Marine Lost
Posted on 30 Mar 2023 @ 9:01pm by Admiral Zavareh Sepandiyar
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: MD09 - 1935HRS
Timeline: Camp Falkirk - Commanding General’s Quarters
2084 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure
There were few days that he came home to an empty house, and as much as he adored his wife, their shared home and the nightly routine he’d come to covet he couldn’t deny that sometimes it was good to just have some alone time to his own thoughts. Time to just unwind after a long day and decompress. It was that time of the year on Catus XI that the sun went down quite early in the day and the long night fell on Camp Falkirk but the planet’s moon shone brightly and its light gleamed through the skylight of the facility and into Major General MacTaryn’s quarters at the top of Falkirk’s barracks. Overhead the moon and below the glow of lights inside the barracks all the way down to the ground floor many levels below in their mountain facility.
Iain MacTaryn sat down on the couch in the far corner of the home he shared with his wife Rose, setting a replicated meal of haggis with mashed potatoes and turnips on the ottoman cushion in front of the couch along with a large glass of scotch. This was his favorite dish, but his wife despised not only the taste of it, but the smell of it even if she wasn’t partaking. It had been a childhood staple for Iain and he never missed a chance to have it. With Rose out of the house for the night, and not due to return until mid-afternoon the next day, he felt safe letting it stink up their quarters.
Boots off, uniform half off as well, Iain tucked into his plate and consulted the contents of a data PaDD in his left hand. He’d begun reading an unabridged version of Les Miserables and though it was relatively slow going, he was enjoying it because of that. It made him have to digest every word and in doing so, helped wipe the thoughts of the day away. It was as effective of mind wipe as their could be.
As he read quietly, halfway through his plate, his comm chirped stirring him from his thoughts and immediately flaring his temper. The Comm’s officer knew damn well that he didn’t want to be disturbed, that his XO was more than capable of handling any administrative matter. So whomever was pinging him better have had a damned good reason, or they were going to hear about it. He moved his book aside on the PaDD’s screen and brought up the comm’s report to read that there was a message, text only, from Admiral Sepandiyar.
Iain set his glass down, frowning at that. Zavareh had known him for long enough that he could have called directly if he had anything he needed. It didn’t seem right that he’d send an impersonal message. That was, unless something was very wrong. Iain sat up more rigidly, setting his drink down and focusing his attention one-hundred percent on the message Sepandiyar had sent, reading it slowly.
Major Mazur was dead.
The news hit him like a freight train. Doctor Mazur had been a part of the Falkirk family since he’d taken command of the facility after its construction. She had seen to his and Rose’s health, not to mention the health of the entire facility. Mazur wasn’t some delicate flower. She was a tough-as-nails, hardened Marine that had cut her teeth at FOB Firewalker going toe to toe with Tholian’s. How could she be dead from anything short of galaxy-wide conflict?
It was a huge blow. Not just to him personally, but to the Marine Corps. There were precious few Marines like Major Mazur. Not just battle-hardened alumni of the Marine Corps Academy at Thunder Ridge but Physicians who had put themselves through the same grueling training that their Fleet brethren did. She was irreplaceable both personally and professionally and it only made the loss to him that much more profound.
Iain sat back on the couch, letting the PaDD fall on the cushion beside him as he heaved a proofed sigh of grief. He remembered well the first time he’d met Doctor Mazur in those first trying days at Falkirk just trying to get the facility online. Living off of Hula Pete’s rations from the back of a shuttlepod and desperately hoping that his engineering teams could get power back online. He’d been impressed with the tiny young woman’s fire, her zeal for life and how easily she could handle a being three times her size with no more effort than it took her to breath. The kind of woman that there was truly only one of, and never would be another like.
No sooner than the thought crossed his mind, he thought of the little girl that he’d seen skipping through the promenade with her parents and his heart ached all the more for the loss that child didn’t even realize she’d suffered. He checked the device again, frantically this time, as he’d skimmed right past any other details when he’d taken the blow of knowing that Minka was dead. Had the child survived? He read rapidly, ravenously, through the report until he found the note. The child was alive. Premature, and in need of constant care, but alive and expected to be just fine after some time in the Infirmary.
He tried to rack his brain for details on who Minka had left behind. He vaguely remembered meeting her husband, a civilian. Rose had invited them to dinner at some point during her tenure at Falkirk, as she had most of the Senior Officer’s usually within the first few weeks of their arrival and then periodically afterwards. But try as he might to remember the details, he didn’t get much. There was nothing very memorable about the man… except that he did seem to recall that he was an orphan, raised in the Federation system. Meaning he didn’t have anyone to fall back on as he was positive Minka’s were all gone too.
This wasn’t his area of expertise; finding ways to help others in this fashion. But it was Rose’s and as soon as the thought crossed his mind he made the decision that he would offer his help to Minka’s family by putting his wife on the task. If anyone could find a way to get them help and support in addition to the considerable resources the SFMC would bring to bear, it was her. There simply wasn’t much that he could do. He could offer her husband to stay here, at Falkirk, but without a real reason for them to be here (such as his spouse working there) they would be much happier and safer back on Sol or elsewhere in the Federation away from the Aurellian Belt and any of the trouble Falkirk had found itself in the last few years.
His meal left unfinished, Iain got up from his comfortable seat and moved smartly across the room to the command terminal in his erstwhile ‘office’ space, that was more of a small alcove as the woman in charge of this slice of Camp Falkirk expressly forbid working once he was through those doors. But, he was Commanding General, so a small concession had been made. He quickly accessed the panel and connected with the communications officer on duty; his face appearing on the terminal glass.
“Yes, General?” The sandy-haired man asked quickly.
“Where is the Devil Dog?” MacTaryn asked quickly. Their garrison vessel had been commanded by a friend, but the former Commander Callum had received a justly earned (and long overdue by his assessment) promotion into a proper Fleet Command. The newly assigned skipper of the Devil Dog was nowhere near as valuable to him, but he was still new yet.
“Sir, the Devil Dog is on its standard patrol…” the 2nd Lieutenant replied, consulting his terminal. “Just outside the system,” he added.
“Recall them. Tell Commander Faletulu we are going to Obsidian Command,” MacTaryn ordered.
“Aye, aye, General. Recalling the Devil Dog,” the Lieutenant nodded.
MacTaryn terminated the feed and then reactivated a new one, connecting himself to Major Wellington. A moment later, the feed resolved to a brown-haired woman in a bathrobe (at least what he could see) looking somewhat put out. Clearly he’d interrupted something, but he put it from his mind.
“Yes, General?” She asked quickly.
“I’ve just been informed that Major Mazur has passed,” he declared matter-of-factly, feeling in his heart much the way Wellington clearly did judging by the look of incredulity on her face. “A complication of childbirth. I am leaving for Obsidian Command immediately. I’d like to take an honor guard. We will escort her back to Sol,” he explained quickly, having made the decision so rapidly he could hardly have prepared anyone, let alone himself.
“A… absolutely, sir. I’ll assemble the regimental Color Guard. When are you leaving?”
“As soon as the Devil Dog can return,” he answered sharply.
“I’ll call them now, sir,” she nodded fervently. “General, if I may, I’d like to accompany you. I was close with Minka, and Ptolemy. A familiar face might be welcome, I’m sure they were still getting used to their new home.”
“As long as you’re there with the rest of the Marines, we’ll find room for you. Get to it, Major,” he ordered.
“Aye, aye, General,” Wellington nodded and then terminated the feed.
He quickly went about packing a bag, put on a fresh uniform and put his dishes on the replicator before heading out the door only a few minutes after speaking with Wellington. Bag on his shoulder, his immediate destination wasn’t to the shuttle bay to meet the Devil Dog, which probably hadn’t returned just yet. His immediate destination was the far side of the facility where Rose and a group of other Mother’s were having their annual Federation Girl Scouts camping trip. It was far too cold and too harsh outside on Catus XI for them to really have a camping trip, so they’d setup in the largest of the hydroponic bays where they were ‘locked-in’ and pretending to have an outdoor trip.
The official rule was that they weren’t to be bothered unless it was a significant emergency. And while this didn’t specifically qualify as an emergency, he wanted Rose to hear it from him and know where he was going. She was going to take it harder than him, but then she was the emotional center of their family. She would project the loss of Minka as if it was one of her own, imagining their daughter Idelle in the same situation. It had been accepted by both of them that of all their children, it would be Idelle that gave them their first grandchild. He knew that was on her mind, even if her marriage was a few months off yet.
Iain reached the bulkhead that led into the hydroponics bay, and knocked loudly to get their attention. Unsurprisingly, it was Rose that opened the hatch a crack with a look that clearly indicated she was ready to skewer whomever it was there. That fiery look of determination faded when she saw her husband, bag on his shoulder, looking solemn.
“What’s happened?” She breathed quickly, squeezing out of the doorway and closing it behind her.
“Sorry, love, but I need to go to OC. Now. We’ve lost one of our own,” he frowned. “Doctor Mazur.”
Rose gasped, put her hand over her mouth and then shook her head, “The child?”
“Alive. But very premature,” he answered, drawing her against him. She was shedding silent tears, but he knew it struck her far worse than she was showing. “I may be some time. We’ll take her home to Sol. Edgar can handle things until I return.”
She nodded, gesturing back to the bay, “I should go but… I can’t… leave them,” she declared solemnly.
“Nor would I ask you to,” he petted her gently. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. “Try to have fun with the girls. They need it.”
“Good luck,” She squeezed his hand. “And send my love as well.”
