Following Gareth’s announcement that the mining team had been effectively taken hostage, Reva sent a protesting Faarn back to the ship to arrange a rescue. The Tellerite had not been happy at leaving the Captain behind. She’d sent more security officers down with Rrr’varric and the medics. Like Gareth, Faarn thought Reva should return to the Cardiff.

The air hummed with the tension of held breath as Reva gazed at the ruins of the courtyard. The shredded canopy let the fading light of day shine down on them, the sky a bloody red at the edges. Colourful tatters of canopy cloth littered courtyard, a bright cheerful dissonance to the carnage.

“Captain,” Rrr’varric hurried over after she beamed down. The Caitian’s sensitive nose was wrinkled against the scents of acrid smoke and charred flesh.

“I’m fine. Just a headache.” Reva waved the doctor off.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Rrr’varric growled. An ear flicked back. She grabbed Reva’s hand. “Did you decide to go in for some tattoo work, while visiting, then?”

“What the…” Reva muttered, as the doctor flipped her palm up. Deep green traceries laced across her palm and under her sleeve. Rrr’varric pushed the sleeve up, revealing bigger threadings up her arm. They reminded her of lightning lace scars.

“No. And I wasn’t struck by lightning either. But…”

“Yes?” Rrr’varric asked as she ran a tricorder sensor over Reva.

“I created a forcefield. With my hands. And my headache is the worst it’s ever been.”

“A forcefield. With your hands. Of course.” Rrr’varric shook her head. “Well, you seem fine. If this is like thunder scarring, it’ll disappear in a day or so. The headaches, though, are becoming concerning. This should help for now though.”

The doctor pressed a hypospray to her throat. Reva winced, then gave a sigh of relief as the headache began to ease. A frisson of guilt ghosted through her mind. She allowed Kaalir to help her stand, and followed Rrr’varric into the courtyard.

Reva navigated the debris, her eyes scanning for survivors as Starfleet personnel moved with practiced determination, finding and tending to the injured. The patterns on her arms occasionally tingled with the faintest hint of leftover energy, a distraction she consciously pushed aside.

Rrr’varric and her medics transformed the scene of devastation into an organized hub of activity, with the help of security sent by Faarn, and several of the Dolmari. Reva and Kaalir joined them. The search for survivors was grim; few living remained amidst the wreckage. The bombing had left its mark on the courtyard. Acrid smoke burned the back of her throat. Yet more daunting was the sickly-sweet stench of charred flesh, an odor Reva knew would linger long after the embers had died, a haunting reminder of the day’s horror.

Rrr’varric, brusque and efficient, coordinated with the Dolmari healers and her own medics. The gruff Caitian’s battlefield experience made her a natural leader here. Field triage and palliative tents had been sent up amidst the rubble. Nearby, a more solid structure housed the dead, cooling generators slowing decay in Dolmark’s autumn heat. Sadly, most of those who had survived the bombs’ inferno were on death’s wait-list, too badly injured even for Starfleet technology to heal. Not that the Dolmari were willing to allow Rrr’varric to beam those critical patients that were themselves Dolmari up to the Cardiff for treatment. For many, the most the medics could do was ease their passing.

Side by side with the Dolmari searchers, Reva and her officers worked, sifting through the ruins, seeking the dead and dying. Praying for survivors amidst devastation. They labored under the dwindling sun, their hopes flickering like its light. Lt. Clements’ absence gnawed at Reva, as did that of Ensign Jetlin. Darkness approached, but colossal lamps, set up to allow the operations to continue, flared to life, harsh and unyielding.

“Captain Sarrik!” A cry interrupted Reva’s search. Kensi gestured urgently. Reva jogged over as the medic and a Dolmari gently pulled a man from the debris. It was Jetlin, Faarn’s young officer. Reva’s young officer. The man- a boy really- was badly burned along his left side, skin charred black. He looked like he was asleep, though his face was pulled taut in pain, and his breathing came in painful, stuttered spasms. Both legs were bent at odd angles, and one side of his torso looked oddly sunken. The medic met Reva’s gaze.

“Have you assessed him already?”

The medic opened her mouth, closed it, giving a short jerk of her head instead, closing the medical tricorder with a snap.

“He’s…” Her voice was a cracked whisper.

Reva’s sharp eyes took in the harsh truth. Jetlin’s end was close. His breath turned to a rasping gasp, and his eyes flickered open, finding Reva’s.

“Captain.” Jetlin’s voice was a pained whisper. He reached for her with an unburnt hand, and she clasped it tightly, acutely aware of his fragility. Reva swayed slightly as a feeling of oneness flowed into her from him. An awareness of the grievous nature of his injuries filled her.

“Clements… ahead of me. We tried…” he whispered, forcing the words out. Jetlin’s face twisted in pain, the rattling of his breath growing more pronounced.

“We’ll find her, Ensign. Rest now,” Reva assured him.

Let us end this, Captain.

Reva wasn’t sure if the thought was hers or not. The odd presence had never addressed her. The thoughts never seemed other than by feel, that they were not her own, but the ensign seemed to sense it as well. His eyes locked on hers, and he gave a weak nod. Reva’s palm tingled where it touched Jetlin’s. The sensation grew to a burning, before melting away, into Jetlin’s body.

Fly free, Ensign.

The thought was hers, but additionally imbued with that presence felt deep within. Reva held back a hiss as her right eye throbbed with a sudden, molten pain, and cradled Jetlin’s head. His hand convulsed around hers, and a final breath rattled out of him, his eyes no longer holding the vibrant story they once did. Jetlin lay heavy now, unburdened. With deliberate tenderness, Reva closed his slack eyes, tapping her combadge to send his body to the Cardiff’s care.

Weariness settled deeply within her. The weight of Jetlin’s loss bore down hard. Jetlin, like all of her crew, was her family. More than that, he had been her responsibility. It never eased, this wrench of life departing so abruptly.

No, it never does get easier.