in a professional manner. She would leave no details out. She would face whatever conclusion her actions brought.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

Lorna could tell that the ventilation system had been damaged, and she grabbed a device at her belt, to check the level of gas. Nothing alarming was detected in the hallway they were using to make their way to the safer section of the ship. Yet, she made a note in her ongoing report that she was transmitting to Jovan command that having masks at the ready for working crews should be mandatory, to be on the safe side. She was no mechanics; but she knew that even though a ship might look in semi-stabilized condition, there was no telling what could give way next.

When the woman didn't comment upon her remark about future teams requiring landing space, Lorna didn't push further. The redhead was in deeper shock than she might realize, even though she held up a decent enough sabacc face on many occasions. Once again, the doctor simply relayed a message to advise for connecting ships to attach to the side of the damaged ship, although she noted that further info would be required from the ship's command or engineering crew to make it happen, especially the small group of mechanics on the lower level that the redhead had mentioned.

They were getting closer to the section of the ship where survivors had been gathered. Moving the portable equipment and even the medical droids through the damaged hallways was tricky at times, but it was doable, and they were losing very little time.

"I've already sent a note to command that all survivors should go through psych evaluation and support as need be," she replied at once to the redhead.

At the mention of sixty-seven survivors, she relayed the info as well, hoping that Jovan Station would be able to handle the surge of wounded and traumatized with enough ease. While there was no everyday shortage of medical personnel, it was rare to face such a situation.

Upon the question about the Admiralty, Lorna looked at the woman again, and could see that the tragedy was placating her despite a few moments where she had been able to push it away.

"Commander Akiena or his Executive Officer T'yeellaa Meorrrei will be your contact."

[Naula Kahtier]

A furrow briefly obscured Naula's face as her eyes all but mouthed the two alien sounding names, though no further signs of her uncertainty permeated the fixed slate of her features. She hadn't come across either Officer, though one of their names rang a bell as if she had read it in a report somewhere. It wasn't her place to talk to the upper echelons. That privilege had always been for Captain Yarris and he rarely chose to bring her along. Other sub-command staff might have taken this personally, but Naula and the Bothan had always had an understanding. She didn't question his methods and he didn't question her tactical suggestions. They worked together in silence and without friendship, but she had always thought a mutual respect was born from such understanding. In her fantasy, the Bothan bid her farewell from the flight deck as she left Revived Dynasty to captain her own ship, or take charge of some vitally important mission for the Alliance. Yarris would formally bid her farewell, she would turn, he would stop her and a moment of perfect understanding would pass between the two. As if trying to stifle his professionalism, Yarris' eyes would brim with unsaid thanks and praise before finally making the offer for her to visit if she fancied. Naula would bashfully smile, but the salute he gave her was always true. The make-believe moment was lost to her now, just like the man himself.

They turned into a wide canteen brimming with serfs, soldiers, and uniforms of every shape and colour. A doctor dashed past them into the room, her arms embracing a stack of portable coolant gels that she hastily distributed along a row of tables pushed back to the right. Each table bore a clearly injured burn victim; some moaning out in pain and others filling the air with an equally dreadful silence. Around them milled a throng of people, all shouting to be heard and to gather their things. Beds were being pressed to the side of the hall to make more space for scanning equipment, food rations, and boxes of ammunition. Orange flight-suits passed water out to dirty and grubby looking engine-supervisors, all gathered around a wall-mounted display that had just tuned into the Jovan Station grid. Naula and Lorna stood on the precipice of chaos, only to watch it increase as a deck-hand threw his shoulder into a women garbed in Alliance military-grey. Cries for blood went up as the women thrashed desperately under the assault, her peers ripping her assailant clear and dragging him away from the rations crate she had been distributing.

"Captain on deck." Called someone from the back of the room, but no one heard.

"Captain on deck." Came it's echo from a much louder and more commanding voice to their immediate left. The silence was total and haunting as Lieutenant Baytings came to stand next to Naula, his chest thrust out and hands clasped respectfully behind his back. Naula gave him a nod and the room an apprehensive glance. There was so much she wanted to say, but this wasn't her ship despite what they said. The questions of conduct could come later.

"This is Dr LeLaTour." Naula began, her back in perfect posture and her neck craned just a little forward to appear imperious. "She and her team are here to take the wounded to Jovan Station for treatment." It was lucky the room had gone so quiet, her voice strained as she tried to call out and she simply lacked the volume. The effect was absolute however, as if every man and women were holding onto each syllable that left her lips. "You will form an orderly line and rations will be handed out whilst you wait. Those in most need will be taken first." Next to her, Biter - Lieutenant Baitings - stood to gruff attention, his eyes scanning the room as if challenging anyone to disobey her orders. No one did. Bit by bit the room descended into chaos, but it was organised this time as various personnel attempted to find their own group and work out who among them needed help the most. Naula turned with a small smile of thanks to the man at her side, but he had already turned to leave.

No love lost there then, she thought.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

When they arrived to the large room where the survivors were gathered, the mayhem was greater than Lorna had expected. Her neutral expression betrayed none of what went through her mind though. The meager amount of discipline surfacing in the crowded space was ready to dissolve at every given second. The brief altercation she saw was enough of a testimony to it.

She was already proceeding to a general assessment, while the gathered assembly got quiet, letting the Captain say her piece, and introduce them. The way the redhead had been thrown in charge of the survivors after the sustained damage and the numerous deaths was all the more glaring as she struggled to speak up, although she succeeded. The blonde didn't give much attention to the intricacies of who was fine with the redhead's supervision and who wasn't. It wasn't why she had been dispatched to the capital ship.

Once the groups began to be organized, Lorna addressed her too small team. She assigned two of the other medical professionals and sent them to assess the burned victims on the makeshift beds, telling them how much medical supplies they could give them. There were still many other injured, and some that might not have come forward as much, but Lorna saw no reason not to take care of the visibly critical injured first.

She sent another team member and one medical droid to address the older crew members.

She then turned to the redhead.

"The manifesto I have doesn't reveal medical conditions. Did you have any pregnant personnel or any child aboard?"

The latter was unlikely, but she knew that exceptions happened. And going through her first while the lines were coming together might help.

She then retrieved a comlink from her backpack.

"This one patches directly to our shuttle, giving you clear line to Jovan Station. I need you to speak to them and coordinate the arrival of the next medical transport. We need to evacuate the burned victims first. We'll assess the rest of the crew to the best of our capacities until then."

[Naula Kahtier]

"No pregnancies, no children." Naula stated, taking the comlink and clasping it against her chest as if shielding the receiver during an on-going call. "Burn victims first. We have supplies to remain at anchor here if required." Her voice dipped as she continued, leaning a little closer to Lorna in conspiratorial manner "Though many of the crew are desperate to leave the conditions they have had to endure and so I think transport for all of them to Jovan station might be the best route forward." With such a naturally low speaking volume, the din claimed much of what Naula attempted to convey. She didn't seem to notice however and leaning back begun to busy herself with the communicator. A doctor breached the gap between them and without acknowledgement of her assumed-captain began to relay patient details and information to Lorna.

This was the problem with the alliance, thought Naula. Half of them saw themselves as some kind of new Republic and the other half still thought they were Rebels. There was far too much individual initiative and far too many people without respect for the chain of command. If she - an officer - had been interrupted on an Imperial ship without acknowledgement or notification the perpetrator would likely have faced disciplinary action; potentially even violent ramifications. It instilled in their ships a measure of efficiency. It made them brutal and effective, where Naula was only just holding this vague alliance together. The thought made her angry. With every personality clash, every disrespectful look, and every interruption they got further and further away from beating the Empire. She wouldn't permit such flagrant lacks of discipline on her ship. If she ever got a ship of her own, that was. The anger slipped into sadness and Naula took the opportunity to withdraw. Here she was thinking of beating the Empire and she couldn't even take care of a group of basic weapon smugglers. The communicator chirped. She had accidentally activated it.

"Um. Yes." Naula tried to withhold a blush as the shuttle masters voice questioned the opening of a channel without hailing message. "This is Lieutenant-Commander... erm... Acting Captain Kahtier. I have been asked by Dr DeLaTour to coordinate the additional arrival of Alliance transports." There was a pause on the other end followed by a confirmatory stand by and the line went dead. Naula took a further step away from the throng, turning into the corridor they had come down and noting the immediate drop in background volume. She took a deep breath as the line clicked once, then twice, before a smooth female tone emanated from the speaker grill. "Hello. Yes, this is Acting Captain Kahtier" she restated, taking a few experimental steps down the corridor. Each step took her away from noise and towards clarity. "We require transportation for the majority of the crew. And repair crews may need to be standing-by. Yes, that is correct. That is correct. Yes, that is also correct." The lights overhead flickered, plunging the corridor into emergency blue for a moment before reasserting their cool control. "Yes, that is correct. No, only myself. There is room for one docked ship in the bay, but they would have to rota. Umbilical is possible, yes." There was another pause on the line and a voice behind the speaker muttered something incomprehensible. The question was relayed. "The Captain?" Yarris swam into view before her, elongated and abnormally large in the open space of the corridor. His eyes were open and staring, just as when she had found him, head split and leaking the last vestiges of his venerable existence out and into the void. "Deceased. It will be in my report."

[Lorna DeLaTour]

Lorna was relieved and nodded when the redhead confirmed there was no pregnancy or children among the crew. It was one less thing to worry about in an already critical situation.

When told that the burn victims had to take priority, she stared at her though. Her expression was still neutral but her tone was sharp.

"I know how to do my job, ma'am."

She was here to provide medical expertise and services; and the less she had non-medical personnel try to tell her how to handle things besides answering questions and providing basic info, which had been limited due to the state of the ship, the better.

Most of her team were devoted to the burn victims. The only reason she had chosen to have a single team member check on the older crew members was her knowledge that they could have increased health issues even without severe burns, the ventilation issues and pressure changes could have been more damaging than to their younger counterparts. Based on the manifesto they had, there was no species that required special attention; but those would have also been included in that one team member, had any of them be aboard.

Upon receiving an update from one of the nurses, she nodded and walked away, leaving the redhead to handle the logistics. There were a significant amount of burn victims, which while not surprising, meant that they would need several rounds to evacuate them given the limited landing space. As she helped her team distribute the supplies, and she took notes of the priority orders to make things smoothly, and up the chances of recovery of all of them, she was still transmitting information and setting up certain operation rooms for they would be needed within the hour.

She opened another line to the shuttle she had come to the ship with, telling their pilot to make as much room as possible, to transport ten of the worst victims right away, because without extensive medical care and imminent surgeries, they held no chance to make it through another day. The Cadet confirmed and told her he'd be ready for them in ten minutes.

Returning her attention to the redhead who had ended her call, Lorna gave the update, and she hoped that the logistics had been handled as needed.

"First ten will be evacuated in fifteen minutes. I need valid crew members to help transport them, while we continue to go through the others. Surgery teams will be expecting them on Jovan Station. If we have the hangar and one or two umbilical connected ships at the same time, we should be able to evacuate everyone within six hours, depending on how Jovan Station is readied to accommodate everyone."

[Naula Kahtier]

Naula nodded with curt efficiency, her mind sinking into the logistical puzzle with welcome relief. The haunting vision of the ships captain burst apart like smoke behind her and an array of possible solutions began to filter past her eyes. Two umbilical ports, both in the upper decks of the vessel. One usable hangar facility with enough room for a transport to take off and another to land, but not both simultaneously. Two working elevators, meaning whoever was going to exit via the upper level umbilical would either have to be from the mostly healthy gunnery and command crews, or they would be placing patients in lifts. Her crystal hues seemed to glaze over as Naula transported her mind about the ship, sizing up access corridors and lift space; plotting routes from stairwells and taking note of potential choke points. She was in her element. As her mind claimed the sorted the data her lips twitched and twisted, forming words that only she could hear and plotting numbers no one else would ever bother to calculate.

"Five hours. Maybe four and a half" Naula countermanded, though her tone was thoughtful rather than dismissive. She glided past Lorna, still deep in thought and barely registering her. As if on queue, Lieutenant Baitings reemerged from somewhere to their left, waiting expectantly for the order he knew she would give. Naula looked up and the ghost of a smile traced her red cheeks at his convenient appearance. Whatever he thought of her, the Lieutenant could be counted on to follow orders. They exchanged a look that conveyed a conversation and Baitings turned to the assembled throng.

"Attention." He commanded and no one dared challenge the hulking giants command.

"Listen carefully and act accordingly." Naula begun, her tone clipped and imperious but without malice. "We will now commence the transfer of the worst wounded to Jovan station. Followed by the evacuation of the crew to safety." She spoke each word with careful enunciation and intent, as if weighting each sentence to make it more important than the last. "For this to happen efficiently, no one must impede the movement of patients or be too eager to skip their place in the queue. All those unable to move independently will be transported as priority, supported by Lieutenant Baitings and the Jackal's. Repulsar-beds to my left will move immediately for transportation from this level to the existing Alliance medical transport and the second we presently have in-bound. These will be taken on a rota and each is to be escorted by one member of this ships medical team. All support staff returning to this room must return via the port-side corridor. Simultaneously, members of the Alliance 32nd Infantry are to escort beds to the right of this room along the starboard corridor for access to the weapons-side turbo-lift and second deck umbilical, before returning via the Command section and main-level lift. This is to ensure a smooth flow of upwards traffic. Supplies for continued medical related care can be taken by engineering support teams, who will claim emergency respirator equipment from deep storage in the engineering section and distribute accordingly. Next priority will be those with independent movement and bacta treatments. The priority for departure from there will be as follows: Potential critical care; injured; support staff; command staff; flight; engineering; and finally the army. Four squads of 32nd are to remain until reinforcements arrive, as is protocol." Naula took a moment to breath, surveying a sea of tired and confused faces before her. "We are not abandoning ship. But with failing power regulators we may need to temporarily depart." As if on queue, the over-head lighting chose that exact moment to flicker, plunging the room into blackness. For a second or two they were a group of shadows, tied together by blackness. With the return of lights the chaos begun again, but this time with some semblance of intent. Naula let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, lifting the comms unit Lorna had granted her and opening a channel to those she knew would be waiting on the bridge. "Coordinate the arrival and departure of the second deck umbilical - you can directly link with Jovan station via our guests - Also please ensure a member of flight is monitoring the hangar deck for efficient loading of patient cargo. We'll leave rations, but have the gunnery crews stow and lock anything explosive or weapons related: I don't want anything out of place." The voice crackled an acknowledgment and the line filled with relayed commands. Officers sounded off, team leaders gave call-signs, and the catering team even blurted their understanding to keep clear. Naula cut the line and nearly thrust the comm back to Lorna, as if trying to get rid of it as fast as possible.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

"This isn't up to just you and the transport. We can't just throw everyone in the middle of the station's hallways before all needed medical bays are available, Ma'am."

Lorna hoped it would take less than six hours, but given the number of survivors, and that was without counting the dead ship that was also being inspected; it was going to be a massive stretch of medical resources and personnel for Jovan Station. They functioned well, and the leadership and logistics ensured that emergencies could be handled well; but they couldn't drop everything just for the wounded survivors.

"Make sure that the rations and supplies you have for those with only minor wounds are available. Everyone in critical condition will be taken care of within the next hour."

Jovan Station had a lot of competent people, and it would make a difference for every survivor; but they weren't going to just toss other patients out who still required care. Lorna had even made it clear via her communication that certain medbays normally reserved for diplomats should be requested in order to facilitate the evacuation. There were high chances it would be accepted; but she didn't have power over these accommodations the way she and other colleagues did in military and public facilities.

While the Captain addressed the crew and told them how things would proceed, Lorna was helping prepping critical patients for the first round of evacuation, as well as transferring information to Jovan medical personnel still on board the station. She was also coordinating with upcoming transports, eventually obtaining that one of the largest medical shuttles of Jovan was provided to make transportation easier, and hopefully reduce time tables. Even the brief flickering of power and lights going off didn't bother her. She was on task, and it wasn't the first crisis she had to handle.

She caught the comlink tossed at her a while later, and wondered what the hell was that reaction for; but said nothing about it.

"I will remain on board until all critically wounded are transported. I'll oversee transition of medical lead to a colleague afterwards, for I'll be needed in surgery."

[Naula Kahtier]

Lorna’s words brushed over her and were lost. Somewhere at the back of Naula’s mind she should have recognised the reprimand: What had she been thinking? Jovan station wasn’t ready to take the entire compliment of a capital class vessel. And yet her desperation to see the crew to safety nullified the remark and dismissed it as a comment to consider later at a time when the power wasn’t potentially going to drop out at any minute. Her eyes searched the room for traps, trouble, or any other reason to assert her authority. None presented themselves. The crew were acting out her orders as if they had come from the captain himself. The orders had come from the captain; Naula had to quickly remind herself.

“Thank you.” She stated, turning to Lorna with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her somber eyes. Something in the back of her mind gave her a little pinch and Naula’s expression changed from pleasantry to mild shock, before blooming into full blown embarrassment. The change was a spectacle to behold as the etched exterior melted into a visage of concern and surprise. “I am so sorry. I am Lieutenant-commander Kahtier.” Naula would have straightened for the introduction, but her back was already rigid and to attention. Her arm came out straight and purposeful, as if rising into a salute; but halfway through the motion she thought better of it and extended her hand forward instead. “Welcome to Revived Dynasty, I am sorry it is not under better circumstances.”

Behind her crates were already been shifted out the way and beds set to repulsar mode. A silver medical droid was clanking from one cot to the next, checking each patients vitals with its bulbous looking diagnostic arm before clearing them for departure. Rations were being collected and blankets removed from gangways; the bustle had energy to it but it was purposeful now.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

Lorna was helping reviewing what the rest of her team was relaying to her, as well as staying in touch with the personnel helping transporting the critical patients to the first dispatch to Jovan Station. She had consciously not reached out to the team aboard the dead ship because the less she scattered her focus the better. They had multiple solid medical doctors aboard the station, so she trusted whichever colleague in charge of the other survivors to do their best. Prioritizing was a staple in most fields; but when faced with medical emergencies, it was non-negotiable.

She didn't give much attention to the redhead, for she was busy coordinating what she could in the current situation, including exchanging some quick messages with Jovan Station. It was going to be rough to accomodate everyone. As much as the station was large, with solid medical facilities, they weren't a medical station per se.

Oblivious to the look of shock that appeared on the military's face, she only looked at her again when she spoke. She raised a brow at the unexpected formal introduction. Really, a name and rank would have been sufficient, especially as they were all busy to save as many lives as possible.

"Well met, Lt. Commander," she simply replied.

She had already put down notes that the woman should have mandatory psych evaluation but that only comforted her. While everyone was at risk of PTSD after such a terrible situation, the higher echelons could be equally affected.

"Based on the last exchange with Jovan, we should have evacuated all critical patients within the next hour. I will then be replaced by a colleague. I will communicate you their name once I know who's appointed."

[Naula Kahtier]

Naula responded with an acknowledging nod, her somewhat unkempt hair bobbing along in the motion. An hour was an excellent estimate and as fast as could be hoped for under the circumstances. The ship growled it's agreement underneath them via a long and shuddering tremor that echoed through the pipes in the walls and brought to light each not-quite sealed floor panel through a sustained rattle. Many of those around them stopped at the sudden noise and vibration, but moved on quickly. Naula offered an almost apologetic smile to Lorna, though wasn't sure the other women was even paying her attention anymore. It made it much easier to slink away out into the corridor.

"Report." Naula commanded, her hand pressed tightly against a wall-mounted communications system. It was the first such device she had located and broadcast with a tinny note that spoke of both the vessel's age and present predicament.

"That was the second drive-core." Replied the helm-station aboard her bridge. "There's no chance of lightspeed now and we're running on a single power supply." The helmsman's voice changed from a professional tone to one of more casual banter. "I don't need to tell you what happens when that fails. We get the fridge." Naula let the slight break in etiquette slide. She certainly did not need telling. Without an active power supply the ships systems would fail and soon after her crew. Doors would seal tight, air scrubbers would cease to operate; lights and heat would vanish and it would be a race against the clock before they froze, stopped breathing, or simply couldn't find a root out of the would-be derelict in time. The thought made Naula want to cry out in anger and frustration. Part of her wanted to run for the first transport off and keep running, but she didn't. 'Don't run if you don't have to, don't shout unless it is necessary: Your serenity is your crews weapon against their own inner chaos.' - General Iilkir's Four Stations of Command rose helpfully to the surface of her thoughts once more.

"You've done enough. Take the command staff and get to safety. I'll ensure the crew are evacuated. Tell whoever is in stoke that I need as much time on that third supply as possible." Naula spoke with a calmness that surprised even her. This was a situation she could manage: A situation that logic and reason could rectify. She would do so now. Historically, the engineers of pre-lightspeed ships would funnel fuel into combustion drives, thus earning themselves the title of stoker. The tradition had stuck. Whoever was stoking today would likely not make it off the ship should power fail. It was another decision that needed to be made. "Tell them to keep the core running, whatever it takes. They're buying us all time now."

[Lorna DeLaTour]

The rumbles and tremors that coursed through the heavily damaged ship didn't go unnoticed; but Lorna only kept them at the periphery of her focus. She moved across the different sections where she was needed, from where most of the survivors had been gathered, as she confirmed certain early diagnosis, all the way to where the shuttles that would transport the wounded to Jovan attached themselves to the command craft. There was nothing she could do about the ship; but she could make a difference in its crew's lives, and it was where her attention remained.

It was also why she had to let Kahtier do her job, even though the redhead appeared as one in greatest shock from the few higher ups that remained. All the medical doctor could do really was ensure that people got evacuated as quick as possible, but without being dangerously hasty.

Keeping her calm under extreme pressure was one of the skills she had developed and improved given her career choice. She was in constant contact with the medical bays aboard the station, as logistics were proving more challenging than originally estimated, because more survivors had been found on the dead ship that had showed up along with the one Lorna was currently aboard. It was good news, even though the actual number of survivors would diminish over the next forty hours as difficult as it was to admit.

After an hour and ten minutes, the last shuttle carrying critically injured individuals was on its way to Jovan. Lorna was still with decent levels of energy, but she knew that the biggest work was actually awaiting her back on the station, for she was needed to assist several surgeries.

She found Kahtier back to update her.

"Doctor Amaris will arrive with the next transport. I'll leave with the next wave of patients. We are still on timing, and many surgeries are already going on back on Jovan. You will receive further updates about the check ups for the lightly wounded as well as all psych evaluation schedule in a few hours. Our priority remains those needing extensive medical care for now."

[Naula Kahtier]

"Thank you, Dr DeLaTour." Naula responded with a calm and friendly smile. "Your efforts and that of your staff have saved many lives today. We are grateful." It was a platitude, but not meaningless. Naula was indeed grateful to the medics now supporting their evacuation as she was the teams now racing to sustain the dying engines and failing power-lines. Naula stood pressed against the shuttle-bay railing and oversaw the evacuation of her now adopted crew. Twice members of staff ushered her forward to leave but she pushed their pleads away. It wasn't until she heard the confirmation that the engine team themselves would be on the next transport did Naula finally accept an invite to board. She had no intention of going down with the ship. But she had a responsibility to the men and women she had taken into battle and that urge glued her hands to the railing and her feet to the deck.

There were no further casualties. Several of the burn patients didn't make it, but somehow they were someone else's responsibility now and Naula found her attachment to their deaths strained. She looked out the view-port with a weary glance of farewell, watching as the hulking capital ship gradually became a grey spot in the vastness of space. It turned out a powered down ship gave off very little sign of it's existence at such a distance, but she knew it was still there. Light would occasionally play across a panel and the chassis would glint at her, twinkling as it waited judgement for it's crimes. They wouldn't likely be returning. Naula was no engineer but even she knew the retrofit would take months. Too much damage, too many unstable circuits; they would strip her and reinforce her and in that time the crew would find new postings. It was probably for the best.

"Thank you." Naula called in the general direction of the pilot, her feet taking her away from the now landed transport with haste that seemed detached from her minds desire to respect etiquette. She found her name on a list and followed the deck plating to her temporary quarters. She was command staff and that came with a room. It was likely the rest of the crew had been dispersed among other near-by ships, or perhaps just left in the galley to sleep in long, equal spaces side by side. It wasn't her business any more. Naula felt the door come down behind her and with it severed her last link to the duty she had taken on. They were safe. Everyone was safe. The tears came freely and this time she let them.

Day Two.

Naula Kahtier awoke with her usual punctuality. For some waking up was a difficult affair; snooze buttons and gradual eye openers and groans that did little but curse unknown deities and the hours associated with them. Naula had never quite understood this outlook on mornings. For her the alarm chirped it's usual greeting and her eyes shot open with perfect clarity. She waited the handful of seconds it took for her vision to swim into focus before realising with a start that she was not in her usual bed. The nightmare returned to her in an instant, but it wasn't going to defeat her routine. Naula pulled back the covers, slipped off her cot and pattered bare feet over to the hydrocare unit. She washed all over and dressed in Alliance Navy uniform. No request for her to do so had been given and no duties had been assigned, but today she needed the uniform more than it needed her. Garbed in her protective attire of rules and regulation, Naula made her way to the medical centre.

[Lorna DeLaTour]

Captain Kahtier's thanks were met with a nod; but Lorna's focus had to remain on the patients requiring care. She soon escorted the next batch aboard the shuttle taking them to Jovan Station. Once there, the next hours were a blur through which she mostly pushed thanks to sheer determination, adrenaline, and a lot of caf.

There had been fewer losses during surgeries than she had first worried might happen. They had five of them, and eight more were in critical condition; but should pull through. Lorna had worked triple shift to assist various surgical teams. It was already the next morning when she was able to take a break. Of course, living on a space station made considerations like day and night different from living on an actual planet; but the chrono at her wrist didn't lie.

She retreated to her office to put some notes together; but eventually fell asleep at her desk. She worried when waking up only an hour later, and made sure that everything was appropriately saved. Glad that no other emergency had cropped up, she decided to go get some food and more caf before working on her report.

As she passed by the lobby of the medical center, she saw Kahtier come in, in a fresh uniform and looking somewhat rested.

"Good morning, Captain," she offered as she stopped by the other woman. Her stomach growled on cue, but it seemed to polite to acknowledge the redhead anyway.