USS Magellan
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Different Kinds of Darkness

Posted on Tue Aug 27th, 2019 @ 12:46pm by Commander T'Prynn

Mission: E1 Only The Beginning
Location: Cargo Bay/Mess Hall
Timeline: MD10 || 11:55

Darkness.

There are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. Darkness becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

But when you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back. It starts to play games, to make sounds. No matter how hard you resist, the darkness begins to claim you, to scratch and claw at your soul. You try to fight. You try to think of the positives. But in time, when all alone, you cannot resist the whispers in the dark…

[Some time previously…]

A dense fog cloud gathered in the centre of the room, consoles sparking and plasma leaks having ignited in the chaos. The fog slowly crept its way out of the massive shuttle bay; tendrils, like fingers, clawed their way closer, quickly smothering and engulfing everything in its path, hiding everything from view. The duvet of dark and threatening clouds was disturbed as the first glimpse of light shone through the gathering storm clouds and mist that flooded the corridors. The beacon of light swept the room from side to side, a searchlight in the darkness… in the silence.

Until they heard it, a lone cry. Quiet enough that it was almost lost forever, but not in the presence of his saviour.

“He’s over here!” the female voice called out as the beacon of light swept the room faster and faster, then more and more joined until three faces were visible through the clouds.

“Ensign Maslar,” the female smiled as she bent down to assist the wounded officer, “I am certain your department head would not be surprised that I found you lying down on the job,” she queried as, with the aid of one of her colleagues, she lifted the injured Bolian to his feet, a near torrent of blue blood seeping from a wound on the side of his head.

“You know me… Commander,” the Bolian spoke between splutters, “never one… to disappoint…”

Commander T’Prynn placed a gentle hand on the man’s chest and supported him as they tried to flee the smoke-filled corridor before the black smoke engulfed their lungs in the same way it had threatened to engulf Maslar’s.

They had all been working in the shuttle bay when the initial damage was sustained. Two explosions from consoles in the room had caused thick smoke which threatened to engulf them all. T’Prynn had been nearby and dived into action to render assistance. When it became clear the turbo lifts were either down, or incredibly busy elsewhere, they had decided to beam off the deck.

Together they would board the transporter pad in the rooms corner and hopefully get to sickbay. Maslar was now laid on the aft panel of the pad whilst Nisea glared at DeVos. Whatever had happened to the Magellan, the Commander needed to get her team to safety before trying to ascertain the situation. The ships mighty saucer section rumbled ferociously beneath their feet, the massive primary hull clearly under some sort of strain. “What appears to be the problem?” she asked sternly.

De Vos smacked a hand against the console in frustration. “The transporters aren’t working properly. I can’t get us to sickbay, the bridge, engineering…” then he had an idea.

It was at that point that the Vulcan noticed it; several large, previously well-stacked crates and barrels suddenly looking a lot less safe.

“Get us out of here, Chief!” the Vulcan barked from the pad as she looked at the engineer at the transporter panel.

[Present Day…]

There are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. Darkness becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

Muffled noises began to stir a sense of life back into T’Prynn, her eyes starting to flicker as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. “She’s coming around,” a voice spoke as she finally managed to open her eyes long enough to adjust to the lights around her. The Vulcan tried to push herself off the cold floor, but she felt a massive pang of pain in the back of her head and swiftly found herself back on the floor again.

“Take it steady! You’ve taken a significant blow to the head and probably have a concussion,” the unfamiliar voice spoke again. The Commander, however, struggled to make out the words and, once helped up, looked at her surroundings in distress.

“What… where am I?” she whispered as she tried to adjust to the pain levels in her head. She was no medical practitioner but even she knew she had to relax a little or risk further injury. The troubled expressions on the faces of her colleagues did not help.

DeVos exchanged glances with one of the civilians in the mess hall that T’Prynn recognised and they both looked at the downed Commander again. DeVos began speaking. At least, it looked like he was speaking. His lips were moving, but all she could make out was gibberish. Nothing he said made sense to her and in fact, it caused her to wince and hold her cranium. A few seconds later and she looked at DeVos again. “Where are we?” she queried again.

To her, it made perfect sense, but to Chief DeVos, it was utter nonsense. It didn’t help when she repeated the phrase again.

“Wilat nam-tor etek?” the Vulcan asked again, getting seemingly more anxious each time her question was not answered.

“The universal translator must be down,” the civilian next to the Chief told, before turning and walking away.

“Damn it to hell!” DeVos exclaimed before crouching down in front of the Lieutenant and making all sorts of gestures with his hands. “Universal translator down,” he spoke, with loud exaggeration in the same way one did around a deaf person when unsure how to communicate, “try to calm down,” he directed, before taking hold of the Commander and laying her back on the floor to rest.

Once the Vulcan was laid down again and chattering away in her native tongue, the Chief returned to the civilians they had rescued, alongside several Starfleet crewmembers. “We’ve got to find someway to communicate with the rest of the ship or we are screwed,” the Chief frowned in frustration, his hands on his hips as he looked around their surroundings.

He hadn’t been able to get the transporter working in time to prevent her injury, but once he had, the first co-ordinates he’d sent them to for sickbay didn’t work, probably because of the state the deck was in. Next on his list was the mess facility, to regroup in his own emergency hazard zone. They had tried comms, but they seemed to be down; he’d also dispatched some crewmembers to try and get access to other decks and try and get a situation report. Now he waited for news.

In the meantime, the senior enlisted man looked back at the stricken senior officer and sighed gently, watching as she slowly drifted off again. She had hurled herself on top of Ensign Maslar at the last second, to prevent him being hit by the falling containers, but she had been injured in the process. He hadn’t always got on with the Vulcan, but her act of self-sacrifice caused him to re-evaluate his admiration for her.

Whatever had happened elsewhere, he hoped the explosions from the consoles in the gym and the cargo bay, coupled with the communications outage, were the worst of their worries. He had a feeling he might be wrong.

For Commander T’Prynn, she felt she had no choice but to rest, her eyes heavy under the weight of the pain she felt.

Sure enough, she was soon engulfed by it again.

Darkness.

You see, there are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. Darkness becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

But when you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back. It starts to play games, to make sounds. No matter how hard you resist, the darkness begins to claim you, to scratch and claw at your soul. You try to fight. You try to think of the positives. But in time, when all alone, you cannot resist the whispers in the dark…

 

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