Breaking Point

Posted on Thu Oct 1st, 2026 @ 9:49am by Captain Marc Steyn & Lieutenant Commander Maximo (Max) Vero & Lieutenant Syvar MD & Lieutenant JG Charlie Johnson

2,507 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Season 1 Episode 2: The Garden at the Edge of Night
Location: Deck 12 - Sickbay

ON

The trio made their way through the Jefferies tubes from Deck 1, following the same route Commander Vero and Doctor Syvar had already taken. Marc was well aware that neither man needed to make the journey again, but with the ship's turbolifts still unreliable, it remained the quickest way to reach the lower decks.

For that reason, Marc kept his thoughts to himself during the journey. There were matters he wanted to discuss with Commander Vero, but the cramped confines of the tubes hardly seemed the appropriate place for the conversation.

They finally emerged onto Deck 12.

Sickbay was just around the corner—the destination for both Marc and Doctor Syvar—while Commander Vero still had considerably further to travel before reaching Engineering. Marc paused beside the access hatch and glanced towards him.

"Commander, you wanted to speak to me?"

He indicated the small medical laboratory situated beside their exit point from the Jefferies tubes. The room appeared to be unoccupied, its systems still running despite the disruption elsewhere aboard the ship.

"It'll be quieter in there."

Marc keyed the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Vero before following him in.

"Let's hear it. Doctor, anything you have to add would be welcomed as well".

Syvar looked between the two in confusion, not sure what the man was after. "We are in a dire situation," he commented, "we have injured across the ship we may not be able the reach unless each department has designated medics among their staff that I don't yet know about. The only one I'm aware of is Lieutenant Reruk and he's desperately needed to help restore systems. That should take priority over helping in sickbay. We can resort to archaic means as necessary but that means we're limited in what we can do."

"Doctor, I think the Captain meant me to go first as I need to report what happened with Lieutenant Johnson and then you contribute as to her health status," Max said simply.

"Captain. When I got down to Engineering previously the Chief Engineer had gone missing, and was according to Ensign Peters not in a good mind set. She had removed her comm. badge. I found her in one of the lounges, having hot wired a replicator to dispense real alcohol. She had then decided to indulge in that alcohol in a bid to drink her problems away. She had consumed a fair amount. She offered to resign but I told her I was not willing to accept that especially as she was under the influence, so picked her up and brought her to sickbay sir," Max informed him.

"She threw up all over me and passed out. She is brilliant. I mean I only know a handful of people I would say can make a replicator dispense real alcohol. She managed that without a book. The problem here in my eyes and from what her staff have also commented on to me, is her reliance on "the book" and not being confident in her gut."

"She's very green," Marc said thoughtfully, the words carrying more concern than criticism. He couldn't help but wonder whether he had expected too much from her. She was, after all, only a few years removed from the Academy, and this was her first real command-level posting aboard a ship that was anything but conventional.

Perhaps he had asked too much of her, too soon.

Marc exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside. There would be time to examine that later.

"Right now, we don't have a choice. We need her expertise back in Engineering." His expression hardened with quiet determination. "Without her, we're going to struggle to get this ship back on her feet."

He glanced towards the door, already thinking about what awaited them beyond it.

"We need her back, Commander. Because unless we get her—and Engineering—back in the fight, this bird isn't going anywhere. Is there anything else I should be aware off?"

"I think..." Syvar looked from one to the other. "I think she is likely in the same boat as I am. The difference is that she still goes by the book and needs to learn to improvise, whereas in the medical field you learn that pretty quick. If you recall captain, I'm pretty fresh from the academy too...and technically too young for the position I now hold. I'm sure I can do it, but you know, occasionally, I simply don't. Maybe she feels the same?"

Marc nodded, the broader picture becoming clearer as he absorbed the information from his First Officer and the support being offered by his Chief Medical Officer. There were still plenty of unanswered questions, but at least they now had a direction.

He gave Max a brief nod of acknowledgement and let him continue on his way. The man still had another twenty minutes of climbing through the Jefferies tubes before he would reach Engineering. There was little Marc could do to make that journey easier.

And now, he had another problem to deal with.

His first truly personal crisis as Captain.

Marc and Syvar continued towards Sickbay, rounding the corner before the doors finally parted to reveal the chaos beyond.

The sight stopped Marc for half a heartbeat.

Sickbay was almost overflowing with the injured. Officers occupied biobeds wherever there was space, others were being treated on the floor or against bulkheads, while medical personnel moved between them with a frantic efficiency born of necessity. The familiar clinical calm of Sickbay had been replaced by noise, blood and exhaustion.

Marc's expression tightened.

This was no longer simply a matter of repairing a ship.

People were hurting.

He followed Syvar inside, his eyes briefly sweeping across the room before settling on the Doctor.

"Can we borrow one of your officers for this, Doctor?"

"We can use my office," Syvar offered.

Marc nodded, his decision made.

"Can you bring her over and stay on hand, unless you're needed here in Sickbay?"

He moved towards the doctor's desk, lowering himself into the chair behind it. For a moment, he simply sat there, taking in the organised chaos around him. This was hardly the command centre he had imagined when he'd first taken the centre chair, but right now, it would have to do.

His attention returned to Syvar.

"Can you bring her in please."

"Of course captain," Syvar answered, "and doctor T'Chiara can handle matters; I am in no condition to do much for the moment." He stepped out briefly and came back a minute later. "Please come in, Lieutenant," he requested.

Charlie groaned as she woke up to find herself in sickbay. Whatever they had given her had counteracted the effects of the alcohol she had consumed but not the aftereffects, since her head felt like a shuttlecraft had landed on it. There was horrible taste in her mouth as she cringed inwardly as she remembered being picked up by the first officer only to...." She shuddered "All down his back. He's not going to forgive me for that in a hurry," she muttered to herself

The doctor was now getting her up, and she heard something about the Captain wanting to see her. Her stomach dropped. Time to face the music. She squinted as she made her way to the Doctor's office. Had the lights on the ship always been so bright?

She entered the office and came to attention as best she could. Being raked over the coals was not a usual occurrence for her, as she normally did everything by the book... Only this time the book had failed her, and her reaction had been... less than professional. She had been called to the academy superintendent's office only once, and the similarities now brought back some uncomfortable memories. Sweat stood out on her brow. She fully expected to be demoted or thrown in the brig... Or both.

"Lieutenant Johnson, reporting as ordered, Captain."

"Take a seat, Lieutenant, before you fall down," Marc began, his tone firm but not unkind.

He paused as she quietly acquiesced to the order, lowering herself into the offered seat. From the Captain's trained eye, she didn't look well. There was a pallor to her features, an unmistakable weariness in her posture, and something about the way she carried herself suggested she was still struggling to fully recover from whatever had happened.

After everything that had occurred, Marc couldn't help but wonder how much of her condition was physical and how much was the result of everything she had been through in the last several hours.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again.

"Do you know why you're here, Lieutenant?"

The question was simple. Unhurried. There was no anger in his voice, nor any overt accusation.

Disappointment, however, was there.

It lingered beneath every word, impossible to mistake.

Charlie saw the disappointment in his eyes, the way he kept his voice low. In a way, that made it worse. She expected to be shouted at. She could hardly deny the event now.

"Yes, Captain, I know. I acted without consideration for my colleagues and in direct dereliction of my duties. I was also intoxicated while on duty and.... I endangered the entire ship. I present myself for disciplinary action."

"Disciplinary action would be the easy way out for you, Lieutenant, and I have no intention of taking that route," Marc said. His words were firm, carrying the unmistakable authority of the Captain, but there was still an element of fairness behind them. "What I need from you is for you to accept what has happened and understand that, in truth, the accident wasn't your fault."

He paused, allowing the words to sink in.

"You were working with a collection of systems and components that were never designed to operate together. We knew that when we launched. We knew there would be incompatibilities, weaknesses and unforeseen failures. What happened was a consequence of those circumstances. It wasn't something you deliberately caused, and I'm not going to make you carry the responsibility for something that was, to a large degree, inevitable."

Marc watched Charlie intently.

She hadn't once looked him in the eye.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he was already too late. Whether the damage went deeper than a single mistake or a difficult first mission. Whether Charlie had convinced herself that she had failed so completely that there was no way back from it.

He leaned forward slightly.

"What we need to do now is fix things. The ship, yes, but also the way you approach the problem."

His tone softened, though his words remained direct.

"You rely on the book more than you should when you're in the field. Regulations, procedures, established engineering doctrine—they all have their place. But they're guidelines, Lieutenant. They're not a substitute for judgement."

A faint smile touched Marc's expression.

"Look at any of the legendary engineers in Starfleet history. Montgomery Scott, for instance. Do you honestly think he would have followed the book to the letter when the ship was coming apart around him?"

He shook his head gently.

"Engineering isn't just about knowing what the manual says. Sometimes it's about understanding why it says it, recognising when the situation has moved beyond it, and having the confidence to find another way when the circumstances demand it."

Marc held her gaze, or at least waited for her to finally meet it.

"That's what I need from you, Lieutenant. Not perfection. I need you to think."

"If I may..." Syvar moved around and crouched down so he was at level with Charlie. Gloved hands covered hers as he drew her attention. "Think of your engines as a wayward patient," he suggested, "by the book may work on some things, but with most situations, it's a patchwork job because the manual doesn't account for certain ah .. anomalies."

Charlie's head was still throbbing. She heard their words but still didn't believe it in her heart. She just wished she could get out of this room for now. She raised her eyes slightly to meet the Captain's and then instantly lowered them again. If I just agree with them, maybe.... she thought to herself.

"Yes Sirs, I understand. I'm.... I'm still not feeling at my best." This much was at least true. "If I could just return to my quarters for a brief rest?"

Marc regarded her for several seconds, saying nothing.

There was truth in what she had said. Charlie was clearly in no condition to be standing, let alone making decisions about the future of the ship. But there was something else in her expression too—a desire to retreat, to hide away from the conversation and hope that, with enough time, the problem might somehow disappear.

It wouldn't.

"Of course you can return to your quarters," Marc said at last, his voice measured. "But you're not going to use that as an escape from this conversation, Lieutenant."

Marc leaned back slightly, studying her.

"I don't expect you to fix everything tonight. I don't expect you to walk out of here and suddenly have all the answers. What I do expect is that you understand what I'm telling you."

He allowed a moment of silence to settle between them.

"The accident wasn't your fault. Your absence from Engineering when your crew needed you was."

Marc continued, "And that is something you need to take responsibility for."

There was no anger in his voice now. Somehow, that made the words carry even more weight.

"I'm giving you an opportunity here, Lieutenant. Not because I think you're incapable of doing this job, but rather because I believe you are capable of doing it."

He glanced briefly towards Syvar before returning his attention to Charlie.

"I don't afford many chances like this, Lieutenant."

The words hung heavily in the room.

Part of Charlie wanted to believe him, but the voice of doubt at the back of her mind was too strong.

"I understand, Sir. Please, I'm still feeling a little foggy. I'll report to engineering once I've recuperated." She lied, keeping her eyes towards the floor.

Syvar looked concerned as he listened. "I think it may be wiser to have her stay here," he offered, "if she's still feeling foggy I don't feel confident releasing her to her quarters. Or even to any kind of duties until I'm sure she'll be alright."

"Let her go, Doctor," Marc said quietly.

He watched her retreat, his expression remaining troubled as she disappeared from sight. Something in his gut told him that, whatever he had said, it hadn't reached her in quite the way he had hoped.

He waited a moment before turning his attention back to the Doctor.

"She needs the space," he continued, his voice low. "And perhaps a little time on her own to try and find her way back from this."

There was a faint note of concern beneath his words.

"Right now, I don't think there's much more any of us can do for her, Doctor."

END

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