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Death, sweet death.

Posted on Sat Dec 3rd, 2022 @ 12:56pm by Lieutenant Nevada McKay

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Dr. Nevada McKays Quaters. Quarentine sealed.
524 words - 1 OF Standard Post Measure

The air of Her quarters felt cold, So very cold. Dr. Nevada Mckay let out a quiet, Grainy groan from her bed where her body shuddered with pain felt at the cellular level. For just over a year she’d been slowly attacked by her Misguided attempt at Immortality, Broken down, recycled and Rebuilt by the Modified Borg drones she’d Injected into herself to stave off Aging. She tried to sit up, the commands swarming down her spine, through Nanobots that had subsumed her nerves at the atomic level Only to Fail with a sputtering whine. “F..fuck..” she breathed out raggedly, the words sounding strained, Hollow and distant beneath the soft whirring that had filled her ears in the last few days. She Risked a glance to her arm, The pale metallic grey that had become her skin glinting in the dull light she was still able to perceive.
I’m going to die, She thought to herself, her thoughts flashing back to the brief romance she’d had, the fights and anger she’d had with her family. To the Wars she’d lived through. To the Horrors she’d Lived through in the Mirror universe, her memories all aching with the thought of her impending death. A death she’d so stupidly Created Out of Pride in herself. She sighed, wincing again at the hissing Noise that reached her ears as she stared up at the ceiling, barely able to shift herself about, the Ability to call for help having escaped her as her limbs just felt so heavy.
She tried again, reaching out to touch the wall with her left hand, Just to have it slip from the numbness that held it. Slowly she moved her right, finding the edge of the bed and lifting herself up, only then to be slammed back on the bed with the sudden shock of pain, her hand falling apart into a clinking cloud of silver metallic dust.
"Fuck me." she whispered, her voice seeming like a whisper in the room, echoing across the tiny space before falling away to nothing. And with a whimper that barely escaped her body, she fell apart, crumbling into a pile of metallic dust.
***
The word echoed in the small chamber as the doors began to close, sealing itself off from the rest of the ship.
The Ships Computer would Briefly log that one Nevada McKay's Life signs had been terminated, and Hazardous material had been detected within her quarters, Leaving the doctors life little more then a footnote in the ships log amid the ongoing disaster. The one person who might have missed her in her death, Light years away in an empire with whom the Federation was currently at odds with.
As she had programmed it to her Desk Computer Triggered an alarm to notify the science department to Come and retrieve the Pile of Silvery, Nanite laden dust she'd become for further study. A Hope she held that some good could come from her Lethal Mistake…no matter how far into the future she’d robbed herself of, something good could come from her.

 

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Comments (1)

By Captain Samuel Woolheater on Sat Dec 3rd, 2022 @ 5:43pm

How tragic this is. And full of Pathos.

In just a few short sentences you captured quite a bit. I did not ever meet your character here. But I feel her loss. I think you did a splendid job of distilling what it might be like to die alone. A singularly frightening thought. And then the idea that nobody knows or cares. In this sentence:

"The one person who might have missed her in her death, Light years away in an empire with whom the Federation was currently at odds with."

Who is this person? And oh my - what an empty, isolated, forlorn feeling here. A reminder that within a few, well crafted, powerful sentences you have stirred such emotion. Well done and bravo!