S.S. Fawkes - CF-142AC
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Stowaway

Posted on Sunday August 19th, 2018 @ 19:37 hours by Mayterial Droz & Malia

Contract: Smugglers Need Not Apply
Location: Crew Quarters, Deck 2, S.S. Fawkes
Timeline: MD01 - 12:30 hours

Still limping from the hastily fixed fracture in her foot Mayterial was making her way through the vessel. She had noticed that all the quarters had been tossed. Her own quarters were the worst, they had really been adamant about trying to find something that they could pin on her. Making her way to the second deck she wanted to make sure they were still in decent condition before she started to put word out for people to join her aboard her vessel. She needed to clean some of them out, figuring she should just first have a look at which ones were the worst off. The slight limp was really bothering her, maybe that would be a good test for the new physician. She opened the door to the next quarters on her path.

The room had been tidied, because she liked to leave things better than she found them, and Mal had fallen asleep while giving Landau's thug enough time to search this section of the dock and move on. A well-worn backpack sat on the floor and she lay curled into a ball, almost nose to knees, when the door opened; she came awake at once and rolled off the bed, wincing as pain lanced through her left side. Cracked ribs at least. Wild-eyed, she looked for something in the room she could use as a weapon and then stopped, one hand curled around her ribs, because it wasn't a thug that she saw. Or maybe, to be more precise, it wasn't the same thug.

"Wow!" Mayterial immediately took a step back, immediately regretting putting so much pressure on her foot. In a reflex she grabbed at her hip but there wasn't a phaser there. After she had gotten rid of the nosy Starfleet officer she had forgotten to get a sidearm before setting out on this journey through her dead in space boat. She couldn't quite see through the dim lit quarters, she could see that it was tidy, which was odd. At least that meant that someone had made a home here. "Identify yourself!" She immediately called out, trying to take a somewhat intimidating pose in the doorway.

"No," Mal said quietly. Emotion rolled off the woman and spoke volumes as did her body language. Not friendly. Not quite thug. But if there had been a weapon, Mal had no doubt she'd be facing it. So that made her a threat and that meant Mal would give nothing up willingly. Especially not if it led back to Landau. At the thought of that, a shiver slid through her slight frame and she found herself wincing. Definitely cracked. And from the ache in her jaw, she was fairly sure there was a beaut of a bruise forming along her jaw. Her heart felt like it was pounding against her rib cage and her hands were trembling. Literally, trembling. "I meant no harm. I just needed a place to rest for a bit ..."

Mayterial her eyes started to get used to the dark a bit more and peered towards the form, together with the voice, she made a calculated guess that this young woman was not a threat. She put up her own hands, showing her open palms as a peace offering. "I don't want any trouble on my first day back. Are you alright?"

The room started to spin a bit and Mal felt herself sinking to her knees. "I'm ... no, I'm not. Sorry." She put her hand to her head and closed her eyes, willing the room to stop spinning but it wouldn't. The thug had worked her over good and it had only been the luckiest of happenstance that she managed to get away; add to that the fact that she hadn't eaten in ... what? .... two days. Or was it three. "Okay if I lay down again. I ... just ... I need a min ..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes rolled up and she slumped the rest of the way to the floor.

"Shit." Mayterial looked around to make sure this wasn't some sort of ruse. She reached out to the woman telepathically, trying to gauge if there was any malicious intent. Immediately she was met with some strong mental blocks, there was no doubt that this woman was definitely a stronger telepath than she was. It also felt familiar but she wasn't sure where she had felt this before. Carefully she came closer. "Let me get you to sickbay. We can think about food after."

She pulled herself back or maybe, the darkness that was claiming her relented. Who knew? She came to with the woman beside her who mentioned something about food. Was that real? Sh nodded and winced again as she tried to stand. Really, she just wanted to sleep but that was probably a bad thing. She'd been hit often enough to know a concussion when she felt it ... Still, she tried to stand, swaying a bit, as she made it to her feet, grunting with the effort.

Mayterial wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. "Lean on me. Don't worry, I can handle it." Normally the corridors would be well lit but running on auxiliary power made everything a dim lit brown maze. Luckily Mayterial knew the ship like the back of her hand and they made it to the turbolift without too much effort. "Deck Three" She commanded the automated system. It was just one deck down and took all of five seconds before the doors opened back up. "Are you still with me?" She checked to make sure when the doors parted but she didn't detect any motion.

"Yes," Mal answered, her voice soft, almost a whisper, as she took in the surroundings. Dark and quiet. She found comfort in that especially since she couldn't sense anything threatening nearby; mostly, she concentrated on remaining upright and not crying. Crying would be bad.

The medical bay was close to the turbolift, it was almost as if the Cardassians that built this ship thought about things before putting them in. "Just this way." The doors were still open from the short moment she had been in here earlier that day. The medical supplies were still in disarray but the bed was free. She guided the unknown stowaway onto the bio-bed and took a moment to catch her breath.

Mal stretched out on the biobed and sighed with relief at not having to move any farther. Short breaths were the key. Not too deep. She focused on that as her gaze found the other woman's. "Thank you," she said softly. Short breaths, soft voice, and not a lot of words. Her ribs were grateful. "Name's Mal ..."

"May." Mayterial rummaged around a nearby drawer to find the medical tricorder. SHe wasn't well versed in the thing but at least she passed the first aid class back in bootcamp. At least she thought she did. For a moment her thoughts drifted off to try and figure out who her instructor was for first aid. She suddenly remembered the old bat Nurse Connolly and knew that she definitely had to actually have paid attention in that class, no sleeping her way out of that one. "Let me just check what's going on with you." She fumbled a bit with the scanning rod and aimed it at the woman, in the general direction of where she was clutching her own form.

"Just going ..." Pause for a short breath. "...lie here ..." Another pause. Could someone hyperventilate breathing this way, she wondered. "Ribs cracked maybe."

Mayterial nodded as the medical tricorder indicated just that. "I need to repair them, but we don't have a doctor aboard right now. So you might want to hold off on running off."

Mal nodded and closed her eyes. She'd been running from Landau for so long and, at least for the moment, it seemed that she couldn't run any farther. Limp maybe. Slowly. Heedless of everything around her, Mal drifted off into a troubled sleep where Landau chased her through endless corridors.

With the other Betazoid out cold she was able to move a bit faster, not having to worry about her composure in front of the woman. She seemed restless on top of the bio-bed, but she could understand that. She had never found them very comfortable either. For the second time today the bone regenerator found a use. The scans had indicated two cracked ribs, luckily nothing punctured or permanently harmed. She started to apply the regenerator as best she could. Once done she gave Malia another dose of pain medication, hoping it would allow her to have a good, restful, afternoon.

[OFF]

Mayterial Droz
Captain
S.S. Fawkes

&

Malia
Stowaway
S.S. Fawkes

"Running away will never set you free"

 

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