Red Reflection

[Travis Kroells 0]

“Red Reflection”…Kroells’s logs

 

Travis watched the shuttle move in.  Closer and closer to the Reaent’s docking bay.  He watched gerb try to take it in, he saw him come in to high, to fast.  It came in, the bottom of the nose of the shuttle slammed into the floor of the shuttle bay, and unlike the instant stop the shuttle had made when if crashed, the crew in the shuttle just kept on going.  

 

Travis flew forward roughly ten feet into the front of the console, his body turning around so that his right shoulder slammed into the edge of the console; his head whipping back from the force of the strike slammed into the panel itself.  And for a second or two the world went black.  

 

His eyes opened into a blurry and painful world.  His head felt like it had been hit with the broad side of a sledgehammer, which in retrospect probably wasn’t to far from the trauma his head received when he slammed his head into the panel at his station.  He sat up slowly, hoping the slow movements wouldn’t cause too much pain, but they did.  He turned his head to the panel, expecting to find the lights flashing, ready to receive an other command.  But to his surprise the lights were out, the panel itself destroyed, the glass cracked and shattered in several different places.  

 

He knew he had to but he didn’t want to.  Travis slowly brought his hand to the back of his head, the intense pain that he felt just too slightly touch it.  It was unbearable.  He gently felt the area, finally coming across something sharp.  He winced as he grabbed hold of it, and pulled.  A small piece of glass, until several moments ago imbedded into his scalp was pulled out along with several hunks of dirty blonde, now soaked red hair.  Travis took the piece in his hand and tossed it away with his right hand, a movement he regretted.  For just when he thought he could deal with the pain in his head his shoulder stood up, to out stage his head in the intense pain game.  

 

It hurt so much, but he knew his objective, he remembered what had happened just before the shuttle crash, the torpedo that hit the shuttle but didn’t explode.  He had to tell the captain.  And so with the pain that followed Travis slowly got up and stumbled out of the shuttle and into the shuttle bay.  Several crewmen and lower ensigns looked at him, at his war torn face, his head bleeding out, and finally his shoulder.  And that’s where they stopped and stared.  For unknown to Travis the intensity of his injury was worse then even he could imagine.  The back of his uniform now stained with a large dark red stain in the vicinity of his shoulder told the tale.  The small area where there was no uniform, it ripped off by the jagged edge that did this.  The jagged edge that had caused a three inch cut right along the shoulder blade, it went deep, so deep in fact that a small with line was visible where the cut was.  The edge had cut through his muscle and flesh, all the way down to the bone where it even left a little scratch.  

 

He unsteadily entered the turbo lift and headed up to the bridge.  The door quickly opened a result of the engineer’s excellent work.  He stumbled onto the bridge, his shoulder bleeding still; it now had soaked through the uniform and was sliding down his arm.  He wearily told the captain of the situation.  Ridire said something to him but it was a slur, Travis couldn’t make out what he said so he stumbled something together to reply.  He looked around, the bridge staff looking at him oddly.  Travis looked down to his arm and saw the first red drop of blood fall of his finger.  A red reflection of his lower torso shone as is hit the carpet, staining it a dark red.  

 

Travis slowly started to sway, the adrenaline that had gotten him up here had wore off.  He couldn’t keep him self up, and so with a painful thud, Travis Kroells hit the ground, unconscious.