The Final Subtext (Part 18)
Posted on Sun Mar 15th, 2026 @ 6:34pm by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Lieutenant JG Sakkar & Commander Irene Seya
1,947 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
How to See in the Dark
Location: North Lorna City, Barisa Prime
Timeline: Day 2, 1915 Hours
A female officer, petite, her strawberry hair pulled back into a bun made her way over to JB. "Get him transported to our sickbay," she ordered. "They are ready. "Where are the others?"
"Lieutenant Holmes led part of Gamma team to the roof--they were taking heavy fire and ordnance," Jean-Baptiste said, stepping aside as two medical officers took charge of the wounded man. "These"--he motioned to the Romulans--"are the captives we freed."
She nodded to JB, "Thanks, we need to get them checked out, see who they are, if they have a home we can get them back to." The officer started to walk away and then turned back. "Do you want to come?"
Jean-Baptiste almost smiled. "Yes. Yes I do." He thought of the girl--Nerissa--and felt anxious to make contact with her now that the crisis was nearing its end.
"More 'en that, the whole roof opened up on them," she replied. "Some kinda hangar up there. Lucky we got here. Name's Sidney. How long you been working this case up?" She asked setting a slow pace toward the huddled refugees.
JB almost ignored Sidney's question, feeling some tension leaving his body. "Two or three days."
A squad of Starfleet Marines stepped through the doors in a neat, single-file. JB couldn't help but turn his head to watch them as they secured the warehouse.
He turned to Sidney and nodded. Offering his hand, the former Intelligence analyst introduced himself. "JB Dorsainvil."
"Alright, JB. You wanna help me get these girls into the rescue pods?" Sidney asked.
JB nodded. The warehouse still smelled of smoke and dust, a sharpness in every intake of air through his nose that irritated his throat. He crouched beside the first group of children, letting his hands hover near theirs without touching, giving them space to move without panic. Some of them stared at him wide-eyed, the younger ones clutched one another, their bodies pressed together.
He followed Sidney toward a line of rescue pods, moving carefully across the open area. Scattered debris of metal and components crunched under their feet, and the distant sound of energy weapons echoed like a call-and-answer.
The pods were lined up behind several adjacent buildings like little seeds ready to sprout. JB gestured for the oldest child to step forward first, watching her balance wobble slightly. She hesitated, then moved, and a chain reaction began as more children followed suit.
"Step slowly. Don't rush. You're safe now," he said.
He watched as more security officers armed with phaser rifles took defensive positions beside the pods. Inside each pod, medical personnel were ready to receive the tender-aged prisoners and respond to their needs.
JB paused, believing he saw someone familiar. She became swept away in the flow of bodies making their way to the pods but he thought he saw her.
Dark hair spooled around her face, the delicate features of her nose and chin familiar, her eyes searching for something, someone as she was being lead away by a young ensign.
"JB to Irene. The children are secured in rescue pods. Still waiting on the Arcadia for a beam-out for the remaining adults," he said, watching the last of the young ones disappear.
"Irene here," Seya replied. "I'll be right over to help oversee the inventory of the site. It'll help smooth the transition until Intel arrives."
Before Irene had finished talking the girl broke free from the line and sprinted toward JB, not stopping until she was only a meter away.
"You," she said tears welling up in her eyes. "You found us. How did you know?"
JB reached into the inside pocket of his uniform jacket, and revealed a silver pendant of Romulan design. It glinted in the dim evening light as he held it in the palm of his hand.
"I think this belongs to you," he said softly, offering it to the girl.
Nerissa didn't take the pendant right away. She looked at it and then her eyes rose to meet Jean-Baptiste's. Her breathing came faster but her expression remained calm and resolute.
Around them, the rescue pods hummed as their pilots entered the pre-check phase. Marines called instructions from cover. Somewhere on the rooftop, phaser fire cracked intermittently--signs the battle wasn't yet finished.
But the space between JB and Nerissa had closed in and gone very still.
The pendant lay there, small and silver, catching the evening light stubbornly. He remembered the moment he'd found it in that back alley behind the open markets. It was the breadcrumb that brought them to where they were now: busting a trafficking operation that had claimed countless individuals. Slavery. Forced labour. The pendant had become an insignia for justice.
She stepped closer.
"You still have it," she said, her voice thin and disbelieving.
"I borrowed it," he corrected with a slight smile. "I thought maybe now it should be returned to its rightful owner."
Her hand came out slowly, hovering above his palm. For a long moment, she seemed disinclined to to remove it from his hand--perhaps afraid that touching it might force it to disappear. Then her fingers closed around it with a sudden urgency, as though she were grabbing the final rung of a ladder.
The metal chain trembled as she pulled it to her chest.
Behind JB, one of the pods' doors sealed with a hiss while another lifted off the ground, its thrusters whining heavily as it prepared for ascent.
The girl looked up at him again.
"How did you know?" she asked, eyeing him for a response.
JB could have answered a million different ways. He could have talked about the analysis, the work he and Irene and Emiliano had completed, tracking two other girls, finding the safehouse, the beatdown in the alley--all of it would have made for a suspenseful story worthy of a crime novel. Or perhaps, he could have spoken of the mundane labour that involves computers, rooms with bad lighting and data PADDs piled upon other PADDs; Krin's and Ng's tireless efforts to trace communication and keep the investigation from becoming a dead end. All of it would sound amazing in an official report, too.
But that wasn't what Nerissa was asking for.
He glanced past her at the warehouse that now contained empty cages. Then he looked back at her.
"You left a door open," he said.
Her brow furrowed.
JB motioned to the pendant she now clutched closely.
"That," he said over the pods' engines. "People who want to disappear don't leave things behind."
She said nothing and he could see the tears now coming silently. Her shoulders shook in a way that seemed half-relieved, half-gutted. She stepped forward without thinking and wrapped her arms around him.
Jean-Baptiste stiffened slightly, startled that she would be so forward. He didn't expect any gratitude--nor for it to arrive with such swiftness. He then relaxed and he raised one hand awkwardly, gently patting her upper back. She felt thin and fragile--as though she were a porcelain bird that might break once more.
Around them, the operation continued. Pods continued to lift for the sky while marines barked orders.
For a moment, JB remained there in the dust and noise with a frightened Romulan girl holding on to him like she was on the open ocean. A lone survivor grasping a piece of driftwood.
"Alright," he murmured over her shoulder. "That's enough heroics for one day."
He eased back far enough to look at her again.
"Your ride's waiting."
He nodded toward an open pod where medical officers were already waving for the last of the children to enter.
"Go on," he said. "There's somewhere safer for you to be than here."
She looked at him one last time before taking the hand of a burly marine who boosted her onto the pod and sealed the door.
For the first time in a long while, JB felt he'd made a difference. He felt like he was suddenly part of something that didn't involve backdoor dealings or dirty politics. His hands felt cleaner and while that didn't erase any of the longstanding guilt he carried, it seemed to make it better for now. For today.
The high-pitched whine of thrusters added to the din again. Windward was descending. This time with her landing struts extended. She set down in the staging area that JB had designated. Thrusters to idle. Then the rear ramp came down, and personnel with medkits began to hustle out.
Portable lights cast hard, white cones across the broken pavement. Shuttle thrusters and their roaring engines came and went in uneven intervals as the rescued adults were moved out in small groups. Medics were moving quickly but not hurriedly. They knew their roles and the worst part was already over. Someone had laid six black field blankets in a solemn line half out of view near the warehouse wall. No one wanted to look at them for long.
Jean-Baptiste stood with his hands on his hips, breathing in the remainder of the smoke and dust that still remained in the air. The wind had picked up a little as the night wore on.
Across the yard, five surviving traffickers sat on the pavement in a neat row. Their hands were bound behind them with bright restraint bands. Marines stood over them with rifles and the same predatory patience that often came after a firefight. One of the prisoners had a swollen eye. Another stared at the ground as if he might be searching for how he had arrived at this point in his life.
JB watched them for a few seconds and then looked away.
Holmes approached from the direction of the warehouse doors, her combat helmet tucked under one arm. Her uniform was burnt in places and the fabric was streaked with dust. One sleeve was torn and a thin line of blood cut down from her hairline and disappeared beneath the side of her jaw behind the ear.
"Feeling alright, Lieutenant?" JB asked, seeing her condition.
Holmes wiped a thumb across the blood at her temple and glanced dismissively.
"When they blew the staircase, I was on the top step." She checked the safety on her rifle. "I took some schrapnel but Zane and Hr'agl felt the brunt of it."
JB nodded solemnly. The face of the Betelgeusian with their fixed eyes was still at the forefront of his mind.
"What are your numbers looking like?" JB inquired gently.
"Six dead. Seven wounded. Two seriously."
"Ours?"
Holmes nodded and they all both felt as though the number were six too many.
Her gaze followed JB's across the yard where the last group of adult captives were being guided toward Windward's outstretched shuttle ramp. Some moved slowly and others appeared more dazed but still suspicious of their rescuers.
"Forty-seven kids," Holmes said. "Did I hear that right?"
"Forty-seven," JB confirmed.
He watched as a Bolian medic helped an elderly Romulan man step up into one of the smaller shuttles. The man paused halfway up the ramp to look back at the warehouse like he might be committing it to memory.
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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