Star Trek: Erin

Part 44: Dead Redshirts

     Nowak, Michael, and I were questioned about Ensign Figel. It was surprisingly easy to lie. Plausible deniability. At this point, the truth would cause more trouble than I could handle.

     What was I becoming?

     I needed to think about it. So I talked to Nowak.

     We were performing our junior lieutenant duties. I was taking inventory of the specialty munitions. Boarding party recently had either used too many or the wrong type of charges to blow a door, which called for a full inventory.

     I hadn't seen Marple much since our visit to the evil dimension. Yesterday, he'd been chosen as part of the frankly gigantic nine-person landing party on the planet we were orbiting, Gamma Trianguli VI. Things weren't going well, judging by how long they'd been down there. This time it was being kept quieter. I had a feeling Kirk didn't want Starfleet catching wind of him being on another away mission with his first officer. I wasn't briefed on what was happening, but I dropped by Engineering. They were freaking out over a massive energy drain. Seemed like Scott had a plan to figure it out though.

     Near at hand, Nowak was making adjustments to the duty roster as I scurried around.

     "I still don't understand what it got in exchange," I was saying. "It wanted an empty dimension where it could be like a god, but maybe it meant something else? I just don't know enough about dimensional travel. And then..." I touched my shirt over the jagged scar from getting knifed. Sometimes it felt fine, sometimes it was like it was still healing. Medical said the latter, which was probably the opinion I should go by.

     "It possessed you."

     "I don't remember most of it."

     "Thankfully."

     I glanced over. His tone had been dark. "Sorry if it was... spooky."

     His lips twitched. "That is one way to put it."

     "Yeah. It did say something as it... left. Apparently it thinks it owes me. Personally I'd love to never hear from it again, but who knows."

     "Might be useful. Like Glasgow."

     "See? You think so too."

     "But enough to lie for him?"

     As always, Nowak and I were on the exact same page. "I know you don't like doing that. How much did you...?"

     He tensed, just a little. "I answered the questions."

     "But not all the details. Don't know his real name, only saw him once before, that kind of stuff?"

     "Precisely." Nowak selected Ensign Fitzhugh's ship-wide schedule and considered it. "We know he is a powerful telepath."

     "Can read thoughts but not send them."

     "As far as we know."

     "Right. And if he can deaden pain, that means he can also affect how we feel. It doesn't even have to be obvious. If I could do that, a nudge here or there could make a huge difference. Dangerous stuff. Anyway, if I ever do something out of character after spending time with Glasgow, punch me in the head?"

     "I will. And the same for me." Nowak finished with the rosters and opened some paperwork. "I am quite glad he is working with us at the moment."

     "Yeah." I paused between racks, remembering the black badge in my quarters. "Hey, I didn't tell you about this last time Glasgow showed up, but I kinda accepted a Section 31 badge from the original Tetra. Thought it would come in handy."

     Nowak was silent for a moment. "Perhaps it will."

     "Yeah, well, Glasgow can see any sort of deception coming, and he seems to be the one always showing up when things get weird."

     "True."

     There was a lull in the conversation. I passed to the next rack. Someone had put one of the heavy phasers back upside down. Not dangerous, but annoying. "I miss Gabriel," I said suddenly.

     "What part about her?"

     "You get right to the heart of it, eh?" I gave it some thought. "On Biflora III, it was the first time we'd ever really talked. She's more intelligent than she seems."

     "Careful, Erin. That was very nearly a compliment."

     I smacked his arm. "Quit sassing me."

     "Only when you cease to need it."

     I threw back my head and laughed. My communicator made a noise. I sobered immediately and went to open the door. "Klove?"

     The ensign looked at me strangely. "Yeoman Landon would like to speak with you, ma'am. And sir."

     The redshirt in question was standing at a respectful distance. I recognized her. We'd trained in the gym a couple times. Impeccable at hand-to-hand. She was dating Chekov, for some reason. "Yes?" I said.

     Landon drew herself up. I realized she looked pretty dirty. And tired. "I'm so sorry, Miss Cobos, but I simply had to tell yourself and Mister Nowak personally. It was terrible." I nodded for her to go on. She did, slowly. Carefully. "I was with the away mission. On Gamma Trianguli VI." She drew breath. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. Four of us were killed."

     I grew still. "'Us?'"

     "Redshirts, ma'am."

     My face went very cold. There had been five redshirts in the party. And one was standing before me. "Marple was...?"

     "Killed." She rubbed her arms without seeming to realize it. "In battle."

     Next to me, Nowak was expressionless. There was a roaring in my ears. I fought it. Somehow I kept my voice even. "Who were the others?"

     "Lieutenants Hendorff and Kaplan. And Mallory."

     Some cold part of me was the one talking. "The funerals?"

     "The captain, he will be announcing them soon. I just thought—thought you should hear this from me."

     "Thank you, Landon. You're dismissed."

     She saluted and left. Her shoulders dropped just before she passed out of sight.

     Nowak was looking where Landon had been standing. Klove was looking at me.

     I squared my shoulders, nudged Nowak. "Do you need to be relieved, Klove?"

     "I'll be fine, ma'am."

     "If you're not, call in Leong early. I'll let her know you might." I pivoted sharply, strode away. I didn't have a destination. I just needed to move.

     Nowak fell into step with me.

     We ended up walking to my quarters, pausing at the door. I shared a look with Nowak. "I'll see you at the funeral," I said, my tone conversational.

     "Yes," he said, equally so. He drifted away, and I entered my quarters.

     Everything was very quiet. I stood there, alone. My breath was coming too fast, but I let it.

     Marple is dead.

     I slammed a fist into the wall. "GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!"