Survivor's Account

Posted on Mon Jun 8th, 2026 @ 3:31am by Captain Mac Sullivan & Doctor Kim Standish

1,103 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Regula Gambit
Location: Sickbay, USS Proxima
Summary:
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 11:00

The doors to Sickbay hissed open as Mac stepped through, still wearing his parka from the away mission. He'd left Kirak on the bridge to coordinate with Lieutenant West on maintaining their position relative to Regula One's deteriorating orbit. The subspace shockwaves were getting worse, but they couldn't leave yet—not without answers.

Lieutenant Alijas Dyrgen lay on the primary biobed, oxygen mask still in place, while Doctor Standish moved between him and her medical console with practiced efficiency. The Zami communications officer looked better than he had when they'd pulled him from that storage locker, but not by much. His dusky skin had regained some color, and his breathing seemed steadier, but his eyes carried the haunted look of someone who'd spent hours in the dark wondering if anyone would find him alive.

Mac approached the biobed, keeping his voice low. "Doctor, how's our survivor?"

"Dehydrated," Standish answered without looking up from what she was doing. "And some understandable strain from a low oxygen environment, but he seems to be recovering from that nicely." She looked up then, raising her eyebrows at the Captain before peering back over at Drygen. "You may want to consider having Lieutenant Daeval speak with him," she added. "I'm a doctor, not a mind reader, but I can't imagine whatever transpired to trap him in a locker was pleasant."

Mac nodded, his expression serious. "I'll make sure Lieutenant Daeval meets with him once we've had a chance to debrief. You're right, spending hours in that locker listening to what happened..." He let the thought trail off, the implication clear enough.

He moved closer to the biobed, studying Dyrgen's condition. The Zami looked fragile in a way that had nothing to do with physical injuries. Mac had seen that look before, on Cestus III survivors. The kind of trauma that oxygen and hydration couldn't fix.

"Doctor, is he stable enough to answer a few questions? I need to know what he heard, what he managed to record on that tricorder." Mac kept his voice gentle but firm. "Whatever those mercenaries took from Regula One, we need to find them before they disappear completely. And right now, Lieutenant Dyrgen is our only witness." He made a mental note to contact the Tal'Kir once they had more information. Dyrgen's commanding officer deserved to know their communications officer had survived, even if the rest of the security detail hadn't been so fortunate.

Kim nodded. "A few, but no more. He's in need of rest and time to heal more than anything." She shifted to a small console next to the biobed, nudging the interface with her pointer finger. Above the man's head a dial adjusted slightly at the minor change she'd made. "I'll be just over here if you need me," she said then, giving the Captain a carefully neutral look that somehow managed to convey both acknowledgement of the need for questions and a quiet protectiveness of the patient.

Mac caught the look and gave Standish a small, appreciative nod. Message received. He pulled a chair from the adjacent station and positioned it beside the biobed rather than looming over it, a deliberate choice. He'd learned long ago that a man who'd spent hours in the dark didn't need more shadows above him.

He waited, giving Dyrgen a moment rather than launching straight into questions. The oxygen mask rose and fell. The biobed readouts were steady. Mac watched and said nothing, letting the quiet work in his favor. A sickbay had its own kind of stillness, different from the bridge, different from a crisis, and right now that stillness was the most useful tool he had.

As the two of them talked, Dyrgen's awareness drifted in and out (along with his consciousness). Their voices reminded him of far off comm traffic - enough to draw his attention, but too far away to be heard or understood in its entirety. Indeed, it took everything that he had (and then some) just to catch a few words or phrases, let alone to make sense of them. A bit like getting to the end of the longest, most exhausting day of work ever and being totally wiped out...multiplied by a thousand. Part of him wished that he could ignore it and just go to sleep. But the aches and pains throughout his body (and the darkness that clouded his mind) were keeping that from happening. So, when he heard the doctor's footsteps recede, he slowly (and with great effort) opened his eyes.

Mac leaned forward slightly when he saw Dyrgen's eyes open, not enough to crowd him, just enough to be visible, present. He kept his voice low and even.

"Easy, Lieutenant. You're aboard the Proxima. You're safe." He let that land before adding anything else. "I'm Captain Sullivan. My team pulled you out of that locker a bit ago." He paused again. "I need to ask you some questions when you're ready, but there's no rush. Take a breath."

Dyrgen tried to speak, to say something to acknowledge the man's words. However, between the mask covering his face and the dryness that filled his throat, hardly a wisp came out.

Mac leaned forward slightly when he saw the eyes open, just enough to come into Dyrgen's sightline without crowding him.

A nurse appeared at the bedside almost immediately, offering a cup with a straw within easy reach of the Lieutenant's lips. Mac waited a beat, giving him the chance to take it before saying anything.

"Easy. You're aboard the USS Proxima." He kept his voice low and even. "You're safe. Take your time."

The Lieutenant did take a breath. A shallow one, then a deeper one, the oxygen mask fogging and clearing in slow, steady rhythm. Mac watched his eyes drift to the ceiling, then back to him, then to some middle distance somewhere between. He understood the look. Sometimes the worst part of survival was the moment you realized you had to start the story.

When Dyrgen began to speak, his voice was rough from disuse and dry from the recycled air of the locker, but it was steady. Mac said nothing at first. The captain just listened, letting the Lieutenant move through it at his own pace, asking only the questions that needed asking and holding the rest. There would be time for the formal debriefing later. There would be time for Lieutenant Daeval to sit with him later. Right now what this man needed was someone to hear him. So Sullivan stayed in the chair, and stayed quiet, and heard him out.

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