Dark Dreams

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Personal Log Stardate 5106051.4

Cmdr Jami Farrington, MD

Starbase 1, Sector 001

 

Dark Dreams

 

It was the moment of relaxation that did it. While some shrank and cowered during times of crisis, Jami Farrington's gut reaction was the opposite -- she met all comers with a ferocity akin to a targ. So, when faced with the adversity of Nede Prime, she faced it squarely, making instantaneous decisions that most probably saved thousands of lives.

 

But everyone has a snapping point, and Jami Farrington found hers after the fact, during a time of relaxation with Manticore docked at Starbase 1, the drama over, the crew safe, and Consul General Jaffe removed from power. Jami's badly charred hand furnished a superficial excuse to black out just as the crew finished exiting the dorsal module, but the reality of the situation remained -- she had reached her breaking point days ago but had managed to hang on until her subconscious told her it was safe to collapse.

 

And collapse she did, enough to secure a temporary transfer to Earth for medical and psychological treatment. It remained to be seen if the trauma was more extensive and warranted early retirement. Of course the physical damage was dealt with more easily than the psychological. A series of dermal regeneration treatments and a few grafts covered with clear artificial skin bandage and her hand was as good as new. As for the psychological damage . . . .

 

Her dreams tumbled one after another in chaotic sequence. Herds of sheep scattered in all directions only to be mowed down by great mechanized monsters. Ships disintegrated by asteroids, supernovae, and each other. Masses of sentient beings, all different species, all dressed in the same white garments marched robotically towards a great chasm that opened and closed in hypnotic rhythm, like a great maw eager to devour its helpless prey.

 

And the children. Always the children, snatched from their mothers and thrown into icy pits, then emerging as robots dressed in the same white garments, ready to march towards the chasm. Among them came her half-Vulcan daughter, Janis, who turned her head slowly towards Jami to reveal sightless eyes, all the while marching . . . marching . . . marching towards the chasm to her doom.

 

Jami tried to move, but her feet were too heavy, bolted to a platform on which she stood. She tried to scream but nothing came out. The platform rose, the children marched, the chasm beckoned. At the height of her helplessness a blinding flash of light would awaken her screaming, trembling in terror.

 

One figure remained conspicuously absent from the nightmares: Atragon. Why, she wondered. What did that mean? What did the dreams mean? And most of all, when would the dreams stop? Would they ever stop? Too many questions and too little time to answer them. Only one thing was certain - it would be a long recovery.