Post Number: 166 *Dark Days*

Posted on Thu Nov 28th, 2024 @ 4:03am by Captain Marius Pontmercy

1,273 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Secrets

On:

Captain Marius G. Pontmercy walked slowly down the gleaming hallways of the Promenade, his boots echoing softly against the smooth, reflective floors, but he hardly noticed the sound. The space had only just been reopened, and new shops were opening every day, but it felt almost surreal to him—like something alien. The bright overhead lights, the soft hum of the station’s power systems, and the low murmur of civilian and Federation personnel alike gave the whole area an air of disjointed calm. The contrast between the smooth efficiency of Starbase Obsidian's infrastructure and the chaos unfolding just beyond its shields felt jarring, as if the very station itself was unaware of the storm brewing just outside its walls.

He stopped for a moment, allowing the scene to settle around him. A family was seated at a café, laughing together over a meal. A pair of engineers in their yellow uniforms were discussing some technical issue, their voices sharp with the familiar tension of a problem not yet solved. A few traders were setting up their stalls, peddling everything from exotic fruits to specialized tech components. Life, as it always did, went on.

But for Marius, it was all a facade.

His fingers brushed the edge of the polished railing that ran along the Promenade’s edge. Below, the market district teemed with more civilians, soldiers, and travelers, oblivious to the weight of what had happened in the last few days. It was almost easier to pretend that nothing was wrong. But the nagging tightness in his chest—the pressure in his temples—wouldn’t let him. Not now. Not after what had happened to Admiral Bradley.

The news had come like a punch to the gut. The Admiral, gone. Kidnapped. No demands at all, just an enemy faction—an enigmatic group with unclear motives—had taken him. Gone in the blink of an eye, a shadow whisking away the one person who could have helped in a situation involving the Synthulans.

Captain Marius Pontmercy and Admiral Bradley hadn’t interacted much. Their roles had largely been separate—Marius focused on the day-to-day operations of the station, while Bradley’s work often took him into isolated, high-level meetings with other fleet officers or into specialized areas of the starbase dedicated to research and development. The Admiral’s presence was felt more by those involved in intelligence operations or R&D than by Marius, who had his own team to manage and his own responsibilities to uphold.

Bradley’s disappearance, therefore, did not strike Marius as an immediate personal loss, but the ripple effects were undeniable. Despite the Admiral’s relatively low visibility in the station’s command structure, his absence was keenly felt. Without Bradley’s expertise in intelligence and R&D, a critical piece of the Federation’s operations was missing—and with it, a sense of assurance that things were being handled in the larger context of the fleet’s security and advancement.

The corridors of the station were like arteries feeding into the Promenade, connecting the various levels of Obsidian like veins beneath skin. He could see the walls closing in on him, metaphorically if not physically. Starbase Obsidian was his responsibility...and the pressure weighed heavily, the demands increasing with each passing hour.

He had been trained for this, of course. As a tactical officer, he had faced life-and-death situations, been in battles, and made decisions that cost lives. But those were easy in comparison. This... this was different. There was no battle to plan for, no enemy fleet to track, no weapons to fire. It was all uncertainty. The unknown was what threatened to drown him. How was he supposed to lead when the answers weren’t clear? When the source of the danger had no face?

The hum of the station’s power systems buzzed in his ears like an incessant whisper, and he found himself running his hand along the polished surface of the railing once more, a habitual gesture that, on some level, helped calm the growing storm within him. But even now, he could not suppress the unease that churned in his gut.

The staff under his command had begun to notice. It was subtle at first—an extra pause before he gave orders, a slightly longer hesitation before a decision. They watched him, waiting for him to say something, anything that would explain what was happening. It was a look he had come to recognize all too well: the look of people seeking leadership, but uncertain whether they had a leader to follow.

What could he say to them? What could he say to himself? The bureaucracy of the Fleet had its own demands—daily reports, operational updates, inventory counts, and more—but all of that felt trivial in the wake of a senior officer’s sudden disappearance. There were protocols for everything, except this.

He glanced toward the observation window that lined the promenade. Outside, the stars stretched out into the void, impossibly distant. The shipyards, the forward defense platforms, the vastness of the starfield—it was all the same as it had been before the Admiral’s disappearance. But now it felt cold, impersonal. An expanse where nothing and no one could be truly trusted.

"I’m supposed to keep it together," Marius thought. "I’m supposed to be the one with the answers."

But the truth was, he wasn’t. He didn’t have answers, not yet. What he had were options. And, as the hours dragged on, he realized that was the real weight he was carrying—no longer the certainty of being able to make the right decision, but the burden of having to choose among a dozen different paths, none of them offering the clarity or stability he had once expected. He was thankful that he had a team that was working the problem.

He could feel the shift in the mood of his staff as well. There had been a change after the Admiral's disappearance, a subtle tension in the air, the feeling that things were unraveling. The whispers in the corridors, the hurried glances when he passed—they weren’t just questions about the Admiral. They were doubts about his own ability to solve the very problems they were facing.

Marius had always prided himself on his ability to maintain composure, on his ability to stay cool under pressure. But he was beginning to wonder if he was merely a man, a human with the same doubts, the same limitations as everyone else. Could he rise to the occasion, or would the weight of the situation be too much?

He drew in a breath, steadying himself. His hands, hidden by the folds of his uniform, clenched into fists. I can’t afford to doubt now, he thought. Not now. Not with so much at stake.

The echo of his boots on the floor once more was the only sound as he continued down the Promenade. One step after another. Each one carrying him forward. The path wasn’t clear, but it was the only one he had. And as the momentary crack in his resolve began to harden into something more resolute, Marius Pontmercy knew that no matter the burden, no matter the uncertainty, he would carry it. Because the alternative—the collapse of everything he stood for—was not an option.

It was time to be the leader he knew he could be.

And he would find a way to do so, even if it meant walking blind into the unknown.

Off:

Captain Marius G. Pontmercy
Commanding Officer
USS Arcadia / Starbase Obsidian

 

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