The Fallen

 

Five days later, the emergency replicators were finally operating. At twenty percent efficacy.

The endless rumbling in Stold's stomach reminded him of his coming-of-age ceremony in the desert. The unceasing cold this planet offered wore away at his mental resolve.

Earth protein bars had been passed around. Sickness followed after. Human food not precisely attuned to Vulcan digestive systems. Too many bodies in too small a space. Air filtration units not designed to handle so many. Every seat in the arena filled. Every centimeter of the field occupied. The passageways originally marked off reduced to mere footprints between folded bed rolls as yet more bodies came in.

It didn't matter. Not much reason to move about. Not here. Most were lost to their own internal worlds.

Because they hadn't known how long it would take to fix the replicators, Stold and Sufi finished off the rations the second day. Nine bars split three ways turned into one meal, after Sufi noted the way their companion's hand strayed to her abdomen when she assumed no one was looking.

Stold did not argue the logic in sharing them. In truth, the thought of eating another portion, after the Elder passed, left him feeling more nauseous than the "yogurt coated chocolate-chip granola bar."

She refused them, citing the Elder's last living statement. The pair could have quoted the man themselves, but did not want to embarrass the woman. Obviously without a bondmate now.

Sufi tucked the bars into her bed roll while she paced back and forth one morning.

Later, they offered what privacy they could by closing their eyes and discussing reorganizing the periodic table loud enough to draw curious eyes.

"Do you think you can 'hot wire' one of those things?" Stold had asked when he could no longer silence his rumbling stomach with meditations of plomeek soup.

"The best minds in the universe are in this building. I doubt I can assist."

Stold did not sigh in exasperated agreement.

Sufi fell to silence. Stold watched the sky. Listened to the engineers work, meters away. Some human organizing rotation of the three "functional" units. Calling out sections to come up with their meal cards, receive what portion could be eked out of the malfunctioning systems. As each replicator hit it's limit, predictably unpredictable, it was turned down and the engineers buzzing about the last down unit prodded their current project to limping capability.

"Fifteen yards, unit four," she called, voice flatter than his neighbors.

"That's us," Sufi said.

Stold's eyes strayed to the white line painted in the grass half a meter away.

"Indeed."

Sufi stood without aid.

Stold stumbled. Leaned his open palm against his bedroll for a long moment.

"Do... do you need assistance?"

Yes.

"No."

He swallowed the bile in his throat. The raw pain in his gut. Concentrated on the trembling muscles. Impossible to still completely.

He heaved himself upright. Arms pinwheeled.

Sufi grabbed the scorched material at his shoulder. Each gasped at the contact. Pulled away.

---

A/N: Yes, I had to put in a little touchy-feely there. I was starting to feel a little guilty about throwing so much metaphorical shit at our boys. Things will get better, I promise, just not for a while.

And before you ask, yes, I'm sure Starfleet would love to be able to just tuck everyone away in lovely furnished apartments, with plenty of food, blankets, chocolate, and therapy all 'round. But, guess what, emergencies don't work like that. Especially big scale ones. The 'fleet just lost most of its ships, its crewmembers, and I'm guessing everyone's stretched a little thin and more than a little lost and disorganized themselves.

In FAFH I mention that refugees are split between Betazed and Earth. Personally, I think this is a logical idea, since a (very openly) telepathic species might be better able to assist with long-term healing. Would probably take quite a bit of convincing to get the rather stoic Vulcans to relax enough around such an open community to accept said help, but (if the Troi's are any example) they'd not take "No" for an answer.

This may, but most likely will not, come up in this ficlet, other than perhaps in passing reference. Vuron (in FAFH) is getting the "big picture" through his offworld security reports. Stold and Sufi are dealing with the immediate realities.

Admittedly, now the gears are turning on that score. Anyone wanna see another companion piece about someone/someones sent to Betazed in the aftermath? Could be for some interesting/amusing times.