| Author | Message | ||
     LtJG Dr. Jason Vogel |
=/\= Vogel’s Quarters =/\= Vogel sat on his bed in his quarters. He pulled his legs over each other and removed his boots. Rubbing his feet for a moment, he then stood and took off his service jacket, replacing the undershirt with comfortable nightware from his closet. His quarters are private, a privledge of his CMO post. Vogel stretches and yawns and lies on the bed, pulling the covers over him and drifts off to sleep. Vogel looked around … he was back on the planet. With shells screaming around him and bursting in the background, he stood around an endless set of wounded marines. The marines were screaming and crying out in agony and the sound was overwhelming, their bodies decimated by the phfor. Vogel looked down to treat a patient when he was approached by a corporal carrying a PFC over his back: “Sir, he’s from the front. He took a hit from a phfor energy weapon. You gotta save him” “I’ll try” “Doc, you just gotta …” The corporal trailed off and Vogel looked down to tend to the patient. Before Vogel could act, he looked down. His hands were bound with chains. In the center was a lock with the number four on it. “Doc” cried the corporal. “I can’t …. My hands are tied” “Doc, what are you gonna do? Just let him die?” “I don’t know. I don’t …” The PFC slumpt over and gasped for air in a few futile breaths as his lips turned a purplish color. The corporal took his head into his hands and sobbed, dropping to his knees. All around him the marines were coding and dying. Vogel could do nothing, with the iron grip on his hands. Finally, Vogel heard the terrifying screech of a phfor infantry torpedo. The resulting energy blast knocked Vogel down, hitting his head on the ground. He also felt a burning sensation from his legs. Standing again and wiping the dirt from his face, he saw a silver image deep in space fly off, in a blue burst of light. Vogel tapped his combadge: +TAPS+ Vogel to Coronado … Come in! Static +TAPS+ Vogel to Coronado, Come in! Please! Dammit! Come in! Finally, the sky darkened and the unmistakable hiss of the phfor reprentative was heard. Vogel turned to him, knowing his appearance from senior briefings on the Coronado: “Federation sssitizen. You and your sssship will be destroyed. You must ssssstop thissss war. It is the resssult of your egosssentric, belligerent commandersss. The hegemony undersssstandssss your obedience and praissses it. But it is misssplassed. You and all your comradesss will be welcomed-membersss of the hegemony. We do not impossse ourssselvesss on brave rassesss. But if we go to war, you will losssse and there will be conssssequencesss. The phfor representative took a key, marked 1969, and unlocked Vogel’s hands. “Sssave yourself” Vogel shot up from his bed, sweating profusly from the dream. He was tired and the room was hazy but all he could think about was his dream, and its meaning. |