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The Price of Freedom, Part One
The Aftermath

Corridor <Deck 37> [Gibraltar Station]

This corridor is octagonal in shape, the walls rising at a slight angle to the floor before staying straight for a time and then angling back in toward the ceiling. The corridor curves slightly, the ends going out of sight. The walls are made of light gray paneling, between which horizontal alert tracers run. Behind the panels are access junctions and emergency supplies. Occasionally there is a large readout panel set into the wall, which provides information on the base and where facilities are located. Doors are set into the corridor regularly, each sitting back in its own alcove rimmed with tan bulkheads that make ribs in the corridor. At the bottom of the walls and along the ceiling are lighting panels. The floor is carpeted in a gray runner trimmed with light tan.

Players:
Katheran Omtala

The hallway is a smoky shambles, with medical and security teams moving in. Toward the Embassy Wing it only gets worse; away from the embassies the hallway looks fairly intact.

Omtala frowns as she surveys the damage. "Medical, I want you to pair off with a security officer. Follow their lead. Sweep door to door. We'll stage at the lift. If you have a critical case, you're authorized for site to site to medical." Stepping into the corridor, she strides towards the worst of the damage.

The various officers nod and move off as ordered. Further in, there's rubble and debris scattered upon the floor, and the closer one gets to the Antarean Embassy the worse it gets. The Embassy itself is in complete shambles, not even recognizable as a series of rooms anymore.

Omtala uses her senses, her keen ears seeking dull moans and muffled calls for help amidst the crackle of sparks and flames. She opens her heart and mind to the anguish of pain and fear. Steeling herself against the onslaught, she uses it as a beacon to seek out the worst of the wounded. With a medical kit slung over her shoulder, she palms her Type I just in case. Andorians being relatively flexible by way of handedness, she readies her tricorder in her left hand. "You know... I think I'm going to make a flourescing compound standard procedure." She mutters to herself.

There's... nothing. The first dead body is nothing more than a hand sticking out of the rubble, but no lifesigns. Climbing over the initial pile at the door, nothing can be seen but more dead bodies, several dozen, strewn about as if caught totally by surprise.

Where there should have been pain there is... emptiness. Certainly there are emanations from above and below and elsewhere about the deck but the here and now is a dull vacancy save for the security officer before her who is searching in vain. She checks her tricorder lest there be someone present but unconscious. Surely someone survived... but hope is a heavy thing to lose. "Let's go Ensign, there's no one here." She turns slowly towards the less damaged portions of the deck. Tapping her combadge, she hails Morales. "Omtala to Morales. How are things up there?" Her tone is still commanding but lacking in some of the energy it had before.

The hail gets an immediate reply, "We have a lot of wounded, one or two crushed under falling bulkheads, but for the most part it's bumps and bruises. It looks like the worst of it was the sudden decompression out by the hull."

"Understood, Omtala out." Tapping her badge, she taps it again. "Omtala to Thompson. Status?" She can only hope that the docking bay was as easy. Thankfully there should be fewer crew and no civilians in that region of the station. Stalking her way towards the less damaged region of the deck, she checks in at the lift for her own sitrep.

It takes a moment for Thompson to reply. "It's... pretty bad up here, sir. The USS Cambric is just floating in the middle of the bay and she's got a huge hole in her side. It looks like some of the docking concourse got decompressed... we have a lot of injuries and several dozen dead that got sucked into the docking bay."

Over Omtala's compin you hear, "Hawkins to Omtala"

Omtala is silent a moment, surveying the situation here. Most of the serious casualties are already dead. "Soltek. Yaro. You're with me. Givens, you're in charge here. I'm on my way to the docking level." She calls the lift and answers her hail.

Omtala taps her compin, and it emits a high chirp.

Omtala says, "Omtala, go ahead captain."

From over a compin, you hear Hawkins say "I'm calling a meeting of all senior staff in the Observation Lounge, Commander."

Omtala murmurs a soft curse. "On my way."

Omtala taps her compin, and it emits a low chirp.

Omtala presses the turbolift call button.
There is a ping as the turbolift doors slide open.

Omtala says, "You heard the Captain. Go on to the docking level without me. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Omtala walks into the turbolift.
Omtala has left.

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