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B'Etor Patterson

Resurrection (Joint Log)

B'Etor finished gathering all of the medical equipment she would need, or thought she would need to assist in a procedure she knew nothing about. Unfortunately, she had been unable to read the medical records of every officer on board. On the tray she carried a PADD rested, holding Lt. jg. Ramson's medical record. She placed the tray on a stand between two of the bodies, between where Kallah and Victria stood. She pulled up Kallah's Brain Circuitry Pattern from her record and then opened the medical tricorder next to it, pressing a few buttons, scanning Kallah. She nodded to herself, confirming that both still matched. Pressing a few more buttons she set the tricorder to continuously read her BCP and warn her of any changes or problems

 

Looking down, she checked her medical supplies again, making sure she had the Cortical Stimulator, a hypospray of synaptizine, netinaline, and a med kit. She swallowed hard, feeling both nervous and excited. Her lips moved as she mumbled softly in Klingon, eyes closing for a second as she calmed herself. After a moment, she looked up at Kallah and nodded. "I am ready. Anything happens, I can have you in sickbay in seven seconds."

 

She moved back a little, giving space for Kallah to get comfortable, or prepare in anyway she needed to. Her gaze followed Victria as the woman moved to take up position near the head of the corpse, perpendicular to Kallah and within easy reach of both. Black eyes met the Al-Ucard's ice-blue gaze and she nodded that she was prepared, hopefully, for anything that might happen. In her hands she held her alternate medical tricorder tightly, though her initial scans showed no activity from the body. She wondered if the equipment would even register anything once the procedure had begun.

 

Kallah nodded slowly. She had taken the time to push her fears out of her mind and prepare herself. The ability to cure others with a touch was like breathing to a Minaran. But, what she was about to do was risky for any empath. Most would consider it insane, her father probably included. She needed to know what happened to her pilots though, she had to know. Looking down at the corpse her hands slowly came down to touch his head.

 

Like a wintery blast a coldness washed over her body. Kallah's instincts told her to pull away, life was gone and there was no hope. Coldness. The flow of life moved from Kallah into the deceased cells of the brain. Even as she tried to hold back it felt like a mighty river tumbling over a massive waterfall to some empty fate below. Her breath grew weaker. Pain. Her head bowed as she fought for control. If she had the vocal cords her moans of despair would have chilled the others as much as the pull of life chilled her. But she could now feel it working. What was a lifeless mass now sparked. Neurons fired ever so slightly. The complex web of the human brain began to move again. She didn't need to hear the monitor behind her begin to beep to know to there was brain activity... she could read it herself now. Coldness still.

 

Victria's attention remained riveted on the pilot's body despite the subdued echoes of agony she could sense from Kallah. After taking position, she stayed unmoving, as still as the corpse on the table. Her eyes watched for signs of movement, though her other senses were fully extended as she strained to catch even the slightest chemical change that she might be able to detect. Moment by moment, she noted Kallah's life fading away in small increments, a familiar sensation and one she'd reveled in time and time again. The signs from the dead body were another matter, however. They were utterly foreign and strange as she leaned closer to observe.

 

B'Etor heard beeping on the tricorder she held, her mouth opening. She continued to scan, her eyes darting from Kallah, to the body, to her tricorder, pressing a few buttons, making sure it was recording all of what was going on. After a moment she closed her mouth and smiled, getting readings, but unable to understand them. Hopefully Kallah would be able to help her understand the jumbled data. She was afraid to talk, but as she heard the erratic beeps from the tricorder as it registered life signs from the corpse she was scanning, she couldn't help letting out a huff of surprise.

 

The heart of the corpse sputtered, died, and then began to beat erratically for a few moments, though there was no blood to feed it. The chest of the corpse rose unexpectedly and deflated, breathing out stagnant air that permeated the room. "Noooooooo... waaaarrrrnnn excaaaall...," the dead whispered before his lungs collapsed a second time. His eyes flew open and he began to convulse, head tilting until he seemed to stare directly at Kallah.

 

B'Etor blinked, staring in shock as the life signs were read, then lost. This happened a few more times, and she looked at the corpse as she saw it breathing. She let out a soft laugh of awe, unable to believe what she was scanning, and seeing with her own eyes. Its limbs and fingers were twitching in familiar patterns. It took a few moments for her to realize that his hands were still trying to fly! Amazed, she watched until a different set of alerts drew her attention to Kallah's life signs. The BCP had changed and was now rapidly diminishing. Her smile faded as concern washed over her Klingon face and her attention snapped to Victria.

 

"What is happening? Her vital signs are weakening. Pulse and respiration are decreasing!"

 

It was becoming too much. Kallah could feel her own life beginning to slip away. But she needed more, more time for the doctors, and more from herself. With a cold reserve she dared to answer the weak voice calling out. Kallah touched the mind of the dead. What was a frozen landscape suddenly blasted around her like the chaos of a supernova. Lights, sounds, feelings disjointed and a frantic grasping for life engulfed her. The pilots mind, Peter was his name, cried out in some unknown agony. He was trying to tell her something but the words couldn't be found to describe it. Sight failed. Hearing was muffled. All there was, was the agony. Then, a void. A calm in the storm. In the center of this hurricane of madness she and Peter stood together. She forgot how pleasant his manner was. His calm and steady smile was so natural that even in this chaos of dead memories he still retained it. This was probably why she chose him over all the other pilots to try something this foolish. He looked at her and nodded. His mouth opened and Kallah heard, saw, smelt, and felt one brief image. And, she did not understand. She shook her head and as she was about to question him further the torrent of storm took her away again. The eye of the storm had passed as she was thrown back into a chaotic world of death. This storm though she suddenly knew wasn't just Peter's. She wasn't breathing. She was....

 

"She's dying," Victria replied calmly as B'Etor's protests shifted her attention to Kallah. The Minaran was swaying and close to collapse. Quickly, she yanked Kallah away from the reanimated corpse to break the connection. One hand slapped the woman hard across the face to bring her to her senses, the other gripping her upper arm to keep her upright. Exhausted beyond measure, Kallah barely had the strength to open her eyes.

 

"Did it work?" she asked in a whisper, though she lost consciousness before hearing the answer. Victria caught her limp form and lifted her easily in her arms, carrying her out of the morgue and into sickbay where the doctors could tend to her properly.

 

"Frighteningly, yes," B'Etor replied quietly to herself, still eyeing the corpse as she hurried to help Kallah.

 

Alone now except for his fellow victims, the pilot stared unseeingly at the wall. His chest muscles continued to jump and twitch beneath the alien symbol on its skin as if protesting the death mark. The empty heart had long since fallen silent and medical monitors detected no further brain activity. Kallah's efforts had only given him a semblance of life, a mimic of what once had been. Now he'd fallen still in his final rest, once more unable to truly convey the horror of his passing and the danger that awaited the rest of the crew.

Edited by Ensign Patterson

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