Thirty-Two Hours

Posted on Sun Oct 4th, 2026 @ 2:28pm by Captain Marc Steyn & David Steyn

2,142 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Season 1 Episode 2: The Garden at the Edge of Night
Location: Captains Quarters

ON

Marc almost stumbled through the doors of his quarters.

Nearly thirty-two hours had passed since the accident. It had been slightly longer since he'd managed anything resembling sleep, and this was the first time he'd been afforded even a few uninterrupted moments to stop, breathe, and think about anything beyond the crippled ship and the people depending on him.

His son.

He hadn't spoken to David since just before the accident.

The thought hit him with surprising force.

For the first time since the Genesis had nearly torn herself apart, Marc allowed himself to acknowledge just how long it had been. His son would have no idea what had happened. No way of knowing whether his father was safe, whether the ship was still flying, or why he hadn't called.

The door closed behind him and stopped and stood there for a moment, simply trying to summon the energy to move.

He was exhausted to his very core.

Grime clung to him like a second skin, worked into the fabric of his uniform and smeared across his face and hands despite his repeated attempts to clean himself up. He could smell the lingering scent of engineering—burnt circuitry, grease and the faint metallic tang of overheated systems.

With a weary sigh, he tugged his uniform tunic over his head and tossed it aside, leaving himself in the grey undershirt beneath it.

It was scarcely any cleaner.

Marc barely seemed to notice.

"David? You here?" he called, his voice rough with exhaustion as he crossed towards the replicator.

He placed one hand against the edge of the console while he waited for it to activate.

"One boerewors roll and a glass of fresh grape juice."

The replicator shimmered to life, bathing the room in pale white light as it began assembling the meal.

Marc stared at it for a moment, his stomach reminding him just how long it had been since he'd eaten properly.

Then his eyes lifted towards the rest of the room.

"David?"

There was a little more urgency in his voice this time.

He waited.

Nothing.

Marc glanced towards the door leading further into the quarters, suddenly wondering whether his son was actually there at all.

"I'm here..." The answer was somewhat muffled and coming from the teenager's bedroom. He was lying on his bed his eyes covered by a towel. "I'm not feeling too great dad... you can come in but keep the lights low please."

Concern for his son overrode whatever fatigue remained in him.

Marc crossed the main living area without hesitation and headed straight for David's bedroom. A short hallway connected the living space to the two bedrooms, the smaller of which was the first door.

He slipped inside quietly, deliberately leaving the lights off. The dimness immediately told him something was wrong.

"Migraine?" he asked softly.

Marc moved around the side of the bed and lowered himself onto the edge beside his son. His exhaustion was still there, weighing heavily on him, but concern had pushed it firmly into the background.

His eyes searched David's face in the darkness.

"Did you get hurt in the accident?"

"I'm not sure..." David carefully turned his head, wrenching his eyes shut as he left like the room was going to turn on its own axis. He swallowed a few times. "I don't know what happened, one second I'm at a desk, the next I feel very nauseous and my head hurts." A brief pause followed. "What happened?"

Marc tapped his Combadge. "Steyn to Sickbay. Can you spare someone to come to my quarters?"

"I'll be there shortly captain," Syvar responded, feeling like he should tend to whatever the captain needed, himself. Despite being injured too, he wouldn't let it deter him from doing his duty. T'Chiara had done a good job of patching him up as best as possible and while still sore, at least he had the use of his arm again. Within minutes, he arrived at the captain's quarters, medkit slung across his shoulder and waited to be admitted.

Marc opened the door and ushered the Doctor inside, his brow furrowing slightly when he saw Syvar. He was more than a little confused as to why the Doctor was still aboard Genesis rather than accompanying the away team, but whatever the reason, it would have to wait.

Right now, there was something far more important.

"In the bedroom, Doctor," Marc indicated, already turning away from the door.

He quickly made his way back to David's side, settling beside his son once more as he watched him anxiously.

"He says he's not feeling so good, dizzy."

Syvar sensed the confusion but couldn't really place it; given the circumstances it could be from anything. He moved to the boy's side and carefully sat on the edge of the bed to be at level with him. Carefully, he ran the scanning wand across the child's body, giving more attention to his head and neck. "David, can you tell me if you hit your head?" He asked gently.

"I don't remember," David answered, "I don't know what happened, I just remember feeling dizzy when I was asked to check on another class. And I feel sick..."

Syvar nodded, looking up at Marc. "My results show he has a bad concussion," he explained, "the only sensible cause is that he did somehow hit his head. He needs rest, and a lot of it. For the next few days though, I need you to wake him a few times during the night, and when he's awake I need you to keep an eye on his recollection of things. Ask him a few things you know the answer to. If things get worse, bring him down to sickbay. Normally I'd heal this in an instant in sickbay but with the damage we sustained I'm afraid archaic means is all I have at the moment."

He rested a gentle, gloved hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry David, you'll be alright again in a few days. Don't do anything strenuous but keep challenging your memory. And take in plenty of fluids, drinking is more important than eating when you're feeling sick."

Marc waited until Syvar had finished his examination, giving David one last reassuring look before rising from the edge of the bed.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said quietly. "Come on."

He led Syvar out of the bedroom and back into the main living area of the quarters. The automatic doors slid shut behind them, leaving David to rest in the dimness of his bedroom.

Marc let out a tired breath as he turned towards the Doctor.

"Thank you for coming so promptly. I appreciate it."

His gaze settled on Syvar, though a faint crease of confusion remained across his brow.

"Although, if you don't mind me asking..." Marc paused, studying him for a moment. "Why aren't you with the away team?"

There was no accusation in his voice, but the question was clearly one that had been troubling him since he'd opened the door.

"I was under the impression you were supposed to be going with them."

The young doctor's features fell as he sank down in a seat. "I...had a mishap," he confessed. "It started with the phaser certification, I just couldn't do it. I was overwhelmed with fear, and I don't understand why. I just couldn't touch it."

Marc studied the young doctor for a long moment, the sternness in his expression gradually giving way to something more measured. He wasn't dismissing Syvar's fear. If anything, he understood it better than most.

“Fear isn't a weakness, Syvar.”

He lowered himself into the chair opposite him, leaning forward slightly.

“After what happened at Wolf 359, I don't think any of us get to pretend that fear isn't a perfectly reasonable response to a weapon.”

His expression softened.

“You're a doctor. Your instinct is to save lives, not take them. I would expect nothing less from you.”

Marc paused.

“But there is a difference between being afraid of a phaser and being incapable of using one.”

He let the words settle.

“This ship isn't operating in the centre of Federation space. We're out here on the fringe of what we know. We're going to encounter things we can't predict, places where there won't necessarily be a security officer standing between you and whatever comes through that door.”

His voice became firmer.

“One day, Doctor, you might be the only person standing between yourself and something that wants to kill you.”

Marc raised a hand before Syvar could respond.

“That doesn't mean I expect you to become a soldier. I'm not asking you to enjoy it, and I'm certainly not asking you to become comfortable with killing.”

His gaze remained steady.

“I'm asking you to learn how to survive.”

A faint sigh escaped him.

“Because I have a responsibility to every person aboard this ship. That includes you. And part of that responsibility is knowing that when I send my officers into an unknown environment, they have the basic skills necessary to protect themselves if things go wrong.”

Marc leaned back slightly.

“You froze during certification. All right. We deal with that. We don't pretend it didn't happen, and we don't punish you for being frightened.”

His tone hardened slightly.

“But we also don't simply decide that because you're afraid, you're exempt.”

He shook his head.

“Fear is something we work through. It isn't something we surrender to.”

For a moment, Marc was silent.

“I'm not going to put a phaser in your hand tomorrow and expect you to suddenly be comfortable with it. We'll take it slowly. Start with the basics. Handling. Safety. Familiarisation. Then we'll work on actually firing the thing.”

A small, almost tired smile touched his face.

“And if you hate every second of it, I'll consider that a perfectly acceptable outcome.”

The smile disappeared.

“But you will learn.”

Marc settled back into the chair, the exhaustion he'd been holding at bay finally beginning to break through. He rubbed a hand across his face, dragging his palm slowly over his eyes.

“Because the next time Genesis gets into trouble, I need my Chief Medical Officer to be able to protect himself long enough to get back to his patients.”

He paused, then suddenly yawned, unable to suppress it. His shoulders sagged slightly afterwards, and for a moment he simply sat there with his eyes closed, breathing slowly through his nose.

When he opened them again, there was no mistaking how exhausted he was.

“You don't have to stop being afraid, Syvar.”

His voice had softened considerably.

“You just have to learn how to keep functioning while you are.”

Marc gave another weary rub of his eyes.

“Now, if you'll forgive me, Doctor, I think thirty-two hours without sleep is finally catching up with me.”

"I don't want to be afraid," Syvar confessed, "I don't know why I am, but I am. The very idea of picking up a weapon... it'll take time captain, and I'm not happy about it either." He stood slowly. "We can discuss this when you feel more awake, I'll be in sickbay if you need me."

Marc managed a tired smile, though there was little humour behind it.

“I understand, Doctor. And I will help you.”

His expression became more serious.

“But understand something in return. I can give you time. I can give you training. I can put someone beside you and make sure you don't have to face this alone.”

He paused, his exhausted eyes holding Syvar's.

“But I cannot make the fear disappear for you.”

Marc rubbed a hand slowly across his face, fighting another wave of exhaustion.

“You are my Chief Medical Officer. Out here, every member of my senior staff has to be capable of looking after themselves when the situation demands it. I need to know that I can send you on an away mission and trust that you'll be able to defend yourself if things go wrong.”

His voice hardened.

“If we can't get you there, Syvar, then eventually I'm going to have to ask whether this ship is the right place for you.”

He let the words sit between them for a moment before softening slightly.

“I don't want that. You're a good doctor, and I want you aboard this ship. But I won't put your life, or the lives of the people you're responsible for, at unnecessary risk.”

Another yawn caught him by surprise. Marc covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes watering slightly from exhaustion.

“So we'll work on it. Together. But you need to understand that overcoming this isn't optional.”

He gave Syvar one final, weary nod.

“Now go get some rest, Doctor. We'll talk about the rest when I've had more than a few minutes' sleep.”

END

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