Battle for the Badlands III - The Fallout
Posted on Fri Aug 14th, 2026 @ 4:13am by Captain Rhenora Kaylen & Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen & Commander Jenna Ramthorne & Commander Dean House & Lieutenant Commander Thriss Kla'ren & Lieutenant Commander Aurora Vali & Lieutenant JG Jacob Rosen & Lieutenant JG T'Lar & Lieutenant Commander Bonnie "Bon-Bon" Durnell & Remal Kajun
3,218 words; about a 16 minute read
Mission:
Pirates!
Location: Badlands
Timeline: Current
“When the dust settles, the battlefield remembers every debt left unpaid.”
The weapons pod was gone. For a fraction of a second, the space where it had been seemed almost peaceful. Then the pod became a small star. There was no beginning to the explosion that the eye could follow. One instant it was a piece of the Sunfire, torn loose and tumbling away. The next, the darkness behind the ship was filled with white light.
The Dreadnaught took the center of it. Her silhouette vanished behind the expanding brilliance, swallowed so completely that for a heartbeat there was nothing left of the battleship at all. The explosion struck her shields first, and the shields answered in a sheet of incandescent energy that raced across her hull like lightning trapped beneath glass. She was lifted upward at an incremental rate.
The USS Sunfire was already turning. Her damaged engines pushed her away from the detonation, but the maneuver exposed the underside-rear of the ship to what was coming. The first wave reached the stern.
The concussive wave arrived as a pressure that made the entire universe seem to tighten. The Sunfire's remaining shields flared across the aft hull. Every emitter that could still answer the command answered at once, throwing the last of its power outward in a desperate attempt to hold the blast away from the metal beneath. For one beautiful, terrible instant, they succeeded.
Then the shields went white. And vanished. The shock wave reached the hull.
The aft plates bowed inward with a violence that no starship was meant to endure. Structural members groaned through the deck beneath them. Compartments shook in their frames. Consoles tore loose from their mountings, conduits ruptured, and somewhere deep inside the ship a pressure door slammed shut with enough force to deform its frame.
The blast continued forward. The Sunfire's stern dipped. Her nose rose. The entire ship rolled beneath the pressure, presenting more of her upper to the expanding wave.
That was when the ship began to come apart. The nacelle pylons took the next portion of the energy. Their upper surfaces flashed as the remaining defensive systems tried to compensate, then sections of armor simply ceased to exist. The force traveled through the structures supporting where the weapons pod was, finding the places where the ship had already been weakened by battle.
One pylon failed. Then another as the nacelles were ripped away. The damage was no longer confined to the place where the explosion had occurred. It was moving through the ship, translating energy into motion, motion into stress, and stress into failure.
The hangar deck felt it next. The great open volume beneath the weapons pod became a chamber of falling debris and decompressed atmosphere. Fighters broke from their restraints. Deck plating buckled overhead. Emergency bulkhead doors descended too slowly and were torn from their tracks as the structure above them shifted.
And still the wave moved forward. Through corridors. Through bulkheads. Through machinery. Through every piece of the Sunfire that had spent years carrying its crew safely through space.
By the time it reached, Engineering felt the disturbance as a shudder through the deck. The warp core's containment systems registered the misalignment before anyone could interpret the readings. The computer made the decision for them.
The warp core began to shut down automatically. Then EPS manifold after EPS manifold locked down tight or blew out, depending on the impact of the concussion wave. Across the ship, lights flickered. Then darkness began following the blast forward, compartment by compartment. Behind it came the silence.
The Sunfire was no longer flying, but tumbling. She was no longer the formidable fighting machine she had been. Just another hulk, broken and bruised in space.
USS Sunfire
For an instant there was peace, precluding the chaos that swiftly followed as only observing your own destruction can accomplish. They had moved as fast as they could to avoid their own destruction, but it hadn't been enough. The sound of the hull buckling, the emergency bulkheads slamming shut in all locations to preserve the fragile life within the floating tin can. There was darkness, heat, cold, and a gaping hole where the main viewscreen should be.
The crew had been bounced around like ragdolls in a washing machine as the artificial gravity failed, them plummeting to the deck as emergency backups kicked in. A forcefield flickered over the wrecked bulkhead where the viewscreen was.
For a moment - no one moved, and an eerie silence descended.
Jacob climbed back to his console, cracked and flickering. As he sat back into his chair, he felt a bruise forming, but that was the least of his worries. "Internal comms shifting to back-ups, Captain. Standing by for damage and casualty reports." Jacob tapped a flashing window. "Incoming Hail from the Bristol. I can only give you audio right now."
"Let us hear it. Mr. Rosen." Savar replied.
USS Sunfire Counseling Suite
T'Lar picked herself up off the deck and winced in pain as she tried to breathe. Whatever had happened she knew it was catastrophic and her first instincts were to get to the bridge and render any assistance she could. Unfortunately she would have to attend to her own injuries first. Knowing that sickbay would be swamped she did the next logical thing that came to mind.
=/\=Computer, activate the ACH Program!=/\=
The computer beeped in reply and the Auxiliary Counseling Hologram came online with a shimmer.
"Please state the nature of the ... Oh my goodness Counselor, you appear to be injured." The hologram noted, taking notice of the cut above T'Lar's left eye.
"The ship is in combat and we seem to have taken heavy damage. Am I correct that you are programed with emergency first aid skills?" T'Lar gasped
"That is correct," The ACH replied.
"I need you to triage and treat me as well as you can so that I may make my way to the bridge with as many med kits as I can secure from our supply here in the counseling suite. It is likely that the turbolifts are offline so I may have to climb up the Jeffries tube." T'Lar stated, handing the ACH a med kit.
The hologram took out the medical tricorder and began making scans.
"You have a nasty laceration to the forehead however you do not appear to be concussed and you have three cracked ribs on your right side, which are no doubt causing you much pain when you try to breathe or talk or move for that matter but you have no internal bleeding. Let's address the lac first and then we will wrap your ribs and I shall administer an analgesic for the pain that should allow you to complete your mission." The ACH said, wiping her forehead with a clean towel and a sanitizing solution then utilizing the med kit's dermal regenerator to close the wound. Next he applied a hypospray of analgesic to kill the pain of her cracked ribs and began to wrap her torso in self sealing compression wrap.
"Thank you. That feels much better." T'Lar said gratefully as the pain subsided. She began going from office to office gathering spare med kits, finding a total of four. Not knowing the situation outside her compartment she took a phaser pistol for good measure. She made sure to deactivate the ACH as she headed out the door, which proved to be jammed. Using the phaser on low setting she cut away at the door so that she could exit. Coming to the turbolift she found that it was indeed offline. Making her way to the Jeffries tube she prayed to all of the old Vulcan gods that the tube was in tact and that she was not about to be exposed to the vacuum of space. She entered the tube and began the long climb to Deck 1 wondering if anyone would still be alive on the bridge once she got there. Her thoughts of course went to one particular person occupying the Ops station. Jacob, Please be alright... she thought...
Jeffries tube 1.011
Even with the painkiller onboard there was still sufficient discomfort and immobility from the compression wrap immobilizing her cracked ribs to slow T'Lar's progress as she climbed hand over hand up the long slanted Jeffries tube between Deck 4 and Deck 1. Not helping matters were the four medpacks that she had slung over her shoulders which kept getting snagged on the rungs of the ladder like footholds or on protrusions from the top of the tube. The process was slow going but Vulcans are nothing if not methodical and T'Lar soon established herself a steady rhythm that mitigated all of the foregoing issues in a meaningful if not speedy way. She passed deck 3, then several minutes later she passed deck 2 and finally she made it to deck 1. She gave the access hatch a shove and emerged onto the shattered Bridge. Her eye went to the OPS station immediately and she was relieved to see Jacob Rosen alive and at his station only feet away from the force field enclosed gaping hole where the view screen once had been. Looking to her left she spied the Captain.
"Captain, Lieutenant T'Lar reporting for duty. I have four medkits. How may I be of assistance?" T'Lar announced.
“You can check for injuries” Aurora replied from where she pulled herself back up onto her seat. “I’m getting fed up with being thrown out of my seat that’s for sure!”
Savar crawled back to his chair and pulled himself into it. His eyes scanned the data streaming across his console. The damage that was being reported was staggering in it's scope. "Weapons. engines and shields are all offline. Life support is still functional. Damage across all decks of the ship."
The Captain lay unresponsive , pinned under a fallen support beam, injured but not life threatening. Her Yoeman, Ronson Mitchel crawled out of the wreck of the Ready Room, and stopped with his jaw agape when he saw the gaping hole that should have been the forward section of the bridge.
"Aw, bugger, she ain't gonna like that" He said in his Australian accent as his eyes scanned the bridge.
Savar brought his hand to his forehead and it came away smeared with green blood. His eyes swept the destruction of the bridge, blown out consoles, sections of bulkheads warped and bent along with parts of the ceiling now on the deck floor. His eyes settled on Rhenora who lay under a fallen support beam. "Mr. Ronson, I require your assistance." He announced as he moved closer to where Rhenora lay.
"On it Sir" Ronson replied as T'Lar shimmied closer to scan the Captain.
"Can the Captain be moved safely?" Savar asked as T'Lar began her scan.
T'Lar passed the medical tricorder scanner over the captain's motionless body and did her best to make sense of the data.
"The Captain has sustained a concussion, several broken ribs and according to this data appears to have internal bleeding. Its not a matter of if she can be moved safely. We must get her to sickbay immediately as there is no way to address her internal injuries here on the bridge..." T'Lar declared matter-of-factly.
"Unless... Lieutenant Rosen can you give me enough power to activate the EMH here on the bridge so that he can stabilize the Captain until we can either get her to sick bay or get one of the doctors from there up here?"
Tapping her combadge she called out.
=/\=T'Lar to Sickbay, Medical Emergency on the Bridge. The Captain is down with internal bleeding. We need immediate assistance however it is likely that transporters and turbolifts will remain offline. I had to climb the Jeffries tube to get to the bridge from Deck four. How Copy? =/\=
"It would be prudent to get that beam off of her first," Dean moved over to it. "When she's stable enough for that, tell me when."
"Sickbay is overrun with casualties, we'll get there as soon as we can" Sarah's voice was short with strain.
Aurora moved across to a bridge locker grabbing another medkit and heading across to Savar. “You’re hurt, let’s get you sorted out we need you.”
"We need all of us. However thank you for treating me." Savar answered as he found a chair to sit in to allow Aurora better access to treat him.
“I’ll be as quick as I can” Aurora offered a brief smile before quickly sorting out her beloved’s headwound. “There you go, though I suggest a trip to Sickbay when this is all over just to be safe.” She looked around. “How’s the Captain T’Lar?”
"Thank you love. I will come by Sickbay once we know the full extent of damage to the ship/" Savar answered.
I.S.S. Sunfire
The I.S.S. Sunfire listed hard to starboard, her once-proud hull scarred and burning as plasma vented from ruptured conduits into the Badlands. Emergency lighting flickered through the bridge, throwing brief red illumination across smoke, twisted consoles, and bodies that would never rise again. Something still hissed behind the bulkhead. Somewhere beneath the deck, a warning alarm continued to chirp with stubborn regularity, its voice reduced to an irritating reminder that parts of the ship remained alive.
Bonnie opened her eyes. For several seconds she remained exactly where she had landed, one cheek pressed against the deck plating and her ears ringing so loudly that the rest of the bridge seemed impossibly distant. She drew a breath and immediately regretted it as smoke filled her lungs, sharp with the smell of burning metal and ruptured plasma conduits. She coughed once, rolled onto her back, and stared upward at a ceiling she barely recognized.
With great effort, and a groan, she pushed herself upright. Pain answered from half a dozen places. "Fuck." Her hand went instinctively to her ribs, then to the side of her head. Blood came away across her fingers. She looked at it with mild irritation before turning her attention toward the rest of the bridge.
The bridge was almost silent. Almost.
One body lay across the tactical station. Another had been thrown against the forward bulkhead. Consoles had torn loose from their mountings, leaving exposed conduits sparking into the darkness. The command chair had been twisted sideways, its restraints hanging uselessly from the frame.
Bonnie stood, slowly. The ship groaned around her. She looked toward the main doors. That was the obvious answer. Get to an escape pod. Get off the ship. Find somewhere safe. Survive. She had survived worse. She had survived things that had killed better people. Her gaze settled on the doors. She took one step. Then another.
From behind her came a sound of metal shifting. Bonnie stopped dead in her tracks. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Of course." She turned.
Remal had been thrown from his position near the command chair and landed beneath a section of collapsed structural framework. A jagged length of metal had punched through his side and was pinning him against the deck surface. His uniform was dark with blood, one hand pressed against the wound while the other searched blindly for something to grip. He was still conscious, just barely.
Bonnie stared at him while the doors waited patiently behind her. She looked at Remal again. There was a memory she had spent considerable effort trying to forget. A corridor. A firefight. Her own blood. Remal standing between her and the people who had wanted her dead. He had saved her once.
Bonnie sighed. "You're really gonna be the death of me." She made a choice and turned away from the doors. The distance between them seemed considerably longer on the return journey.
Bonnie dropped beside him and examined the metal driven through his torso. "Can you move?"
Remal opened his eyes and coughed. "I've looked better."
"Wonderful. That means you're still annoying." She braced both hands against the twisted framework and pulled. Nothing happened. She changed her grip. "On three?"
Remal gave her a sideways glance. "You're going to count?"
"Do you have a better plan?"
"No."
"Then three." She pulled.
The metal shifted. Remal's jaw tightened as he clenched through the pain, but he made no sound.
Bonnie pulled again, using the last of her strength, until the section of framework finally gave way enough for her to drag him free. Remal collapsed against her, heavy and bleeding, and for several seconds she struggled simply to keep him upright.
She looked up at him. "You owe me."
"I was under the impression," Remal said through clenched teeth, "that I owed you already."
Bonnie laughed once. It hurt. "Fair. I'm not talking Spring Wine this time." She got his arm over her shoulders and began dragging him toward the escape pods.
They made slow progress through the ruined corridors. Emergency bulkheads had sealed throughout the ship, forcing them through maintenance passages and half-collapsed accessways. Fires burned behind forcefields. Plasma vented through ruptured conduits. More than once they had to stop while another section of the ship shuddered around them.
The ISS Sunfire was dying. Bonnie could feel it. Every vibration carried the same message. Go. They reached the escape pods. Bonnie shoved the hatch control. Nothing happened. She hit it again. "Come on." The panel remained dark. She resorted to pulling the emergency release manually. The mechanism resisted, then gave way with a violent metallic crack.
The pod hatch opened. Bonnie pushed Remal inside before climbing in after him. The restraints locked around them. She engaged the launch sequence, and for several seconds neither spoke. Then Bonnie looked through the small viewport.
The U.S.S. Sunfire drifted beyond them, tumbling slowly through the crimson clouds of the Badlands. Fire burned along her damaged hull while streams of plasma escaped into space. Sections of armor were simply gone. One nacelle had vanished completely. The other hung at an impossible angle.
Farther away, the Marshal's dreadnought was listing violently. One entire section of her structure, a wing, had been torn away by the explosion, leaving the immense warship wounded and bleeding energy into the nebula.
Other ships were moving. The Prime vessels. They were coming for the survivors. Bonnie watched them for several seconds before reaching toward the navigation controls.
Remal looked at her. "What are you doing?"
"Leaving." She entered a destination. The portal. Her fingers paused over the final command. "If it's still open," she said quietly, "we're going home."
Remal nodded a small approving nod and settled back against the pod wall, blood still spreading beneath his uniform. "For a minute there, I'd thought you were going to leave me to die." He turned his head toward her.
She smiled, knowing she almost did. "Someone has to make sure you get that second date."
The escape pod fired away from the dying Sunfire, carrying them toward the uncertain glow of the portal while the battlefield behind them continued to burn.
TBC
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