| Author | Message | ||
     Cmdr. J. Darek Smith |
Heartbeat. Light. Heartbeat. Panic. "Emissary! They suffer! They die!" Sadness. Understanding. Weeping. Knowing. "It is outside of the Will of the Prophets. They are not of Bajor. The Prophets speak. Their Emissary remains silent. The Child protests. "But I am of Bajor! And there are many dying who are of Bajor out there. And many who would be of Bajor, given the chance." Anger. Indignation. Waiting. Now. "They are not of Bajor. Our Will is only for those of Bajor." Pain. Fear. Death, even. "Prophets, my friends suffer. They have suffered since passing through the Gateway. Can't you intervene?" Silence. Heartbeats. Light. A vision. Death. Pain. Suffering. Hope. It was corporeal and linear and not of Bajor. And the Prophets would not respond to the Child. ------------ Craig Serrold-Fel rolled over on his small bunk. The red alert sirens were sounding. Again. He rolled back over and tried to block out the sounds. He had come to despise the sounds of battle, where once he had relished in them. Not anymore. Not since his incarceration. He had failed one time too many. And now he would not even be allowed to defend the ship and crew he had served for so many months. He was ashamed and sought anyway he could to serve. But Commander Smith had tossed him into the brig just before the ship had reached Xanadu with strict orders that he was to be freed only in the event of the Second Coming of the Messiah. Craig snorted. The Fel symbiont twisted in his gut. Both felt that sitting in this cell was a wasted of their combined talents and experiences. But they would accept the consequences of their combined successes and failures, come what may. As Craig tried to squeeze out the sounds of coming battle, he heard the forcefield keeping him in his cell deactivate with a popping sound. Looking around, he saw a young Marine standing at the entrance holding an all-black body-suit, the kind often worn under the medium- and heavy-assault armors sported by the SFMC for combat missions. "What is it, Sergeant?" Craig was in no mood for games. "You're being set free, sir. Commander Smith's orders. He said you were his personal responsibility and insisted that you be given a platoon for the assault landing." Serrold-Fel's eyebrows shot up. "Really, now. Well, let's not let the Commander down, shall we?" Sergeant Areanas agreed and tossed the body suit to Serrold-Fel. The Marine captain smirked. "Let's get this party started." ========== Christian D. Clem '01, aka "Aggie" Commander J. Darek Smith, Executive Officer U.S.S. Coronado NCC-97901 http://www.jestertrek.com/coro2400/bodies/depts/command.html#xo |