“You fucking bitch! At least I shall have the pleasure of my knife in your chest, even as I die!”

Murder flashed, incandescent, in the eyes Legate Gohiarr Dac, as the True Way terrorist came at her, spittle flecked upon his cold grey lips as he lunged heedlessly with his blade – all caution case aside as the skeletal Grand Ballroom buckled and tore with a nightmarish scream of tortured metal as the singularity inevitably tore the fated Starliner, Tonino Delli Colli, to pieces with unimaginable tidal forces.

All was darkness and fractured chaos – jagged, violent staccato flashes of light as all around her was devoured by the sure annihilation of the immense gravitational forces of the black hole.

Her mind reeling and her own face a rictus of terror, Commander Samantha Hyland reacted without thinking – preoccupied with her own imminent demise.

Sam’s hand lashed out, her fingers desperately grasping an unfamiliar object in the garish kaleidoscope of strobing as the irresistible forces began to stretch even light itself – teasing the spectrum of observable photons into a thin stream that hurt to look at.

At her side, Marshall H’odahl shak’Mad threw back her thick dreadlocks and laughed uproariously, unafraid to die – the former Sovereignty of Khaless reactionary – held her drink up high and her coarse voice could be heard bellowing the Warrior’s Anthem – audible even above the cacophony of destruction – as she rode the singularity to oblivion.

“Qoy qeylIs puqloD.

Qoy puqbe’pu’.

yoHbogh matlhbogh je SuvwI’

Say’moHchu’ may’ ‘Iw.

maSuv manong ‘ej maHoHchu’.

nI’be’ yInmaj ‘ach wovqu’.

batlh maHeghbej ‘ej yo’ qIjDaq vavpu’ma’ DImuv.

pa’ reH maSuvtaHqu’.

mamevQo’. maSuvtaH. ma’ov!!!”

With a blood-curdling scream of pure hatred, the Cardassian was on her – his wicked blade scything down towards her, as Sam brought her own hand arcing upwards, the d’k tahg that she had instinctively plucked from the Klingon’s belt – slamming heavily up under the breastbone of Legate Gohiarr Dac’s broad chest – his own forward momentum driving the dagger deeper into the chest cavity – a sickening wash of warm bloody rushing down her arm in a coppery – deluge, as surprise replaced murderous rage behind the Legate’s eyes.

But Sam had no time to reflect upon this death.

With a sinking feeling that always accompanied this moment, over the gathering storm that was the maw of the singularity inhaling all matter around her into its event horizon, a horrible keening sound burrowed into her paralyzed mind and Samantha fervently wished that she would not turn around to face its source.

She willed herself not to do so, with every fiber of her being – but was nauseated by the knowledge that she would inevitably do so (as she always could not help doing) and would be forced to confront the source of that awful sound.

She turned.

What began as a terrible keening sound of animal distress, soon intensified in amplitude and pitch as the Orion Syndicate Underboss Shadreck Deen was slowly torn apart by the compelling and competing forces of “Spaghettification.”

Samantha’s mind reeled at the unnatural sight as a sentient being was teased apart by the murderous, crushing gravitational pull of the singularity – becoming a terrifying Slenderman, a marionette of pain as tendrils of his living flesh were teased from his body – as if the Orion was being gradually unpicked on a demon’s – loom.

Shadreck Deen screamed his terrible scream, endlessly echoing his doom & Sam screamed with him, her hands coming to her head – sure that in mere moments, she would begin to be subject to the same terror – inducing forces and begin to experience the agony of her own body and mind being slowly torn – apart.

He screamed and she screamed with him, and it was as though their scream merged and became one – coalescing into the same entity of madness, terror and pain…..

…and Samantha Hyland found herself sitting bolt upright in the darkness, tangled and constrained by sweat – sodden sheets – her eyes wide with panic and confusion in an unfamiliar space.

Outside the viewport – the stars streamed past, unconcerned, as the USS Valley Forge made its way at warp to their destination.

Samantha’s slender frame was wracked with uncontrollable sobs as she came to terms with her night- terror and gradually recognised that she was safe in the Captain’s quarters aboard the Excelsior II – class starship, that had become both her home and hermitage over the last 5 months.

“Lights.” Samantha managed to say, as she fought to free her legs from the embrace of her bedclothes and swung her feet unsteadily to the floor.

“Jesus Christ.” She held her head in her shaking hands, her fine blonde hair matted from her nightmarish extortions.

“Jesus Christ….” She breathed again, trying to dispel the haunting images of those final moments in the Cattivo Industries Recycling Facility, before the USS Albion had swooped in at the 11^th hour – to beam her away and spare her from the same fate, as the singularity consumed everyone remaining within its effect at Vannis – Ursus #3.

Eventually, she mastered the resolve to stand and managed to make her way to the shower. Eschewing the more modern sonic ablution, Sam opted to stand under a scalding stream of steaming hot water in an attempt to scour away the traumatic memories of her near – death.

It didn’t work, but at least it served to fully wake her up – meaning that she earned a reprieve from the recurring nightmare that had been eroding her sanity for night after exhausting night.

Re-entering her small private sitting room, Sam ordered a hot – cup of smoky black Lapsang – Souchong tea from the replicator and sat down at the desk terminal – cradling the blue earthenware vessel in both hands, finding reassurance and the sensation of warmth through her cupped palms and letting the aroma settle her nerves.

The delicious Dr Langah had suggested that Samantha engage in chronicling her thoughts when she experienced these unsettling dreams, journalling her terror as a means of externalizing the experience and coming to terms with the emotional impact on her mental health.

Normally resistant to therapy, Samantha had to admit that she could listen to Jahanshir Langah recite a laundry list in that beautiful smooth Pakistani voice of his and so had relented and acquiesced to the Chief Medical Officer’s direction.

“Computer, resume Captain’s personal log from last entry.”

=^= Recording=^=, the dulcet tones of the ship’s computer confirmed.

Samantha took a deep breath and began.

“So…. I had the dream again…. obviously.” Hyland remarked dryly and wet her throat with a sip of the tea.

“It’s the same as it is every night. Terrifying. Repetitive. Exhausting.” Samantha admitted. “I’m assured that this is a normal symptom of survivor’s guilt. Lord knows, I have that in abundance. But its more than that, my guilt runs far deeper – owes a more abiding debt – than being thankful for my own survival.”

Samantha paused and brushed a tear from the corner of one eye with the tip of her little finger, annoyed at herself. She resumed her confession.

“I’m guilty of letting Kennedy down. Guilty of squandering her loyalty and failing to prove her innocence. Varda is in the wind. She betrayed everyone and everything, including her promise to provide the means to exonerate Kennedy and now my friend is resigned to spend 20 years in a Federation Penal Colony for a crime that I know she did not commit. How’s that for guilt?”

Samantha paused the recording as she fought to regain her composure, lost for a while at the hypnotic view of the bright starfield streaming past.

“I was complicit, albeit indirectly, in D’Taani Varada’s willful murder of all those aboard the Tonino Delli Colli. It doesn’t matter that they were pirates, terrorists, murders and criminals. Whatever their crimes, they were living, sentient beings and they deserved to face proper justice – not sentenced to summary justice by Varada. I failed to capture her and now she’s escaped somewhere to wreak her havoc some other day. My only reassurance is that the stolen Genesis data was also destroyed by the singularity.”

Sam shook her head ruefully, a broken & humorless laugh escaping the prison of her throat.

“And what did they do? They went and promoted me!”

She made a show of looking around the Captain’s quarters and back to the camera.

“They pinned those pips on me and gave me my own command, a real starship command. Certainly not the outcome I was expecting – I thought I would be inhabiting the prison cell next – door to Kennedy Zhao for what I did at Daystrom. Certainly not the way I pictured myself finally gaining my own ship, that’s for sure.”

Samantha laughed bitterly.

“What a joke. On one hand, my part in that shambles rid the Federation of a number of particularly troublesome thorns in their collective side. But on the other, they couldn’t exactly telegraph the criminal actions undertaken by myself and the crew of the USS Albion so, of course, it was preferable to parcel me off to the ass – end – of – nowhere and give me a duty so far away as to practically guarantee that I can’t cause them anymore embarrassing conflicts of interest ever again.”

Captain Samantha Hyland took another sip of her tea and decided that being maudlin was unseemly, she had willing entered into the conspiracy of honor, in an attempt to try and save an innocent person and she knew that, if the situation presented her with a similar choice, she would make the same decision without a second thought.

It was who she was. It was the Starfleet way. Her way, at least.

She shook her head again, deciding that unburdening her soul would do little to assuage her guilt. At times like this, Sam reflected, only a run would stand any chance of exorcising her personal demons sufficiently enough to face another day in the ‘Big-Chair’.

“Computer, pause recording.” Sam directed as she rose and went to dress in her active – wear.

=^= Recording paused =^= the computer affirmed without judgement.

“Waste of bloody time anyway….”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Location: USS Valley Forge, Deck 11, Portside main corridor.

“I heard that she murdered her own father.”

“No! Really? How is she even walking around free then?!”

“I heard that it was a whole Federation science team.” Insinuated a third voice, “Some place in the Primar – Majoris system.”

“Where?!” The second voice sounded puzzled.

“Some shithole third – contact backwater, by all accounts.” The third voice explained conspiratorially “And she didn’t murder anyone, but I did hear a lot of people died and she was connected somehow.”

Leading Crewman Larissa Kane (the first speaker) looked slightly put out at her “Scuttlebutt” being scuttled by Petty Officer 3^rd Class Kul Danne and she interjected.

“Well, I have it on good authority from a friend that works on the Engineering Team at Starbase 72, that was told by another friend that knows for a fact that half of Spacedock was almost atomized by the USS Savannah, when she was in command of it!” Crewman Kane crowed smugly.

Crewman Sean Harvey, Kane’s partner on the maintenance detail, looked at her with eyes wide.

“She tried to blow up Spacedock?!” The impressionable young rating breathed incredulously.

“Well, “apparently” it “may” have been a New Marquis terrorist thing, or some such!” Kane waved her hand irritably, clearly annoyed that the truth was forced to get in the way of her juicy yarn. “But the real point is that TROUBLE follows that woman around and now she’s in command of THIS ship.”

Not wishing to be outdone, Petty Officer 3rd Class Danne began to replace the maintenance cover to the EPS hatch that the team had been conducting a level 3 diagnostic on, and he began.

“Well, that’s nothing – I heard that…..” Kul began and then stopped abruptly. His Bolian features flushing a darker blue of embarrassment.

“You heard what?” Kane raised an eyebrow, impatient to see if her colleague’s gossip was going to trump her own.

“Yeah Kul….” Sean demanded impatiently…” What did you hear?”

Petty Officer 3^rd Class Kul Danne remained steadfastly mute but appeared to be trying to signal something frantically with his eyes.

A firm, cultured voice spoke from behind Kane and Harvey, making the pair jump and wince simultaneously.

“Yes, Petty Officer Danne, what exactly did you hear about our new Captain? Pray DO tell, I’m sure that we are all dying to know?” Spoke Commander Daniel Talland, the Executive Officer of the USS Valley Forge, as he stood impassively behind, arms folded.

“Nossir, I ….no..nothing Commander.” Kul managed to splutter and did an excellent impression of actively trying to will himself to disappear up his own tightly puckered asshole.

Commander Talland’s smooth coffee – colored features crinkled in consternation.

“Nothing?” His rich, English – accented voice was a study of pretended confusion. “You mean to tell me that three members of this crew, tasked to complete an extensive Level – 3 diagnostic of the EPS distribution of this entire deck, have completed this important task with such expediency, that they have sufficient time to spare to stand around and swap unsubstantiated rumors about the character and background of the Commanding Officer of that same vessel? Is that what you’re telling me?”

All three crewmembers looked remarkably like they would prefer to be, literally, anywhere else aboard ship right now as Kul stammered.

“No…Nossir…..”

Commander Talland frowned…

“Nossir…I thought not.” He turned to Kane and Harvey. “You two – seeing as you seem to hold your technical acumen in such high esteem, when you have completed diagnostics on this deck – you will report to Ensign Kirov and tell Yevgeny that I am so impressed with your confidence and application – that I want you both to head up an important working – group to deal with the ongoing biomass reclamation issues on Deck 18. Dismissed!”

Crewmen Kane and Harvey gawped at the XO for a moment, until their better judgement overcame, and they scurried off down the corridor.

Commander Talland turned to the Bolian Petty – Officer, his face a mask of irritation.

“Petty Officer Danne, I expect better from one of my NCO’s than to indulge in scuttlebutt. I expect them to lead by example, not lead junior ratings astray.” Daniel commented poignantly.

“Yes, Commander. Sorry Commander.” Kul managed as he stood to attention before the displeasure of the Executive Officer.

“If you don’t feel that you can consistently apply yourself to the execution of that duty, Petty Officer, please do let me know and I can arrange for a demotion for you – to relieve you of that responsibility?”

“Nossir…. I mean Yessir…I mean…” The Bolian stammered.

“I know what you mean, Petty Officer.” Commander Talland nodded knowingly. “Now, don’t you have pressing duties demanding your attention elsewhere, H’mmm?”

Petty Officer Kul Danne hurried to gather up his toolkit and nodded obsequiously.

“Absolutely. Sorry Sir.”

Commander Daniel Talland smiled as the Petty Officer cowered past him. Managing the rumor and innuendo (known colloquially as “Scuttlebutt”) that was rife and endemic aboard any starship, was a routine task for an XO. Daniel also knew that, especially with a young and untested crew – such as that which had been assigned recently to the Valley Forge, it was of key importance to make the crew fear that the XO was all-knowing, as omnipotent as God and basically everywhere, always, at once.

He called out to the retreating Bolian as he hurried gratefully away.

“OH, and Petty Officer Danne?”

Kul cringed and turned slowly, with trepidation.

“Yes Commander?”

In a good-natured voice, Talland warned, “The next time you feel like “talking – smack” and spreading conjecture about the Captain, I suggest that you have the backbone to actually go up to the woman and actually ask her about it – herself. That, at least, would show that you have some actual balls.”

“Yessir! Sorry Sir!”

“Carry on, Petty Officer. Dismissed!”