Part of USS Nestus: Lost Memories and Bravo Fleet: The Lost Fleet

A Cold Hand (pt. 2)

2.5 Lightyears outside the Oromal Cluster, the border between Federation and Dominion Occupied space.
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A shudder spread up Maine’s spine, initially he blamed the transparent aluminium of Nestus’s rear windows, against which he had propped himself up for this impromptu briefing. Shifting his weight forward and sliding round to lean on the post he urged the icy twinge to depart, attempting to return his attention to Zaya’s update regarding sensor modifications. After more fussing and turning he admitted to himself that the chill was omnipresent, it seeped into his bones and tugged at old wounds, growing steadily in the few days since he had heard the words Dominion spill from the Admiral’s briefing. Like an infection carried on the breath of fearful subspace whispers Maine felt a foul miasma hover over the small ship and it’s familial crew. Ole and Hermira, the Bolian and Orion specialists, were veterans of conflict like Maine, Zaya had seen action too in her work in the Cardassian government, though they were as secretive as Maine about that time in their life. It troubled him to see the younger members of the team, David and Log, attempt to quash their fears. David Mitchell in particular, their newest recruit, seemed to have become a great deal more panicked in the last few days. One night Maine had found him alone in the mess, sat in the darkness, gripped by the cold clutches of fear.


“Everything alright David?” Maine said, gently padding into the dark room, only the familiar trails of stars at warp lit the room. Silently rolling by it was a constant reminder of the speed at which they were approaching danger.

Only ragged breaths responded from the depths. Like torn streamers whipping against a sharp wind David’s breath was short and desperate, crackling against the otherwise muted rumble of their sanctuary at warp.

“I just came to get a drink.” Maine continued, crossing over to the small catering station. The low glow of the replicator screen faded into existence and the alcove’s lighting glowed gently. Barely enough to illuminate the room it managed to cast a ghoulish visage across the face of the young Ensign; sat with is back against the L-shaped counter his wide eyes and taught face emphasised his heaving shoulders. Drenched in sweat like he’d run a marathon the young ensign seemed fixated on the wall across the room; hidden behind his make shift shelter, concentrating on the door. A defensible position if ever Maine had seen one.

“Vanilla Hot Chocolate.” Maine stated to the machine. “With marshmallows.” he added under his breath. Casting a quick look to the fearful young man he added another instruction. “Two of.”

With a swell of light and a familiar trickle of the minute transporters that formed the mechanism of the replicators two steaming mugs of liquid topped with tiny clouds materialised in the alcove. Going to reach for them as they finished materialising a clatter stopped Maine before he took grasp. David had a phaser in his hand. Still on the deck but clutched, white knuckled, in his hand. The small amber light emanating from it’s top indicating it was primed and charged.

“David.” Maine spoke, slowly turning to the man, muscles tight they both seemed ready to run. “I need you to give me that David. You don’t need it here.” His calm, authoritative voice seemed to bounce from the ensign’s icy exterior.

“But what if they come?” David replied, between stifled, heaving breaths. “What if they’re here?”

“But they aren’t here David.” He breathed, he had only thrown on some sweats to fetch a drink, no combadge and the nearest panel was near the door. He didn’t want to be mistaken as a threat by the manic man. “There isn’t anyone here but you and I.”

“The Jem’Hadar. They can turn invisible. You don’t know if they’re there until its too late.” He mumbled. “The changlings can look like people. They could look like you.” His eyes slowly turned to the older man. “What if they never went away.” White knuckles clutched the phaser tighter.

The moment was becoming dangerous. Maine was confident that he could overpower the young scientist, he had taken down bigger adversaries but a cornered creature was an unpredictable threat.

Slowly lowering himself to David’s level he began subtly reaching for his closed palm.

“I’m not a changeling David. I’m your friend. The Jem’Hadar aren’t here. It’s only us.” He took a deep breath, partly to assuage his own worry. “You are safe.” He promised. He slid his open palm over David’s armed fist.

“Mummy said Starfleet would kill me.” David said, his eyes never leaving Maine’s own blue stare. “Mummy said that they take good young men and women and break them into tiny pieces.” His eyes becoming wet with tears. “Mummy said that’s what happened to Clive. Stolen by machines and he never came home” His childlike voice chilled Maine further, even here in this perfectly maintained atmosphere he felt cold to the core as he realised what David meant. “Mummy said that’s what happened to Aunty Sarah, went to help others and came back as a flag.”

Tears began to overwhelm David’s saucer eyes.

“I don’t want to be a flag.” He whispered, fearful that speaking the words would make them true.

“I know David. I don’t want you to be a flag either.” Maine reassured quietly. He dropped finally to the deck. His hand reaching to the phaser and deactivating it. Seated on the floor he realised the other mans hand was shaking. Sliding the phaser out his grip he took the Ensign’s hand in his own and turned his back to the counter as well, joining his vigil against the closed door.

“But you were there. You sent people home as flags. Didn’t you? You watched the Jem’Hadar kill them. Invisible.” said David, his tone almost accusatory to Maine’s ear.

“I did. I sent them home as flags. Some were friends, some were loved ones, many were complete strangers.” Maine felt the pressure of his own tears building behind his eyes. He had been quiet about his history during the war to most of the team but rumours abound on a small ship and Maine’s work with Starfleet Intelligence was a constant source of quiet speculation. “Each of them died for what they believed in. They died for the freedom of the Federation.” Maine said, his tone sorrowful.

“I don’t believe you.” David said, his eyes returning to the closed door behind which his imaginary enemy stood.

“Neither do I.” Maine sighed. gripping David’s hand tighter as the tears warmed his cheeks.

They sat together until the drinks were cold. The soldier and the scientist, each mourning the coming morning.

 

Comments

  • THIS POST HIT ME LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN. You have a masterful way with emotive dialogue and the most evocative prose filled with delicious literary devices. You've used it all to create a self-sustaining pathos engine in this story. I can't list all the things that struck me with wonder rand pain. The way you described David being wracked with fear, past the point of reason, painted a truly pitiful picture of a struggling man. Little things like them both looking ready to run, the ghoulish visage, and the use of "mummy" set the scene. Truly, David's spiral and panic started to sound... reasonable, considering the Jem'Hadar and Changelings truly are creatures to monster movies. BUT THEN, David's absolute regression into himself. "Stolen by machines and he never came home" and then "I don't want to be a flag" made me tear up a little!!

    May 19, 2023
  • Haha didn't expect David to be a mommy boy :P Brilliant post to grip the situation of a emotional officer that Maine has to deal with, this is not something you see very often within stories. You have captured the feelings and emotions of David perfectly, I wonder if this mission will change his perspective to become more harden.

    June 14, 2023