Ponderings of a Trill

Posted on Wed Apr 8th, 2009 @ 12:32pm by Captain Elsie Halliwell

360 words; about a 2 minute read

Mission: Wolves in Sheep's Clothing
Location: Observation Lounge
Timeline: Current

ON:

After Commander Arkham and Captain Harwood had departed from his ready room, Lane slumped back into his chair and sighed, looking out towards the withering daffodils that limply rested their colourless stems against the crystal that encased them. The upcoming collection of weeks were going to be turbulent for the Trill, there was no denying that. He had weathered such storms before in his career, and in his earlier life, but never as one in total command of a vessel and her crew.

Responsibility was indeed a heavy weight that rested upon his shoulders.

He climbed out from behind his desk and passed silently through the bridge and out towards the turbolift. His destination in mind, Lane tapped blindly at control panel and the pod swiftly sealed him inside and then proceeded to propel him towards his destination.

As he stepped out onto Deck 2, he made his way mindlessly to the observation lounge. Taking up a seat that looked out away from the planet, he stared at the vastness of space beyond and the pinpricks of light that shone dully back. Alone in the room, he buried his head in his hands and pondered the fate of not only the Citadel Sectors, but of the little ship that he guided here, and, more importantly, the crew he commanded.

Thinking of them with genuine affection, he wondered whether they possessed the strength and heart to band together as they watched, with glinted eyes, the command structure above them rip apart at the seams. Also, with the pending arrival of the Symbiont, and the transformation of Lane to Kerr that would, one day soon, butterfly into reality, he questioned whether adapting so quickly after finding their own purpose on this modest ship would be too much to ask of them.

Only time would reveal the answers he sought. However, once set upon the path to the horizon that was laid out at their feet, as with the very same warp travel his own ship used to draw them here, to the Citadel, there was very little even the gods themselves could muster to alter it.

OFF:


Commander Coltan Lane
Commanding Officer

 

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