The Burdens of Honor and Command

Posted on Sun May 10th, 2020 @ 3:58pm by Captain Enalia Telvan & Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox
Edited on on Tue May 19th, 2020 @ 12:37pm

Mission: Return to the Core
Location: The Romulan Warbird Third Star
Timeline: 2397

In the corridors of the Romulan Warbird IRW Third Star, Commander Arnia t'Rekd walked in silence. Both she and her crew were exhausted, pushing to stay awake in the bizarre and unnatural realm that their ship had become trapped in. It had been over 50 hours since she had last lay her head on the thin pillow of the small bed in her chambers. Thirty hours since they were pulled into the artificial singularity they had become trapped in with two other Warbirds, the Hwi and the Mne, and a Starfleet vessel.

In truth, her ship’s name was really simply the number ‘three’ in her native tongue. The other two ships called ‘one’ and ‘four’. It was a sign to come of the situation they found themselves in.

Nobody would say it directly, but she had heard the whispers. She had thought the same herself. They must have been in Areinnye.

In Hell.

Walking, she tried to put those fears out of her mind, however impossible it seemed. Out the windows, there were no stars. There was no subspace where they could call for help or hear the voices of their loved ones back among the hearthworlds. No, they were lost. Alone with the enemy in an endless void where the space itself would devour them, if the nightmares didn’t claim them first.

Every crewmember that tried to sleep, described unspeakable horrors upon waking. The more horrifying nightmares claimed all who tried to slumber. So she did what she could, and ordered her crew to stay awake as long as they could. Those who couldn’t were sedated and given chemical blockers to inhibit sleep, but it didn’t seem to work as those sleeping Romulans tossed and turned as if trapped within their nightmares. T’Rekt didn’t know what to do.

Which wasn’t surprising, as the twenty-six year old woman had only been a Commander for less than a week. Promoted, seemingly at random, to command a ship not given a proper name. An old superstition, but one she now believed in with all of her heart.

As did the Trill woman in command of the Starship who re-dubbed her ship ‘The Third Star’. The woman she conceded to. The woman she allowed to treat her wounded and repair her engines. The woman she betrayed the Star Empire, accepting the word of.

Traitor.

Nobody would say it to her face as she walked the corridors of the ship she had been mistress of for less than a week. Each face as young and raw as her own. Each as unprepared for the burdens of duty. Each picked to be expendable from the Empire. But there was one that she knew thought the word hard. Her SubCommander.

The young man named Taron ir-Faan was four years older than her, and protested on the bridge when t’Rekt agreed to Starfleet’s assistance. He protested when she allowed the enemy ship to dock with them and take their wounded aboard for treatment. And now, whenever they passed, even silently, his narrow eyes judged her.

So she did the only thing she could thing to do. Aboard the Starship Hera, she warned that ship’s own second-in-command… a woman t’Rekt didn’t like at all… of her concerns. They had asked about any that t’Rekt might believe would be problems, and the young commander had complied. Like a Sseikea without honor, she complied. She gave up her people… for the chance to save them.

If she ever returned to the Star Empire, her crew would be interrogated. Her ship dismantled for evidence of espionage. But her orders to her people we absolute. Their only crimes were in obeying her, and it would be her that would stand before her superiors and die so that her crew might have a chance to live.

Walking down the crew corridors, the chambers were small, each containing at least two bunks where crewmembers lived in close quarters. It was unusually quiet, in spite of the hour. But in the nightmare realm they were in, time seemed to not matter as much, and the silence was almost deafening to t’Rekt as she drug her feet, feeling fatigue settling in. At least until the sound of screaming snapped her out of her seemingly endless moment of introspection.

The scream froze the green blood in her veins as she snapped her head around, struggling to hear which direction it was coming from. Which chamber. Then, after a moment, t’Rekt took off down the corridor, almost slamming into the doorframe outside the chamber. Entering her command code into the wall panel, she ran in and slapped on the lights.

On the lower of two narrow bunks, a young crewmember was writhing in place, flailing about wildly as he screeched. He was still in his duty uniform and must have tried to rest his eyes and fell asleep. Running over, t’Rekt caught a fist against her temple which set her ears to ringing as she fell against the bulkhead. She didn’t directly recognize the young man, but had only truly met a small amount of the crew of her ship in the last few days.

Shaking off the slight dizziness, she glanced up at the name tag on the side of his bunk and, timing it between his swings, lunged in under his flailing arm to grab him by the shoulders. “CENTURION MARTIK!!! CENTURION!!! Wake up! To attention!!!!”

After a few seconds of shouting, the young man stopped struggling and his eyes snapped open with intense panic still in them as he tried to reorient himself. “C… Commander? C… Commander? What… what happened?”

Immediately, the color drained from his face as he tried to sit up in his bunk, but t’Rekt still had her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Calm yourself, Centurion Martik. You fell asleep, and fell victim to whatever it is that plagues us all here. But you are safe and well. Now… listen to my voice. And breathe. Slowly. Do you understand?”

“Ie. Ie, Commander. I… I must have… I did not mean to fall asleep. I have failed to…” he said, still filled with wild anxiety, not at the contents of his nightmare, but now at the fear of authority on a Romulan ship. But t’Rekt would not have it.

“I ordered you to be calm, Centurion. And I expect my orders to be obeyed. You have done nothing wrong. We all feel the effects of this realm. And we must all work together to escape it. Now, stand.” She said, letting him go and getting off her knees, adjusting her checkered gray uniform top.

The young Centurion stood up in front of her, feet together and arms straight at his side, at attention as t’Rekt continued. “You must be strong, Centurion. We must all be strong. Because our strength is what will ensure our survival and our escape from this realm. But only together will we achieve this. We are loyal subjects of the Romulan Star Empire, and our strength IS the Empire’s strength. And it’s strength, our own.”

In truth, her head was still wringing, but she had her training and her own resolve to get her crew home alive, and she was drawing on that to keep going. “Feel that strength, Centurion. It is the strength of every one of your fellow Romulans aboard this great vessel. It is yours to draw upon, as yours is theirs. Together, we are glorious. Together, we are the might of the Raptor’s wings. We are the Declared.”

“Now…” She finished, evoking the meaning of her people’s true name: Rihannsu. Of the Declared. Those that left the world of their ancestors to forge their own path amongst the stars. The words seemed to have the desired effect as the young Centurion’s eyes sharpened and his chest heaved ever so slightly. “... return to your post. Focus your mind and your spirit on your duty. And remember that it is in all of our hands, to get each other home to the hearthworlds once more. Dismissed, Centurion.”

Slapping his hand against his chest and jutting it forward, the young man saluted his Commander and departed the small chamber, leaving t’Rekt alone again.

After a moment, she pressed the pad and closed and locked the door of the small, two-bunk room and leaned back against the bulkhead. Her head still throbbed from where he hit her, but it was feeling a little better. Letting out a breath, she slowly slid to the deck and slumped with her hands on her knees. She was exhausted, and being strong for Martik had taken from her the last of her reserves.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes to rest.

For only a moment, she said to herself.