Commandadmin at 23:46, 9 May 2025

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	{{TplOutwardlyMobileStoryJay\|title=~~Monument~~\|stardate=\|chapter text=The smell was the worst.		{{TplOutwardlyMobileStoryJay\|title=Episode 60c Powderfinger\|stardate=\|chapter text=The smell was the worst.

	No, the worst was that there were still people to help. We couldn't just shake our heads and flee back to our clean, safe beds and try to forget the whole thing.		No, the worst was that there were still people to help. We couldn't just shake our heads and flee back to our clean, safe beds and try to forget the whole thing.

Commandadmin: Created page with "{{TplOutwardlyMobileStoryJay|title=Monument|stardate=|chapter text=The smell was the worst. No, the worst was that there were still people to help. We couldn't just shake our heads and flee back to our clean, safe beds and try to forget the whole thing. The sky was blue and crisp. For a moment I hated it. How dare it just shine down on this scene like nothing was out of the ordinary. They fired a lot. There were craters and blast damage everywhere. I was surprised tha..."

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Created page with "{{TplOutwardlyMobileStoryJay|title=Monument|stardate=|chapter text=The smell was the worst. No, the worst was that there were still people to help. We couldn't just shake our heads and flee back to our clean, safe beds and try to forget the whole thing. The sky was blue and crisp. For a moment I hated it. How dare it just shine down on this scene like nothing was out of the ordinary. They fired a lot. There were craters and blast damage everywhere. I was surprised tha..."

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{{TplOutwardlyMobileStoryJay|title=Monument|stardate=|chapter text=The smell was the worst.

No, the worst was that there were still people to help. We couldn't just shake our heads and flee back to our clean, safe beds and try to forget the whole thing.

The sky was blue and crisp. For a moment I hated it. How dare it just shine down on this scene like nothing was out of the ordinary.

They fired a lot. There were craters and blast damage everywhere. I was surprised that they'd left anything worth landing for.

I almost tripped over the boy. He was lying face up in that boneless sprawl only the dead have. A hole through his chest marked where the beam hit him. Subtle signs showed where the beam cooked him from the inside out. I'm told the feeling is very painful, but apparently those killed succumb quickly.

Funny what sticks in the memory.

His face was almost serene. He may not have realized he was being killed. I know I am not terribly clear on what's going on when the beams are flying and the adrenaline is up. Usually my last conscious thought is a desperate wish that anything else were happening or that I was anywhere else.

A blaster rifle lay near his outstretched hand. It looked old and well used. Maybe even older than the kid.

I blinked at him. He smelled bad. He had some bugs on his face. He didn't care any more.

I picked up the blaster. It had a control panel. The language was utterly mysterious to me. But the slider bar was pretty straight forward. The rifle was full up. It hadn't been fired so much as once.

I felt rage boiling up somewhere. It was so unfair. Before I'd been in one, I had some stupid ideas about gun-fights. Starfleet Basic training cured me of most of that. But the first one was it's own special hellish learning experience.

I didn't have many flashbacks at that time. But when they came they were always very sensual. Not a lot of thinking. I recall the snap of the air getting out of the way. I recall the odd strobing light effect. I recall the prickle of heat along the right side of my head. Each time I can feel my brain turn to molasses, thinking “What's that?”. It seems like a half hour later in my memory when the adrenaline jolt hits. My arms and legs twitch and my bladder lets go as a tidal wave of fear over comes me.

Then I find myself very earnestly doing exactly what the Drill Instructors at Starfleet Command demanded all those eternities ago.

I hit the ground and prayed.

I came back from the memory and looked at the dead boy. Was he in the act of such a belated realization when the beam caught him?

I could feel the anger build. Who were the raiders? Who were they that they felt they could DO this with impunity? What kind of monsters could bombard a small colony and then gun down a boy trying to defend his home?

I desperately wanted to catch them and punish them.

I hated the idea that this sort of thing could just happen.

Then I teared up. Because these sorts of things do happen. All the time. We try to stop them. We build the ships and grab our phasers and we run and run.

Space is so big, so vast. The miracle is that we catch as many pirates as we do.

What can you do? You just do the best you can, and pray that the universe is fundamentally friendly. I prayed that this boy was somewhere good, and that all was working out as it should.

He laid in the sun with the smell of burning and death, far beyond the concern of someone like me.

There but for the grace of God. When the beams start flying, you don't get any choices. It doesn't matter who you are, or what you do, so much as it's just a matter of time and luck.

You focus down and do what you have to and let the screaming happen later. The beam will get you or it won't and worrying about it just makes you useless for the mission.

I looked at the gun in my hand. Did it give that boy some comfort? Did he feel like he had some control? The gun was a living piece of irony.

I decided to keep it. I didn't know the boy, or his people, or his situation or anything, but the weapon showed me the story of his last few minutes.

I looked up. I could still hear screaming. A few of the women and girls survived the raid. We'd load them up and haul them off to whatever nation sponsored this colony, if we could locate it.

I carefully felt the pain around the edges of my soul. It was bad. But they had it worse. I had a few unpleasant memories and a hateful feeling of helplessness. I shied away from thinking what the survivors had to deal with.

I looked at Mendez. He was lost in some private memory of his own. It looked as bad as mine or worse.

I was about to say something and this caught his eye. He focused on me.

I found I had nothing to say.

After a beat I said “I hate this.”

He nodded gravely.

“Let's see what we can do.” I said

Carlos was dubious.

“I know. But it's something. We might get lucky.”

“Yeah.” Mendez nodded.

The gesture might be futile, but we could be earnest about it. That might count for something. Maybe. Maybe tonight when I was trying to sleep.

Some distance away, Stephanie was speaking intently to her Security people. I could almost hear her. “That's not good enough, you have to get me more to go on.”I tapped my commbadge “Beam me up.” I said.

-*-

Powderfinger -Neil Young

Look out mama, there’s a white boat comin’ up the river
With a big red beacon and a flag and a man on the rail
I think ya better call John
‘cause it don’t look like he’s here to deliver the mail
And it’s less than a mile away
I hope he didn’t come to stay
It’s got numbers on the side and a gun
And it’s makin’ big waves

Daddy’s gone, and my brother’s out huntin’ in the mountian
Big John’s been drinkin’ since the river took Emmy-Lu
So the powers that be
Left me here to do the thinkin’
And I just turned 22
I was wonderin’ what to do
And the closer they got, the more those feelings grew

Daddy’s rifle in my hands felt re-assuring
He said red means run, son, numbers add up to nothing
When the first shot hit the docks
I saw it coming
Raised my rifle to my eye
Never stopped to wonder why
Then I saw black and my face flash in the sky

Shelter me from the powder and the finger
Cover me with the thought that pulled the trigger
Just think of me as one
You’d never figure
Would fade away so young
With so much left un-done
Remember me to my love, I know I will miss her

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Outwardly Mobile Sixty Eight - Revision history

Commandadmin at 23:46, 9 May 2025