Death of Sika

Posted on Thu May 16th, 2019 @ 1:43pm by Lieutenant Commander Radak
Edited on on Wed Jun 5th, 2019 @ 1:04pm

3,267 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: The science of stars
Location: Crew Quarters
Timeline: [Back Post]

ON:

It was only a matter of time now. Sika could feel it within his soul, his Bajoran nature was putting up as much of a resistance as it could, but being Bajoran was one thing. He was, but there had been those times where he needed transfusions and transplants. He was Bajoran aesthetically, but parts of him, even the blood that flowed through his veins, had not always been Bajoran. That was the Achilles heel for the virus to claim him as it's victim, and yet he was not going to let himself go down without trying to save them all.

He could even feel the internal sensation like a tingling at first as the treatment... the potential cure, was waging war with the virus, but the amount and purified version he had taken was not yet tested on any patient. It was way too much and he knew it, but he did not have time. None of them had time. That tingling sensation quickly evolved and spread like a wildfire traveling throughout his body. He felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

I cannot die alone, was the only thought that continued to beat repetitively as he made his recording to the Captain. He had always imagined himself going out, his 'light' fading away because of some sort of battle, another war that he found himself dragged into; however, this was no war, other than the war being fought within his own body between a virus and a lethal amount of experimental medication, but whichever one ultimately won out, his death was the stable factor. Nothing would change that.

So, he found himself going to one place he had never been. He looked terrible as he leaned against the paneling of the corridor outside of the First Officer's quarters. Sika had never been in the man's quarters nor had he ever said anything beyond simple passing chatter and work related reporting to the Vulcan, but there were things to say that Sika was not going to leave unsaid. If he was going to die, he needed to do it knowing he had made peace with himself even if he did not believe in Bajoran prophets and the whole concept of a pagh. He had stood there long enough that the proximity detector would be alerting the Vulcan to the prolonged presence. Sika managed to hit the chime once, but couldn't muster the strength to reach for it again. He needed the bulkhead to keep him upright.

The proximity detector had indeed alerted the Vulcan. Outside his quarters he could see Lieutenant Sika leaning on the bulkhead, looking none too good for wear. He tapped the door, so it slid open. He was admittedly curious as to why the Lieutenant chose his door, but it was what it was. He stepped out in time to grab the Bajoran before he fell over completely. “Lieutenant? You are not well…” He could feel the heat of the fever through Sika’s uniform.

Using the Vulcan as support, Sika held onto the man. He showed no care or concern that this man was his superior. He looked up into the Vulcan’s eyes and forced himself to smile, albeit only partially. “I don’t have much time left. Don’t bother calling Sickbay, Commander. It won’t be any use,” commented Sika. “I’m too far gone for even modern medical procedures. The virus… I contracted it a while back… I know. ‘Bajorans are immune’,” quoted Sika. “Usually, that would be true, but not in my case.”

Radak frowned, holding the other man up. “I will have to contact sickbay anyway, when you die. I cannot just leave you in the corridor,” he said, his tone rational. “Why have you come here?” Radak definitely didn’t understand Sika’s choice of final resting place. Carefully, he let go of the Lieutenant with one hand and tapped his combadge with the other. =/\=Lieutenant Commander Radak to Sickbay. We have a medical emergency in the corridor outside of my quarters. Please send assistance immediately.=/\=

Sika groaned. “I did not come here to die in the corridor and I did not come here to be hulled off to Sickbay to die in that sterile room on a biobed,” replied Sika. “I told you not to call Sickbay. That wasn’t a suggestion; it was a request, a request I made because I trusted you,” continued the Chief Operations Officer. “Radak,” Sika said as he gestured to the quarters. “Let me in. Take me into your quarters and cancel that medical emergency… please.”

Radak was torn. There was protocol to be followed. Sika was not a medical professional. Maybe, there was still time, maybe he could still be saved. “Unfortunately, for both you and myself, medical will not arrive anytime soon because of this virus.” He hauled the officer into his quarters and out of the corridor, taking him to the couch and setting him down on it. His quarters were tidy, as was expected of a Vulcan, with only a few personal items on the tables and walls. “How do you know you cannot be saved?”

“It’s not necessarily the virus that will kill me,” confessed the man. “I broke into the medical labs. They are working on a cure and I took some of it. I took more of it than any man should take. I may not be a scientist or physician, but I know I took more than enough to kill me,” informed Sika.

He looked at Radak. “Someone had to. They needed to test it eventually on an infected patient to study its effects, to know if it can cure the crew. It would have taken too much time otherwise, Commander. I had to do it. Either I’m going to die by the virus and be killed by the very cure. One way or another they will know how to proceed after I’m long dead.”

Radak was still frowning. “I don’t understand what you’ve accomplished, aside from killing yourself. How will we even know if the vaccine is effective if you’ve killed yourself with it? An overdose of many medications will kill you. Why did you not just take enough to actually test it?”

“We don’t have the time, Commander. We simply do not. This crew is in the 25th hour with this virus,” replied Sika with the expression. “It would take too much time to test dosages... time that we simply do not have. I don’t expect you to understand as there was no logic behind this action; I did what I needed to do out of the basic need for this crew to survive even if I cannot.”

Sika looked into the Vulcan’s eyes “Sometimes, emotionality takes over for the good of people,” he added. “I don’t believe in the prophets, but I don’t believe in dying alone or isolated in some sterile environment on a biobed.”

Radak shook his head. He simply did not understand. “Well, apparently you are going to die in my quarters,” he said, frustrated with the Bajoran and trying desperately to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He picked up his own tricorder and approached Sika, opening it and scanning him carefully. “So you just wish for me to allow this to happen? It sort of flies in the face of everything I’m supposed to do as an Executive Officer... “ The man was definitely in trouble, from the scans and things weren’t getting any better.

“Apparently so, Commander. Apparently so,” replied Sika. The Bajoran practically knocked the tricorder away, brushing the man’s hand aside that which was holding the scanning device. “I don’t wish it, I am telling you to allow it. This isn’t a fight your logic or modern medicine will win, and we both know it,” added the Bajoran wincing through the pain. His blood was hot as the fire caves of Bajor. “Your duty is to the crew and to the ship. I’m doing this so that dozens… hundreds... may live,” explained Sika.

Radak sighed and sat down next to Sika on the sofa. “Yes, you’re so noble,” the Vulcan replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. He reached over and touched the Bajoran’s forehead. “You’re very hot… can I get you some ice? Even if it doesn’t do you any good, it might feel good.” He stood and went to the replicator and ordered an ice pack and brought it back to Sika, sitting next to him again. “Here…”

“Thanks,” managed Sika simply. The sensation of the ice did feel somewhat relieving, but only to the burning of the outside. The fire within was a hellfire consuming him like napalm in a jungle. Sika reached for the man’s hand and held the Vulcan’s hand, looking into his eyes. “I want you to do something for me, Commander.”

“Yes?” Radak squeezed the Bajoran’s hand lightly. “What can I do for you?” He wanted to open the tricorder again, but he had set it aside for a reason. There was no sense in watching Sika die on the tricorder, it was probably as the man had said and way too late.

“I leave nobody behind. I have no family, and only a few associates that I’d dare call friends. This crew has been the closest to friends that I have had. I have not taken a sexual partner in so long that I dare not think of my last relationship involving intimacy,” said Sika, as he prefaced the request. “I do not believe in the Prophets, but I do not want my memories and experiences to be forgotten to time. I want you to perform a mind meld on me, Commander.”

Radak blinked. It was definitely not the request he was expecting. He knew how to perform a mind meld, regardless of his heritage, it was a matter of whether or not he wanted to do one. He could block out his own mind, but it was very difficult and he wasn’t all that good at mind melding. Of course, the man was dying. Even if he did get a glimpse into Radak’s innermost secrets, who was he going to tell? He struggled with the decision, but only for a moment. The worst he could do was send himself into a coma. Of course, if he did that, things might get complicated for him, very quickly, even potentially lead to the end of his Starfleet career, but he found himself nodding anyway. “I can try… it wasn’t really my strong suit…”

“Isn’t that something your people just learn to do?” asked Sika. He had known it took a lot of discipline in training, but part of him had just assumed all Vulcans had that training unless they rejected Surak’s teachings or had suffered a traumatic experience. “Have you ever done one before?” asked Sika a bit hesitantly. “That… try is not a word I like to hear from a Vulcan about to meld with my mind.”

“I worked with my Uncle a few times. I never went through the Kolinahr… I didn’t receive that sort of training. I can still do it.” Radak told himself that he could, or at least tried to tell himself that he could. He had performed several successful mind melds, but only on a man he knew very well, a Vulcan man. He took a deep breath. “Well… it certainly cannot get any worse, can it?”

Sika grabbed Radak’s hands and placed them on his head. “My mind to your mind. Whatever your people say. Just do it, Commander,” he said faintly to the man. “I don’t have time to hear how wrong this is or how unqualified you are. Your objection to this is noted and I don’t care. It can’t get any worse than the death that’s coming,” added Sika.

Radak found himself rather overwhelmed, caught up in the situation that Sika had put him in. Carefully, he put his fingers in the correct positioning against the Bajoran’s temples and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and began the process of connecting them. “My mind to your mind… My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are merging. Our minds are becoming one.”

It was a sensation like none he had ever felt before. In a way, he felt as though the pain was leaving his body; However, he knew better than that. It was probably just something chemical… biological with the whole process. The numbing of pain receptors or releasing of endorphins. Sika could remember a time when he was met with a livewire and the electricity nearly killed him. The after effects gave him a sort of rush though. The mindmeld was starting to bring on a similar feeling.

His eyes shot open wide and his gaze was locked. “Radak,” he said calling out to the man who had clearly started to unearth things in Sika’s mind, to uncover emotions, and see flashes of memories. Sika too was starting to find himself encountering and experiencing gray shards… Radak was more capable of keeping Sika out than Sika was albeit Sika was not resisting. “It’s okay, Radak,” Sika said placing a hand atop of Radak’s.

Radak was experiencing his own reactions to the mind meld. He knew when the connection was made because it pulled, he didn’t have any other words to explain the sensation, at his innards. Almost as if someone had tied a string around his guts and tried to yank them forward. Once the initial connection was made, the pain rushed forward to the surface. The pain was overwhelming as well and it took everything in him to not yank himself back from the meld. He cried out softly and screwed his eyes tightly shut, the pressure on Sika’s temples where his fingers were placed increased as well with his struggle. With the pain came a flood of memories and emotions that did not belong to him.

He had hoped to potentially shield his own life from the Bajoran, but he lacked the training and he lacked the control to keep his own past and emotions at bay. The result of this was as absorbed everything that was Sika, Sika was filled with everything that was Radak in return. Radak’s memories, especially his early memories, were violent and painful. Radak was born Xu’kol J’ecas Kovil in 2350 in Ki Baratan, Romulus. His father, Sub-Commander Huvk Me’rt Kovil, was a military man for the Tal Shiar. He was very strict and very traditional and horrendously abusive. It was not uncommon for a young Radak to be denied food, water and affection, not to mention the physical abuse. Radak still bore the scars.

Sika felt a surge of emotions that were a mixture of his own and of Radak… Xu’kol J’ecas Kovil as the blending of thoughts blanketed over them both and in those emotions were rage; The rage of a Romulan abused by his father and the rage of a Bajoran who held long held hostility towards the savagery of Cardassian barbarism. “You’re Romulan!” shouted Sika almost breaking away from the meld, it was almost physically impossible to do. He also could not bring himself to do so. Like a moth to a flame he wanted to be in this meld and have time stop around them.

The Bajoran kept the meld going though he could feel them both racing closer and closer to an end that neither of them wanted if either of them held it too much longer. “Father, no!” shouted the Bajoran feeling some of the abuse and neglect that was not his own, but rather the pain endured by a young Romulan child who was now a grown man posing as a Vulcan, hiding his true self from the shipmates around him and in some ways hiding that fact from himself.

Sika forced himself forward sending the two men to the floor where physical link was sharply broken… possibly just in time before two identities were lost forever. The remnants of emotion and flashes of history shared by them both were still going off like fireworks. Sika had managed to end up on top of Radak. The Bajoran’s weight was light compared to Radak’s strength, but still enough to keep the Romulan’s shoulders down momentarily. Sika’s hands were around Radak’s throat quickly as though he wanted to strangle the First Officer for his veil of lies and false identity; However, his grip was not life threatening and Sika’s grip loosened as his lips touched the First Officer’s. “Who are you?” asked the Bajoran as he slowly pulled away, a small bit of saliva dripping from his lips.

Once he had hit the floor the Romulan, pretending to be Vulcan, closed his eyes and relaxed, the break in the connection, even as abrupt as it was, was a relief. He only opened his eyes again when the Bajoran kissed him on the lips. He stared at the other man in confusion. “I’m no one…” he said softly. “My name even means… nothing, in Vulcan. I am not a Romulan and I am not a Vulcan. I have spent more time pretending than I ever spent being.” He closed his eyes again, almost as if he was in pain, and it was likely he was. “I never meant to hurt anyone… I just… couldn’t be me anymore.”

Sika brought his hand up and slapped his open hand against the Rom… Vulcan’s jaw. “Stop it!” shouted the Bajoran. “You are not ‘nothing’ and you need to stop it. Stop pretending to be who you are not and start being who you are. You didn’t run away from who you were or who you are… you ran away from him and who he wanted you be,” said the Bajoran. “I cannot live my life Radak… whatever you want to call yourself. Be Vulcan. Be Romulan. Be neither, but learn to be you and live for the both of us.”

The Romulan gasped softly at the force of the slap, especially from a man that was weak enough that he could hardly hold himself upright, much less stand at this point. “It seems I have no choice, since you are dying,” Radak said softly. “... and I am not. I have worked very hard to be Radak. I have been Radak longer than I was ever Xu’kol, but you are right. This is still just a carefully constructed facade.” He continued to lay on the floor and made no move to rise from his prone position. “Starfleet would not be so pleased… if they knew. They could even potentially send me back to Romulus, should they find out.”

“Don’t let them ever find out,” whispered the Bajoran into the man’s ear and squeezed his hand. His strength was gone. His will was gone, and soon he was gone. The Bajoran collapsed, his head resting on the Vulcan’s chest and his stare lost its spark. The light faded and the Bajoran was gone. His heart took its last few beats, but his words would linger.

:END

Lieutenant Commander Radak
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Sika EngD
Chief Operations Officer

 

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