Endure One's Own Failing

Posted on 11 Jun 2013 @ 12:29am by Lieutenant Theron Rhodes

985 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: LTjg Theron Rhodes' quarters
Timeline: MD 08 2100

ON:

Following the Memorial Service for Lt. Stone, Theron returned to his quarters. He had not felt any particular emotion as others during the Service. Theron had had contempt for Stone during his time on the Galileo, but he held no grudge, nor resentment. At least none that knew. As he walked down the passageway with others, he listened to their comments, but did not add to the conversation. He had no desire to speak ill of the man, at least not at this point in time.

Entering the turbolift, Theron noticed that the controls seemed a little erratic. The other crewmembers present with him continued their conversation and did not seem to notice. It almost seemed as if the lift took twice as long as it usually did.

Exiting the turbolift, Theron slightly jumped when the doors closed. They seemed to almost close on him, which is totally against their programming. He shook his head slightly as he walked down the passageway toward his quarters.

Entering the access code, the door to Lt. Rhodes' quarters opened, but only part way and made a whining noise. Theron hit the door once with his fist and it opened fully and he walked in. Again the door whined attempting to close, but this time it closed on its own. "I'll have to report that to maintenance." Saying to himself.

Theron walked around the room, into the sleeping area, and back. As he went he looked at personal items around the room and straightened up some; PADDs were stacked on the LCARS desk, an empty glass, an out of place book. He straightened one of the weapons mounted on the wall that was crooked. Theron realized that he was not able to settle down, but was not sure why. He truly did not think that anything said at the Memorial had changed his opinion of the man, but something with him was different. Theron decided to just occupy his time with something and expected the mood to pass.

He sat down on the maroon couch, then leaned forward and removed his boots. "Ah, much better." he said, picking up a PADD that he enjoyed reading from, because of its size was bigger than usual and sit across his lap if he wanted. He leaned back into the corner of the maroon couch, crossed his legs comfortably, and scrolled down the list of books he had had previously selected to read. Many of these were human novels from the 20th Century. He had selected them because of their classification: 'Literary classic.'

This time he selected Moby Dick. A book by Herman Melville, 1851. He was not sure why he wanted to read about a man's excessive belief in killing giant creature of the sea, but he continued. He turned to the first page, "Call me Ishmael." Theron began, then said, "That's an odd way to start a novel." He didn't think it was a personal log, but he continued.

As Theron read, he seemed to shift position about every other sentence or so. He also found that during the process every few paragraphs he was himself questioning what the author was trying to say or why the characters would say it that way. He felt a touch of anxiety; a bit 'not in control.' After only 5 or so pages he laid the book aside and got up to walk around. It seemed his mind would not settle down.

He stood before the viewport, looking out at the stars with the Rojar sun shining brightly in the distance. He thought he heard someone behind him and turned to find no one. Could it have been someone in the corridor outside? It had seemed like a telepathic thought. He had experience receiving telepathic messages from several since arriving on the Galileo, most recently from Lt. Orexil, but it was not her voice that he had heard.

Theron looked down at his hands and thought about the last time he and Kestra had spoken. It had been days. With so much going on, he had not taken the time to touch base with her. He had read her reports and about her progress. All were . . well, as to be expected.

He turned away from the viewport and again walked about his quarters. He stood before a wall with many hand weapons that he had collected over the years in service to Starfleet. MAABC Death Blade, Klingon Mevak and Bat'leth, among others, and his most recent gift a Rosesh, Romulan Officer's sword. After a moment he reached up and traced his finger along the grip of a Damascas Short sword. He took the grip in his hand. At that moment he heard a deep painful cry from behind him. Theron reacted by turning toward the sound, removing the blade easily from its mount. Without a step, he through the weapon across the room at the man size un-defined image that shimmered and could not recognize. The spinning blade stuck in the wall near the doorway to his sleeping room. The figure was gone.

His immediate thought was to contact security about an intruder, but after a second, thought better. "Computer has anyone or anything been in this room in the last hour besides me?"

"Negative." Was the simple reply.

Theron's shoulders relaxed. A solemn look came over his face. He then walked forward and extracted the fighting weapon from the wall. Looking at the gash in the wall, "Something else for maintenance to fix, I guess." He turned and walked back to the weapons display and remounted the Damascus.

He looked about the room again and remembered of the several instances recently when he had been unstable and had made unexpected and violent choices. "I think it's time to bring someone else into the situation."

OFF:


Lt.(jg) Theron Rhodes
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Galileo

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