Don’t fear the Reaper

Description

“We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.”

Chuck Palahniuk

Star Trek is a genre redolent and centric with the search for new civilizations and life – affording the writer rich connotations with which to dip our quills into the creative inkwell of creation and bring vibrant stories of life – to life.

But how we treat with death is just as important and the genre has delivered some of its most compelling interactions and tableau as it forces us to experience the loss of a favorite character. From the iconic “death” of Spock in The Wrath of Kahn (cleverly “Kelvin – flipped” during ST – Into Darkness) or Commander Data’s final embrace of virtual – oblivion in ST – Picard, such poignant depictions of loss have delivered an emotional heft that will endure within us through the ages.

Competitors are challenged to write a story, from the perspective of one of their own Story – characters that details how that person deals with a particular loss.

Hints

  • Whilst ostensibly loss of another sentient being that your character has a relationship with would deliver the most obvious emotional impact, writers are permitted to be creative as to the exact nature of the loss.
  • The loss could be of someone directly linked to your character – a family member, loved one, partner or pet.
  • The loss could be linked to more oblique – a close colleague, a distant colleague, a stranger or someone the character admires but has never met.
  • The loss could be existential or hypothetical – a character may mourn the loss of potential or opportunity, express an inner – fear of the loss of someone or something. It could even (conceivably) detail the loss on an inanimate object that the person has a deep connection with. 
  • The loss can be immediate, recent or historical. Maybe a direct attempt to stabilize a fatal wound, visiting someone suffering with a serious illness or remembering a person that has passed away some time ago?
  • The competitor is encouraged to consider and illustrate the emotional impacts on one or more people as a result of this actual loss/potential loss.

Criteria

  • Stories must be submitted through the BFMS and your entry should link to that story. Stories should be between 1,000 and 2,500 words.
  • Stories will be graded using the Bravo Fleet Fiction Rubric, which marks on the following criteria: Language, Style, & Mechanics; Adherence to Canon; Perspective; Characterization; Originality; Use of the Prompt.
  • Stories must be written during the competition period and should not be a reuse of an existing story. Stories written before or after the competition begins will be disqualified. The BFMS publication date will be used.
  • Your story must be a single-author post, not a joint post.

Winners

Submissions

User ID Content Date Entry
Jason Devron 2554

https://bravofleet.com/story/134835/

What started out as a simple idea, a backstory merely hinted at for one of my newly created characters, developed into something more. So if nothing more, I hope you enjoy reading it.

2024-10-05 22:25:13
Varen Wyll 2419

https://bravofleet.com/story/128593

Story - "Circe - The Witch (pt. 2) under mission Mnemosyne

2024-09-22 15:53:18
Cressida Brennan 2765

https://bravofleet.com/story/133543

2024-09-15 19:49:11
Meila Tris 2914

H'Lai looked forward at the door of Andrew's quarters, many officers offered to help her with this, this, was her job. Her friend, comrade at arms, and her mentor, had passed away from injuries due to a bombing from the New Maquis on the Healdsburg. Next in line for command, she had taken it upon herself to notify the crew and the next of kin. It was a solemn duty, but one that had to be done.

With her fourth pip shining in the low ambient light that Andrew had left the room at, the room was a mess. "Clean first, pack second?" she said to herself. Several culturally relevant ornaments adorned the walls and shelves in his quarters, H'Lai really liked the artwork titled "Paris Lights" by Amy Giacomelli, the colours were very bright and uplifting. She decided to keep that as a memory of Andrew. That and a statuette of the Eiffel Tower, those two things would be a wonderful addition to the memory of Andrew Morris. She took a deep breath.

She began picking up the clothes thrown all about, organizing them by best she could for the crewmen to pack away and transport to the family. Now it is the hard part, the packing away and the internalizing for H'Lai, she prepared for this, as best she could, but Starfleet doesn't exactly have a course for this. She took a deep breath and remembered the initial thoughts of Andrew and being passed up for promotion.

The Betrayal, but Starfleet knows what they are doing right? Now she is a Captain and has command of the ship but a life had to be lost. Was it in vain? Was the New Maquis responsible for everything? If so they were going to pay. She thought of him as a son, she was teaching him about the crew, specifically about Talat, who she held closely, and on the reverse thought of like a daughter. She sighed and close her eyes, all she could see was Andrew, his dead body drained of colour, turning blue. his eyes once brown, turning blue because of the lack of Oxygen. She quickly regained her composure.

Across the room there it was, a stuffed panda from his childhood. Than she began crying, she couldn't help but think one day someone could be doing this for her son. Her son was adamant about serving in Starfleet, and against her will he has began the steps to procure himself a spot in the fleet. Admittedly she was worried, but Andrew pointed out that everyone is someone's child and that's when H'Lai began nurturing the crew. Taking the panda, she figured her friend who was on Starbase Bravo, would appreciate it, she noticed a blinking light playing at the desk. It was a video by Andrew to play should he die with his last requests.

H'Lai wanted to abide by his wishes so she played it. Listening to it carefully she noted things that were going to Meila Tris, his parents, and than there was the crew, For some reason, H'Lai's wish of the painting and the model of the Eiffel Tower came true, and for Talat he wanted her to have a memory box. This made things a lot easier.

She wondered, what would happen when she passed. Who would be packing up her room, and who would notify her Son? That is all she had left was her son Tm'Pek. Mortality was a sticky thing for most, especially her. She feared it when she was younger, but now welcomes it, it is rather confusing at times.

Time had passed since she had started packing up the room, about an hour, and she had taken note of the time. They should be arriving at 611 soon. She looked around at the containers containing his personal affects, the only thing left was his closet, dresser and bedroom. Which could be left for the Crewmen to take care of once they got to their destination.

She sat down on the couch and put her feet up, she followed the trail of stars behind them, and started to feel drowsy. She closed her eyes for a moment, well, so she thought, only to be met with Andrew's face. He was humming, a low hum with a smile on it, some would say he was at peace now, no turmoil.

She woke up and was happy, they say when you are mourning, if the spirit visits you, you are meant to be their harbinger at least that is what she heard. She wasn't going to run around the ship with a klaxon pronouncing his life, but it would comfort those with a religious mind to know that he was in some form of afterlife. Where as with H'Lai, scientifically, she was thinking heavily on him, so it was only natural for him to adorn such a deep, instant sleep.

She peeked her head into his personal quarters only to find that they were impecably clean... there was a crewman in there.

"Hello M'am, I am apart of the team to gather the rest of Commander Morris' things. You have done an impecable job so far." the crewman said.

"Thank you. I have labelled the things he wished to be delivered specifically." H'Lai said.

"Aye. I will see to them." the crewman said.

She was about to leave the quarters and took a look backwards, they were at the Jupiter station, "Well here goes nothing." she took a deep breath and walked out of the Quarters down the empty halls. she walked down the halls, and toured the ship, the repairs were underway to the Dirty Politician, she nodded to the Engineering staff working hard. She made her way to the bridge, no one was there, everyone had taken their leave and it was just her. Finally she was able to relax and sat in the command chair. "Is this the end?" she rested her head in her hands and blinked.

2024-09-14 19:36:30
Nathan Hawthorne 2199

Remembrance: https://bravofleet.com/story/133103

2024-09-10 01:12:28

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