Between the Devil and the Deep Black, Part 3
Posted on Thu Jan 8th, 2026 @ 10:46am by Lieutenant JG Callin Mastrel
Mission:
Back Post
Location: Luhman 16, Starfleet Listening Post
Timeline: 2395
3487 words - 7 OF Standard Post Measure
"What do we do, sir?" The 'sir' made Callin cringe, hunch his shoulders in on himself. He stared down at Ethan who lay sprawled on the floor of the storage room. His friend's eyes were fixed on some distant point, unseeing, glazed. His chest didn't move. The blood that ran from his skull no longer pulsed. That spark, that essence, that part of him that was so precious and vibrant and calm, it was gone. Callin's mind had tried to follow it, tried to hold it back, to keep Ethan from leaving, to try to give his friend's confused and horrified mind some kind of comfort as it began to fade away, but...
"He didn't even want to come on this trip," Callin whispered. Around him were the soft cries of pain, of panic, of shock. His squadron, his friends, broken down and raw.
"What do we do, sir?" This time, Tharish seized Callin by the shoulders, forced him to look away from the corpse. He could sense how terrified she was, how much she hurt, and it threatened to drown him along with his own grief. Her blue eyes were so large with a look of desperation to them he'd never seen before. "Cal, you're our CO! What are our orders?" She needed him to say something. They all did.
Drral'Tev let the spanner he'd clubbed Ethan with slip from his fingers to clatter to the floor. All the cadets jumped. "You...you all saw it, right?" Drral asked, voice trembling. "Ethan he...he attacked us." Naomi sat nearby shaking, hands to her neck where vivid bruises had appeared. Where Ethan had strangled her. They had all tried to stop him but he'd been out of control, with an enraged strength that had broken Ilya's arm and almost Naomi's neck. "I didn't have a choice. I...I..." The Tellarite began to cry, aghast at what he had done, had been forced to do. Callin stared at him.
"Cal, come on," Tharish hissed, leaned down to get her face and antennae right in front of his own. "We need you to pull it together."
The young Betazoid nodded, closed his eyes for a long moment, and took a breath. "S-sorry." He forced himself to stop thinking about how he and Ethan would never argue again, never laugh together again, never drive each other to perform harder and harder, never share their hopes and dreams for their careers and... "Right, sorry." Callin opened his eyes, clenched his jaw. He patted Tharish's hands before removing them from his shoulders, walked over to the weeping Drral, and wrapped an arm around his classmate's shoulders. "We all saw it, Drral. This is not your fault. I think I know what happened now too."
That was enough to begin to settle the crying all around. Ilya held her broken forearm close to her chest, eyes shining and wet, lower lip trembling, but she stilled herself. Naomi's gasps subsided as she finally understood she could breathe. Even Drral's grunting sobs began to subside. They all looked at him.
"We were talking about the news report," Callin told them, somehow finding a way to keep his own voice steady. He didn't exactly think of the officer's training he'd spent years in now, but it kicked in. "Naomi was telling us about the loss of the Gandhi, and who was on board the prison transport. I recognized one of the names. That's when Ethan...when he went berserk." They had tried to stop him, restrain him, but Ethan had been so strong, as if holding nothing back, as if all limits the mind placed on the body to prevent injuring itself from using too much strength had been removed. "Gerrin Haalvor. He was...is...from Betazed."
Callin flushed, embarrassed, but continued on. As he spoke his voice gained more strength, and he could both see and sense how his friends responded. Someone was explaining things, staying calm, and that helped, even if they all knew they were all pretending. It was strange enough he could almost laugh about it. Almost. "He was a murderer. My people, we lost track of him several years ago after he hurt people back home. We probably didn't try that hard to find him but I don't actually know. We aren't usually...there's not a lot of crime on Betazed, it's hard to hurt people when you can feel their pain. I remember hearing about him later, that Haalvor had killed people, made people kill each other. With his mind. The Federation eventually caught him on Pacifica."
"So, what are you saying, Boss?" Callin winced again, just slightly, as Naomi spoke. Ethan had always called him that. "That Haalvor, he made Ethan attack us?"
Callin nodded, black eyes full of misery and fear despite the steadiness of his tone. "That's exactly what I'm saying. That wasn't Ethan. He was our friend. You don't have to be able to read minds to know he respected all of us. He wouldn't have hurt anyone. Haalvor made him do that."
"Okay, so..." Tharish picked it up, beginning to pace. "Let's lay it all out. We're trapped on this station with who knows how many criminals, including one who can force people to hurt each other. Starfleet won't expect us back for another day or two, and then who knows how quickly they could send someone to check on us. Even if we could get back to the runabout safely, with Commander Harold dead, we're locked out of the ship systems." She paused, snapped her fingers, and pointed at Callin with a look of terrified expectation, as if her squadron leader and friend had sprouted a second head. "Can't you just... do what Haalvor is doing? Get in their heads, force them to surrender? Like you made us all 'stop'?" Some of them looked hopeful, expectant.
Callin shook his head. "No. I'm nowhere near that strong. What I did exhausted me in ways I can't really describe. It took enough out of me that I couldn't sense Haalvor and what he was doing to interfere with my telepathy, or what he was doing to Ethan. Even if I was rested, and focused, meditated and if one of the criminals was right here, sitting quietly and not resisting, I still doubt I could do anything more than 'stop' them for a second or two." The squadron's mood began to fall again. "But we're not locked out of the runabout. Commander Harold, he hated anything even close to piloting. The controls are under my authentication, not his. But... I bet the criminals want us to go for the ship. That way they can take it and get out of here. They'll be expecting us to try that."
"So... we try to hide and wait for Starfleet?" Naomi asked.
Callin hesitated. What should they do? He couldn't figure out the dilemma, couldn't find a way through his own grief to some solution. He was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been in his life, and afraid that there was no way out, no way to win. He couldn't answer this himself, but... an officer didn't have to do everything himself. His friends were here, strong, intelligent, capable, the best of the best in their class, he would say to anyone.
"I... don't know," he started to say, and before the dismay could settle in, kept talking, letting some kind of decision come out. "Tharish, out of all of us you're in the best state physically, and you've also taken extra tactics courses. I want you to come up with a plan to help us hold out as long as we can. Somewhere to hide, something defensible. Drral," Callin let the Tellarite go and gently pushed him toward the injured Humans, "you're our nurse. Do what you can to help Ilya first. Sorry, Naomi, I know you're in pain too."
Ilya stood up straighter, wincing as Drral gently touched her arm to probe the broken bone, but she didn't cry out. "And what are you going to do, Callin?"
He looked at each of them, making eye contact as they all turned expectantly to him once again. "I'm going to protect your thoughts." He said it with as much confidence as he could project as his mind expanded outward, settled over each of theirs. He hoped they couldn't see how tired he was. "But that's going to take all my focus. I won't be much good in a fight, or planning anything." Already he could feel him. Haalvor's mind was out there, prodding, testing, trying to find a way in, any sign of weakness to exploit. What he'd done to Ethan must have been incredibly taxing, and already he had been slowly worming his way back into Callin's friends' minds. "I'm not going to let Haalvor do to you what he did to Ethan."
===
"I'm cold," Drral complained, not for the first time.
"This is a fine spring morning!" Tharish answered him with a chuckle. Drral grinned back at her, happy to be able to complain and argue a little bit.
"You Andorians with your antifreeze for blood! My tusks are like icicles!" That brought a round of chuckles from the others. Even Callin smiled, if only a bit weakly.
He sat in a pile with his friends, shivering, in the center of a circle of their bodies pressed as close together as they could manage, draped with multiple silvery thermal blankets. Callin had protested at first. Ilya should be kept the warmest, she was the most hurt. But they had insisted. It was he that was shielding their minds after all, and Haalvor was still out there. So he had relented. Even with them all huddled so closely, they shivered. Tharish was cold too, he could sense that, but she made the best show of it out of all of them.
Her plan had been simple and easy to pull off. The cadets had taken what they could from the storage lockers, left Ethan's body behind for now, and went for the environmental controls. Which they disabled. With no backups available, the old listening post began to rapidly bleed its heat to space, and the air scrubbers ceased their work. There was enough oxygen that they'd succumb to the cold long before they suffocated.
The criminals hadn't just sat there and let it happen either. Three times they had attacked the environmental control room, and three times the cadets had driven them off. Not without injury, though. There were bruises on each of them, even Callin, who had tried his best. Haalvor had attacked too, and his mind had been so strong. Callin had nearly gotten his skull caved in by the Nausicaan if it hadn't been for Naomi dragging him out of the way and taking the blow to her side. Cracked ribs, vivid bruises, and who knew what else were their badges of honor to wear, because together they had survived. So far.
~I must say, I'm rather impressed, Callin,~ Haalvor had been taunting him for several hours now, mind to mind, as the younger man weakened. ~A boy like you, holding back a mind such as mine. But how much longer can you hold out? The cold. The fear. The sadness. You have so many minds to protect, and your own as well. I don't care if my 'friends' live through this or not, so I can turn all my focus on you. And you know I'm stronger. So much stronger...~
The two way connection had been weak at first, but it had grown stronger the weaker Callin grew. But it worked both ways as well. He could sense Haalvor's shivering. Sense his doubt. Pick up on information the murderer tried to keep concealed, such as...
"Shyv'vax, the Nau-Nausicaan, is unconscious," Callin said through chattering teeth to his friends. They knew he was in contact with Haalvor and that there was communication going on. In his mind, he could feel Haalvor's reaction to letting that slip out. "Guh-guess they d-d-don't handle cold so well." Callin closed his eyes and sighed, let himself be buoyed a little by his friends' sense of the small victory. The Nausicaan had been the hardest one for them to fight off.
~You're slipping, Callin. How disappointed your mother would be if she could see you now. Weak. Not like your sisters.~ Haalvor's mind scrabbled at Callin's brain, picking at it, clawing, stealing memories and trying to twist his emotions.
Naomi slumped forward, her chin toward her chest, her breath shallow. Drral stirred and began to gently shake her, but Tharish put a hand over his and shook her head. They were all exhausted, and she needed the rest. Or maybe the Andorian knew that these were their last moments anyway, as she held tight to Drral's hand and didn't let go. The Tellarite nodded, understanding without speech.
~Truth in others, truth in life, truth in word, truth in thought,~ Callin thought back at the other man, shifting slightly to place a hand against his ribs where he had those ancient words tattooed on his skin. His fingers were numb, he could barely feel it. The cold was so intense, so consuming, that it made focusing almost impossible. Almost, but he couldn't stop fighting off those grasping claws that reached out for their thoughts. ~My mother is proud of me. My sisters too. My whole family will be proud to know I died stopping you. My whole world. You're a disgrace.~
Fury rolled back at the cadet from wherever Haalvor was hiding, but also mocking laughter. ~So you admit you will die! I can make it easier on you and your friends. Naomi is unconscious now, I can sense it. Let's give her a peaceful death. Let me in. Give me the codes to the runabout. I promise I'll be gentle. You kids don't have to suffer anymore. I know you're tired and cold. I can help.~
~That's part of it, isn't it?~ Callin ignored the offer, knowing it for the lie it was. He and his friends had agreed. They would give up their lives rather than give up the runabout to this madman. ~You are afraid. Of how you'll be remembered. Or won't be. That you'll be known as a failure. That you were beaten by cadets, by 'kids'.~
More rage washed over him, but Callin just sighed and leaned his head against Ilya's. She smiled slightly at him and closed her eyes too. It wouldn't be long now. How much time had passed? Callin was losing all sense of minutes and hours.
"The oth-others, they're asleep t-t-too," Callin reported as he picked up the thoughts from Haalvor. "Trask. K-Kella. Could... couldn't g-get into the runabout. Not h-him th-th-though." Tharish nodded, tensed, ready to spring into action as soon as Callin reported that Haalvor was unconscious too. This was her plan to get them out, back to the runabout if she could. They'd argued, but in the end she'd agreed to get Ilya back to the ship first, as she was the worst off, then the others. Callin would be the last out.
"I think Drral is asleep too, Cal," Tharish whispered. There was hesitation in her voice, and he opened his eyes to stare at her in the dimly lit room. Tharish sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry, Cal. I don't think we're going to make it."
"I know," he whispered back at her with a smile, reached out a hand to settle his on top of the one she used to hold Drral's. Ilya joined them too without opening her eyes, with her uninjured arm. "It's okay. Th-this was a g-g-good puh-plan. We stop-stopped them. Did our d-duty. Maybe th-there wasn't any w-way to win beyond that."
That was enough.
===
[Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth]
1 Week Later...
"...gathered today to honor and remember our fallen classmate and colleague, Ethan Calder. He represented the very best of Starfleet ideals, of sacrifice, and of teamwork. Born in Vancouver, he is survived by his parents and..."
Callin let the words of the eulogy, spoken by the Academy's Superintendent, wash over him, through him. He stood with the rest of Omega Squadron near the podium, all of them in their dress uniforms, as if standing guard over their friend's departed spirit, save for Ilya, who was still in Medical recovering despite her protests about wanting to be there. He'd known Ethan better than anyone at the Academy. They'd been roommates, rivals, friends. Ethan had been his one and only choice for XO when Callin had taken over the cadet squadron. He'd known his friend's mind and soul better than any words could say, so he barely heard the words themselves and let his tears fall openly.
Ethan would have told him in his level, steady voice that he was being dramatic, overly emotional. Callin could almost hear it. You got the rest of them out. The criminals are dead or in custody. No one could have expected as much or more from you. Callin knew his friend would have spoken truth, but it didn't lessen the guilt. He knew that he might have to do this again someday. That was the burden of command. He let himself drift, remembering his time with Ethan, and didn't notice as his classmates and instructors began to march away when the ceremony ended.
"Cadet?" Admiral Sarokov snapped him out of his memories and thoughts. Callin snapped to attention too when he realized who had spoken, only spoiled a little by wiping his face with a sleeve to try to do something about the tears. The grey-haired Academy Superintendent stood in front of him, staring down, not unkindly. "Are you okay?"
Such a question. Callin almost laughed as a wild surge of emotions rose up, but he kept it under control, though his voice was tight as he replied, "Yes sir. Thank you, sir."
"At ease, Cadet Mastrel," Sarokov waved slightly at the formal way the young man had responded. "I'm glad to hear that you didn't protest meeting with the counselors, you and your squadron. What you've been through..." He shook his head sadly. "It's a terrible thing, losing a crewmate, a friend. I didn't know Cadet Calder myself, but for what it's worth, you have my condolences."
"Thank you, sir," Callin repeated, relaxing his stance, and meaning it more emphatically than before. "I... Ethan, he was a good man."
"Indeed he was, as evidenced by the company he kept. Each member of Omega Squadron will be receiving commendations for bravery. Capturing Haalvor and subduing the other criminals, you all deserve to be recognized. I know it might come as small consolation, but it is going to reflect well on each of you as you graduate in a few months."
"If we do," Callin let it slip out, knowing as soon as he did that he shouldn't say that. But he couldn't seem to stop now. "We've been talking, sir. We're not sure... that is... some of us..."
Sarokov nodded, reached out to squeeze the young man's shoulder. "I understand. We can train you and try to help prepare you, but no one can know how they will react to loss like this until it happens. The commendations are yours, regardless of what you decide. But I hope you will all think long and hard before coming to a decision. I would be proud to serve alongside the officers of Omega Squadron."
Fresh tears began to fill his eyes and Callin clenched his jaw to hold himself back. His voice was rough, cracked as he said, "Thank you, sir."
The Admiral released him and nodded with a sad smile, began to step away, but hesitated a moment. He turned his head back over his shoulder and added, enigmatically, obviously holding back much. "I really shouldn't say anything, but... you and your squadron are scheduled for a special simulation in two weeks, Cadet Mastrel. The Kobiyashi Maru. It's one of the last tests we have before you graduate and receive your assignments. I hope your squadron will at least wait until after then to make your decision. I think you'll have an... interesting result." With that, he went on his way.
Callin remained on the stage, eyes fixed on Ethan’s picture, the weight of command settling back onto his shoulders as the last of the crowd disappeared. More tests? Ethan would want them to succeed, to do their best, and Callin knew he would get the squadron to the simulation, but that no tests, no scores, no training would or could ever equal the value of a crewmate, a friend.
