Ensign Regan Wilde - Demons

[David Hemming]

  ((USS Arrow: Deck 2 - Shuttlebay))

The shuttlebay was dark and eerie due to power being rerouted from non-essential systems to reboot the main computer core. Regan had been called to apprehend a rogue crewman who was attempting to steal a shuttle and flee the ship. He had successfully breached the shuttlebay and managed to sneak up on the offending man who was inside the hatch of an open shuttle.

Wilde: Crewman Thompson?
 
Thompson: Ensign! ::concealed by the darkness::

Regan aimed his phaser at the Crewman concealed in the shuttle. The man's voice was sinister, otherworldly. Something wasn't right.
 
Wilde: Crewman I have orders for your immediate arrest. Please step away from the shuttle.
 
Thompson: I can't do that.
 
The rest of the security detail rounded the shuttle, making sure the crewman had no means of escape. Regan took a step forward with his phaser still aimed. There had to be a way to stop him without shooting him. 
 
Wilde: Look, I get it. You want to run. You feel like running is all you've got left. I've been there. Believe me.  
 
Thompson: I believe you. ::broad smile::
 
Wilde: Come on, mate. It's my first day! I don't want to shoot a member of Starfleet on my first day... Please...
 
Thompson: Tell-me Ensign Wilde. ::moving forward revealing his head wholly filled with sparkling black goo:: Do you think today is a good day to die?

The sight of the crewman fully in the dim light made him catch a breath. Something had taken control of the crewman. Regan was no idiot. So the crewman wasn't acting of his own free will, which made negotiations difficult. What was in command of his senses? Where did it come from, and what did it want? 

A good day to die. Regan knew the old Klingon motto by heart. He was a believer, in his own human way, of the Klingon Code of Honour. He respected the culture. He'd memorised the words. But right now, in the shuttlebay, on his first day of active service in Starfleet, did he believe them? Was it a good day to die? Regan had been ready to die in his life, but for the wrong reasons. For helplessness. For despair. For shame. But that was a long time ago, and he wanted to live now.
 
Wilde: Ask a Klingon and he'd say yes. Ask me... and I'll get back to you tomorrow. Now step away from the shuttle. That is not a request anymore. 

He aimed the phaser straight at the Crewman. He didn't want to fire. It was clear now Thompson, the real Thompson, wasn't responsible for his actions, but Regan was determined to apprehend the creature or entity which was. 
 
Thompson: No!! ::ironic tone:: Don´t you want a drink to calm down your nerves?

A dark, evil feeling crept down Regan's neck. It froze him on the spot, and suddenly he had no saliva in his mouth. What did he just say? There's no way... No way!... this guy, this...thing... could know. Why did he say that? To distract him, and to weaken him. It was a timeless tactic, aimed to cut him to the core. To destroy him. But the seed had been planted, and fear and self-loathing began to water it.

Wilde: ::His voice is shaky.:: How did you...?

Thompson: What was it they called you at the Academy? The first time round, I mean... 'Wash-Out Wilde'... Too blind drunk to study for exams. Too busy at the bottom of a bottle to try.

Regan held his phaser at arms length, now ready to activate the stun beam and eliminate the threat to the ship. His aim was steady. At the Academy he was a crackshot. But the phaser began to shake ever so slightly. Regan's eyes moved from Thompson to the phaser in his hand and back to Thompson in the fraction of a millisecond. Not now... It was all in his mind. He hadn't had a drink in nearly six years. He'd beaten it! He didn't want to die anymore. But the old horrors never truly go away when you have a problem like Regan's. You have to meet it head on every day for the rest of your life. 

The phaser shook even more and Regan gritted his teeth for strength. He had to get strength from somewhere deep down. He felt like he was holding back tears. The memories were coming back. Well, memories were a generous way of calling the fractured, blurred images he called life in those days. It was his first day! Supposed to be the first day of a brilliant career, a new start in the right direction, and now here was some evil entity dredging up his deepest, darkest shame. Regan used his free hand to steady the shaking phaser. All he had to do was shoot... But he couldn't. Just like he couldn't before...

Wilde: ::clearing his throat.:: Ensign ::indicating one of his fellow Security members.:: Shoot this son of a...
 

The ship suddenly lurched violently like it had gone to warp with no inertial dampeners. The dark, gooey substance permeating Thompson's head slowly evaporated, as if being transported from his mind. Thompson's eyes rolled in his head and he fell forward. The Security team advanced to help him and Regan dropped his phaser to the floor and steadied himself against the shuttle.
 
Thompson: What am I doing here?
 

His team filled in some details but their voices faded to background noise. Regan sank back against the shuttle until his butt was on the floor and inhaled deep, uneven breaths. Cold sweat poured from him and he glanced over at the Crewman. He seemed ok but disorientated. One of the security team approached Regan and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into her eyes and she gave him a comforting smile.

Jones: Ensign, are you alright? You're pale...

Wilde: I'll be ok. Just a little shaken. Embarrassed is more like it. Is he ok?

Jones: He doesn't seem to remember anything. He's not even sure what he's doing here.

Wilde: ::Softly:: I know the feeling. ::to Jones.:: I don't suppose he's going to cause any more chaos on the ship, but orders are orders. Lt. Serinus will want him in the brig. But see to it he's treated right. He wasn't in possession of his mind. Just... be respectful, ok? And get a medic to him on the double.

Jones: Whatever you say, sir. Are you sure you're going to be alright?

Wilde: I always am ::He took a few more calming breaths and centred himself then looked into Jones's eyes and asked very seriously:: How's my hair? Is it ok? ::Running his fingers through his hair.::

Jones: ::Grinning:: Not a follicle out of place, Ensign.

Wilde: ::breath:: I cannot let anyone see me go to pieces on my first day and have bad hair!

With a weak smile he lifted himself up from the deck of the shuttlebay and straightened his uniform. He gently picked his phaser up and re-holstered it. Jones re-joined the security team who were in the process of escorting Crewman Thompson out and Regan found himself alone amongst the shuttles in the dark. He couldn't shoot Thompson. Did that make him a bad security officer? A Starfleet cop with a case of the jitters? Was he a liability to the ship? Slowly he tapped his comm.badge and the chirp echoed around the bay.

Wilde: =/\= Ensign Wilde to Lt. Serinus. =/\=

Serinus: Response

Wilde =/\= Crewman Thompson successfully apprehended in Shuttlebay 1 sir. I've had him taken to the brig for medical tests. I think some...thing else was at work here. =/\=

Serinus: Response

Wilde: =/\= Acknowledged. ::Beat:: Permission to make a personal request, sir. =/\=

Serinus: Response

Wilde: ::taking a breath:: =/\= Before I file my report... I think I need to speak to the Counselor on board. =/\=

Serinus: Response

TAG

Ensign Regan Wilde

Security

USS Arrow

C237708DW0