February 15 Drabble Fest
February brings us back to twice-monthly drabble fests, and hope you will enjoy this one. This installment consists primarily of lines from twentieth century poetry with a few song lyrics thrown in for good measure. As always, write as much as you can and leave as much feedback as you can!
The Rules:1) Prompts are not exclusive. There is no ( Read more... )
The Rules:1) Prompts are not exclusive. There is no ( Read more... )
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.
The most important thing Blair Lewis had learned from the academy was not tactical maneuvers, not astrophysics, not how to fight with her bare hands. The most important thing she learned was how to die. She learned how to go without giving away Starfleet secrets. She learned how to prolong your life as long as you could, even in the direst of circumstances, and how to make split second decisions that may lead to your own death, but would save countless others. She learned it well, kept it at the forefront so she would never be surprised when faced with death.
She did not learn how to deal with the deaths of others. She did not learn how to say goodbye when you were sure one of you would be dead before you met again. She did not learn how to comfort those who had lost friends, colleagues, lovers. She did not learn how to cope when watching your Captain’s life signs flicker out on the view screen, or with the hole that formed inside you with every noted death, like the black hole the beast ship had risen out of.
It could have happened to her. She could have been one of the dead ones, floating out in space. If she hadn’t been on duty when the Narada appeared. If she had been down in engineering. If she had tried to go with the Captain. If she had stayed with Kirk. If the ship had come earlier, or later. It could have been her, carried uselessly in the Kelvin’s wake out in the dead of space as it raced to protect the fleet of shuttles fleeing from certain death. Death was happening all around her, on every side, and not one of them was her.
As the shuttles worked to escape the Narada’s reach she worked to make sure they would have enough oxygen to survive to the nearest Starfleet outpost, enough weapons to defend themselves should they run into hostile enemies. Her mind screamed but her hands were steady. Her body knew what to do.
It would have been easier to die. To be listed among one of the noble dead on a day of so much battle. To have gone out in that blaze of glory, even if it came down to the fact that she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, like Ensign Ueda on deck nine. Instead, she had to keep going. She had to keep on working in Starfleet, a reminder of every person they had lost that day, 2233.4.
She still wakes in the middle of the night, years later, the termination of Captain Robau flashing before her eyes.
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This line: The most important thing she learned was how to die. So awesome.
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This is absolutely gorgeous. So much story packed into such a tight space, and a look at the Kelvin we hardly ever see.
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The most important thing she learned was how to die.
this line is just so, so powerful, and I've had it echoing around my skull for hours.
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Nicely done!
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