A Greater Terror

[Rachel E Garrett 0]

A Greater Terror

 

Greater is our terror of the unknown.

~Titus Livius (59 B.C.-A.D. 17), Roman Historian

 

There is fear, and then there is terror. The one begets the other, and once begotten, it transports one into a new dimension of debilitating trauma, a gut-wrenching, paralyzing agony of body, mind, and soul.

 

Now there were many things that Rachel Garrett feared on Sky Harbor Aegis. She feared being late for shift, she feared certain open spaces, and she feared dropping tools through grated deck plating.

 

Of only one thing was she terrified: Tylus Petrinius Jorahl, Centurion of the Romulan Star Empire and, as fate would have it, her Chief of Engineering. Her initial fear, brought on by the knowledge of his involvement with Enterprise-C, she had buried beneath jokes and light-hearted jabs, believing it would disappear. Instead, it festered into a bitter sore that sat beneath the surface waiting to emerge in full-blown terror.

 

His very presence terrified her. His stature – all six feet of it – and his broad shoulders clad in the uniform of the Romulan Star Empire, reminiscent of the ancient empires of Greece and Rome. His very name smacked of aristocracy and political position, well above anything of which Rachel could ever dream. And his rank – Centurion – conjured images of ancient battles where helmeted warriors clashed in bloody combat with swords forged to slay two or three with one swift stroke.

 

But of his eyes she was most terrified. Dark. Penetrating. More lethal than any blade. And his hands. Massive. Strong. Decisive in every move. With them he could surely fell any foe with one strike.

 

Such things were, of course, the fabrications of Rachel’s overactive imagination and her innate timidity, but whether real or imagined, the same psychological and physiological response gripped her in his presence.

 

So Rachel Garrett avoided his eyes and kept her distance. On the station.

 

Just over an hour ago, however, she had boarded a shuttle – a small vessel – with orders to investigate a nearby asteroid. Her first reaction was apprehension at having to leave her sanctuary, the station. Her apprehension grew to anxiety soon after lift-off, when the reassuring solidity of the station dropped away beneath them. Still the close proximity of Scott Coleridge and Caelan Fletcher tempered her anxiety. They were comrades in arms, so to speak, and in that she took comfort.

 

Upon reaching the asteroid, however, her anxiety heightened with the sudden awareness that holodeck simulations didn’t do reality justice. Though she’d worn an EVA suit, she’d never actually used one. Neither had she been outside a ship or station where atmosphere and gravity were almost nonexistent, where a frail suit and an oxygen tank held the balance of life and death.

 

As she fumbled to adjust the suit and then took those first steps onto the asteroid, her anxiety turned to fear, which grew exponentially at the full realization that she and Centurion Tylus Petrinius Jorahl would be the only ones taking this walk. Furthermore, he wore neither Starfleet issue nor civilian EVA attire. He had donned that of the Romulan Star Empire in all its glory.

 

“Standard zero-G operations. I do hope your suits came equipped with adjustment jets and gravity boots,” he said.

 

Rachel scrambled to check.

 

“The gravity on this rock is about 0.006 on your Terran scale. A hiccup is enough for escape velocity,” he remarked as she took her first forays into alien territory. “I don't think climbing will be much of a problem.”

 

Too absorbed in keeping up and negotiating the .006 gravity, Rachel did not respond.

 

“We will be needing a good protective location for the shipyard,” he continued, obviously at ease in this environment. “Have your scans picked up any open spaces under the surface?”

 

Rachel struggled to use her scanner while her hands were encumbered by the EVA suit. She fumbled it, though, more from anxiety than encumbrance, asking the obvious question to cover her tracks. “As in caves, Sir?” Breathe.

 

“Yes.”

 

She stopped for a slow 360, waited for the results, then checked again for verification.

 

“Problems with your scans?”

 

She whirled to face him, nearly dropping the scanner. “There seems to be a structure jutting out from the impact crater, but I can't be sure. Something's blocking a full scan.”

 

“Let’s get on top of it and see what we have.”

 

Great. But the ascent proved easier than expected. In a few bounds they reached the precarious edge of the crater. A panoramic view of the stark horizon spread before them, and a steep ascent pointed to the center of the crater below.

 

“Nice. Very nice,” said Jorahl as he surveyed the area with a practiced eye. “One point six tenths of your kilometers wide. Eight-tenths deep. The surface looks rather uncluttered. I can see something in the center. Let’s take a closer look.”

 

He bounded off with Rachel trailing behind. A hop and a skip – and a frightening slide down a talus pile for Rachel – took them to the crater floor where they stopped for more scans.

 

Then it happened. Rachel took one more step and the dust of the crater, undisturbed for decades, fell away beneath her. She sank to her knees. Then, as if someone had pulled a plug in a drain, a vortex opened and in she began to slip. She splayed her arms, clawing for a hand-hold, but her thrashing landed on powdery dust, throwing it up and obscuring the already-dim line of sight she had to Jorahl. Remembering that in her scans the tunnel ended in a 100 meter drop to a solid rock cave floor, she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest, her feet and knees pressing hard against the slick, smooth wall of the opening as she struggled to get a purchase – a ledge, a small crevasse, a foothold or handhold, anything to stop her downward plunge – to no avail. Were she a bit larger she would have been able to wedge herself solidly sideways, but her small frame slipped easily farther and farther down the narrow passageway. The more she struggled, the faster she slid. Her throat constricted by terror, she forced a scream but nothing came…

 

Then from the darkness a large hand, strong and sure, grasped hers and pulled her from the orifice, firmly but gently. As easily as one would lift a doll it set her firmly on the ground above the tunnel. When she had caught her breath and the dust had cleared she found herself staring into the terrifying eyes of Tylus Petrinius Jorahl, Centurion of the Romulan Star Empire, Chief of Engineering.

 

They stared at each other for a long moment, his eyes dark and penetrating.

 

And – only for a second – Rachel thought she saw concern.