“Captain’s Log, Stardate: 79631.8

Doctor Harper has been in surgery for the past five hours trying to save the life of his patient, one of the Azurak survivors we rescued from the freighter, which, evidently, was attacked by a Nausicaan pirate.
Our own standoff with what I believe to be the same pirate was a decisive victory for old-fashioned, Tactful negotiations. However, my thoughts now turn to the motive behind this display of aggression from our adversary.”

U.S.S. Fairfax, Deck 6, Medical facilities. 15:00 hrs

The doors to Operating Room 1 finally unlocked, the sterile field deactivated, and Dr. Harper and his team of gifted physicians emerged dressed in soiled scrubs and a first layer of personal protective equipment: namely, headwear, surgical masks and protective gowns.

They all looked utterly exhausted, exactly like they had poured their very hearts and souls into breathing new life into their patient, exacting a personal price of fatigue for their efforts.

Emerging alongside the Doctor and his staff, a single gurney carrying the Azurak patient, still under sedation, but with strong life signs being displayed by the Bio-Monitor.
Dr. Harper removed his mask and noticed the Captain waiting patiently in a small seating area beside the operating room. It was time to give an update, but first, he instructed the nurses to take the patient directly to the I.C.U.

As he approached the captain, he removed his gown and mask, placing both into the replicator for recycling. “So surgery turned out to be a little more complicated than anticipated,” sighed Conrad as he collapsed into the delightful embrace of the soft couch beside the Captain. Having stood on his feet for more than 5 hours, the chair could have been made of broken glass and nails, and it would still have brought him some relief.

“What sort of complications?” Alex handed him a mug of fresh coffee; the vapour escaping from the rim of the cup caused immediate salivation in anticipation of the first sip.

“Well, the medical scan we did when we came aboard confirmed that the Azurak anatomy is almost identical to humans, but their bone density is merely a tenth of ours.” Conrad took a sip, and immediately, he could detect the complexity of a genuine Colombian roast. This coffee was real, not replicated.

“When I performed CPR in the shuttle, I seemed to have inadvertently shattered his rib cage, fractured his spine in three places, and sent bone fragments into his lungs and heart with all the compressions… I thought it felt a little too crunchy!” Another sip, so much flavour and aroma.

“What’s his prognosis Doc?” Alex asked

“Stable… but not out of the woods yet. There was a lot of damage to his heart tissue. I managed to repair what I could, but sir, their bones literally shatter like glass!”

“We don’t know an awful lot about them. The Azurak have always been very reclusive since first contact. I don’t think Starfleet has even sent an envoy to their homeworld… come to think of it… we don’t even know where home is for them.” Alex pointed out, the deficit of information in this situation was beginning to become a real disadvantage.
“What about the other Azurak crew member? Is he stable enough to talk to?” he proposed.

“He’s still in a coma for the time being. They both got a severe dose of radiation, and his lungs need time to heal before I can even think of reviving him,” Conrad explained disappointingly.
“That’s if either of them survives the night; they’ve been through hell… I wish I had better news, I’m sorry, Captain,” he added.

“You’ve done all you can. In the meantime, I’ll send a team back to the freighter, try to get some more answers.” Alex stood and began orienting himself to leave the Doctor in peace to recharge.

“Captain, about the other day…during the briefing…”
Alex ganced back, holding up his hand to interrupt.

“Enjoy the coffee, doc, keep your mind focused on saving lives!” Alex departed before Conrad could make another response. This was the first time he had personally observed the Doctor’s skill and passion for his craft since his command of Fairfax began. The cup of fresh Coffee from his own reserve supply was supposed to signify his admiration for Conrad’s performance today; perhaps the point of it had been lost on him, but Alex knew that the point of the gesture was something the doctor needed to arrive at himself. To explain it would undermine its meaning.

Azurak Frieghter – 16:16 hrs

Transporter travel was always a most fascinating experience. The anticipation of being deconstructed at a molecular level was, to some, rather disconcerting. Then the physical sensation on one’s body of a static-like energy coursing through not only the surface of the skin, but also somehow internal tissues and cavities despite the absence of nerve endings.

Then came the period of nothingness, which one is never markedly aware of but can be tangibly explained as a similar experience to being on the verge of falling asleep; for a moment, you lose consciousness and then immediately reacquire it and shortly afterwards become aware of the passage of time.

Finally, the re-materialisation is the same process, but in reverse, and once fully constituted, there is the urge to perform a self-assessment, ensuring one is still in possession of all limbs, appendages and features.

Even though he understood the process thoroughly and the theory behind it, Sovek still became overwhelmed by an illogical urge to perform this self-check after re-materialising.

He had just beamed to the Azurak vessel along with two ensigns from his staff, LT K’vagh and an additional security officer. He was the ranking officer on the away team, and he was clear and focused on his objectives.

Removing his Tricorder from its pouch, he began an initial scan of the transporter site, seeking to locate equipment that would logically grant them access to the ship’s computer.
The ship was now running on emergency power only, with the warpcore having been shut down earlier in the day due to the radiation leak. With the reduced power level of the ship, gravity plating was now offline, and some of the containment fields keeping the compartments pressurised were beginning to fail. For this reason, the team wore EVA suits.

“Main engineering was down this corridor and to the right,” said K’vagh, the deep bass of his voice reverberating through the suit-to-suit coms.

“Thank you, Lieutenant; however, I believe our priority should be to investigate the bridge, that is logically where we will find a terminal with the appropriate access credentials to review the ship’s telemetry and logs.” Sovek pointed out, using his scans to deduce the most likely direction of the command centre.

“We never ventured past the engine room on our first visit,” said K’vagh in reply.

“I am well aware of the particulars of the first away mission, Lieutenant. It will not be necessary for you to advise me on them further,” the Vulcan coldly shut him down.

Sovek led the party down the dankly lit corridors, brushing loose cables and conduits out of their path, like vines in a jungle. K’vagh followed closely behind, his right hand resting with discipline on his phaser, ready to draw at the first sign of a threat.

The layout of the freighter was somewhat simple, as a large proportion of the vessel was devoted to cargo space. There were only two main corridors running either side of the main hold and only a handful of branches off these corridors to other areas of the ship. Locating the bridge was a trivial task for a Vulcan.

The team arrived at a door which appeared to be more secure than the others, with additional locking mechanisms to safeguard against unauthorised entry. “My tricorder is unable to scan beyond this door, though, judging by the additional security measures, it is logical that the command centre would be situated beyond,” Sovek verbalised.

K’vagh began operating the interface; however, the panel was inoperative. “The door is sealed, and there is not enough power to operate this interface,” He said, using his brute strength to tear the covering from the maintenance panel. “I will attempt to bypass.”

Sovek and the rest of the away team waited patiently while K’vagh worked, quietly observing his efforts. Sovek in particular was intently shadowing the Klingon’s progress, finding it fascinating that an individual he had assumed was blunt and aggressive would attempt to restore function to the door, rather than force it.

After a few minutes of tinkering and more than a few sparks, the locks released, leaving the door slightly ajar. With a mighty display of his strength, K’vagh then prised the door open with both hands, sliding each panel into the frame and overcoming the natural resistance of the actuators with relative ease.

The room beyond was pitch black, no power or lighting at all. The team proceeded inside, their hand torches casting small patches of clarity ahead of them but revealing little else.

Still scanning, Sovek indicated the presence of a control panel on a nearby wall. He approached and attached a supplemental power bank to initialise the display. Interpreting the Azurak operating system as best he could, he attempted to restore some emergency lighting to the room.

K’vagh continued sweeping the room with his hand torch, but it was slow work, only being able to see through a small patch of illumination. Furthermore, the enclosure of his suit’s helmet restricted his peripheral vision, making the task even more difficult.

He felt his foot strike something with a curious sensation. Not a hard surface like a table or a wall, this felt like it had a bit of give, like he had just kicked a large grapefruit.

As K’vagh shone his torch down to his feet to see what was there, the room flooded with a crimson glow as the emergency lighting came back online.

An ear-piercing scream from one of the Ensigns distracted K’vagh for a moment, and as he turned to investigate, he felt an object touch his shoulder, he swung himself back around, drawing his phaser, ready to engage the threat, when what little field of vision he had through the suit’s helmet became consumed by the unmistakable silhouette of a corpse; floating right where he stood due to the lack of gravity. K’vagh let out the closest thing to a Klingon gasp as the corpse’s proximity to him shocked him a little, but it was no threat and quite clearly deceased.

The bridge was littered with the dead, nine of them drifting in the zero-G environment.

“Fascinating,” Sovek exclaimed, having just observed a reaction in K’vagh that he could categorise as the traces of a fear response.