Subtextual Dilemmas (Part 17)

Posted on Sun Mar 15th, 2026 @ 6:34pm by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Lieutenant JG Sakkar & Commander Irene Seya

1,501 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: How to See in the Dark
Location: North Lorna City, Barisa Prime
Timeline: Day 2, 1850 Hours

JB heard the thunder of the fliers before he saw anyone react--the deep, vibrating churn of thrusters lifting off from somewhere near the roof. It passed through the warehouse rafters, knocking dust to the floor. A few of the children flinched; one covered her ears with both hands.

Gamma One moved first. Holmes shouted for two fireteams to break off and take the stairwell to the roof. Their boots hit the floor in a scattered staccato as they sprinted past JB--rifles up and shoulders tight. Each of them no doubt gritting their teeth under their helmets.

"Up the stairs--move!" one of the team leaders barked, guiding his stick toward a metal stairwell.

JB's gaze swept the cages again. When the children saw the armed officers leaving, a stir of unease passed through them--small eyes tracking their movement, tiny hands with fistfuls of fabric.

"Dorsainvil to Windward. Gamma One is now moving to the roof--watch your fire."

Sakkar could sense that his flight crew was antsy to get in the fight. Especially with armed men approaching. But he would hold off unless their help was requested. He was not yet absolutely sure who was who in this confusion. [Windward is weapons safe.]

[Ignore that, Windward,] Willa Holmes' voice cut-in. [Gamma has sufficient cover. Feel free to start shooting anything that isn't in our colours.]

JB caught the nearest Gamma officer by the shoulder as he turned toward the stairwell.

"You," he said--not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the noise. "Stay with me."

The officer hesitated. Young. Barely past the stage in his career where confidence outran experience. His eyes flicked tot he stairwell where his stick was already disappearing upward to provide support for the other stick which had already taken position on the roof. He was an Ensign, ruddy-faced, with curly brown hair.

"Sir--" he started.

JB didn't raise his voice. He leaned in instead, close enough that the man could hear the crackle of distant phaser fire in JB's breath.

"There are civilians in cages," JB said. "Children. If we leave them here and this place comes down, that's on us. Not on the people shooting upstairs. On us."

The officer swallowed. He looked once more toward the stairs. Then he nodded, jaw set like he'd just crossed a line he wouldn't be able to uncross.

"Understood, sir."

"Good," JB said, giving him a firm slap on the shoulder. "Help me."

They moved together toward the cages. JB raised his phaser and adjusted the output--wide beam, low lethality, heat tuned for metal fatigue rather than flesh. He drew the beam across the locking mechanism of the adult cage. The lock glowed, sagged, and ran like candle wax. The door shuddered once and fell outward with a hollow clang.

A sound went through the prisoners then--not quite relief, not quite fear. Something fragile and animal.

"It's all right," JB said, holding his hands up, palms visible. "You're safe now. Single file. Move slowly. Follow the officer."

He crossed to the children's cage next. The young officer mirrored him, hands shaking just slightly as he covered the door. JB melted the lock. The door then opened.

The smallest girl didn't move at first. Just stared at the opening like it might all be part of some dream.

JB crouched, lowering himself to her level. His voice softened without him quite deciding to do it.

"Come on," he said. "We've got you."

The children rose in hesitant pieces, one helping another, the older ones counting under their breath as if numbers could keep the ceiling from falling on them. Dust sifted down from the rafters as weapons fire thundered above them, each concussion shaking loose another small rain of debris.

"Dorsainvil to Gamma," JB called over the din. "I need an escort here. Foyer only. Do not take them outside."

A Gamma officer jogged in from the corridor, rifle slung low, eyes already taking in the scene. He glanced around, looking for Holmes, finding only empty space.

"Lieutenant?"

"She's on the roof," JB said. "You're with me now. Take them to the foyer. Keep them together. No exits. That area stays secure."

JB looked around at the men, women, and children, searching for Nerissa. She must have already left for the foyer, he thought.

"Dorsainvil to Seya," he said. "Gamma Team is still staging near the roof access. I'm evacuating the prisoners to the foyer. Multiple civilians, including many tender-age."

Seya's voice returned offering some relief, [If you can hold for... twelve minutes or so, the Arcadia will be in range to transport. The best you can keep everyone together without putting a bullseye on your backs for enemy fire].

The explosion cut her off.

It came from the stairwell like a fist of God. It began as a white flash followed by a concussive roar. The air punched into the warehouse area, throwing chunks of bricks, concrete and three Starfleet bodies down the stairs like broken dolls. One of them hit the floor and rolled, screaming, flames crawling up his uniform. Several Romulan children who were making their way to the foyer screamed in fear, crouching into the floor.

JB watched another officer dive on the man in flames, hands slapping desperately at the fire.

The other two did not move.

For a heartbeat, it seemed as though everything had stopped.

Then JB was running.

"Medic!" he shouted, though he already knew most of Gamma was topside now. He dropped to one knee beside the burning officer, helping smother the last of the flames with his uniform jacket, the smell of scorched fabric, skin, and hair filled the air.

He slapped his combadge again, his heart beating fast, his voice tight and steady.

"Dorsainvil to Windward," he said. "Report. We just took a blast at the top of the roof stairwell. Multiple Gamma casualties."

Sakkar didn't answer immediately. His attention was still directed at the enemy reinforcements coming up the street. One of them had taken a knee with a photon grenade launcher on his shoulder. He was aiming it at Windward.

"On the street. Behind the granite marker. Approximately one hundred meters," Sakkar said to the person manning tactical, the urgency in his voice rising.

Windward pivoted to bring her own forward-facing weapons to bear. Before she could, however, the enemy fighter loosed his shot. The photon projectile streaked upward and impacted on the forward shields, creating a concussive blast that knocked the ship backwards and off its Y-axis. Windward's nose pitched up, then came back down.

Then another photon grenade, fired from a different position, hit Windward on her port engine nacelle. Again, the shields protected her, but everyone aboard felt it.

"Shields down to 72 percent!" Came the report from tactical.

"Return fire," Sakkar ordered. The forward emitters erupted. Pulsed cannon fire hit the street, creating geysers of molten concrete and superheated plasma. But their primary target, the man with the launcher on his shoulder, had already scooted from his position. Windward gained some altitude to look for him or other targets.

Sakkar keyed the open channel. "Windward to Dorsainvil. We're taking fire as well. Additional shuttles en route to begin your evacuation. Is it possible to mark an alternate landing zone where you are?"

JB had just finished ushering the remainder of the Romulan captives through the dust cloud that enveloped the warehouse and into the foyer. "Windward," he called, coughing through the smoke and particulate matter, "we have forty-seven captives taking cover at the south end of the warehouse."

He reached down and touched the throat of one of the Gamma officers blown down from the explosion. "Two members of Gamma team are dead, one seriously wounded," he continued, shaking his head. "The staging area Gamma used has a relatively large open area with cover from smaller buildings. You'll have to tell me when it's safe to move."

The phaser cover came from from above, the louder, sharper buzzing of the more powerful weapons of a ship, not the hand phasers and rifles that they were trying to fight with below. Friendly fire as the sharp blades of the beams drew a line, warning off the advance troops that threatened to overtake the compound.

Those with working commbadges quickly saw officers appear around them armed and ready, they dispatched quickly, some chasing after those who would try to escape, others making their way toward the wounded and children.


~To Be Continued~

---

Commander Irene Seya
Diplomatic Security Liaison
(NPC of Remy Johansen)


Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant J.G. Sakkar
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Astrea

 

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