Lieutenant JG Ollie Bergmen - Death ends a life, not a relationship (part 2)
CPT Arianus
(( The driveway - Starfleet Mortuary Affairs Operations Center, Trill ))
Demeter gently guided Ollie through the side entrance to the hearse that was already waiting. Master Chief Masad stood nearby, engaged in a quiet conversation with the driver, but as they approached, she interrupted her conversation, and her demeanor shifted as she turned to meet their gaze.
Masad: Lieutenant, the mortuary specialists did the best that they could. However, those remains are not recommended for viewing.
She passed Ollie yet another PADD, one more to the many he had to carry.
Masad: It’s been my privilege to care for her, sir.
They shared knowing nods, a silent exchange of respect and understanding. Bergmen caught a glimpse in their eyes of the unspoken words they had shared earlier—words she chose not to mention now, keeping that conversation just between them.
As she passed them and headed back to the building, Demeter gently nudged Bergman to keep them moving.
Demetry: That’s everything. We’ll need you to make a final identification before departure.
Together, they moved to the open back of the hearse, and Ollie looked at the palletized protective box that shielded the coffin inside. That was Hannah now. He remembered her smile, her subtle glances, her laugh. But the box didn't smile or laugh. Its white surface, covered with instructions, transportation stickers, and certificates in transparent envelopes, was a sterile reflection of her final journey. Ollie, looking at it, didn't know what to do or say.
But Demeter knew.
Demetry: Sir, I need you to verify that this is CPO Hannah Marks, and you are ready for departure.
Ollie leaned in closer and read the name on the death certificate. It was hers. He didn't understand why, but in that brief moment, he secretly hoped it wasn't her. That there would be another name, that they had made a mistake, and she's alive. That he would see her smile one more time. That he would hear her laugh again. That…
Bergmen: Yes. We can go.
It was now him—the face behind the transparent glass of the hearse cabin—passing by a line of new, unfamiliar faces in their Starfleet division-colored dress uniforms, who rendered honor to him and Hannah for their last journey. Passing the second line behind them, of those in ash gray uniforms, a color he had never seen on anyone in Starfleet until now - but division colors were meant for the living. Ash gray wasn't for them; it stood as a tribute to those they cared for.
As he sat inside the cold, somber confines of the hearse, the understanding settled over him that no one who sat inside ever met the gaze of those paying respects. The pain was still too fresh, too overwhelming for him to accept any semblance of honor or acknowledgment. And he, too, gave in to the pain of the soul, trying to seek comfort in the void, in the silence of his thoughts and memories.
(( On the way to spaceport, Trill ))
He had no idea how long the journey was. Or how far they had already gone. The driver, a boy no older than twenty, probably noticed that Ollie had lost track of time a little.
Driver: Feeling okay?
Ollie turned to him, shifting his posture to convey a semblance. He took a deep breath, trying to relax the furrow between his brows and soften the tension in his mouth, all in an effort to hide the turmoil of emotions swirling just beneath the surface.
Bergmen: Yea, yeah. I’m okay. I’m good.
The driver checked the navigation on the dashboard and then looked back at the road ahead.
Driver: We’re almost here.
Ollie lingered in the silence for a moment, but suddenly it felt... weird. That silence, that...moment. He wanted to say something. Hear something. Break the silence.
Bergmen: Do you always do those routes?
The boy answered immediately; the tension in his body melted away, revealing a respectful smile.
Driver: Yup. I started a year ago. (beat) Nobody in my family is in Starfleet. And none of my friends.
He turned his gaze to Ollie, to see his reaction. Bergmen returned his smile, tried to convey through his expression that he didn't mind at all that the boy and his family had never been involved with Starfleet. Yet the boy didn’t quite grasp the message.
Driver: But I thought about joining up. ::nods:: Yeah, but I was too chickenss… Ehh, sorry, I meant too chicken.
Ollie almost laughed softly, but at the last moment, he held back his laughter.
Bergmen: You can swear. I don’t mind. ::turns back to the pallet in the trunk:: She wouldn’t either.
Driver: Oh, cool. Ok. (beat) I just… you know, plus that whole haircut thing. I have a girl and, you know, you've got to keep it long to keep the lady happy.
Ollie couldn't help himself anymore and let a smile spread across his face. The boy's clumsiness was liberating in its own way, oddly enough. Yet, it was clear he felt trapped, as he redirected the questions back to the lieutenant.
Driver: What about you? What’s your deal?
Ollie sighed, as the question ground him back. He thought for a moment about how to express all of this to the innocent soul, but then gave up.
Bergmen: Uh, my deal? My deal is complicated.
But to the boy, that answer was clearly not enough.
Driver: Ok. Well… when did you join up?
A simple question for a simple answer. But what was ever simple with Ollie Kimmi Bergmen?
Bergmen: June eighty-five…
The boy looked at Ollie as if he couldn't believe the number, trying to understand the stark contradiction between someone who looked barely twenty and being in Starfleet for almost two decades. Ollie shrugged his shoulders, not offering the answer to the unspoken question.
Bergmen: …I saw the Mars burning at FNN. I wanted to help, to do something, so I joined up right that day.
Driver: Ok, that was a long time ago... but you're still a junior officer?
Bergmen: I know. I could have gone to the Academy right away, but I couldn’t bear the thought of waiting four years. All I wanted was to help, to be in active service, so… I enlisted instead.
Bergmen furrowed his brows as if it were something he had to apologize for.
Bergmen: Back then, it felt right. You graduate from basic. You feel like you are on the top of the galaxy, and you travel… See these things you never thought you’d see… It’s hard, of course, but it’s fun.
Driver: It’s fun?
Ollie turned to the boy, smiled, and nodded.
Bergmen: Yeah. I’m serious.
The boy just shook his head in disbelief.
Driver: I’ve got to be honest… No offense, but… I don’t really get what we’re doing out there. Like, the year before last, these two guys from my school enlisted, and… They were on Earth when that Frontiers something Day…
Bergmen: The Frontier Day?
Kid nodded.
Driver: Yeah, that day... (beat) And… (beat) None of them made it back. (beat) And they… ::nods head towards the coffin behind them:: … they didn’t find anything of them to bury.
They both lingered in silence. Ollie was at a loss for words. The boy sat with his shoulders slightly hunched, his brow furrowed as he tried to gather himself, the faint tremor in his hands showing how hard it was for him to talk about this.
Driver: I just wanted to do something.
Ollie nodded slowly, understanding the feeling. He gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, a reassuring gesture that spoke volumes without uttering a single word, bridging the gap that words often failed to cross. He didn't need to say anything for the boy to understand, and the boy didn't need to say anything more either.
TBC
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Lieutenant JG Ollie Bergmen
Operations Officer
U.S.S. Artemis-A
A240009JC1