<USS Atlantis> "From the Outside Looking In"
- From: "Brad Ruder" <GroundZero@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: ussatlantis@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2003 18:20:15 -0800
?From the Outside Looking In?
by Marine
Captain Adam DrakeThe words had hung in his
mind. The statement so brash and cutting lingered in his thoughts
and nagged at his every action. It was as if no matter how hard he
tried, no matter how hard he fought, it was there piercing through
him. Adam attempted ? futilely ? to brush it off as a mere
_expression_ caused by immense amounts of stress and pressure, but he
couldn?t deny that hadn?t hurt. It did. His integrity had come
under attack, but it wasn?t the first time and he figured that it
wouldn?t be the last.
Lieutenant Douglas McKnight. An
accomplished individual, to say the least, but Adam already didn?t
like him. It wasn?t anything personal as far as despising his entire
family, or wishing that terrible pain and horror would befall him,
but there was just something about him that irked Adam. The endless
corridors that lay before him twisted and spun within the bowels of
the Starfleet vessel ? Adam surmised that he?d walked them all in his
internal rants.
Adam stopped at his quarters and stared at
the two-tone durasteel door separating him from his dwelling place.
Home had sounded so good on the long walk from engineering, but now
it all rushed back at him. The things lurking on the other side of
the door were things he couldn?t deal with right now ? he couldn?t
face them. The comfort of his own bed was calling to him and his
eyes sagged heavily from exhaustion, but still he hesitated.
After the doors parted to him and the hissing air melted away
into oblivion, Adam took that step that he dreaded after every day.
His quarters expanded into a lavish living room with rooms on both
ends of the room. Tonight was different. To the south was his
storage closet where he kept everything of value, but it was empty.
Beyond the north wall lay his bedroom where he would normally sprint,
but not tonight.
Most people would expect that his quarters
would be filled with trinkets and items of beautiful proportions.
Adam wasn?t like most people and residence was filled with nothing
more than the bare necessities of what he needed to survive. No
large couches with radical designs, no paintings or tapestries
hanging from the walls, no color at all ? just drab and boring
Federation-issue furniture and decorum.
There was one thing,
though, that separated Adam?s quarters from the rest. Along the wall
where his door was there were several medals and certificates
honoring Adam. Most read something along the lines of ?Humanitarian
Excellence? or ?Courage under Fire? or ?Fighting in the Face of
Increasing Odds?. They didn?t mean much anymore to Adam ? he knew
the real reason they hung on his wall and adorned his bulkheads. It
was for his heroism or excellence in the line of duty, no, it was for
inability to function.
Adam took a step closer to the awards
that he knew he didn?t deserve. His hand reached out ? shaking as it
extended from his torso ? and pulled the nearest one from its place
of monument. His fingers danced across the words on its surface.
They had long since been removed and replaced at Adam?s request.
They no longer had his name, but others that no one but Adam would
recognize. They were no longer a memento of Adam?s achievements, but
a memorial to those that had died.
His eyes danced across the
metallic surface of the commendation. He could still remember the
battle, unfortunately, and it came back to him in increasing detail
every time he took a moment to mourn the loss of his colleagues.
They were just a name on a list to most people, but to him they were
his comrades, his friends, and his family. He remembered the screams
and the sounds of impending doom as the troops marched on their
position.
Sitting down in his favorite chair ? his only chair
? Adam closed his eyes. He could feel the pain, he could hear the
screams, and he could feel the death that was
surrounding.
********************
It was all
irrelevant now. There was no more excitement and there was no more
meaning to the bloody war. Morale was sinking fast and everyone
could tell that people no longer wanted to fight in the trenches.
The phaser fire that raced over head and electrified the air around
them ceased to be anything of notice and when someone fell to the
ground after taking a round in the chest no one gave another
glance.
Medical personnel was scarce ? all were killed doing
supply runs or something of the sort. It was all about holding the
line and there was an occasional skirmish in which the fighters were
snapped back into reality, but it was just a test and the rebellion
was quickly extinguished. The days dragged on and on and the
redundancy hit everyone hard. After fighting for so long it was
becoming tedious to stand at your post for a twenty-four hour
period.
1st Lieutenant Adam Drake stood at his post and stared
out into the vast unknown. The darkness had shrouded the encampment
and the boundary beacons weren?t much help as the black swallowed the
light. It was like staring into a pitch-black hallway, but Adam knew
that beyond the light evil lurked. He gripped his phaser rifle
nonchalantly and leaned against the wall. There hadn?t been much
action during the week; a nice break from the constant barrage of
ammunition that pounded the camp on an hourly basis.
?Adam,
take a break and sit down. Food.? Marine Captain Tyrone Belling
stepped up next to his young protégé. He was a man of nearly thirty
and his beard was growing in from so long on the front lines. He
leaned too on his rifle and gazed at the Lieutenant. ?We finally
have some time to relax and eat ? I?d take advantage of it before
it?s gone.?
?Aye, sir. I will sir. In a moment,? Adam turned
and faced his commanding officer. Adam didn?t like to break if the
enemy was still out there and posing a threat, but everyone knew this
and steered clear of calling Adam on it; not his Captain, he made
sure that Adam knew that there were times when it was all right to
lower your guard.
Belling shook his head, ?Now, Adam. I?m
not going to have my engineer weak if we need a quick perimeter
enhancement or if some of our equipment fails in the middle of a
battle. You know you need the nutrition and I know that you do too.?
He was on the verge of tapping his toe as he stared down the young
Lieutenant.
?Sir??
?Do I need to make this an order,
Lieutenant?? Tyrone raised a hand in interruption. It was unusually
for a commanding officer to ask a subordinate to do something, but
Tyrone Belling found that the men were in better hopes and morale was
up if he gave them somewhat of a choice ? or at least made it look
the officer had one.
Adam shook his head in defeat, ?No, sir.?
With that he turned on his heel and took a couple of steps down into
where the troops slept. Cots were piled to the rafters and people
had that aura about them that was all about weakness. You could see
it in their eyes, you could hear it dripping from every word, and you
could watch knowing that when the eyes closed for a moment?s rest
that they?d open to the same hell they?d left.
Someone passing
by handed him a ration packet and he sat down amongst the throngs of
weary souls. He opened it up and he could smell the synthetic
proteins and the replicated nutrients, but he didn?t care at this
point. On the front lines, where your life was a precious gift, you
were lucky to have anything at all besides dead bodies littered
around you and the clothes on your back.
He started chewing
away at whatever substance he picked first when one of his friends
approached. ?Finally taking a break, Drake?? The man smiled, which
was a pleasure and an honor to see with so much bloodshed around. ?I
figured you?d stand in that very spot until the transport came to
take you away from this horrible rock. I don?t understand why we?re
here ? it has no strategic advantage that I can see.?
?It
doesn?t matter what you can or can?t see, Kev.? Adam said as he
stopped biting on the atrocious meat-like gelatinous goo that he?d
picked up. ?We could be sitting on the largest dilithium deposit in
this sector for all we know.?
Kevin was a young man; barely
leaving his teens before stepping foot in mouth of hell. He was
clean shaven ? for now ? and he had that muscular build that all the
officers had before succumbing to the lack of supplies and
withdrawing themselves into some degree of malnutrition. ?It matters
to me what we see.? Sitting down, Kevin?s eyes roamed the troops
too. ?Don?t you think we?d have picked that up though? Or, if it
were that large, we?d have some of our own troops and equipment here
mining the damn stuff? I mean we?re not baby-sitters, we?re
Starfleet Officers.?
?All the more reason to shut up and do
what?s asked of us, huh?? Adam smirked for the first time in nearly
two weeks ? there hadn?t been much to smile about. He polished off
the monstrosity of a meal and deposited it nicely in a receptacle
before turning to head back to his post. ?If you?ll excuse me,
Kevin.?
?By all means, don?t talk to me.?
Stopping
short of the first step, Adam swiveled and eyed the growing smile on
Kevin?s face. ?I have a job to do, Mr. Roshak. I would appreciate
it if you didn?t stop me from serving the force and bettering our
community.? Again, Adam smiled and shook his head.
Kevin
stood and cracked his back, yawned loudly and took a step towards his
friend. After placing a comforting hand on Adam?s shoulder he
whispered in his ear, ?You work way too hard, you should really
consider ? ?
?PLASMA BOMB! EVERYONE DOWN!?
The
shouting split through the serene silence like a knife through warm
butter. Adam turned on his heel to return to his post, but an orange
glow showered him and clouded his vision. A loud sound, like the
clap of thunder directly overhead, pierced through the now chaotic
night and a powerful blast rocketed Adam and Kevin back. Adam landed
hard on his back and skid across the gravel ground and into the far
wall.
A pain seared through his head and he almost lost
consciousness from the blaring pain. He stumbled up to his feet and
looked down at his fallen companion ? Kevin lay motionless in the
dirt with a portion of his spine arching out from his neck. He
sucked up the loss and turned towards the lights, now dusky from the
new dust cloud. He touched the back of his skull and was met with a
watery substance. Blood.
Adam watched as people ran into the
murky cloud and fell helplessly into the dirt because of their haste.
Phaser fire singed the are once again and that smell of rotting flesh
immediately rose out of the ground. It clogged the air and burned
his eyes, but he dared not move. Looking down he saw his confidante
and his mentor; his commanding officer. Marine Captain Tyrone
Belling; dead before his time.
People screamed in the fog and
the falling bodies could be heard more and more frequently. Dominion
soldiers rushed from the shroud of mystery and quickly took out three
burly security officers with a couple fledgling swings of their
rifles. Adam looked for a weapon and couldn?t find one and did the
only thing he could do ? hide.
Swinging himself into an
underground crawl space with an opening just a couple of feet away
Adam curled into a ball. He tried to shut out the screams, the
agonizing pain lining every yell for help, and tears flowed freely as
he heard his friends and his comrades slaughtered. The cries for aid
lingered in his thoughts until he passed out from the blood
loss.
********************
He cradled the award
in his hand with the utmost care, but looked at it with the most
disdain he could muster. They dragged his body out of the hole,
covered in his own blood, and dirt covering every inch. He was the
only survivor of the massacre before reinforcements battled into the
area. They decorated him a hero for fighting as long and as hard as
he could, but he knew better.
The award was now a shrine to
those that could look fate in the eye and battle on. He mounted the
commendation back on the gray wall and turned away from it. Adam
could once again hear the screams and shouts from that far off place,
from that far off memory. He couldn?t bear to see the award he was
undeserving of.
With that he marched back out into the
hallway and away from that cowardly act. All the stories were the
same, all had the same beginning with the same end, but no one ever
lived to say otherwise. His past was a sham and he had been
decorated a hero when he should have been court-martialed for
desertion. What a horrible lie to hold, but he was too much
enshrined to call out what he?d really done.
So he would
continue on and lead that life and continue that lie. He would
uphold whatever values people thought he had and he would proceed to
put on the show that he was an honorable man and good officer. In
truth, however, he did nothing but run.
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