The Great Terror

Posted on Tue Feb 18th, 2025 @ 3:18pm by Lieutenant Commander Caradan Eunidas

Mission: The Only Thing Left Was Hope
Location: Starfleet Academy Gardens
Timeline: Current

With but days remaining before they head out, Caradan found she had little to do. She arrived as a member of the Pandora crew soon before Captain Temple was taken. Thus, ensued a time of uncertainty, long hours, and much ado about everything. Needless to say, there was not much time for Caradan to dwell on her own personal wants and desires. That was not necessarily a bad thing. She rather enjoyed being busy. Now though, there was little to do but wait. It was here, always when there was nothing to do, when things were quiet that she would have a bout, again, with the Great Terror

The Great Terror is not really the name given to it, it is simply the name Caradan gave it. In the Great Link, there are no words, just thoughts, constant thoughts and eternal discussion without words. All those thoughts came to a sudden stop once Caradan separated herself from the Great Link. And now that the crew was prepared and the ship sorted and schedules made, Caradan remembered that the Great Terror was still there, still as prevalent and powerful as always, and always right behind her, in front of her, beside her. All it needed was this level of normality.

Nothing was going on.

Caradan had little to do. Though she preferred to spend her time in her quarters and away from people, Caradan found that her quarters were too quiet. Even music did not always drive away the dread of the Great Terror. It had simply become too quiet. For a being who spent the majority of her life in the Great Link surrounded by thoughts, a second in utter silence seemed an eternity of panic.

Deadening silence was no longer her definition of the Great Terror. Her experiences as a POW added the trauma of recurring thoughts and memories. It was when things got quiet that her mind relived the event and she found herself nearly losing shape at the slightest creak in the wall or the floor or a passing neighbor outside.

Caradan sat in the gardens of the Academy. She held a beverage in her hand. Not that she needed it as Changelings did not drink. Caradan formed the glass out of her hand and filled it with herself changed into water. She would sip at it, absorb it and send it back into the glass.

Her purpose in the gardens was only a purpose as long as others were about and it was always more merrier the more there were. On this day, many students and cadets were about and enjoying the scenery, sitting here and there, kicked back, taking drinks, playing games, but were all in dialogue with each other. Caradan sat back and just listened, not to any discussion in particular, but just listened. There must have been at least a dozen different conversations going on. The words, the people moving about, the glasses being handed off and moved around, it all filled Caradan’s world with noise. This was only the smallest hint of what the Great Link was like, but it was enough to keep Caradan from being driven mad by silence.

Sure there was a discussion or two about Changelings and perhaps one of disgust about her drinking herself out of a glass made of herself. Sometimes trying to blend in proved to creep others out. Obvious signs of a Changeling did likewise at times. Caradan attempted different methods to blend in without making it look like she was trying to be too human.

The passage of time was something that was not cared on too much in the Great Link and Caradan did little caring of it then as she sat back and tried to relax. She decided she would leave when duty called or when it simply got too quiet in the gardens.

It took some hours, but once only a few people remained and the conversation and moving about lowered nearly to silence, Caradan left for her quarters. She did not have a duty shift coming any time soon and her regeneration cycle was even further off. If it seemed to help continue keeping the Great Terror at bay, perhaps she would play some music. Caradan also thought on taking up art in some fashion. There were so many ways to take that though. There was writing, painting, making original music, but Caradan nearly wanted to cringe seeing herself partake in such acts that many of her kind would deem a complete waste of time.

Caradan returned to her quarters. For a people who did not like the idea of wasting time, Caradan felt all the more justified in taking in such acts, but was suddenly faced with deciding which form of art to take up and then how to express herself. Her thoughts these days dwelt on the dark and the painful. Perhaps using that would be a form of catharsis. Attempting happier thoughts might have been preferable, however. She would have to try.