Darkness.

There are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. Darkness becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

But when you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back. It starts to play games, to make sounds. No matter how hard you resist, the darkness begins to claim you, to scratch and claw at your soul. You try to fight. You try to think of the positives.

But in time, when all alone, you cannot resist the whispers in the dark…

[Sathea IV Science Station]

Muffled noises began to stir a sense of life back into Tharia, her eyes starting to flicker as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. “She’s coming around,” a voice spoke as she finally managed to open her eyes long enough to adjust to the lights around her. Trying to push herself off the cold floor, the Andorian’s antennae dipped with the massive pang of pain in the back of her head swiftly forced her back to the floor again.

“Take it steady! You’ve taken a significant blow to the chest and one hell of a beating,” the unfamiliar voice spoke again. The Commander, however, struggled to make out the words and, once helped up, looked at her surroundings in distress.

“What… where am I?” she whispered as she tried to adjust to the pain levels in her head. She was no medical practitioner but even she knew she had to relax a little or risk further injury. The troubled expressions on the faces of her colleagues did not help.

Javorian exchanged glances with one of the civilians who had been allowed to assist with medical intervention that the Andorian required. Noli stood over them, protecting them from the Klingons in the room. Javorian began speaking. At least, it looked like he was speaking. His lips were moving, but all the Andorian could make out was gibberish. Nothing the science chief said made sense to her and, in fact, it caused her to wince and hold her cranium.

A few seconds later and she looked at Commander Travis again. “Where are we?” she queried of him.

To her, it made perfect sense, but to the Commander, it was utter nonsense. It didn’t help when she repeated the phrase again.

“Wilat nam-tor etek?” the Andorian asked again, getting seemingly more anxious each time her question was not answered.

“Something’s wrong,” the civilian next to the science chief told, before turning and walking away with the medical tricorder they had been afforded the use of.

“Damn it to hell!” Noli exclaimed before crouching down in front of the Commander and making all sorts of gestures with her hands. “We can’t understand you,” she spoke, with loud exaggeration in the same way one did around a deaf person when unsure how to communicate, “try to calm down,” she directed, before taking hold of the commander and laying her back on the floor to rest.

Once the Andorian was laid down again and chattering away in her native tongue, the science chief and his tactical counterpart returned their attention to the situation at hand and returned to the civilians they had been locked away with. “How long until the storm hits?” the Commander frowned in frustration, his hands on his hips as he looked around their surroundings. Nearby, the Klingons were in deep, heated discussion, but disruptors were trained on the away team every time someone so much as looked in a different direction.

No one in the group spoke up at first, all opting to remain quiet to avoid the wrath of their captors, all apart from the scruffy Tellarite. “Won’t be long now,” he confirmed, tapping a wrist device on his left arm.

Javorian slumped to the floor beside the Tellarite and hugged his knees, all the while his focus was trained on the Klingons nearby. When the pig-faced man turned to look at him, Javorian scolded him sternly. “Don’t look at me. Concentrate on them,” the scientist ordered sternly before lowering his voice some more. “We need a way to contact our ship. Is there a way to lower this field?” he enquired of the apparent successor to the fallen administrator.

Doing as instructed, the Tellarite gave his full attention to the Klingons, but still managed to give the Starfleet officer his answer. “It’s too late. Even if we could, that field is all that’s protecting us from the storm,” he whispered as quietly as his gravelly voice would allow.

“What about a message? Is there a way to get a message through the field?” Javorian enquired, smiling at the Klingons every time they looked in their direction.

Shaking his head slowly, the Tellarite was about to respond in the negative when a voice behind them chimed in. “I can do it,” a young Terran girl whispered. “All you have to do is distract them long enough for me to sneak to that station over there,” she confirmed, her head gesturing towards the console in question with a subtle nod.

“Let the Santa Fe know we are being held by Klingon forces and we have wounded,” Travis requested after a moment’s thought. He was putting her at risk by accepting her offer, he knew that, but he was quietly confident that Commander sh’Elas would have done the same had she been in any fit state to do so.

“Commander…”

Before they could finish discussing their plan, Noli called the scientists attention back to their commander. “Wait for our distraction before you make your move,” he whispered to the youngster as he pushed himself up off the floor. Walking slowly over to Noli, he crouched beside her, and the Commander. “We have a plan, but we need a distraction,” he told the tactician.

“I’m no expert,” the Bajoran began, “but what little Klingon I do know tells me they are trying to make contact with someone but they aren’t having any joy,” she told, looking down at the prone commander and tucking a loose strand of the Andorian’s white hair out of her face, all the while hiding the smile on her wrinkle-nosed face.

Whilst they were talking, the civilian who had earlier absconded with the medical tricorder, had returned to their side. Pretending to scan the commander, the man whispered. “I’ve managed to scan the base. Everyone alive is in this room,” the man told the two fleeters, “whatever you plan to do, we need to do it soon.”

But the initiative was soon taken out of their hands. Two of the warriors, seemingly unimpressed by the constant whispering between the gathered people, started to march their way over to them. Thankfully, before they made it, fate intervened. A low, earthquake like rumble rocked the facility, sending instruments, equipment and people tumbling. Whilst they tried desperately to steady themselves, Javorian and Noli saw their chance. Each of the officers, with their security team counterparts, lunged at the Klingons who had been approaching them, tackling them to the ground as another quake rocked the room.

As the two groups rolled around the floor trying to gain the upperhand over each other, among the growling, shouts and scuffles, another quake shook the facility enough to dislodge some piping that ran the length of the ceiling. With an explosion of a gaseous substance, the piping fell to the decking almost in slow motion. Noticing the falling debris at the very last moment, Javorian pushed one of the Klingons aside. It was an act of selflessness. Of courage. Of honour.

For Commander Travis, he felt he had no choice but to rest now, his eyes heavy under the weight of the intense pain he felt. Sure enough, he was soon engulfed by it.

Darkness.

You see, there are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. Darkness becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

But when you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back. It starts to play games, to make sounds. No matter how hard you resist, the darkness begins to claim you, to scratch and claw at your soul. You try to fight. You try to think of the positives.

But sometimes, when all alone, you cannot resist the whispers in the dark. Sometimes, the darkness takes you.