Those We Leave Behind (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on 03 May 2024 @ 8:06pm by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Commander Morgan Tarin & Commander Allyndra illm Warraquim & Commander Marisa Wyatt & Lieutenant JG Rafe Caradec & Lieutenant JG Serran & Lieutenant JG Delainey Carlisle & Lieutenant JG Montgomery Vala & Ensign Mimi & Ensign S'Ers-a M'Lyr'Zor & Commander Luke Wyatt & Ensign Asha & Senior Chief Petty Officer Goldie Brown & Chief Petty Officer Katja Becker & Petty Officer 1st Class Lysander Octavio & Petty Officer 2nd Class Liam O'Connor & Petty Officer 3rd Class Constantin Vansen & Master Chief Petty Officer Toren Vral

2,882 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 19 - Tomorrow's Galileo
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 4, Main Shuttlebay
Timeline: MD 04, 1539 hrs

[ON]

Commander Morgan Tarin stood within her quarters facing the full-body mirror attached to the wardrobe closet's door. The room's lighting was set to full illumination to allow her to inspect her fresh uniform's appearance with the utmost scrutiny. Her three solid gold rank pips had been polished and glinted under the lighting; no unsightly creases were visible within her black pants, and her duty belt which contained her PADD's holster was properly situated at the top of her slim hips and not sagging. Her gray-topped uniform jacket was fully zipped to the top of her bust, creating the distinctive V shape which revealed her red long-sleeved undershirt beneath it. A quick inspection of her commbadge's position on her chest - also freshly polished - confirmed it was properly oriented and securely fastened. Her new pair of black duty boots felt secure along her ankles and the faux-leather also shone with an aura of attention to detail and professionalism.

Her uniform looked fine. But her hair? Her shoulder-length, loosely curled dark-brown locks were presently tied back behind her head but she didn't approve of the appearance. She frowned then reached back behind her head to remove the discreet hair tie and toss it on her bed before running her fingers through her hair to pull the stands forward to their conventional position along the sides of her cheeks and down to the tops of her shoulders. Much better.

A quick glance at the nearby chronometer revealed it was 1540 hours and she was already running late for a ceremony she needed to be early to. Tarin turned away from the mirror, satisfied enough, then snatched her PADD from the nearby desk as she swiftly departed her quarters with a swish of the door.

Galileo-A's main shuttlebay was three decks down and in the far-aft section of the vessel which she estimated would take her approximately two minutes to traverse without any turbolift holdups. As she stepped into the small lift and announced her destination, the running lights on the wall began to pulse with confirmation of her transit. When the turbolift reached its objective and the door hissed open, she quickly departed then navigated the narrow corridor within Deck 4 until she arrived at the large double-doors to the ship's primary shuttlebay which were already locked open to allow easy access for each attendee.

Her long strides slowed as she entered. The expansive shuttlebay was devoid of both Type 6 shuttlecraft, Virginia and Livia - which were below the primary deck in their storage hangars - and in their place was a single Class VIII probe casing situated on an elevated platform and draped in the blue flag of the United Federation of Planets. No matter how many times she'd attended similar ceremonies in the past throughout her long career, the unmistakable sensation of sorrow always managed to find its way into her belly and tighten her stomach. But this time, because it was one of her own and the first, it physically pained her. This was the last tangible memory of Petty Officer John Hollenday, whose body had never been recovered. This was his final resting place to be memorialized within the stars, under the care of his peers and companions.

Tarin averted her eyes from the probe casing while continuing to walk deeper into the shuttlebay where she noticed Admiral Saalm and several of her crew present. She approached the Orion with her hands clasped behind her waist then came to a stop next to her. "Thank you for coming," she said to the fellow captain.

The edges of Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm's light green eyes seemed to crease as she reached out to lightly squeeze Tarin's upper arm with reassurance and give her a subtle yet reassuring smile. "Your crew member died under my command and I gave the order which ended his life. This is my obligation as much as yours."

Serran was used to following orders and the chain of command. So, when the ship-wide order to come to a funeral, a funeral for a man he didn't know, his reaction had been instantaneous. Obedience.

What had not been spelled out was which uniform was required. So, put on his dress uniform. Being overdressed was a far more logical option than its opposite.

So, he arrived a few minutes early to the shuttlebay.

Sera had spent more time than was logical before her mirror. Everything was in its proper place, per regulations, all shiny and bright. Her long hair was tightly braided and coiled up into an intricate bun near the base of her skull, not a single hair out of place.

It was armor of sorts, perhaps. Uniform...appearance...placid expression. It was all in place. The mirror was dismissed and Sera left her quarters; arriving to the shuttle bay a little bit later than normally she would have.

She did not desire to make the tiny that talk other species found agreeable to engage in while waiting around. It was to be a solemn event; and such things should be observed in silence.

What was the idiom that would adequately convey the odds of that occurring? ...oh yes...'Fat Chance.'

Toren entered the cavernous shuttlebay and took up position near Tarin. He'd been to many of these affairs. Led a few, and organised many wakes and follow ups with those close to the deceased thereafter. Part and parcel of his job. And it was usually his NCOs that died. He could count the number of officer send-offs he'd attended on both hands, but the chiefs, petty officers and crewmen numbered more than he could recollect. Brass collars were safer. It was just a fact of Starfleet.

He glanced at the Commander and the Admiral. He wondered how many they'd sent to their deaths. Never maliciously of course, he hoped at least, but in the line of duty. An Earth poet he had read once put it best: Heavy lies the head that wears the crown.

Katja Becker arrived early to the memorial service and saw others also must hold with the saying that if you were on time you were late as well. Her first day was NOT the impression she had wanted to put forth. Nothing to be done about it other than to not let it happen again.

She strode over to the COB and dipped her head in greetings to him.

"Morgen, Chief. Lovely day to shoot a colleague into the vacuum of space." It was sarcastic, and perhaps grossly inappropriate...but she had been to far too many of these ceremonies. People lived. People died. It was for the survivors to pick up the pieces of themselves and carry on. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right. It just was.

Toren nodded in return, "As is tradition Chief Becker, as is tradition," his raspy tone belied any reaction to her sarcasm. People dealt with these situations in different ways, and those who had served in the War had all seen a corpse too many make its home in the void.

"It is the risk we take, travelling in the void, for our matter to be returned to the stars," his eyes shifted from straight ahead to meet Katja's, "I did not know this man, but he died as committed as any to his duty. Thankless, but deservin' of respect."

"Respect? Death respects nothing, Chief. Death is a bastard." Katja quipped, but somehow her words, meant with levity were delivered with a bitterness of experience. She turned away from the COB and instead focused her gaze on the empty probe casing.

"To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…" Katja whispered softly to herself. It was from Hamlet's soliloquy...it seemed appropriate in this moment. Hey, it surprised Katja too...she wasn't much for literature.

Vala strode in and secluded himself towards the back of the gathering crowd. He had not known the officer who had died, but had been there when the order was given. Saalm had not hesitated. But the death was not her fault. This one had come at the hands of his kin. He attempted to hold on to the forlorn hope that his green skin would not provide more anguish than was already beginning to unfold in front of him.

Clad in his formal Starfleet uniform with the attachments that allowed him to hold his bag pipes freely, Liam navigated the dimly lit corridors of the shuttle bay, the weight of the bagpipes in his arms serving as a solemn reminder of the task ahead. As he approached the designated area for the memorial service, Liam observed the assembled officers, their grief-stricken faces unified in respect for the fallen comrades. With measured steps, he positioned himself at the front of the gathering, his posture erect and his expression stoic. Amidst the somber silence, Liam prepared for the duty ahead, his thoughts drifting to the fallen officers as he readied himself to evoke their memory with the haunting strains of his bagpipes.

As Luke entered the shuttle bay, his mind couldn't help but wander to the family he had left behind. Thoughts of his children, their laughter echoing in his memory, tugged at his heartstrings, a reminder of the sacrifices he had made in service to Starfleet. He pictured their faces, so full of innocence and joy, and felt a pang of longing for the warmth of their embrace.

Marisa, his wife, occupied his thoughts as well. Her strength and resilience had always been a source of inspiration to him, and he couldn't help but wonder how she was coping, they hadn't the chance to spare a moment alone with one another. He recalled their last embrace, the warmth of her touch lingering on his skin, and wished he could be there to offer her comfort and support in person.

John's presence in the shuttle bay felt out of place amidst the grieving officers, his solitary nature evident in the sparse circle of "friends" he barely acknowledged. Despite his aversion to social occasions, he understood the necessity of attending the memorial service, respecting the need for others to grieve. As he stood among the somber assembly, memories of lost crew mates weighed heavily on his mind, their faces haunting reminders of the sacrifices made in the line of duty.

Toward the front, Allyndra's uniform looked mostly like everyone else's. The back was open in a broad V shape to allow her wings to be free. It was a concession to her unique anatomy. She knew Mimi and she had known John from their time in both sickbay and out. This was not the first crew person she had served with that had died and she unfortunately knew that it would probably not be the last. "How many of the injured might not make it either?" The thought danced in her head. Medicine was a sad thing. You wanted to help and save everyone, but inveitably the day would come to anyone who worked the field that they would lose their first patient. "One in a line of many." As she entered and took her spot she made a deep curtsy toward the memorial and whispered, "Niki iā ia ke mula me nā Māhoe."

Goldie entered by herself, still unable to fully process that John was gone. She hadn't even seen Mimi to say she was sorry, but maybe there would be time later. At least, she hoped so. She took her place with the Galileo-B crew and looked around at the others assembled.

The shuttlebay doors opened and both Mimi and Asha stepped through, they wore fresh uniforms as was expected but each had a sliver of red cloth wrapped around their tails; as much of a traditional Nekomi funeral attire as they believed they'd get away with. They walked slowly towards the groups of crew holding the others arm tightly only separating when they reached the front but staying at the inner edge of the ranks where they could see each other. They both were struggling to keep their composure.

Lysander wandered in nonchalantly and took his place. His hair was, of course, coiffed to perfection but he'd applied a little eye liner to mark the occassion - one had to show respect at a funeral.

Rafe had dressed for the occasion quickly as he had already had a shower earlier. Having already been to sickbay for treatment, he felt better and was ready to see a proper send off to a comrade he really didn't know. He had seen his name on the roster and duty shifts, but never got the time to get to know him. An occasional "Hello" in the corridors was about it. With what he knew about him now, he wished he had gotten to know him. He would have liked the man based solely on his dedication. The only difference was Rafe was saved, Hollenday was not. He walked to join his crew mates of the A and looked on in silence, revering the man who knew the risks and performed to the utmost ideals of Starfleet.

Vansen frowned as he walked in, with the slightly bewildered look on his face that seemed to have taken permanent residence there since they had jumped in time. Death was still, to this day, something that he felt was odd yet couldn't really analyse. It was a fact of life, what lives must die. The chance of one person surviving and another not as fickle as the nacelles after a battle. For him, there was no being of higher power, no fate, no destiny. Who lived and who died affected those close to that person, not a difference in the universe. Still, this was what he had been taught when joining Starfleet; people would die and you would honour them. He had known Hollenday, spoken to Hollenday. He remembered the colour of his eyes and the way he would smile, or frown, depending on whatever catastrophe was happening. Yet for him, the impact would not be in the day to day. It would be in the eyes of Mimi.

It had taken longer than she intended for Delainey to shower and dress for the occasion, but Carlisle had made sure she wasn't late. She knew the importance of mourning rituals and was relieved time was set aside to do so.

No, it had taken her a while to get going simply because she had been working hard to develop a divide and conquer plan to address the massive amount of trauma the crew had suffered as a whole, a plan that naturally included a number of individual sessions but also had to consider less formal interactions to put out brewing fires that may not be obvious based on post-battle reports.

If she thought Tarin was demanding of her before, she had no doubt with the captain's expectations were going to be in the aftermath, and Delainey didn't want to disappoint.As frustrating as her first interaction with the Captain had been, they shared the mutual goal of seeing the crew got the most emotional support possible.

That included supporting the Captain herself. This would be the first time Carlisle would observe the CO in the aftermath of loss, and she wondered what. If any, reaction she would see. The counselor had to admit she had been shocked to be called to engineering in the middle of battle to offer support, not because it wasn't needed, but because she never thought Tarin would see the value in it.

Perhaps it was time Carlisle adjusted her expectations.


USS Galileo-B - Deck 1, Bridge

With both Saalm and Luke at the funeral service, Marisa Wyatt had been ordered to stay on the bridge of the Galileo-B. She wanted to be with Luke, to hold his hand and say a final farewell, but she understood that she needed to be where she was. And so, to be present in spirit, she had part of the main viewscreen watching the shuttle bay so the bridge crew could also be a part of this time-honored service--if only from a distance.

Her heart ached for Mimi and Asha, for what they'd lost. And for what she could so easily lose at any time. Her eyes scanned the group, spotting Luke by the admiral. Just seeing him, knowing he was there and alive helped her relax a little. She was prepared to die, had been since she and Luke were recalled, but she was prepared to die beside him. She didn't know how she'd go on if she lost Luke after all these years together. She hoped she'd never have to find out.

Just before the time for the ceremony officially began, Marisa opened a ship-wide channel so the crew of the Galileo-B could listen to or watch the proceedings and, in this small way, pay their respects to John.

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

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USS Galileo-A Crew
Various characters and PNPCs

CMDR Marisa Wyatt
Chief Science Officer/Second Officer
USS Galileo-B

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