Stardate: 60704:2155
Title: “Welcomes & Laments”
Author: Ensign Cul’Dumok
Time: After CI Borg
Scene: USS Horizon Bridge
Ensign Cul’Dumok looked around the bridge from the Security Ops console of the
USS Horizon as, on the main screen, the thick overcast atmosphere parted with a
minimum of resistance to reveal the pristine yet rugged landscape of Tharan 3
below. Dumok noted the slight changes and alterations to the Bridge layout from
Starfleet standard, no doubt the result of the USS Horizon’s recent refit and
various upgrades across all systems.
“Thank you Captain” Cul’Dumok nodded a curt greeting to his new CO, a formal
greeting could wait for a more opportune moment. Turning back to the screen he
watched as the USS Horizon began the final approach to landing, checking various
readouts though nothing seemed untoward from a Security point of view.
From PADD readouts Dumok checked the current background concerning Tharan 3
making sure that he was up to date with current events concerning the virulent
plague or virus that seemed to have wiped out the majority of the planet’s
colonists. *Strange* Cul’Dumok thought to himself *that such a virulent strain
could kill so many yet leave some survivors? I would have thought that it would
kill all or perhaps about 50 percent and affect others who would, then, gain
some immunity to the virus… Yet so few survivors?*.
“Full biohazard procedures are to remain in effect until otherwise ordered” the
Captain ordered.
=/\= Some time later on the surface of Tharan 3 =/\=
Cul’Dumok stretched his hands in the servo assisted glove units of the biohazard
suit, looking out from the faceplate across the terrain of Tharan 3. He now
stood in the shadow of the USS Horizon’s hull as it rested like some beached sea
creature in this alien environment. He tried to forget the memories of the last
time he was in a powered ABC (Atomic Biological Chemical) suit back on the
surface of Bajor during the Cardassian occupation some years ago...
~
* Cul’Dumok remembers from years past... *
Bodies of Bajorans lay sprawled across the dusty field, ragged and limp like a
princess’s playthings scattered and forgotten on a whim. Their limbs jutted at
strange angles, tongues protruding from blue bloodless lips. To one side some
bodies had been flung or blown into the branches of a nearby orchard, like the
members of some death-wish gymnastics troupe outdoing each other in their final
corpse-dance display.
“The bio-weapons test was a complete success sir” an armed Cardassian trooper
said coming over, his eyes gleaming with almost religious fervour behind the
faceplate of his own armoured ABC survival suit. “Shall I signal the CO?”.
He nodded in silent reply, looking around the dead, finally his gaze fell on a
young Bajoran girl clutching the hand of her mother, joined in death as they
were in life. For a moment he felt a strange pang in his chest. Regret
perhaps...?
~
Cul’Dumok shook his head as, in the suit’s ear-piece, someone said something
though because of some interference he couldn’t hear the signal he tapped the
helmet in frustration. Turning he strode back towards the cargo lifters arrayed
with various survival and medical equipment for the refugees and survivors of
Tharan 3. To one side Ensign Drenden moved awkwardly in her own biohazard suit.
Nodding to her Cul’Dumok tried to use the suits unfamiliar com system.
[Ensign Cul’Dumok & Drenden to USS Horizon Away Team, where do you require these
supplies?] Dumok signalled the Away Team…
================
Ensign Cul'Dumok
Security/Special Ops
USS Horizon
NCC-72400
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