Episode Twenty-Four - 'Pain'

Star Trek: Fortitude

Season Two - Episode Eleven - “Pain”

By Jack D. Elmlinger

PROLOGUE

USS McCaffrey

Federation/Klingon border

Roars and thuds filled the Bridge with a cacophony of destruction. Crew members were being thrown from their stations, landing painfully on the cold deck plating. The captain was dead, a twisted piece of debris lodged in his skull and his corpse was adorning the floor in front of his command chair. Standing beside him, screaming out orders as smoke belched from an exposed conduit, the first officer was desperately trying to maintain order.

At the tactical console, Jim Morgan was hammering orders into an unresponsive display as the weapons system was completely fused. The viewscreen remained functional, showing the horror of the incoming cause of chaos. An entire wing of Klingon vessels, the fearsome Birds-of-Prey, had their disruptors locked upon the Starfleet vessel and they were going to take any prisoners. Green bursts of energy dominated the Bridge as the disruptors opened fire, causing more LCARS monitors to shatter in a violent display of sparks and smoke.

With his face aghast, Jim shot a concerned glance towards the engineering displays behind him and saw that the lieutenant manning them had perished in the latest volley. Bounding over her, he saw that the status display was still functional but he instantly felt a hammer of depression smash into his very soul.

The McCaffrey was dying. The Renaissance-class starship was just as crippled as the crew around him. The first officer had stopped barking orders. He was dead now, crushed underneath a falling beam with no chance of recovery.

Suddenly, Jim felt very alone because he was perhaps the last person alive. Stumbling forward, he seized the back of the command chair as the bulkheads shook beneath his feet and the sweat of panic poured from his brow.

The viewscreen showed that the Klingons were coming around for another strike.

Could these be his final moments?

Was this the end for Ensign Jim Morgan?

Screwing his dark eyes tightly shut, he prayed that it wasn’t.

“I love you, Jason.”

ACT ONE

USS Fortitude

Santrag system

“Come on it,” called out Captain Llewellyn.

He had been seeing far too much of his Ready Room lately. With supply transfers nearly complete from Starbase 499, the Fortitude was preparing to get underway in their mission of exploration. It was a craving for the crew, especially the captain, and especially for a certain operations officer who needed a distraction.

This morning, his breakfast was still sitting heavily in his stomach and he was ready for some action or for some excitement or anything to happen. Something to focus on.

The doors opened to reveal Commander Valerie Archer.

“What’s new?,” the captain asked her.

“We’ll be ready to leave in two hours,” the first officer reported with a knowing smile as her senses were in tune with the mood of the ship. “Otherwise, there’s nothing new. Oh! Before I forget, Station Master Martinez is on her way up from Transporter Room One. She has a report for you and apparently, she wanted to deliver to you in person.”

Ewan nearly blushed at that. The mutual undercurrent of attraction between himself and Valerie aside, the desire on the part of Erica Martinez wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Both women in his life were not only attractive but good, kind women. However, his feelings were directed solely on the commander which meant that the constant incoming emotions from Erica were a hindrance rather than flattery. Commander Archer was so good at reading people that she couldn’t have been oblivious to the situation. The tone of her voice as she delivered the news of the Station Master’s arrival aboard ship told Ewan as much.

“Thanks, Valerie,” the captain decided to conclude.

“Anything else?,” she asked him.

“No, not for now. Oh, uh, actually… any news?”

Archer knew what he was referring to. As a matter of courtesy to his operations officer, the captain had ordered regular updates on the status of the Federation’s efforts near the Federation/Klingon border and, in particular, the status of the USS McCaffrey, NCC-52472. All of the former shipmates of Jim Morgan wanted to be kept in the loop but Jason Armstrong had duties to focus on and a wandering mind concerned with the safety of his partner would not serve Fortitude well on their upcoming voyage into the unknown.

Valerie shook her head, a curl of her dark hair falling across her striking features. “Nothing yet but the war channels take a while to transmit all the way out here,” she admitted, searching for the silver lining. “Give it some time. Although it’ll take even longer when Starbase 499 has to relay them to us.”

“Indeed.”

The door chimes rang again. They both knew that it was Erica Martinez.

Valerie waved a quick goodbye to Ewan before she left the Ready Room. In passing, she shot a polite smile to the Latina Station Master who returned it, only for her beautiful face to fall as soon as the commander left the room. It didn’t go unobserved by Ewan who let it slide as she entered the room and gave him a much more sincere smile.

“Erica,” he greeted her,” what can I do for you?”

“I’ve got you an update on the political situation on Santrag II.”

“An emergency flash?”

Erica turned her head slightly towards the closing door of the Ready Room. “Not at this rate,” she mumbled suggestively.

“Hmm?”

The double entendre was ignored in favor of the update from Santrag II. Llewellyn had almost forgotten about the revolution that he had fought in, on the behalf of Prime Minister Veth Ka’Garren. In light of finding Doctor Pulaski in the Eastlean system and the recent call sheet robbing Fortitude of ten crewmembers, even Rear Admiral Blackmore had stopped talking about whether the rebellion had succeeded in negotiating with Ka’Gerran about a power share agreement. It didn’t help that the negotiations were closed to the rest of Santragan society, let alone the Federation starbase in orbit.

Refocusing his attention, Ewan sat up and took notice.

“Prime Minister Ka’Gerran is still alive,” Erica began her report. “The rebels never wanted blood, despite their violent tendencies. The Office of the Prime Minister will now be more of a figurehead with a new ruling council in charge of creating and implementing social policy including…”

“... the economy. So they got their wish.”

“More or less but Ka’Gerran still has a degree of influence during the transition period between governments. According to our sources, there’s tension despite the breakthrough in the negotiations. It isn’t over yet.”

“I hate that phrase,” Ewan admitted, rubbing his forehead in disdain.

* * * *

Ensign Armstrong’s demeanor was finally brightening.

While working with one of his operations teams in Cargo Bay Two, he had even laughed at a shared joke or two. Those people around him were trying to do their best to cheer him up in the absence of Jim Morgan, but not overly to keep reminding him of the fact. It was quite a relaxing atmosphere overall and he was now heading back to his quarters for the first time without thinking of his boyfriend Klingon. He was doing marginally well. In fact, he was doing better than that. He was approaching something that resembled normality.

“Computer, activate lights,” he called out upon his arrival back home. As the lights came on, he noticed the message waiting for him on his monitor.

Walking over without giving it a second thought, he slumped down onto the comfortable sofa and tapped the receive command. The message’s flashing alert switched to the crest of the United Federation of Planets and saw it was marked as private. Frowning, unaware of the forthcoming horror, he leaned forward.

“Unlock content,” he said. “Authorization: Armstrong-Alpha-Gamma-Four.”

The crest disappeared to be replaced by a stream of text.

It was a text that Jason never finished reading.

He only managed to get through the first paragraph of the message.

It is with deep regret to inform you, per the wishes of the deceased, that Ensign James Morgan has been killed in the line of duty while undertaking the tactical defense of the United Federation of Planets along the Federation/Klingon border.

ACT TWO

Lieutenant Arden Vuro rarely found himself aboard Starbase 499. Today was an exception. With Lynn Boswell busy, he had been referred to Doctor Katherine Pulaski and he was happy to introduce himself to the newest addition to the Santrag system’s personnel manifest.

Finding the Sickbay facility was somewhat tricky for the Bolian who had no personal experience with the interior layout of 499. Once he became familiar, he realized that it was a little hard to miss. In total, there must have been over twenty different rooms and chambers spanning an entire deck of the gigantic starbase. Right at the center of the whole thing was the Chief Medical Officer’s office.

“Doctor Pulaski?,” Arden asked as he entered the room.

“Yes… oh, good evening, Lieutenant,” Pulaski welcomed him, warmly, noting the rank and addressing her visitor accordingly. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m a referral from Fortitude, ma’am. Lieutenant Arden Vuro, helmsman. My file should have been sent over here by Doctor Boswell. Nothing too serious, Doctor. It’s just a sprained wrist. I dropped a cargo container on it.”

“Come with me,” Pulaski said.

They headed through a door to the ward and a nearby biobed which Vuro hopped up onto as a patient was always expected to do. Pulaski broke out a medical tricorder from a nearby equipment locker and started to scan the injury. The inflammation on the lieutenant’s blue skin was a deep azure. As she worked, the doctor made a brief visual scan with her own sensors, eyeing the Bolian with curious interest.

Before the tricorder was finished with its scan, she decided to voice her thoughts. “An athletic Bolian,” she observed. “You, my friend, are a contradiction.”

Arden was slightly taken aback by the comment but his good humor prevailed. “I suppose I am,” he smiled.

“Sorry, no offense intended,” she corrected herself. “It’s just that most Bolian don’t keep themselves in such good shape. Tell me, is it a personal preference of yours or is there another reason?”

“I like to work out. That’s about it,” Vuro answered honestly. “I guess that I always imagined being a Starfleet officer would be an adventure. I want to be ready for anything, physical, mental, or otherwise.”

“Anything except cargo containers,” the doctor smiled.

“Yeah, all right…”

Vuro liked Pulaski instantly. She spoke her mind. Something that the helmsman respected and found lacking in modern society. Despite his recent problems with blatant prejudice being voiced or harbored, he found her to be a refreshing change. She was as tolerant and as accepting as any other Human, yet she wasn’t afraid to ask probing questions or make observations that some people would find offensive. The tricorder snapped shut in short order and Pulaski reached for a dermal regenerator.

“Nothing that a little wave of this won’t fix,” she reassured him.

“If only all injuries were that simple…”

“If only…”

* * * *

Jason clawed at his stomach.

It felt like it was going to explode with the force of a supernova. Crying out of sheer agony, he fell to the carpet of his quarters, tears flowing from his eyes as he screwed them tightly shut. It was mainly to prevent himself from tearing them from his skull as he wanted desperately to banish the image of those words from his mind. In his madness, he blamed his eyes for reading those words.

Ensign James Morgan has been killed…

His crying became a howl, a low resonating moan of anguish and terror. It represented the horror of images flashing through his mind; the images of Jim’s broken body, crumpled, lifeless and cold. Weakly, Jason’s arms and legs started to move. He was only two meters away from his bed, but it might have been lightyears away from the effort that it took to move his devastated trembling figure. Each lurch forward was punctuated by a scream, a yell of absolute pain. Tears mixed with sweat as he shook violently, fighting to reach his bed, to crawl inside of it in an attempt to escape the harsh reality of the day’s shocking twist.

He felt as though he was falling. Despite his eyes being closed, the result being somber darkness dominating his vision, he could feel the shadows of despair surrounding him, grasping at him to pull him down into a bottomless pit.

Ensign James Morgan has been killed…

The words played over and over in his chaotic mind, skipping like an old 20th-century record. For some sickening and perverse reason, the voice saying those words wasn’t Jason’s but Jim’s. It was as though the lover of the operations officer was speaking from beyond whatever frontier he had crossed. Whatever horizon that he was now exploring, Jason could hardly bear it, his tremulous hands shifting from his stomach to his head as he writhed across the floor of his quarters.

“Stop it!,” he screamed at nobody and to nothing. “Stop it! Get out!”

Nobody could stop it.

There was nobody to get out.

Jason Armstrong was alone.

* * * *

Captain’s Log, Stardate 50564.2;

I have the tragic duty of officially noting in my log about the loss of Ensign James Morgan to the Imperial Klingon Defense Forces along the Federation/Klingon border. His death at such a young age is made even more heartbreaking by the fact that, mere hours after his starship succumbed to Klingon attack, a breakthrough was made in the negotiations between the Federation Council and the Klingon High Council. Chancellor Gowron has agreed to sign the Khitomer Accords. It seems that peace is a definite possibility soon, with the tense cease-fire holding for now. One wonders about the timing of such events. If there really is a higher being out there with plans for us all… for if there is, and he planned such a horrific end for James Morgan, then I sincerely doubt his divinity…

“You asked for me, Captain?”

Valerie Archer literally stuck her head and shoulders into Ewan’s quarters, knowing what the request would be and she was already heading towards the appropriate door aboard Fortitude anyways. His measured Welsh tones crackling with emotion, he made it sound like a favor more than an order, and in a way, it was.

“I want you to go and see Jason,” he asked,” if you could?”

“I’m on it. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Are you, Valerie?”

“My own feelings can wait, Ewan. He needs strength and support. I can manage so don’t worry about me.”

“Thanks, Valerie.”

ACT THREE

He was curled up on the floor, crying.

Valerie Archer dashed forward, lowering herself alongside Jason Armstrong and placing her hands on his shoulders to console him. At least, he was alive. The quiet whimpering from within the ball of depression that he had created for himself was a strong enough indicator for that determination. Slowly, she managed to get him to raise his face. She gasped when she saw it.

It was a broken face stained with tears and riddled with horror.

“He’s… he’s…,” Jason stammered his words.

“I know, Jason,” Valerie whispered, picking the young Kentuckian up into a comforting embrace and holding. “I know… We all do and we’re all so sorry…”

It was hardly in the job description for a First Officer, Valerie realized, to be such a close comfort for the officers beneath her who suffered such tragedies, but it was in the remit of a friend. If there was one aspect of the USS Fortitude that had become the bedrock of their working relationships, it was that everybody was friends with everybody. Though there were a few minor exceptions to the rule in Main Engineering.

There were no appropriate words beyond sorry. Nothing that she could say, despite her usual talent in such areas which was her ability to fix problems and heal wounds.

So she held him.

She held him for almost an hour.

* * * *

The memorial service was thrown together quickly. With no actual remains to mourn over with Jim Morgan having gone down with his ship, the hollowed-out photon torpedo casing was mere ceremony.

Everybody gathered around it in the Mess Hall as it was standard practice. Rear Admiral Blackmore, Station Master Martinez, and Doctor Pulaski had beamed over from Starbase 499 to attend. The latter was there simply as a formality but the former pair were present in their capacity as friends of the dearly departed. Even Sollik showed up in full dress uniform, setting aside his obvious problems with Jim and Jason’s partnership to present a united solidarity. Arden Vuro had practically demanded his presence but the Suliban knew why.

Without an operations officer, Fortitude would be lost. So for cold and clinical reasons, Sollik was present to support Jason in his hour of need.

Jason could barely look at the torpedo, even though it had no connection to his deceased lover whatsoever. His eyes were masked by his unkempt blonde hair, a messy curtain that shielded his tears from the crowd as he bowed his head.

“We are gathered here today,” Captain Llewellyn began speaking, his tones being somber,” to pay our respects to our honored dead. Ensign James Morgan was the bright spark of this vessel, the man who protected us from danger and who often brought a smile to this ship. His determination and loyal service to Fortitude shall never be forgotten, but more importantly, his character and friendship will always remain with us. To those that he leaves behind, we can only learn from his vigor, his strength, and his good nature as he will surely be missed by everyone aboard.”

Llewellyn shot Archer a quick glance, an inquisitive eyebrow asking the silent question of whether Jason wanted to say a few words on Jim’s behalf. Her short shake of the head was duly noted, and it was to be expected. The operations officer was grieving so hard that he had barely said anything over the past day.

With nothing further, the memorial service proceeded as regulations suggested.

All of the senior officers stood at attention, stiff as boards.

The photon torpedo started to shimmer as the transporter beam enveloped its durasteel casing. At that final moment, with nothing left to lose, Jason lifted his head and graced it with a stare. His eyes were just as hollow as the torpedo itself. Perhaps that helped him in his resolution.

He had the proper chance to say goodbye to Jim when he had left Fortitude for his duties along the Federation/Klingon Border. It had been a heartfelt goodbye, racked with emotion and filled with words that he always wanted to say.

He hadn’t watched him die, nor had he failed to save him in any way.

That was fate being a bastard, nothing more.

It offered resolution.

All eyes were turned towards the panoramic Mess Hall windows and drifting slowing out in space beyond the ship was the torpedo. It went as a symbol of Jim’s eagerness to explore into the unknown Beta Quadrant as an everlasting memorial to the spirit of the man, rather than the shell.

Yes, it offered resolution.

* * * *

“This is a stupid question, but how are you feeling?”

Valerie Archer was back in Jason’s quarters after the service. The captain wasn’t big on grief so he left his officers in the Mess Hall to reminisce and hold the wake for Jim Morgan, but Jason wasn’t in the mood for a wake. Noting his absence, Commander Archer had followed him to his quarters. After all, the young man owed her for literally picking him up from the floor and away from the dark depths of his emotional destruction.

Acknowledging that it was a stupid question, Jason answered anyways. “Better, I think,” he shrugged. “It won’t go away overnight, I know that… but these last few days have helped me to realize that there’s nothing that I can do to change matters. Well, short of hijacking the ships and slinging it around a star…”

“You don’t want that power, Jason,” Valerie told him outright.

“The power of God, you mean?”

Wordlessly, the first officer nodded and he understood. In fact, he understood more than anybody aboard Fortitude and slowly, he began to relate why to Valerie, who was now probably his closest friend among the crew.

“When I was standing in the Central Core of the End,” he said at length,” I had that power. I had a phaser and one shot to wipe out an entire race of evil beings. I realize now that the captain made the right choice. He chose not to fire. On the other hand, I was ruled by feelings of desperation. Jim was here aboard Fortitude, fighting for survival and I wanted to protect him, to save him, and so I took the shot. For a good time afterwards, I never regretted a thing… but now… I saved him then, and for what? So he could go and die somewhere else where I couldn’t save him, where I couldn’t reach him in his final moments. I used the power of God and it got me nothing but pain, then and now.”

“But what about the time spent with Jim between then and now?,” Valerie asked him. “Surely that was worth fighting for?”

“A few extra months on his life,” mused Jason, holding his forehead as it ached with the weight of his thoughts. “A few extra months cost thousands of lives. What would it take to make him live an extra year? A hundred thousand? Ten years… a million? I’m forced to live with that.”

“I guess so…”

“Do you know what the worst part is?”

“Go on.”

“If Jim was here in my place, he would have done the same for me… and I would hate to think that my life is worth the murder of thousands. That means that Jim would have hated it too, enemy lives or not… and the unanswered question in all of this is whether or not that hatred could have ever overridden our love for one another. Damn it… I’m not making sense here…”

“No,” Valerie interjected, holding up her hand. “You’re making sense, Jason. You really are… and I’m sorry that I don’t have any answers for you.”

“We all have our burdens to carry,” Jason smiled with a half-hearted effort. “I guess this will be mine.”

“Will you be all right?”

“He would want me to be,” vowed the operations officer. “So I will be.”

EPILOGUE

“Here’s to clear horizons, Ewan.”

Rear Admiral Blackmore stood at the center of the Station Master’s Officer, surrounded by his officers and crew and sharing a smile with Erica Martinez and Katherine Pulaski. He was bidding farewell via the main viewscreen of the USS Fortitude, wishing them good luck on their continuing mission. Across from Starbase 499, the Intrepid-class starship was ready to go, fully loaded with supplies and personnel. The only vacant spot was the tactical console, deliberately done as a mark of respect for their recent loss.

Llewellyn returned the smile over the communications link, joined by Valerie Archer, Arden Vuro, and an unyielding, indomitable Jason Armstrong. “Thanks, Boxer,” the captain returned the broad grin. “And here’s to our safe return.”

“Just keep us posted on your developments,” Erica warned him with a wry expression of caution. “No surprises this time!”

“And no more finding any lost Starfleet officers, either,” Pulaski added. “We’re running out of positions over here!”

“All right, all right,” Ewan chuckled. “Starbase 499, this is the starship Fortitude, requesting permission to get underway.”

“Permission granted,” growled Blackmore.

It was a good time to leave so they could start a new chapter of exploration and to shift their focus away from the recent personal problems of the crew. Peace with the Klingons was holding. The Dominion threat dominated the headlines, but that little storm was on the far side of the Galaxy and right here, right now, the United Federation of Planets had a strong presence in the Santrag system and the Beta Quadrant. It was up to people like Captain Ewan Llewellyn to reinforce that and to expand, grow, and boldly go where nobody has gone before.

“Helm,” Ewan ordered,” take us to Warp Six on my order.”

A pause, a look around at his officers, and a satisfied nod sealed the deal.

Yes, there was hope.

“Engage!”

The End.