Starbase Bravo – Sector Kilo-Indigo – Quarters of Lt(Jr) Evelyn Sommers – Stardate 75086.37

Standing over her bed, suitcase open, Evelyn placed each neatly folded piece into the open drawer behind her. The uniforms would go in the closet so not to wrinkle. Ev held one of the teal collared garments at arms length. 

I need to iron this.

Socks went in the bottom drawer, three pairs packed to make a pyramid with four packs stacked on top of one another. With the unpacking complete, Sommers noticed she had one blue sock left over. 

How did — Mom must have tossed this in.

Evelyn stood by the bed, the blue sock in her hand, the bottom drawer still open. She stared at the perfect row of black socks. 

No. One was lopsided. She quickly straightened it. 

Ev sighed in relief, but she still had the one blue sock in her hand. Quickly and without thought, she tossed it into her suitcase, closed it and set it on the floor in the closet. She shut the closet door and smiled in victory. The problem was solved. 

No. It wasn’t. 

After a couple of deep breaths, Lt. Sommers went into the small lavatory to brush her teeth. It was the fifth time today she had brushed her teeth. She reached for the toothbrush. It was brand new. 

Such a shame to defile all those neat, tiny bristles.

Just like the suitcase. Clean. Neat. Pure in its emptiness, but tarnished by that damnable sock. 

No. Stop it. 

The toothpaste tube was rolled up to ⅓  of the way. She would have to get a new tub soon. Ev gently squeezed out ¼ inch onto the brush and began to scrub and scrub. Halfway finished, she smiled at the mirror. Bits of blood seeped from her gums. She spit into the sink and watched a pink swirl go down the drain. 

Why am I like this? 

Ev knew why. It was the reason she was sent to Station Bravo instead of another ship, why she saw a counselor every Tuesday. She cleaned the bristols of her toothbrush until it was almost like new. Almost. 

“Tea.” she said and stared at the replicator from the bathroom. 

“Specify type and temperature,” replied the computer. 

“Um … something herbal … chamomile — no — yes … chamomile with mint. 100° Celsius.”

At the LT’s command, subatomic particles stored within the replicator were immediately transformed into a swirl of energy which consummated into a hot cup of chamomile and mint tea. Sommers brought the cup to her lips. She took a seat to relax and allow the tea to further calm her mind. Next to the window in her quarters, Ev gazed out at a sliver of the void. All but the brightest stars were blocked by the station’s light. Unfortunately, most of her view was obstructed by a large deuterium fuel tank. Ships moved to and fro to refuel. She counted 12 in the span of five minutes. 

One ship that came into view was potted with minor hull ruptures. Sommers only saw it for a second, but she noted how each breech was closed by a force field. None were, to her estimate, more than ten foot wide. She couldn’t help but compare that to the rupture on the Valk, which took up two decks. 

Her mind wandered back to that day. 

*** 

USS Valkyrie – Deck 9 – Escape Pod Access – Beta Quadrant – Stardate 73935.04

“Wait!” shouted Sommers. 

The ensign, a small laceration on her forehead, hobbled toward the escape pod. Beside her, his arm over her shoulder, was a young Klingon with burns on one side of his face and upper cranium. He growled under his breath as the two made it to the final pod. 

“Help!” she cried. “He needs help!” 

“I’m fine!” yelled the Klingon. 

“Get in here!” 

The order emerged from escape pod 42 as both the ensign and the Klingon were quickly pulled inside. A tall human, his brown hair grayed at the temples, aided the Klingon into a seat. 

“Lt. Commander Stoddard. What’s your name, Lieutenant?”

“Lt. Krun’ak, sir.” The Klingon growled again as Stoddard strapped him into the chair. The Vulcan applied a hypo to the burned scar tissue on this face. She looked the wound over, then glanced toward Stoddard, but made no comment. 

“Commander Derek. Oh, shit! I need to get Commander Derek.” Sommers made way for the pod exit when the  Vulcan pushed her into the seat and strapped her in tightly. 

“Derek is dead, Ensign,” said Krun’ak. He looked to Stoddard as the LC strapped himself in. “There was a hull breach on decks eleven and twelve.” He grimaced, but refused to give in to the pain. “I started to go back when the ship again took damage. An explosion in the corridor. I blacked out momentarily and then –” The Klingon pointed to the fresh burn on his face and scalp. “Sommers helped me out of the debris, though she had sustained an injury of her own.”

“Dead …” Sommers said blankly. “Oh …” She grimaced for a moment and touched the wound on her head.

“I am Lt. Saytra,” said the Vulcan as she applied a hypo to Sommers’ wound.  

At first nothing registered for the young LT. Commander Derek was a friend, one of the few true friends she’d made on the Valk. Then, as the ship rocked again, it came back to her. 

“Commander Saytra … The Winter party.” Both surprise and embarrassment splashed across her face. “Ohhhh …shit.  I am so sorry about the coffee …” She patted her own chest. “Are you okay? Not burned?”

“That incident was six months ago. It has long since been forgotten.” 

“Oh …” replied Ev.  

“Is everyone strapped in?” asked Stoddard.

Ev tested the safety-strap around her chest and abdomen. She found the strap across her chest was not perfectly aligned. “I need to straighten this … if you just give me a moment …” 

Saytra tested the security of Ev’s strap. “It’s fine.”

Ev was about to protest, but finally nodded firmly as did the Vulcan. The Klingon grunted once, then gave a nod. 

Stoddard closed the hatch. “Hang on!” 

The computer took over and initiated the launch sequence. 

“Ready in three, two, one!” yelled Stoddard. 

IDF emitters kicked as the pod launched from the ship. Within seconds the pod was over 200 kilometers from the ship. Stoddard took control of the RCS thrusters. 

Ev looked out the window. She could see the USS Valkyrie in flames and the hull breach Krun’ak mentioned. It was near engineering, Derek’s department. She felt ill. 

“Attempting gaggle mode. Recombination procedure in two minutes,” said Stoddard as he continued to man the thrusters. 

Several hundred kilometers from the ship, the pods began to maneuver toward one another. If they could connect, survival rates would rise. 

“Distress signal sent,” said Saytra. The Vulcan next opened the storage lockers. Food, water, a set of four light envirosuits and supplies, in case of a planetside landing, were enclosed. Also one medikit and two phasers were available. She removed the medkit. 

“Shit! Hang on tight!” yelled Stoddard. Ev looked out of her window. She only saw a glimpse of the LC’s concern. The Valk’s starboard nacelle, engulfed by bluish flames, careened into the attached pods. Debris formed in every direction. Stoddard applied reverse thrust to their pod, but it was too late. A smaller piece of the nacelle, yet larger than the escape pod as a whole, nicked the aft thruster. The pod went spinning. Stoddard tried to regain control.

“We’re going down …” said the LC. Get ready for atmo entry.  

*** 

Balor Hahn II – Beta Quadrant – Stardate 73940.07

The first thing Evelyn felt was the grass beneath her. It was cool to the touch. A warm wind blew across her face. She opened her eyes to see color everywhere. “Where are we?” 

“Balor Hahn 2. It’s an L class planet,” said Saytra. The Vulcan handed Sommers a rations pack. “You should eat. You’ve been out for over 24 hours.”

The Junior LT looked at Saytra in astonishment. “What? How? Why? What –”

“You had a mild concussion. When the escape pod was struck by debris, you blacked out.” Lt. Saytra stood and brushed off the grass from her trousers. “You should rest here until help arrives.” 

Sommers nodded and started on her ration. It was chicken. At least it was labeled as such. As she glanced around, Ev noted Stoddardnear the escape pod. The flora around her was vibrant and varied. Plants she had never seen before vines around each other. It was a beautiful world. 

Finished with her “chicken” Sommers folded the foil wrapper into a small, neat square and set it to the side. Slowly she stood to her feet. As she did her head throbbed and stumbled from her footing. 

“Where’s Krun’ak?” she asked no one specific. Stoddard turned to answer, but Saytra was nearby. 

“He is dead. His body is in the pod.”

Sommers wobbled in shock. “What? But –”

“The burns on his cranium hid a more serious concussion than yours,” responded Saytra. “There was nothing anyone could do.” 

“You have all the tact of a torg, you know that?” said the LC. “Nevertheless, she’s right. There was nothing anyone could do.” 

“But I saved him …” replied Sommers. “I … saved him.”

“You did, Sommers. You did. Now, lie down and get some rest. That’s an order,” replied the LC. Stoddard jogged back to the pod. 

“Isn’t there some kind of ritual we’re supposed to do?” asked Ev. 

Saytra shook her head. “Sometimes called Heghtay, the Klingons do have a ritual for their dead, a warning that a Klingon warrior is about to enter Sto’Vo’Kor. However, we are not Klingon.”

“But …”

“No. That is an order, Lieutenant.” Her face was stone. “Get some rest.” The Vulcan gave a nod and marched toward a group of trees, her tricorder open. 

Defeated, Ev sat down in the grass to rest. It was proper, she thought, that Krun’ak be granted his rites. 

What would it hurt if they weren’t Klingon? 

The ration wrapper beside her unraveled. Sommers picked it up and folded it back into a square again. She placed it on the grass. It unraveled a second time, quicker than the first. Ev folded the foil into a square and held it together. She glanced toward the pod where Krun’ak’s body lay. She stood on her feet, the ration foil, still in her hand. Determined, Sommers marched toward the pod. Suddenly, the Vulcan was headed back to Ev’s position. 

Ev looked up to see Starfleet shuttles inbound. 

“It’s time to go,” said Saytra as she approached. Ev nodded and walked to the rescue point.   

*** 

Starbase Bravo – Sector Kilo-Indigo – Quarters of Lt(Jr) Evelyn Sommers – Stardate 75086.37

Her tea had gone cold as Evelyn sat in the dark near the window. Dozens of ships had gone by since her thoughts wandered. No one ever told her if Krun’ak received his ritual. She tried for a moment to stop the feeling of regret. After all, she didn’t know the Klingon very well. It didn’t work. 

Sommers placed the tea and cup back in the replicator to be recycled. For a moment, her bed called, tired as she was, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t sleep. Evelyn couldn’t give Krun’ak what he needed, but there was one thing she could do for herself. 

The suitcase opened, Ev snatched the one blue sock and folded it neatly in with the others in the bottom drawer. She got ready for bed and drew the covers. Sleep would not come easy, but it would come.