[BACK / PLOT LOG] Com Ivanova, Cmdr Dahe'el | "Where Stars Were For Shining" pt 1

Posted on Sat Jan 2nd, 2021 @ 5:30am by Commodore Rochelle Ivanova

December 24th, 2420
0845
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213

The decision to head to Earth alone had not come lightly. It had been agonized over, cajoled, and pleaded into existence from the very moment that holiday RnR plans had gone awry with thanks entirely going to the Vindicator and her suddenly temperamental computer core and its apparently - more than just a little - required upgrade. Holidays alone had once been Rochelle’s chosen method of time passing - birthdays especially - but Almar’s insistence that they celebrate at least once together in more than just a passing fashion had made an impression on the iron willed redhead.

“I’ll be down first thing in the morning.” Almar had promised they traded their farewells and she insisted upon scowling. It was as if she were completely determined to show just how unhappy she was with the entire situation. Computer issues. Heading to Earth. Plans changing… None of it sat particularly well with her.

“First thing?” She asked, an eyebrow quirked high as she reached for her overnight bag.

The Cardassian nodded, “I’ll be there before your first cup of coffee.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Rochelle half-snorted, half-sighed, shouldering the bag and reached to tuck an errant strand of hair back behind her ear.

“Hey,” He started, carefully taking hold of her arm as she began to walk off towards the Liberty. There were at least a million things he wanted to say to her, and none of them - not even a single utterance - could pass his lips within earshot of the ship’s crew without some sort of grave consequence for them both. That part of their relationship was nothing less than an annoying frustration - one he could have sworn she’d been using her to her advantage more and more over the passing months. This trip, every second of it, was precious and crucial to ensuring the two of them still sat on the same page with one another.

He knew it, could feel it, and it made sending her down to Earth alone all the more undesirable - but it had to happen. If ever he was going to get time to truly relax and be alone with her, they needed to make it to Crown King and forget the calamity that was life aboard - and in command of - a starship.

When she looked back up at him, her bright blue eyes met the fathomless darkness of his own, and he couldn’t help but smile, “Take care of yourself, ok?” What he wanted to do was stroke her cheek, steal a kiss, tell her he loved her - anything but the bland goodbye he was forced to accept.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about.” She replied a little softer than she normally would have and offered him the smallest and most bereft of smiles, “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t blow up my ship.”

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December 24th, 2420
11:56 am
Shuttle LIBERTY - EARTH
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Klaxons were screaming repeated warnings about a crash being imminent, demanding that the Liberty’s speed be reduced and landing gear deployed. Red lights were flashing - or at least they had been flashing seconds ago until they too gave up on the fight for survival - and the entirety of the Liberty was violently shaking as if trying to escape from itself and the harrowing reality it was facing.

The craft’s communication systems had already given up the plot over ten minutes ago - or at least Rochelle had discovered that wonderful tidbit of intel over ten minutes ago when she’d first encountered issues and attempted to call mayday over the radios.

With one press of a com button, the entire panel had gone dismally dark. Aside from the occasional spiteful spark or electrical arc, the outage had quickly spread like wildfire through the small craft in a cascade failure of abysmal means. The only thing Rochelle was certain of was that the Liberty was racing towards Earth at breakneck speed, stuck in acceleration, and there was little to no response each and every time she attempted to correct her course or slow down.

Even the emergency chute adamantly refused to deploy.

An electrical whine replaced the screaming warnings as that system, too, failed, and was swallowed by the chilling sound of wind whistling past the defunct craft’s hull.

“Son of a…” Rochelle swore under her breath, oddly calm for someone that knew certain death was a mere thousand or so feet away. Through the main windows, she could see the snow capped mountains of central Arizona’s most rugged ranges now looming above and around her as Liberty’s unbridled descent continued. Too low, too fast, there was no doubt in Rochelle’s mind that the time had come to give up the fight she’d engaged in with the decidedly dead controls. She stumbled several steps before loading roughly in one of the yacht’s central seats and wasted little time strapping in tight and resting her head back against the seat’s padding, closing her eyes, and trying to drown out the sights and sounds of her own imminent demise.

For the first time in several hours, the firebird was happy with the fact she was alone. Almar was safe aboard the Vindicator. Javaan was safe in San Francisco with Landon, Tristan, and Zed. If this was to be her last stand, she would make it alone and go without the guilt of selfishness and taking someone else with her.

The sound the Liberty’s metal hull made when coming into contact with frigid rock at high speed was sickening. It was a combination of crunching, booming, and a shrill, metallic screech as it continued to slide and grind along on its trajectory in an awkward attempt to slow down and stop. It didn’t smash nose-first into a ridgeline, lawndart style. It skipped clumsily across the rocky top of one ridge before it twisted sideways, and coasted down the length of another. Wiping out ancient cacti, rocks, and one old water mill tower, it went along in a combination of slides and flips and spins like some sort of convoluted carnival ride before it - or what was left of it - came to rest in the yawning gape of a half collapsed old silver mine’s adit in a puff of smoke and dust.

Rochelle hadn’t stayed conscious past the initial crash. She’d likely have boh cursed and been thankful for the way the straps of her harness both caught and bit into her tender flesh had she been awake to encounter the first somersault where she’d be tossed like a rag doll over and over while remaining firmly tethered to her seat, completely - and luckily - oblivious to the carnage of the Liberty coming apart all around her over a five mile long path of destruction.

By the time the vessel came to it’s bone jarring halt, it was painfully obvious that she’d been ripped at by rocks and metal shards alike as she hung, suspended from what was now the ceiling. Burnt, even, as plasma fire passively licked at her skin before a rock slid from what was left of the small portion of remaining hull to snuff it out. In response, the unconscious woman’s fingers twitched and flexed as if she were beginning to come to before they curled weakly back against her bloodied palms.

And then… As swiftly as the cacophony had erupted, silence once more lay claim to the desert.

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To Be Continued...
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Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213

Commander Almar Dahe'el
Executive Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213