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Specialist Elizabeth Walsh - On My Birthday?

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This kind of stuff is why we can't have anything nice on the USS Thor... and why I love hate writing with those nerds

Good Job Guarantee @Geoffrey Teller


((Corridors, USS Thor - One Minute Before The Disaster))
Subspace components specialist Elizabeth Walsh was having a profoundly lousy birthday.  Stuck on gamma shift running and rerunning an endless series of diagnostics, the only acknowledgement she'd received had been from the console in her quarters as Jimmy snored to himself in their bedroom.  Things had been difficult between them since the reassignment - their honeymoon had to be postponed, their assignments had kept them largely apart and the little time they'd spent together had been more stressful than joyous.  On top of everything else, she'd felt profoundly run down the last few days and it was making her particularly short and irritable, so she had ended her shift early and made a small trip to sickbay.    
At least now she knew why she felt so lousy.
She was in a slight daze as she headed back to their quarters, but her cheeks ached from smiling.  She had to talk to Jimmy before he got on shift - she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had.  For once, it seemed like their schedules aligned and, down the hall, Jimmy was standing there - with a goofy wink and ridiculous smile he probably thought was quite suave.  She could feel her pace accelerating, thrilled to have this one moment to share together.  
Then the world shattered.  
The deck plates seemed to jump as she was thrown backwards down the hallway, slamming into walls that had become floors and ceilings.  Conduits ruptured and exploded from behind wall panels, momentarily filling the hallway with blinding light and heat.  A second later, the heat was gone, replaced with the horrifying whistle of air escaping into space.  Bleeding and stunned, some unconscious survival instinct kicked in and her hand closed around the only thing in reach - the torn edge of a wall panel.  She could feel the jagged edge digging into the flesh in her hand but the rush of adrenaline and shock kept the pain at a distance for a moment.  She could feel her feet lifting off the deck as she dangled in midair like a windsock, inexorably being dragged along with the atmosphere and anything else not bolted down towards the gaping void.  Seconds stretched on like years.
With a strange mercy, Liz suddenly fell to the deck, the hurricane of air rushing past her finally abating.  She gasped, stunned and shocked, too disorientated for the moment to do anything but breathe deeply.  An urgent thought pushed against the haze of injury that was pressing down on her like a heavy blanket.  
oO James. Oo
With a struggle that left her winded, Liz pulled herself into a sitting position and got her first clear look back down what was left of the corridor.  A shimmering blue and white emergency field crackled at the edge of a gap between one section and the next where the ship simply...ended.  Where there had been an orderly hallway, something had torn through the hull like the finger of an angry god.  Load bearing struts and eps conduits had been mangled.  If she leaned, which caused her enormous pain along her left hand side, she could even see the strange false light of the slipstream playing off shredded fittings and structural members.  
Of James...there was nothing.  No sign.  No mark.  Not even a hint of the man who had been her husband survived.  
For a long moment, she considered surrender.  She had enough medical training to recognize the signs of serious injury, and knew that if she closed her eyes to rest, it would be the last time.  But she'd be with James again.  All the stress and arguments and little squabbles they'd had seemed so unimportant now.  She could just rest herself here, with a view of where their quarters had been, and drift away, certain she'd find him once more.  Her eyelids grew heavy with the thought and her breathing slowed.  
An echo of thought crept out of the dark.  Her visit to sickbay.  Her news for Jimmy.  
She had to live.  She had to survive.  It was the last thing she could do for him, now.  
Walsh:  =/\= This is...Crewman Walsh...I need...help...someone...please help me...=/\=
There was no response.  She wasn't even sure if her comm badge was working. With a agonized groan, Liz Walsh clawed her way back to her feet, leaving crimson stains on whatever her lacerated hand touched.  The turbolift wasn't too far behind her.  The corridor was growing darker and narrowed to a point as she felt herself falling into the turbolift.  
She could make it.  Just one step after the other.  For Jimmy.  
And their unborn daughter.
Specialist Elizabeth Walsh
USS Thor - NCC 82607


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I think this situation highlights where our format can produce some incredible and dramatic storytelling - @Wes Greaves invoked these very accessible and believable newlywed officers in his first sim (The Cost, below) and I was immediately struck by the personal nature of the storytelling within the context of a larger disaster aboard ship.  I spoke to him over Discord and, with his blessing, built upon his start.   Lets hope things work out for these two :)  


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