Just Five Seconds

Posted on Sun Aug 30th, 2026 @ 5:26pm by Captain Samuel Woolheater

Mission: Season 6: Episode 7: Crossroads of Destiny
Location: Sickbay - Deck 12
Timeline: A minute later
2098 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON:]

The corridor outside sickbay was a little less crowded. The medical staff and the doctors were above amazing. They were caring for friends, for crewmates, for people that they knew and cared about. And they did all of that without hesitation.

Somewhere farther down the passageway, equipment cases were being opened and closed. Someone swore as something heavy hit the deck. A pair of Marines passed carrying armor between them, speaking quietly about a damaged power coupling. The smell of sweat, weapons lubricant and something scorched lingered in the air.

The operation was over. Now came the part nobody wrote songs about. Weapons had to be cleared and returned. Power cells accounted for. Armor inspected. Damaged equipment tagged. Medical wanted to see half the detachment. Reports waited for the other half.

And everybody needed a shower. The bridge was dealing with the continuation of the crisis as it still was unfolding. But down here; it seemed like a whole other world.

Woolheater had already surrendered his rifle. His body armor was still on and he carried his helmet under the crook of his arm. By now, all of the body cam footages would be uploaded to the main computer for it to chew on. Dust streaked his arms and dried blood, red in some places, green in others, had worked itself into the fabric and seams of his gear. His dirty-blond hair remained flattened from his helmet. Something along his left side hurt. Sam had decided not to investigate. Yet. He was passing one of the triage areas when he saw the corporal.

Sam stopped.

The Marine was sitting on a bench with his body armor on the deck between his boots. His uniform blouse had been discarded beside it. A field medical kit sat open next to him. He was trying to dress his left forearm with his right hand. Badly. Sam watched him drop the dressing. The corporal picked it up. He tried again. Sam leaned against the hatchway. The dressing fell a second time.

"How long are you planning to do that?"

The corporal's head snapped up. "Sir?"

"That's not a number."

"Sorry, sir."

Sam pushed himself away from the hatch and walked over, "Still not a number. Here. Give me that."

"Sir, I've got it."

Sam looked at the dressing on the deck. Then at the corporal. The corporal followed his eyes.

"Right."

He handed it over. Sam sat beside him, "Arm."

The Marine extended it. A shallow energy burn ran along the outside of his forearm. Medical had already treated the worst of it. There was fresh dermal tissue beneath a thin layer of regeneration compound, surrounded by angry red skin. Nothing serious. It probably hurt like hell. Sam picked up the antiseptic applicator.

"Medical clear you?"

"Yes, sir."

"For duty?"

"Yes, sir."

Sam began cleaning around the wound. The corporal flinched, "Hold still."

"Sorry, sir."

Sam glanced at him. Then went back to work. For a while neither man said anything. The corporal stared across the compartment while Sam cleaned the wound. Around them, the company continued the unglamorous process of putting itself back together. After a minute, Woolheater asked him, "Corporal...Lundsford...if my memory serves. You're an EW specialist.

"Ow! and Yeah. EW, yes sir."

Sam asked, "How'm I doin' Corporal Lundsford?"

"Medical didn't do it like that. Sir."

"Yeah...well...medical likes you."

The corporal almost smiled. Almost. Sam noticed. He reached for another applicator.

"When did you eat?"

"Sir?"

"Food."

The corporal blinked, "I don't know."

Sam stopped, "You don't know."

"Before the operation, I think."

"Were you hoping for a cook-out later? Couple of beers and a Sama burger?" Sam said as he worked on the younger man's arm.

"I'm not hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry." Sam discarded the applicator and reached for the dressing. "Get something to eat."

"Aye, sir."

Sam positioned the dressing carefully over the burn. The corporal stared at his hands. Sam pressed one edge into place. The Marine's right thumb was worrying at the skin beside his index fingernail. Sam watched it for a moment. Then returned his attention to the dressing.

"How long?"

The Corporal's thumb stopped. "Sir?"

Sam smoothed another edge into place, "How long did you freeze?"

The corporal went completely still. There it was. Sam waited.

"I don't know, sir."

"Three seconds?"

Silence.

"Five?"

"Maybe."

"Ten?"

"No, sir."

Sam nodded, "OK. Five, then. That's...not great but...we can work on that." The corporal looked down. Sam caught that and said firmly, "Don't."

His head came back up.

"Look at me."

Corporal Lundsford did.

"You froze."

The corporal swallowed.

"Yes, sir."

"You know you froze."

"Yes, sir."

"I know you froze."

Another swallow.

"Yes, sir."

Sam pressed the final edge of the dressing down and ran his thumb along the seal. "And your gut's been chewing on you ever since."

The corporal said nothing. Sam inspected his work. "You've probably replayed those five seconds a hundred times."

"Something like that."

"And every time you replay them, you do something different."

The corporal looked at him.

Sam finally met his eyes. "You move sooner. You see it coming. You don't hesitate. Maybe you save somebody. Maybe nobody gets hurt. Maybe you're the greatest goddamned Marine in Starfleet." The corporal looked away. "Something like that?"

A small nod.

Sam leaned forward, "What happened after?"

"Sir?"

"After you froze."

The corporal hesitated.

"I got moving."

"Then?"

"I covered Henderson across the corridor."

"Then?"

"We cleared the room."

"Then?"

"Moved to the next section."

"And?"

The Marine's brow furrowed slightly, "We found the prisoners."

"Yeah, zzzactly. You found our people." Sam let the word hang there. "You found the prisoners."

The corporal's jaw tightened, "People still got hurt."

There was a momentsary pause as Sam sealed the bandaged area.

"Yup."

"We lost people."

"Yes."

"I could've—"

"No."

The word wasn't loud. It stopped him anyway. Sam sat upright. "We're not doing that."

"Sir—"

"You want to tell me something you did wrong, tell me. You want to tell me something you didn't do that you were ordered to do, tell me that. You want to tell me somebody got hurt because you froze, give me their name."

The corporal opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Sam waited.

"Anybody?"

"No, sir."

"Then we're not inventing casualties."

The Marine looked back at his hands. "I froze."

"Yes, you did."

"I shouldn't have."

"Probably not."

That brought his eyes up again.

Sam shrugged. "You want me to tell you it was good? It wasn't. Freezing in a firefight can get you killed. It can get somebody beside you killed."

The corporal's face tightened. "But...that isn't what happened." Sam pointed at him. "You froze. Then you unfroze."

A beat.

"You got moving. You covered Henderson. You cleared your sector. You helped recover the crew. You completed the mission."

The corporal was quiet.

Sam continued, "Those are facts too."

"I don't know why it happened."

"Neither do I."

"What if it happens again?"

Sam considered him for a moment.

"Maybe it will."

The answer clearly wasn't what the corporal expected. Sam leaned back against the bulkhead.

"You're human. I'm not going to sit here and promise you that next time somebody starts shooting, you'll feel nothing and execute every movement perfectly. Anybody who promises you that is either stupid or selling something."

The corporal gave a faint breath that might have been a laugh.

Sam continued. "If it happens again, you get moving again."

"That's it?"

"That's what you did this time."

Lundsford just looked at him. There was still something there. Sam knew what it was. He had seen Marines carry it before. Hell, he'd carried enough of it himself. Shame was useful for about thirty seconds. Long enough to tell you that something mattered. After that, it started eating things. Confidence first. Judgment next. Eventually the Marine underneath. Sam wasn't interested in letting that happen. "You expecting me to reprimand you?"

The corporal didn't answer.

"That's why you're sitting here? Trying to stay out of the way, not get anybody hurt and lick your wounds."

"No, sir."

"I call bullshit."

The Marine shifted uncomfortably. Sam waited him out. Finally:

"I thought maybe you'd want to talk to me."

"We are talking."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do know."

Sam did. He looked down the passageway. Marines moved through it carrying equipment from Niea IV. Every one of them looked exhausted. It had been a long deployment even before today. They were tired. They had seen things Sam wished they hadn't. And tomorrow, he was still going to need them. He looked back at the corporal, "I can chew your ass if it'll make you feel better."

The Marine blinked, "Sir?"

"I can make you stand at attention. I can tell you freezing is unacceptable. I can explain all the terrible things that could've happened because you stood still for five seconds." Sam gestured toward him. "But you've already spent the last hour doing a much better job of that than I could."

The corporal looked away, "So what's the point?"

Silence. Sam said evenly, "I'm not giving you a pass." Sam waited until the Marine looked at him again. "There's nothing to give you a pass for."

"But I—"

Woolheater's hand went up, "I'm not finished." The corporal stopped, "We're going to learn from it. I want you to learn from it. Tomorrow, when you've slept and eaten and don't smell like the inside of a Klingon's boot, we'll go through exactly what happened. Where you were. What you saw. What you heard. What happened right before you stopped moving."

Sam tapped two fingers against the corporal's knee. "And then we'll figure out whether there's something we can train."

Lundsford nodded slowly.

"I need all of you. And we are all tired adn we are all doing the best we can. That's enough. I'm not going to humiliate you. I'm not going to punish you for being scared." Sam's expression hardened slightly, "And I'm sure as hell not going to let you do it for me."

That landed. The corporal looked down again. This time Sam let him. After a few seconds, the Marine rubbed his face with his good hand. "I'm sorry, sir."

Sam sighed, "That's four."

The corporal looked at him.

"Four what?"

"Apologies."

Despite himself, the corporal smiled.

There.

Sam pointed at him, "Keep that one."

"Sir?"

"That face. I haven't seen it since we came back." The smile disappeared almost immediately. Sam didn't chase it. He reached for the medical kit and began putting everything back inside, "Listen to me."

The corporal did.

"The operation is finished." Sam closed the kit. "We got the crew."

Click.

"We took casualties."

The corporal's eyes dropped. Sam continued before he could disappear inside himself again. "We'll account for them. We'll take care of our wounded. We'll take care of our dead. And when it's time, we'll talk about what went right and what went wrong."

He placed the kit in the corporal's hands, "But there is nothing left on Niea IV that you can fix tonight." The Marine held the kit against his thigh. Sam stood, "What I need now is my Marine back."

Lundsford looked up at him.

"So here's your next operation." Sam pointed toward the passageway. "Shower. Food. Rack."

The corporal stood.

"In that order?"

Woolheater gave a nod, "In that order."

"Aye, sir."

"And Medical checks that tomorrow." Sam pointed at the fresh dressing. "Not you. Crackerjack."

"Aye, sir."

"Leave it the fuck alone." Sam gave him a nod down the hall, "Go on now." The corporal started toward the hatch.

"Lundsford?"

He stopped and turned. Sam looked at him. There were a hundred things he could have said. Most of them would have been bullshit. So he settled for the truth, "You did your job and you came back alive. I can work with hesitation. I can't bring the dead back to life."

The corporal stood very still. Then nodded, "Aye, sir." He disappeared into the passageway. Sam watched him go.

Then he looked down at himself. Sweat. Dirt. Blood. His open body armor hung from his shoulders. His left side still hurt, and he was beginning to suspect ignoring it had not actually constituted medical treatment. Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Shower. Food. Rack." He considered that. Then looked toward Sickbay. "Yeah. Right after Medical."


[OFF:]

Captain Samuel Woolheater, SFMC
Executive Officer, Marine Detachment
Sniper / Infantry Officer
Precision Fires & Recon Division
62nd Company "Spartans"
=/\= USS Elysium NCC-89000 =/\=