The workerbee shuttle hovered just outside the jagged hole in the USS Brawley’s saucer section. Its yellow hull glowed dim under the hazy green light cast by the cloud-wrapped surface of Vaabanth IV. Ensign Kian Harol sat rigid in the tiny cockpit, eyes fixated on the wide breach. The wound was still only partially sealed two days after the attack. Sweat poured down the Trill’s almond-colored spots.

Five of the attack’s twenty-two casualties were sucked out into space.

Kian guided the shuttle forward in careful pulses to compensate for the drift through the debris field. The repair drone beside him floated with practiced grace, gripping a heavy support panel in its articulated arms. When it slid the beam into place, Kian’s fingers tapped controls. The shuttle’s dual plasma fusers ignited in a crackling blue flare. Duranium was sealed to duranium. Starlight shimmered as the weld held.

Kian sat back and exhaled deeply. The rhythm didn’t come naturally. He hadn’t found that calm in days. Not since he stepped out of that very cargo bay five minutes before the hull was breached. He hadn’t felt right since she died in the space he should’ve been standing in.

The shadows inside the cargo bay were deep now. The forcefield shimmered faintly across the breach. Lighting hadn’t been fully restored yet. Crates lay strewn across the deck like toppled bones. The bay showed traces of the explosion. Singed bulkheads shielded fractured cargo casings. The mark of chaos was on display, frozen mid-motion.

Today had been a quiet day.

Kian had been stationed near the primary loading platform, checking a registry error on an overdue shipment of lithium relays. It was the kind of problem that nobody truly cared about. He’d waved over Ensign Talaen Rho, who’d just come off a rest cycle. He asked if she’d take over while he grabbed tea.

“Only if you owe me next time,” she’d said with a weary grin.

He remembered her happiness now. It was the last thing she ever showed towards him.

The force of the Vaadwaur plasma burst had gutted a wide section of the hull. No warning. Just a sudden tremor through the deck and a deep howl as atmosphere vented into space. He remembered the red lighting and klaxons blaring as he left the mess with his tea in hand.

After he jogged back to the bay, its large doors were sealed. Silence blanketed everything.

He’d found her among the crumpled shipping containers. She was just past where he had been standing. One of her boots was still hooked on the edge of a twisted pallet rack. Her body had been slammed hard. She had no time to reach a console, brace, or even run.

Talaen Rho was gone.

Five others had been sucked out before the emergency field came online.

Now he sat here, two days later, staring into the same bay. Fusing the ship’s broken skeleton together distracted him from his damaged thoughts.

He should’ve been the one in her place.

Kian swallowed. The workerbee’s cockpit was tight and warm from the soft hum of the interior systems. He still felt cold. Numb.

“Remember how resilient you all are”, were the words of Counselor Ikastrul Zaa to the crew following their initial departure. The Betazoid’s first advice replayed now through his mind. He didn’t feel strong mentally at all.

The drone signaled as it held another support plate. Kian engaged the magnetic locks and slid the fuser arms into position. The beam sparked in a clean, controlled arc. Scentless blue flares caught the Brawley’s jagged wound like thread through fabric.

Ensign Harol hadn’t laughed in two days. He hadn’t slept much either. The deck had been declared stable yesterday, but he hadn’t walked it again. He couldn’t.

From outside, he could see the scattered outlines of the crates still to be recovered. He wondered if one of them had been the one she clung to. He wondered if she tried to hold on, even for a second. Did she scream?

He hadn’t even looked for her at first. He’d tried to help the injured. Somehad had a crushed arm. Another had a head injury. There was the Petty Officer who wouldn’t stop sobbing after seeing her bunkmate ripped from the bay.

Then he saw Talaen.

She lay so still. So silently, mouth frozen agape.

He couldn’t stop hearing the silence.

The fusers’ lights blinked green. Plate sealed. The drone moved again. Another segment was offered forward.

Kian pressed his forehead gently to the cool glass of the viewport.

He hadn’t told anybody that he asked her to take over. No one asked. He kept his mouth shut even when Commander Smythe personally visited the department and offered condolences to the entire team.

Instead, he’d gone back to his quarters that night and poured one drink. Then another. Then came the silence again.

Talaen had a little brother who wanted to join Starfleet. Her parents came to their Academy graduation and hugged her like they were afraid to let go.

Kian didn’t have anyone off-world. His father was a retired supply officer on Tellar Prime. They hadn’t spoken much since his transfer. His mother passed away two years ago. The Ensign had no partner, no kids. Just work. Just this.

So why was he still here?

The drone tapped the side of his shuttle, giving a gentle nudge. Its targeting light blinked, standing ready for the next weld.

Ensign Harol nodded to himself and raised the fuser arms. Focus. Just a little longer. The beam fired. Metal sparked.

Another seal held.

If he got through this stretch and sealed this full side of the cargo bay, maybe he could request another duty. Maybe he could move to internal diagnostics. Maybe the guilt would dull.

Maybe not.

He still saw her face when he closed his eyes. He could hear her voice calling him “Kiki” in the academy quad after he dropped his PADDs. She once snuck him a slice of synthcake after challenging finals.

He’d carried a flask in his jacket yesterday but hadn’t opened it yet. Maybe he wouldn’t. Not tonight.

The drone rotated and floated ahead, placing two plates. Edges of the breach were narrower here. The worst of the damage was patched. Only scars remained now… And ghosts.

Kian reached forward and activated the fuser one more time.

The weld hissed. Held. Cooled.

Kian stayed busy, watching the shadows inside. Slowly and gently, he closed his eyes. Not to sleep. Just long enough to remember her smile.