Star Trek: Dark Remnant CH-3

Posted on Tue Jun 11th, 2024 @ 3:39am by Lieutenant JG Kate Kono

Mission: Man & Machine
Location: USS Aphelion
Timeline: Between episodes (Mini Novel) Content

Kate's eyelids fluttered open to the incessant hum of a sonic shower, its harmonics weaving through the sterile air of her quarters. For one fleeting moment, hope blossomed in her chest—a fragile flower soon trampled by the crushing weight of memory. The horrors of the past fifteen hours seared through her mind with unrelenting clarity; the phantasmal terrors aboard the USS Aphelion had not been birthed from dreams but were stark, cruel reality.

She lay there, still and silent, letting the sound of waterless cleansing lull her into a state of denial. Yet, the numbing comfort was ephemeral. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of every lost soul on board, Kate rolled out of bed, her muscles protesting the sudden movement. The cool deck beneath her feet was grounding—too real for comfort. She padded towards the bathroom, the blue light within casting ghostly shadows across her pallid face.

"Kate," came T'Rel's calm voice as she stepped into the humid enclosure. His Vulcan composure felt like an anchor in the chaos, his eyes reflecting none of the madness that had engulfed their ship.

"Let me stay here," she murmured, more to herself than to him, as she pressed her body against his. "Just for a moment longer."

Without words, they embraced, seeking solace in each other's presence, their movements synchronizing in a dance as ancient as time.



Afterward, as they donned fresh uniforms, the dread returned, settling in Kate's stomach like a leaden weight. They exchanged grim nods, knowing what awaited them beyond the safety of these walls.

"Phasers set to kill," T'Rel instructed, his voice devoid of emotion, yet firm.

"Right," Kate confirmed, checking the charge on her weapon before stepping out into the corridor, T'Rel at her side.

The journey to Engineering was fraught with shadow and silence, each corner a potential ambush, each bulkhead a barrier to their survival. They moved with purpose, their steps echoing in the deserted passageways of the Aphelion.

Upon reaching Engineering, they were greeted not by crewmates but by an amorphous darkness that writhed in the periphery of their vision. It was the shadow being, the formless predator that had stalked them relentlessly.

"Corner it," Kate whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
T'Rel nodded, and together they flanked the creature, driving it towards an alcove. With a silent count, they fired simultaneously, phaser beams lancing into the darkness.

The shadow convulsed, warping into something tangible, something three-dimensional, its form contorting grotesquely under the assault of energy. And then, with a wretched scream that should have been impossible in the vacuum of space, it shriveled into nothingness.

"Is it gone?" Kate asked, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Unknown," T'Rel replied, scanning the area with a tricorder.

Their victory, however short-lived, was eclipsed by the sight of Ensign

Paxton crumpled on the ground, his uniform torn, blood seeping onto the cold metal floor. Kate knelt beside him, her med kit already open, hands working deftly to stem the flow of life from his wounds.

"Stay with us, Paxton," she urged, looking into his pain-glazed eyes.

"Doing my best, Ensign," he managed, a wan smile on his lips.

"His vitals are stabilizing," T'Rel observed, assisting Kate in applying a dermal regenerator to the worst of Paxton's injuries.

"Good," Kate breathed, relief washing over her in a wave.

The intercom crackled to life and made all three officers jump — even the Vulcan, "auto destruct sequence initiated. T-minus 30 minutes."

"Damn it!" Kate cursed, slamming her fist against the nearest console. "We need to—"

"I will remain here," T'Rel interrupted, his gaze fixed on Paxton. "You must go to the bridge."

"Split up?" Kate frowned, the thought of leaving T'Rel behind churning her insides.

"It is logical. I can care for Paxton. You can stop the auto destruct," T'Rel stated, his voice bearing an edge of finality.

"Be careful," Kate said, touching his arm before turning to leave, her resolve hardening with each step. She knew what she had to do, even as every fiber of her being screamed in protest at the separation. The fate of the Aphelion rested on her shoulders, and she would not—could not—let fear dictate her actions. Not now. Not when so much depended on her courage.


*


The oppressive silence of the Aphelion's corridors pressed against Kate's ears as she navigated the dimly lit passageways, her footsteps muffled by the carpet that now felt more like a path leading to an uncertain doom. Each bulkhead she passed seemed to whisper secrets of the horrors that had befallen her shipmates, and her breaths came in short, measured gasps, fogging up the visor on her helmet.

"Keep moving," she muttered to herself, a mantra to ward off the creeping dread that clawed at her mind. Her hand tightened around the grip of her phaser, its weight both a burden and a reassurance.

As the doors to the bridge hissed open, the scene that unfolded before her was a grotesque parody of the order she once knew. The helmsman's station lay in ruin, consoles sparking with dying electricity, and amidst the chaos, a deformed figure crouched, its back turned to her. It was Lieutenant Weinstock—or what remained of her. Her uniform hung in tatters from a body that bore little resemblance to anything human.

"Rachel?" Kate's voice broke the silence, a tremor betraying her steely facade.

The figure twisted, revealing eyes of pure obsidian set within a pallid face stretched too far, too thin. A mouth filled with serrated teeth grinned, a silent snarl. Kate's heart thundered in her chest; the phaser in her hand felt suddenly insubstantial against this abomination.

"Stay back!" she commanded, but the words seemed ridiculous even to her own ears.

Weinstock lunged, faster than any human should move, and Kate fired. Bolts of energy cut through the darkness, illuminating the bridge in staccato flashes. She dodged, rolled behind a console just as Weinstock's claws scraped where she had stood moments ago.

"Sorry, Rachel," Kate whispered, and squeezed the trigger again. This time, the energy connected, and the lieutenant's mutated form disintegrated into ash that drifted through the air like macabre snowflakes.

"Auto destruct cancellation code: Kono-Alpha-3-7," Kate spoke to the computer, her voice hoarse as she approached the captain's chair. But the screen remained locked, access denied flashing in red.

"Captain's authorization required," the computer intoned impassively.
"Damn it!" she spat out the curse, slamming her palm against the unyielding panel.

"Ensign Kono." Captain Braddock's voice sliced through the tension, chilling in its calmness. He emerged from the ready room, Ensign Weaver flanking him, their expressions unreadable behind darkened visors.

"Captain, we need to cancel the auto destruct!" Kate implored, taking a step forward, only to freeze as Weaver raised his phaser.

"Stand down, Ensign," Braddock ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
"Sir, you don't understand—"

A blast of energy seared the air near her head, and instinct took over. Kate dove for cover, rolling beneath a tactical console as another shot followed. She returned fire, not aiming to kill but to escape, to survive.

"Lockdown initiated," came Weaver's voice, cold and detached as the command section sealed itself away from engineering.

"Kate to T'Rel," she breathed into her comm, scrambling toward the nearest airlock. "You have to know—"

Static crackled in response. The line was dead. Heart pounding, she donned her EVA suit with practiced haste, the motions mechanical while her mind raced with fear for T'Rel and Paxton.

The airlock hissed closed behind her, and she was enveloped in the oppressive silence of space. The stars above glinted coldly, bearing witness to her desperate plight. She gazed out at the streaks of stars passing by in the warp field, grateful to be back in the familiar expanse of the Milky Way.

A holographic viewscreen flickered to life in her headpiece, casting an eerie red glow on her face. She saw Engineering, bathed in emergency lighting that painted everything a deep, ominous shade of crimson. And there, amidst the chaos and destruction, hung T'Rel's severed head like a grotesque trophy—a chilling sign of the horrors that had taken place.

Kate's breath caught in her throat as tears threatened to spill over. She tried to look away, but her eyes were drawn to the sight of Paxton's twisted grin, oozing with malice.

"Join us, Kate," he seemed to hiss through the static-laced communication system. "Join us in the darkness."

"Never," she declared, tapping a button on her suit's wrist console to shut off the disturbing image. But it was already burned into her mind, haunting her every thought. With grim determination, she pushed herself along the hull of the doomed Aphelion towards Engineering, determined to save herself and hold onto what little remained of her sanity.

Kate's head shook violently to get the weightless vestiges of tears out of her eyes as they stuck to her face, her gaze resolute on the stars multiplying outside the ragged edges of the Aphelion's hull. The countdown continued, each second pulsing through the comms in her helmet with a chillingly serene female timbre that contrasted sharply with the chaos of her reality.

"Twenty-nine minutes, thirty seconds until auto destruct," the voice announced, its artificial calm grating against Kate's frayed nerves.

She anchored each step with care, her mag-boots thudding softly against the metal beneath her, the once corrosive touch of the void now absent from her suit. A sense of urgency propelled her forward; the need to reach Engineering and halt the relentless march towards oblivion was paramount. But as she maneuvered across the hull's expanse, the disquieting sensation of being watched crept over her.

Without warning, a streak of energy sizzled past, its heat palpable even through the layers of her EVA suit, leaving a smoldering scar where it struck the ship. She jerked to the side, heart thundering, and swung around to confront her assailant.

"Weaver," she breathed out, recognizing the figure poised with weapon drawn, the visage of a man warped by his unwavering loyalty to a captain who had lost all semblance of reason.

"Ensign Kono, you're a threat to this vessel," Weaver's voice crackled through her helmet's comm, distorted yet unyielding. "Stand down or be neutralized."

"Like hell I will," she retorted, defiance flaring hot in her chest. Her hand darted to her own phaser, unleashing a retaliatory beam that cut through the nothingness between them.

The two circled one another like celestial predators, exchanging volleys that painted deadly arcs across the void. Each near miss sent showers of sparks erupting from the hull, casting their dance in stark relief against the cosmos that bore silent witness.

A misstep, a momentary lapse, and they were upon each other—claws of desperation grappling in an arena devoid of sound but filled with fury. Kate's analytical mind worked overtime, finding patterns in Weaver's movements, predicting, countering.

With a desperate heave, she summoned every ounce of her strength and slammed into Weaver, their suits colliding with a muffled thud. His grip faltered, and seizing the opportunity, she pried at the seals locking his boots to the hull. Metal groaned and then released, sending Weaver tumbling backward, arms flailing for purchase that wasn't there.

"Kono!" he bellowed into the comm, his voice a mixture of shock and rage.

"Goodbye, Weaver," she replied, a pang of sorrow for what had become of him piercing through the adrenaline.

As if in slow motion, Weaver's body drifted toward the warp field, his silhouette a dark smudge against the blurring stars. Then, contact—an eruption of light so brilliant it blinded her, a shockwave that threatened to tear her from the Aphelion's surface.

"Warning: significant structural damage detected," the same placid voice reported amidst alarms blaring in Kate's ears.

She desperately clung to the hull, her body heaved with gasps for air that came too fast. Through blurry vision, she saw the Aphelion's once-imposing form now battered and adrift, knocked out of warp and left with only minutes before the warp core would rupture.

"Must... get to Engineering," she rasped, pushing herself onward despite the dread clawing at her insides. The ship's fate—and hers—hung in precarious balance, and time was the enemy she could not flee.