Shadows of the Past

Posted on 13 Apr 2016 @ 2:50am by Commander Terry Walsh
Edited on on 21 Apr 2016 @ 11:43pm

919 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Outbreak
Location: Flight Deck & Squadron CO’s office
Timeline: MD 6 || 1115 hours

Terry planned on doing what the Doctor had said, but he had to make a stop first. Based on what he saw in Sickbay, he wanted to check on his own people. He walked into the Flight Deck and quickly scanned the visible area for the Flight Deck Chief. The Deck wasn’t too busy; a lot of them were apparently still on shore leave.

The brawny Squadron CO headed across the Deck to the Chief’s office. He rang the chime, but no one answered. Nodding his head and assuming that the Chief was one of the ones that were still gone, he turned and headed back. Terry stopped at one of the Valkyries and put his hand on it. This was the most exquisite fighter he had ever flown. And lately, he had flown it against another Starfleet ship. Then, had been left to commandeer and command said ship. Kos had been in the Brig and all kinds of crap had been happening on the Black Hawk.

He shook his head and continued slowly walking across the Deck. There was a time when a person knew who their enemy was. He knew who they were fighting. It wasn’t like it was when he and his wingman, Mark Shelby were flying Typhoon class fighters for the Corp. Back then, in the early 2370’s you knew your enemy, and his name was Dominion. But not anymore. Anymore, you couldn’t tell who was the enemy. The Jem’Hadar don’t look like Jem’Hadar, they look like your co-workers. He sighed as he walked through the doors into the corridor. Things were changing. Times were changing. And sometimes he wondered if he were too old-school to change with them.

Terry took the turbolift to the deck where his office was located. He had a lot of things to do, yet, delegating responsibilities for one. As he entered the office, he started thinking about who he could utilize. He would need to rely on the Bravo Flight Leader for a lot of it. Most of the administration, his aide could continue doing. Not much would change down on the Flight Deck. But that would be a good thing. Terry sat down behind his desk and quickly put together a set of orders on three separate PADD’s; one for K’lara, the Bravo Flight leader, one for Petty Officer Mori, his aide, and one for the Flight Deck Chief. Well, actually the Deck Chief’s was more of a memo than anything.

After getting all of that put together, he sent out a message to Mori to come and pick them up when she was available. Then he yawned. He shouldn’t haven been that tired. Granted, he had felt a little worn out through the course of the day, but he chalked it up to being back at work a little early. Maybe it was just…what’s the word…psychosomatic. The Doctor had just told him not to fall asleep on the job. Yeah, that’s probably what it was.

Not waiting for a reply from Mori, Terry tapped a command and watched the monitor slide back down into the desk. He went over to the little couch and stretched out on it. It was just going to be a quick nap, nothing long. Only until Petty Officer Mori came to pick up the PADD’s. That’s all.

A few minutes into his nap, Terry started dreaming. Well, having a nightmare. It was the same one he always had when he started thinking about his old friend, Mark. They had been through a lot as fighter pilots and had forged a friendship that would stand the storms. But in his dream, Terry would replay what happened that fateful day, 16 May 2375. He watched as the small warp core on Mark’s Typhoon fighter exploded from the shots of a Jem’Hadar attack ship. The scene replayed again and again. Sometimes slower, sometimes faster. But every time, ending with the haunting sound of Mark’s last words… “It’s not your fault, buddy.”

****

Amaya had gotten the word from Commander Walsh about reporting to his office to pick up some PADDs. She knew that he had gone to see the Doctor about something and half expected it to have to do with that. She finished the task she was currently working on and stood, walking over to the mirror hanging on the wall. She checked her hair and adjusted her uniform before going to see Commander Walsh. It was something that she always did, no matter who the senior officer was.

A few minutes later, Amaya found herself outside Commander Walsh’s door. There was no answer. She rang the chime again. “Commander Walsh, Petty Officer Mori…Commander?” There was still no answer. “Computer, what is the location of Lieutenant Commander Walsh?” she asked.

The computer responded, “Lieutenant Commander Walsh is in his office.”

“This can’t be good,” she said. Amaya tapped at the keypad and opened the door. She saw Commander Walsh on the couch, tossing and mumbling. She ran over to him. “Commander Walsh?”

Terry mumbled.

“Commander,” Amaya said, “wake up…sir, wake up.”

Terry rolled over and slightly opened his eyes. “No…no…Bonehead! Get away!” He rolled back over.

Amaya tapped her commbadge, “Petty Officer Mori to Sickbay, medical emergency in Commander Walsh’s office. He’s asleep and I’m having trouble waking him from an apparent nightmare.”

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