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 <BOOKMARK:Chapter37>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 37: Interludes**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+**Location: Somewhere in the Delta Quadrant**
+Fierce wind whipped across the rocky plains of the primitive looking settlement as a cloaked figure glanced into a fiercely burning binary sky. "Damn." The cloaked figure hissed at the bright blue star just rising over the jagged mountain peaks in the distant. "Blue moon's blood," he whispered. Then he ducked into the shadows of a rough hewn cut-out in the side of a small rock hill.
+Hidden from view, the figure rapped twice quickly, then once again after a longer pause. After a moment, the rock face he was pressed against pushed in and then slid away with a heavy, low, grind. Stepping quickly into the revealed opening, the cloaked stranger wound his way down a spiraling path deep into the bedrock of the planet. The flickering light of torches lit his way, but the figure slowed his pace, still firmly aware that he could still slip and break his neck.
+Stepping gingerly down the path, he wound his way to the bottom, where a cavern opened up. As he stepped in, he bowed his head, six other assembled figures turned with surprise to look at him. Each of the beings in the cave were humanoid, save for the large pupil-less eyes, and the ranges of blue skin that were now visible in the dim light.
+Three males and three females were already present; each wearing little more than silken wraps serving as loin clothes. The females wore similar coverings on their chests, though, considering the diaphanous nature of the fabric, these additional coverings were clearly ceremonial. Small pieces of metal and polished stones also served as ornaments and symbols of station; worn both on the body and worked into the hair, which all assembled persons tended to wear long.
+Like other natives of desert worlds, the blue-skinned inhabitants of this planet also had ears that crested into graceful points, lending a truly alien appearance to their otherwise familiar builds.
+At the head of the cavern, an older male looked across the assembled crowd. "Now that we're all here..." he said with a scowl, directed at the late-comer. "My friends", he stretched out his arms, as if embracing the crowd. "For years now we have lived under dangerous skies. Our enemy lives in the air, and has forced us to scurry like vermin into caves and hiding places. We have tried to appease, tried to negotiate," he turned his attention to a female in the crowd who, unlike her fellows was armed with a scimitar style weapon worn low on her hip. "Some of us have even tried to fight."
+The older speaker turned his attention to a large, covered object behind him that was draped in the darkness of the cave. "Our faith in the Mother and Father who watch over our world has finally been rewarded. I have devised a means to communicate DIRECTLY with our gods, and, using the finest science my and many other brains could muster, I am confident that our deliverance is at had."
+"Rubbish!" the armed woman spoke up. "How many times, Zharon? How many times have you promised that your science and your faith would save us? Eight? Ten? Twenty?" She looked to the other men and women assembled and continued. "Keep your science, and your gods! I'll rid this world of the invaders by myself if I have to, so long as I can pick up a sword!"
+"Dadjinn has a point," the late-comer agreed. "I believe in the gods as much as all of us do, but is it right, or even feasible to think that we should need to go through such outlandish lengths. Perhaps they do not hear us because they no longer wish to."
+Zharon fumed, his eyes blazing. "NO!" he yelled, then turned to light a torch, which revealed the large construct behind him. It was an enormous metal and glass box filled with pulsing lights, roiling gasses and a dancing conglomeration of dots that seemed barely contained in a fragile-looking glass bulb.
+"I know that the last attempts were...less than ideal," he explained. "But I have tapped into the molten core of the planet itself, solving the power problem from before. I simply know that the Theta Project will work."
+"Like your Alpha and Beta projects, and all the rest?" The armed woman remained unconvinced. "Throw the switch then, if you're so sure!"
+Zharon did so, and in the half second of perfect silence, he waited, relieved when the cave was soon filled with the cacophonous noise of whirring machinery and building energy.
+Amid the clatter, the gathered beings stepped back as the machine began to glow. Then, with far less fanfare than it had started, the contraption stopped and seemed lifeless. For long moments, Zharon regarded the machine. Finally, after checking, tightening and tapping all manner of things, he simply let his shoulders drop. "Another failure..." he whispered. "But, how? The science is right." He looked back at the crowd, pleading. "Please friends," he asked. I know it works. I just..."
+"No, Zharon," the sword-wielder interrupted. You've wasted enough precious time and resources on this..." she indicated to the mechanical mass behind the crest-fallen man, "this, Zealot's folly!"
+Before Zharon could respond there was a frightful shriek and the sound of scraping stone. "It's worse than that!" the late-comer spat as he looked to the sword wielder. "They've found us!"
+----
+**Location: Crew quarters, USS Apex**
+"Computer, begin recording."
+//beep-eep//
+"Hello Leon. I hope everything is going well in your thorax of the woods. S.C.A.R. is making great strides in identifying and cataloging nanoscopic sub-spacial tears. Unfortunately, they are great strides in the wrong direction if one were to inquire as to my ever so humble opinion. We have the technology to repair anything up to nineteen millionths of a meter across, but instead of fixing several hundred thousand such holes 'Fleet has decided to study them for an indeterminate amount of time to see if they can be quickly closed or expanded remotely."
+"I don't believe you ever met my number three guy on the Defiant II, Rick Leonetti. The best field weapons engineer with which I've had the pleasure to work. He once theorized a warp capable probe, similar to a quantum torpedo, that's only function was to catalyze a catastrophic subspace breach within maneuvering range of an enemy. Given the right location and proper timing, the probe would be an elegant and effective weapon against the Romulans."
+"Thus I find myself once again distrusting my orders and wondering if I am yet again designing weapons of war instead of quietly tending to my required research."
+Victor looked around the tiny room and his eyes fixed on a small bronze and black colored old-timey photograph of himself, Leon, Victor and Shannon, dressed in the style of the western herd drovers of the late 19th century. The costumes were outlandish and gaudy, Shannon's most of all, consisting of an enormous skirt with concentric metal rings sewn in. Top hats came back into style for a handful of years in the mid 2300s so that was acceptable, but the cloth short coats and leather long coats had been a multi-hour flirtation with uncontrollable laughter. Even the weapons of the time were reproduced and seated in a holster low on the hip. Vic chuckled at the memory of two hours stuck in a malfunctioning holodeck 'Western', not because of a software problem, nor because of a hardware problem, but because of a human problem. Someone had been repairing the wiring behind the holodeck controls' console and accidentally vibration welded the doors shut. Thus the only options were sit down and wait or continue on with the original plan. As "Saloon Girls" went, Dr. Harris made a fine soiled dove.
+"If you have some time, shoot me a message. Our survey will be done in about a month, and then a short 126 hours until we get back to Spacedock. Any idea where you folks will be going next?"
+"Have a good day Leon. Tell John I said hello."
+"End recording" //beep//
 ----
 <BOOKMARK:Chapter38>
 <fs x-large>**Chapter 38: Caduceus of Command**</fs><wrap lo right>[[archives:walking_wounded#top|Top]]</wrap>\\ \\
+Leon's return to the holodeck the morning after his conversation with Captain Kirk was nearly identical to his first encounter with the bridge officer's exam the previous morning. John Carter greeted him, and the test began just as it did before. Although Leon attempted to avoid combat yet again, the outcome remained the nearly the same, and with only minor variances to his original solution. Before Leon knew it, he found himself and the simulated Republic crew in the exact same critical situation: the ship dead in space, and only five hundred and twelve of the crew left alive with life support power fading quickly.
+This time, however, the doctor did not run down the usual list of remedies. He knew all the dead-end options now, and to try to go over them again with minor tweaks would be wasting time. There was only one way to face this crisis, and it wasn't with the humane diagnostic dogma of a trained physician.
+"Vic," Leon asked the engineer with trepidation. "How long would the batteries last if you had only two hundred personnel to keep alive under life support minimums instead of five hundred?"
+Lieutenant Commander Victor Virtus was a smart man. Although the officers around the table didn't pick up on the inquiry right away, Vic did. And he had already extrapolated it to its logical conclusion. With no more than a blink, he answered the question stoically. "About six hours."
+"Is that enough to deploy that solar sail we talked about?"
+"If everyone pitched in . . . yes. But, it would be tight."
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 10 minutes"//
+The clock was ticking, and Leon knew it. How the next few moments unfolded would decide whether he passed or failed the bridge officers exam. Taking to heart Kirk's lessons from last night, he chose to take a risk and set a new course to try and resolve the situation. Only this time, he had to learn how to throw his medical training out the window, and force himself to perform tasks completely contrary to who he was as a person.
+Reaching for the ship-wide intercom, the electronic boatswain whistle sounded throughout the smashed vessel, beckoning the attention of anyone still left alive onboard.
+"Attention crew: this is the captain. As you already know, our situation is dire. We have sustained numerous casualties, most of the ship is destroyed, and that which is left is near collapse. Life support power is quickly fading, and our only option to stabilize it will not work with the number of people still left alive onboard."
+He paused momentarily, struggling to find the fortitude for his upcoming sentences.
+"I understand that what I am about to say will disturb many people, but I am asking . . . I'm pleading . . . for volunteers, both healthy and injured, to . . ." he paused for a second, bracing at the words as they came forth from his lips. ". . . sacrifice their lives in order to preserve life support power.
+Disbelief welled in the eyes of the holographic senior officers around him. A few dropped their jaws, and all but Chief Rainier showed signs of controlled panic as Leon continued his announcement.
+"Euthanasia procedures will be painless, quick, and under my strict medical control. I alone will be the one held responsible. Know that your selfless decision will be in the spirit of allowing others to continue living, and you have my personal promise that your memory will not be forgotten."
+He looked around the table at the shocked faces of his officers. He returned a stoic glance to each of them, offering the merest glimmer of regret in his eyes before noticing the chronometer on the panel screen in front of him.
+"We have very little time left," Leon continued. "So I ask those willing to report to holodeck six in the next three minutes. On arrival, you have one minute to write a last message to loved ones. Captain out."
+No one spoke.
+Minutes ticked by in silence as the holographic officers struggled with the realization that Doctor Cromwell had just asked members of the crew to submit to medically assisted suicide. For his part, Leon knew it was only a simulation, but the guilt and stress behind his decision was real. As the clock approached the three-minute mark, he turned to the ship's COB.
+"Chief, how many people have gathered in holodeck six?"
+"Eighty seven," he returned ominously.
+"It's not enough, is it?" Shannon asked to no response.
+"Vic," Leon continued giving orders. "Gather the people you need to begin construction on the solar sail. Chief, order any non-essential Starfleet crew to holodeck six. Begin with the lowest ranking, and work your way up the roster. Allow them to spend no more than a minute to record a last message to their loved ones."
+"Aye aye, sir," the chief complied, and began typing commands into a nearby computer console. With a glazed expression, the holographic representation of Victor Virtus slowly stood up from his chair and walked out the door to commence expedited sail-building activities. Vic was gone for no more than 30 seconds when Nat Hawk began to stir, standing up from the table with a wild-eyed expression that caused Doctor Cromwell concern.
+"Mister Hawk," Leon addressed the helmsmen with as much authority as he could muster. "I didn't excuse you."
+"Ya wanted volunteers, din'cha?" the native southerner returned with a rasp to his voice. He looked around the room as if it was the last time he was going to see it. "I've got nuthin left ta do onboard."
+"You're a senior officer," Leon said calmly. "You're not a non-essential crewmember. Sit down."
+"Yer crazy!" Nat bellowed while running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Yer jus' gonna kill us all off, one by one! Aren't cha? Well, here I am! Jus beggin ta get spaced Captn! You jus give the word!"
+"You're dismissed, lieutenant," Leon ordered with a deadpan face. "Report to Commander Virtus to assist in building the solar sail."
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 5 minutes"//
+The alert seemed to bring the holographic Hawk back to his senses. He locked stares with Leon momentarily before relaxing his eyes, then swallowed coarsely while reluctantly nodding his head. As he turned to face the door, Nat peered over his shoulder one last time as if he had something more to say, but words seemed to fail the helmsman, and his eyes dropped to the floor before exiting the ready room.
+As Hawk left, Leon turned back to Brad Rainier. "Chief, how many people have gathered in holodeck six?"
+"Two hundred and sixty two," the senior noncom reported. "Still not enough."
+"Christ, John," he whispered to himself. "You're gonna make me do it, aren't you?"
+Strangely, Starfleet had contingency plans for exactly the kind of situation that the doctor was currently enduring. Attrition procedures in LOD (life or death) emergencies dictated volunteers first, then non-essential Starfleet personnel beginning with the lowest rank. This was the only instance where, in the military-style rank-and-file system of Starfleet, that a lieutenant commander could be considered less important than a crewman first-class, should the latter be of a vital occupation onboard the ship. Unfortunately, the contingency stopped there, making Leon's next order the most difficult.
+"Shannon, how many critically injured patients do we have that possess less than a 50% chance of surviving until we're rescued?"
+"No . . ." she whispered incredulously. "You can't . . ."
+"We have to."
+"I won't participate!" Shannon stammered.
+"I understand," Leon replied calmly. "You're relieved."
+Shannon stood up and shuffled backwards a few steps while turning a pair of fiery eyes towards Leon with an angry mix of horror and revulsion. "You're a doctor!" she gasped.
+"I'm also the captain."
+"As medical officer, I can relieve YOU!" she screamed defiantly.
+"To do so, you would need grounds that I am medically unfit to command," Leon explained, knowing full well of the medical protocols needed to relieve a starship commander from his post. "That would require evidence that my behavior has somehow changed erratically, or that I have been physically injured enough to affect my mental faculties. Since I am uninjured, and my recent decisions have followed Starfleet protocols, my current line of thinking is simply an attempt to extrapolate the protocols to our current situation. Therefore, there is no basis for a medical declaration of unfitness for command."
+"You won't get away with this!" the Shannon facsimile seethed.
+"I repeat: You are relived, doctor."
+With an expression that ripped through his soul, Leon witnessed what could have been described only as emotional evisceration emanating from Shannon. As she stormed out of the ready room, her penetrating scowl driving home the point that the only feelings she had left for Leon was burning hate.
+A quiet pause ensued after the doors slid shut. Leon scanned the small ready room, and realized that only himself and Chief Rainier were left.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 3 minutes"//
+"Better see to getting those casualties moved to the holodeck yourself, chief. Take only the most extreme cases, and no more than what we need to reduce our compliment to two hundred personnel."
+"Aye, sir," Brad Rainier agreed as he somberly stood up and excused himself from the room. As the most militarized man on the bridge crew, Leon knew that the Chief of the Boat was the one soul he could count on to follow his orders to the letter. That was the design of Starfleet's non-commissioned officer corps. Experience plus a disciplined subordinate disposition was a formula for getting the job done. Saving him for the most vital and yet most displeasing task imaginable was the only way Leon knew it would be completed correctly. Unfortunately, it was just him left in the ready room now.
+A minute went by.
+Two minutes went by.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 60 seconds"//
+Leon stared at the internal sensor feed as it indicated exactly three hundred and twelve souls gathered in holodeck six. Reviewing the roster, his heart sank as the bio-readouts from their combadges displayed their names on Leon's screen. He knew all of them. Every one of them was a soul he had, at one time or another, worked with onboard the ship. Depach Narundi . . . Hayden Kroeger . . . Christopher Teague. Tears welled in Leon's eyes as he saw Susan Hayworth's name alongside Saal Yezbeck, and he hissed "damn it!" when he read Nat Hawk's name, realizing the helmsman had yet again disobeyed orders. Finally, the last blinking light gave him pause: Bradford Rainier. The chief had entered the holodeck, but wasn't leaving.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 45 seconds"//
+There was no time left.
+Using the computer console, Leon charged the Anesthizine gas cylinders in the holodeck walls to 200 parts per million. It was nearly three times the concentration to put humans into a deep sleep, and in doing so, would cause a calming, euphoric effect in it's victims. He felt it was humane enough to ensure a comatose slumber before the next phase.
+The doctor pushed a few more buttons to release Neurozine gas into the holodeck. It was a convenient way to anesthetize Romulans, but for other humanoids, it induced a neuromuscular transmission blockage causing every muscle in the body to relax and fall limp . . . every single muscle. That included the lungs, it included the heart.
+//"Warning: Life support failure in 30 seconds"//
+Leon's finger hovered over the blinking red button that read "ATMOSPHERE PURGE". He knew that if he used all of his medical knowledge and skill, he could still save the 300-plus souls lying dormant in holodeck six. There was still time to revive them, bring them back to consciousness, and allow the whole crew to die a dignified death together. But ever since last night, the title of John Carter's holodeck program echoed in his head:
+"Turn death into a fighting chance to live."
+Leon now knew what those words meant. His finger fell upon the console, and the blinking red light turned to a solid green.
+The deed was done.
+The program ended, and the empty battle-bridge ready room shimmered with an effervescent light before fading away into non-existence.
+"Congratulations, commander," John's voice echoed off the ebony, yellow-lined walls. He approached Leon with both approval and concern on his face. "Looks like you you've got what it takes after all."
+Leon said nothing. He simply sat there, staring into space, unable to find absolution.
+"Look, I know this was hard on you, but you did it. When the time came to stop thinking like a doctor, you did it."
+"Go to hell," Leon whispered without looking at his friend.
+"I suppose I deserved that," John replied, his anger regarding the incomplete Kobyashi Maru test melting away. "I've been hard on you, and I'm sorry," he consoled. "I won't throw you into uniform and make you do bridge watch right away. You've been through a lot recently, so take some time off. Say, the rest of the week?"
+Leon remained silent, acting like John wasn't even present.
+"You know," John added. "There *is* a reason I didn't program the counselor into the bridge test."
+The doctor finally looked John in the eye, but still said nothing.
+"He's got a full schedule these days, but I'm sure Commander Tolkath will make time for the chief medical officer. Only promise me you'll take it easy until Monday, okay?"
+Leon's silence persisted. In light of that, John felt there wasn't much left to say. He knew deep inside that they both would eventually get over what happened here today, whether it be at the poker table, over drinks at the Hill, or perusing the promenade on Deep Space Nine. It was only a matter of time.
+Taking the doctor's silence as affirmation of his advice to take a short holiday, the Republic's XO walked away, leaving him by himself. As the grinding noise of the holodeck doors subsided, Leon remained motionless, coming to grips with knowing that had the simulation been real, he would have just sent 300-plus people - some of them critically injured patients - straight to their deaths.
+Leon stayed seated on the empty holodeck for over 30 minutes, his chair the only remnant left of the holographic program that brought him to his moral breaking point. He sat staring into space, with the same blank 1000-mile stare he had on his face when Nat Hawk had died on his operating table a week ago.

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