Faces

[Adm Day 0]

The dispassionate blue face turned to look at him, antennae swiveling forward, and then tilting slightly out as the face frowned, and then slowly acquired an expression of extreme sadness. The features melted, the antennae disappeared, and the skin tones became lighter. Simultaneously, the expression took on a state of shocked horror. The visage filled his entire view and the eyes met his, only making contact for a few seconds, but those seconds seemed to stretch for an eternity. A roaring, rushing sound built behind the frightened features, and suddenly, with a silent scream, the face receded from view, the owner’s hands still reaching forward, trying to clutch to him, to anything. The eyes within the horrified mask quickly dwindled to a speck, as the body that held it spiraled outward into the vast deepness of space through a ragged hole in hull. He turned to fasten the hatch behind him, the image of B’nai Summers’ eyes still burning on his retinas. The image solidified, took on male features, became the face of Zack Chen, the eyes looking at him, still, as the plasma fire erupted behind him, the blast deafening him, the flames engulfing the vision, starting at the edges, and burning quickly toward the center, lastly engulfing those imploring eyes. The faces came quickly then, faces now forever gone, but fading into existence, and morphing from one crew member to the next around those eyes that never left his. Eyes that begged, pleaded, implored. Eyes that had trusted in him, had looked to him for guidance and security, but now were forever closed in the cold, uncaring darkness that is death. The eyes mocked, pleaded, accused, entreated, and blamed him as they bored into his, moving closer, and closer, the faces behind them blurring into and endless stream of all those who had died under his command.

 

The last face began to come into focus, the eyes fading from accusation, to concern. The edges of the face began to become clear.

 

“Admiral, are you all right?”

 

The face resolved to solidity, became that if Random Perfect, as his vision slowly came into focus. She held a blood-soaked rag of some kind to his throbbing head, which he rolled to one side as he slowly regained acknowledgement of his surroundings. There, lying on the floor at arms reach, was a PADD with the picture of an Andorian on it. His thoughts converged, and he began to recall the events that led to his present unfortunate position. He had been studying the new replacement personnel records, a new Ensign… Quelsar was the name, yes… when the Red Alert sounded. He had moved quickly to go to the bridge, and had dropped the PADD. Quickly reaching down for it, (and here his memory of the events began to get fuzzy) either the ship had bucked, or he had simply slipped… hit his head… and then… the faces.

 

He shook his head to keep his thoughts from going that direction, again, and had instantly regretted it, as a nine pound hammer hammered him in the temple.

 

“Lay still, Admiral. A medic is on the way.”

 

“I’m all right, Yeoman, thank you. I need to get to the bridge.” The rest of this thought, he kept to himself. He had to do what he could to pacify those faces… and to keep from adding more to their ranks.