Lieutenant JG Ollie Bergmen - They all know, without me telling them (part 2)
CPT Arianus
(( Flight ES5741 from Trill to Orion ))
Ollie sat alone in the dimly lit cabin, his gaze fixed on the flickering glow of the console screen. Outside the window, streaks of stars blurred into brilliant trails, creating an ever-shifting tapestry of light against the vast, inky blackness of space. Lost in thought, he failed to notice. His attention was entirely consumed by the carefully crafted lines Imril had penned in response to his previous message. But the doorbell interrupted his thoughts, and Ollie looked back at the door, wondering who it might be. He locked the screen, got up from the table, and slowly crossed the cabin, which could easily be mistaken for a presidential apartment if built on the surface of the planet.
As the cabin door swung open, he locked eyes with the Vulcan attendant waiting on the other side, leaving Ollie feeling even more confused than he had just moments before. He remembered her vividly; she was the warm welcome that had greeted him as he stepped aboard. But aside from directing him to the attendant response for the first class, he didn't speak to her or interact with her in any other way, so what could have brought her here now?
Attendant: Sorry for interrupting you, sir.
Bergmen: I didn’t order anything, ma’am.
Her gaze was impassive, calm, emotionless, but something in her eyes betrayed her as she grabbed his hand and pulled it toward her.
Attendant: I wanted you to have this.
Ollie felt a chilling touch, something cold and metallic pressing against his palm, a sensation that sent a shiver down his spine. The same frigidness crept across the back of his neck, a familiar feeling that stirred up memories from just hours ago, after he had turned away from her at the ship’s entrance to meet the second attendant. She had released her grip on his hand, and in that fleeting moment, he glanced down to see what she had delicately placed in his palm. It was a small Vulcan IDIC. He glanced back, but she was no longer there, yet he could still hear her footsteps on the hallway carpet. He looked back at the IDIC, pondered its significance, and what she meant by that. Confused, he let the door close again and turned to look at the streaks of stars blurred into trails, as if they could offer any answer to the questions he had…
(( Loading ramp, Civilian Orbital Space Station over Orion ))
Ollie had never even heard of Blue Orions before. Yet, there it was, right in front of him as a ramp agent greeted him upon the ship docked with the station to take him into the station's cargo hangar. Standing on the cold, metal deck of the station’s hangar, they both looked at the workerbee, which was slowly laying the modular cargohold, separated from the ship it had landed on, ahead of them for unloading.
Ramp Agent: We apologize for the delay, mister. The loading crew will arrive in just a couple of minutes…
Ollie nodded, saying nothing, as he watched the ramp crew securing the cargo hold for unloading.
Ramp Agent: ..but we’re gonna get all the luggage and cargo off first, then we’ll remove the remains.
Bergmen: Understood. I would also like to keep her separate from the baggage, if that’s possible.
The blue Orion looked pleased that Bergmen agreed with him and nodded to his green colleagues, who were about to open the module.
Ramp Agent: That’s the plan. We’re not gonna move her with the rest of the general cargo, don’t worry.
As they talked, a shuttle flew overhead and landed on the ramp beside them, drawing the attention of the blue Orion.
Ramp Agent: You know, there is another escort here from Trill.
The blue Orion gestured towards the Orion boy in a Starfleet black dress uniform accented with science blue, who stood by the ramp where the shuttle had landed. Ollie followed the direction of the ramp agent's finger, puzzled that he hadn’t noticed him upon their arrival.
Ramp Agent: It’s sad that I have seen more of ours like him lately. But that’s the cost of serving the greater good of the Federation, right?
Ollie stood at a loss for words, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach at the implications of the Ramp Agent's comments. He offered a hesitant nod and glanced toward the next ramp.
Bergmen: If you excuse me…
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the next ramp, stopping just behind another escort. He took a deep breath and hesitated, paused, grappling with the right words to address the stern petty officer standing before him.
Bergmen: Evening.
The Petty Officer turned around reluctantly, his face twisting into a frown that mirrored his annoyance at being addressed. Yet, as his gaze landed on the Starfleet black dress uniform, on the full and hollow pip gleaming on Ollie's chest, his attitude changed instantly. He snapped to attention, standing straight and respectful, and gave a quick nod to acknowledge the officer before him.
Orion Petty Officer: Evening, sir. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.
Nor did Ollie, as he saw the familiar green face. Although he had exchanged no more than a few words with him back on Trill, he remembered Orion from the first day in the escort lounge.
Bergmen: ::shrugs shoulders:: Yeah, my transfer to Thadia is from here. ::gaze at the shuttle next to them:: How’s your trip so far?
The petty officer followed Bergmen's gaze at the shuttle, but then turned his eyes to face the lieutenant.
Orion Petty Officer: It’s been fine. (beat) And weird though, sir. ::looks down at the ground:: They all know. Like, without me telling anyone, they know. Both at Draylon and so far here at Orion. ::turns gaze back to Ollie:: Guess they figured it out by the uniforms.
Bergmen: Yeah. ::nods:: You know, I’ve had the same thing.
Bergmen paused, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm within his mind. For a moment, he felt as if his words had raced ahead, a wild rush he could barely rein in. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes briefly, striving to gather his scattered thoughts and regain his composure before continuing.
Bergmen: Which is, I guess, okay… Because I’m not really interested in explaining it.
The Petty Officer seemed a bit uncomfortable discussing the matter and hastily gestured toward Ollie's ramp, where Ramp Agents were finishing unloading the cargo from the modular cargo hold.
Orion Petty Officer: Sir? It looks like yours is coming out now.
Ollie offered a small, almost hesitant nod before turning on his heel, as Orion Petty Officer moved alongside him and, like Bergmen, stood at attention, following his voice who ordered to render honor. With bated breath, they both stood in tense silence as they watched the ramp agents carefully unload the casket from the cargo hold, lift it, and carry it onto a nearby flatbed. Just as the palettized box touched the anti-grav, Ollie, his voice steady and commanding, gave the order to ease. His ramp agent, his face taut with anxiety, approached Bergmen and made an effort to appear more at ease as he shot a quick glance between Ollie and the petty officer.
Ramp Agent: I just received a message that your flight to Thidia has been delayed, Mr. Bergmen. So, when you are ready, we’ll go over to the cargo warehouse and get everything set before your ship arrives here.
Ollie nodded, feeling a bit disappointed, and gestured towards the anti-grav flatbed.
Bergmen: Ok. What can we do, right? Just give me a minute. I still need to verify.
The ramp agent didn't seem to want to press him, but Ollie sensed the unspoken tension of him holding them back from their work. Still, he glanced back at the Petty Officer, whose eyes were wide with worry and face flushed with distress. Ollie took a deep breath, trying to offer a reassuring smile, hoping to alleviate some of the boy's palpable anxiety.
Bergmen: So, what’s your destination?
Despite the slight furrow in his brow that betrayed his unease, it was evident that young Orion appreciated the company and the distraction it provided while drawing him away from the weight of his thoughts.
Orion Petty Officer: I’m heading to Kinarvon. It's about an hour away, down there. ::paused and gazed directly at Ollie:: My family is meeting us there.
Ollie didn't know what to say to that. He bit his lip and nodded as if he understood, even though he didn't. He didn't know Orion culture nor their customs surrounding death; in fact, he only knew bits and pieces he had picked up about Orion and the Orions during OCS and through nearly two decades of service in Starfleet.
Bergmen: Are you related to the deceased, son?
Ollie noticed the sharp glance for daring to ask that question. A mixture of surprise and disapproval flickered across the Petty Officer's face, but he still answered.
Orion Petty Officer: Uh, yes, sir. She’s my only sister.
Saved by the situation, Ollie caught sight of six ramp agents emerging from the dimly lit warehouse nearby. They were carefully carrying a large, palletized box that concealed a coffin within, strikingly similar to the one Ollie was escorting. Instinctively, he turned at the same moment as the Petty Officer, stood at attention, and commanded to render honor as they passed by, gently placing the coffin into the shuttle. As Bergmen ordered ease, they exchanged glances, and Orion's anger towards Ollie's insensitivity simply faded away. Bergmen may not have understood the Orion culture, but he comprehended the pain of loss.
Bergmen: Well… (beat) Well, you… Take care of yourself, Petty Officer.
Orion reached out to Ollie, and Bergmen gladly accepted the handshake.
Orion Petty Officer: Thank you, sir. You too.
Ollie let go of his hand and offered a nod, for there were no more words left to say. The Petty Officer turned to board the shuttle, and Ollie slowly walked over to his ramp to visually verify…
(( Cargo Warehouse, Civilian Orbital Space Station over Orion ))
As he noticed them strolling alongside the anti-grav, the Bajoran Supervisor stepped out of the office and paused by Ollie's, eyeing the grim cargo being transported. He hesitated for a moment, his lips moving silently as he seemed to whisper a prayer, but Ollie patiently waited, noting the horror written on the Bajoran's face until he finished. As their gazes finally met, Bergmen subtly gestured towards the low humming anti-grav.
Bergmen: So, she can just… uh… stay here?
Seeing his boss would not answer, Orion Ramp Agent nodded and filled the gap.
Ramp Agent: Yes, sir.
Ollie glanced back and forth between the two of them.
Bergmen: There is no need to move her?
The supervisor finally managed to find his voice, although it came out sounding hesitant and somewhat timid.
Supervisor: Don’t worry, sir. No one’s going near her.
Ollie glanced around the warehouse, uncertainty etched on his face, but the supervisor grabbed his shoulder to catch his attention.
Supervisor: When you’re ready, sir, Naitam here will take you to the terminal and lounge.
But Ollie didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave; in fact, it was quite the opposite.
Bergmen: Actually, I tell you… If I could just get the chair, I’m all set.
He glanced at both rampers.
Bergmen: I… I really don’t want to leave her alone.
Orion seemed to be somewhat skeptical.
Ramp Agent: You wanna stay in here?
Not that he didn't have a point, the warehouse was anything but a pleasant, comfortable place. Especially compared to the first-class lounge. But the supervisor seemed to be more at ease, though perhaps it was simply a case of him being wary of taking on responsibility for the casket, or any decision for that matter.
Supervisor: I need to check with station security. I’m not sure we’re allowed to do that.
But he was tilting at windmills.
Bergmen: Could you? ::pause and try to smile:: I know it’s late, but I’d really appreciate it.
Ultimately, it turned out that they could have left him alongside the casket, in the barely lit, cold, unpleasant and humid cargo warehouse, surrounded by towering containers and neatly stacked pallets, as, after a short call supervisor took to the upper decks, he returned with what was probably some spare, folding chair and a woolen blanket - which he probably had somewhere stacked in his booth.
Ollie carefully removed his uniform jacket and hung it on a nearby container's lashing eye with practiced ease before sinking into a folding chair. Glancing at the box beside him, he placed his hand on its surface, letting out a soft sigh that echoed his unspoken thoughts. After a moment of contemplation, he withdrew his hand and retrieved his go-bag onto his lap, rummaging through it until he located the PADD containing Imril's response. As he turned on the screen, a soft glow illuminated his face in the dim light. He began to read the message once more, perhaps for the twenty-first time, and he smiled. Slightly. Relaxed. Happy…
…and blissfully unaware he did so.
TBC
–
Lieutenant JG Ollie Bergmen
Operations Officer
U.S.S. Artemis-A
A240009JC1