When Accidents Have Dire Condequences
Posted on Tue Feb 28th, 2023 @ 2:37am by Lieutenant Lynsi Mason & Colonel S'er'in'e & Lieutenant Commander Decan MD PsyD
Edited on on Tue Feb 28th, 2023 @ 2:38am
Mission:
Wounds
Location: Fighter Hanger Bay 1
The deck was busy with routine tasks being completed by the teams of grounds crews and their respective fighters, some craft were being prepared for launch and the front of the deck, others routine maintenance and parts replacement at the back and in the middle was where returning vessels would occupy and disarm or be prepared for moving into the launch ready area depending on the need at the time. Secure storage lined the walls for parts, in armoured sections near where the returning craft landed were used for munitions storage with scores of equipment, anti grav lifts, and the like. For most of the technicians this was no different to any other day, the same routine, the same tasks. Each crew had a harmonious relationship where the pilot had to trust the crew that looked after their craft, working relationships were meaningful and for some it came easier than others, especially among the newer pilots.
S'er'in'e was in his office that overlooked Hanger Bay one and two as if his office was built into the separating wall but he found the view permitted him to observe his pilots, the ground crews, the goings on of his staff, and especially the marines that were also pilots. Everyone knew marines were 'different' from the regular fleet personnel, it came with the training, the service, and the 'culture' that the marines were surrounded with. S'er'in'e was glad however that for the most part there were very few incidents between fleet and marine, Lt. Mason often leaping on an issue before it became a full-fledged one.
A flight of six fighters was returning from a routine 6-hour CAP, one at a time, and each flag to its designated spot where ground crews were ready and waiting for the shutdown sequence to complete before they would rush into action. As with any CAP they were armed, a standard loadout unless a flight profile specifically required something different but otherwise able to counter most situations should the need arise. S'er'in'e watched as one by one the fighters followed the strict flight path marked on the floor by thick, large yellow markings before rotating in the air, backing up and landing in their designated space. He watched as a fighter shut down and a member of the ground crew slipped a red nose covering on it. It indicated a recent return and was still armed, it would be replaced with a yellow one once disarmed so routine checks could commence, this would be removed once everything that was needed to be done to the craft was completed. Another fighter landed, followed by another. Each was like clockwork in its action as each step was repeated in turn.
Safety was paramount with the risks and dangers involved, safety documentation was readily available for every task that was conducted on the hanger floor and each person was certified to carry out the duties required of them. Equipment was available in plentiful amounts so there were no delays in the conduct of those tasks, deck supervisors were experienced officers with many years of hands-on experience and additional training to ensure the smooth running of a floor section and the craft they were responsible for. So far since the major attack on the station, the only injuries were minor sprains, cuts, and a few bruises.
Down on the hangar floor, Lynsi "Blaze" Mason was making her inspection rounds. While her favorite part of the job was by far flying sorties, as both a squadron leader and the deputy commander of the air group, her job often required her to inspect processes to ensure flight readiness. Although safety was not the purpose of her inspections, those inspections were performed by safety personnel, it was part of her job to ensure that ordinance handling protocols were being followed such that the birds were properly prepared when there was an immediate need to launch in defense of the station. It didn't happen often that the entire wing was ordered into combat, but the memory of the Battle of Archa IV still hung in her head. When the Sojourners had breached the main dock, she thought it was all over. But a number of fighters chased the Sojourner fighters into the dock and saved the soft gooey center of the station from suffering worse damage. Mason was proud to have been one of those pilots flying during one of the darkest days of the station's storied history.
So far this inspection tour was going according to plan. There had been some minor deficiencies noted, but nothing that would have given her any serious concern. That was not unexpected. Rarely were these inspections flawless, but then it was her job to find any errors and make sure they were fixed. It was a bit tedious, and it certainly wasn't glamorous. But it had to be done.
"Alright, Chief," Blaze said to the chief petty officer accompanying her. "Looks like we're on our last bird." She gestured with the PADD in her hand at the fighter in front of them. "What have we got?"
The chief petty officer checked the fighter's tags, which pulled up the maintenance and disarmament reports. "This one came in a 1400 hours. No incidents report. Ordinance was safed at 1425, and pulled from the craft at 1437 hours."
Blaze made some notes on her PADD. "Let's see the transportation tags. Where have the torpedoes been moved?"
Mason followed the petty officer to a nearby terminal. "Munitions moved to rack 13-B, and moved to armory four."
The deputy commander nodded and made another note on her PADD. "Let's see the..." As she was about to ask for the move tickets showing the 'chain of custody' of the weapons, Lynsi felt a strange rumble along the floor of the hangar deck, followed by a low pitched rumble from the far side of the hangar. She turned just in time to see the flash of light. Without thinking, she shoved the chief petty officer away and to the ground just as something large came flying towards her. And that was all she saw before blacking out.
----
S'er'in'e was just preparing to head to the Marine Deck and check on things there but as he was transferring information to a padd an explosion ripped the otherwise silent machine of duty and action apart, then another, in all there were three explosions. The windows to one side of his office shattered, the heat swept inside consuming the otherwise perfectly maintained cooler air. His sensitive ears rang loudly blocking out any sound, disorientated he managed to make his way slowly and on shaky feet to the window, and through squinted eyes from the heat blasting him he saw the carnage that lay before him. Flame engulfed several fighters and several more lay in pieces on the deck, deck plating had been contorted, bulkheads buckled as he saw the alarm lights strobe on the walls, the alerting sound still blocked from his ringing ears. He could see there were casualties, the damage was extensive.
=^= Hanger Bay 1 to Sickbay, medical emergency, multiple casualties. =^=
On the far side of the hangar floor, away from the explosion, came a voice screaming above the commotion of the alarms. One of the armory officers, a chief petty officer, was screaming for help. From S'er'in'e's office, the petty officer appeared to be mostly unharmed. At least he was moving around. But he was surrounded by large pieces of debris that had been thrown across the hangar from the explosions. Pieces of fighters, cargo containers, empty munition racks, and who knows what else was strewn about. He was trying desperately to lift a piece of debris, to no avail.
S'er'in'e saw the man seeking attention and moved down the ramp towards the hanger floor. As he moved he felt his balance was off, the sides of his face felt wet and when he touched it with his hand he saw blood. The explosion had clearly ruptured his eardrums. S'er'in'e was able to traverse the obstacles even with one or two minor slips and rendered aid to the man in lifting the debris.
The man was yelling about something, though with his ruptured eardrums S'er'in'e wasn't able to hear. He kept gesturing towards a large piece of a fighter. With some help, the two were able to dislodge the piece of fighter, revealing what was left of a crushed right arm attached to an unconscious Lynsi Mason.
S'er'in'e saw the injury and quickly assessed even if his head thundered. The debris was acting as a block for Mason's arm which limited the bleeding but it was obvious it was under some strain with her unconscious and her arm above her head. It was clear by the angle, it was severely broken. Pointing to a container S'er'ine gently lifted Mason to a seated position which would reduce the angle and pressure on the wound. He could feel the blood slick on his skin, his fur taking on a deeper tinge of red. He leaned against the side of one of the damaged fighters to steady himself. "Go to the main door, on the way, take note of your surroundings. Direct medical teams inside indicating casualties you saw on your way."
S'er'in'e slipped down to a seated position with view on Mason. Why did this happen? What happened? He leaned his head back with a sigh as he fought the pounding within his head.
When the call came, Decan sprang into action. He grabbed a handful of paramedic staff, not knowing what sort of scene he would be walking into. A site to site transport was the fastest way to get to the Fighter Decks. The medical team arrived outside the Hangar Bay almost instantaneously. Decan looked for some indication of where to begin.
The scene was chaos, akin to a warzone freshly made with debris, bodies and injured strewn about the place. Technicians and ground crews were rushing about leaping into action. S'er'in'e could only hear ringing, his head pounding with each heart beating as he looked around as he nursed his aches and pains. He could see the faces of those around him, shouting, barking orders, pointing, waving teams along. He saw from at the door a freshed, frenzied group that even from his peripheral vision seemed out of place. When he looked he saw blue, picking through the faces he found the Assistant Chief Medical Officer. His eyes could tell him that noise was high, from the crackling of fire to the extinguishers battling them, the cries of wounded clutching injured limbs.
S'er'in'e knew the sounds of scenic and situational conflagration having experienced it many times. He raised his large hand pointing to the Doctor and roared. With everything going on he needed to grab the Doctor's attention and doing something out of place, unusual for the scene he knew would do the trick since calling out to the man would only add to the expected cries of the moment. With his other hand he pointed to where Mason was.
Decan moved to Lieutenant Mason's side. She had lost consciousness. He looked over her visually while he took scans with his tricorder "Her right arm has been crushed. She'll need immediate surgery." The Vulcan stated to his paramedical assistants. Closing his tricorder and holstering it, he tapped his combadge. "Decan to Medical, prepare the surgical bay for an emergency amputation." His words hung in the air as his comrade moved Lynsi onto an anti-grav gurney.
The scene continued to be chaotic as the wounded were treated and moved away. But there was more work to be done in the aftermath. Not just cleaning up the mess and repairing the damage to the ships and crew, but determining what happened, how to ensure it didn't happen again.
Colonel S'er'in'e
Chief of Strategic Operations
Starbase 332
Lieutenant Commander Decan
Chief Medical Officer
Starbase 332
Lieutenant Lynsi Mason [P: Von]
Deputy Commander
Airwing-17, Starbase 332
