Alexistential Blues
Posted on June 21st, 2016 by Alexis Wright

In the dark privacy of her bedroom and the bed she shared with Kathryn Harper, Alexis Wright writhed and panted, limbs tangled in the sweaty sheets, her soft whimpers coming faster and more urgently in a rapid crescendo before culminating in a sudden gasp. Her eyes flew open and frantically searched the darkness, heart hammering against her ribs in sheer panic, until the pounding in her ears gradually gave way to the sound of Kate’s steady breathing as she slept just inches away. Every single night, she thought to herself while hastily wiping away her tears and forcing herself to take deep, shuddering breaths. Every night, the same nightmares. When had she last slept through until morning? After weeks upon weeks of this, she wasn’t sure how much more she could bear. So very tired.

A familiar voice came over Lexy’s earpiece as she monitored the comms, its cadence even faster and more clipped than usual. “Sharks, Firefly – my warp core is going critical and I can not stop it…” Lexy’s eyes widened in shock, those words cutting through the chaotic cacophony of klaxons, hull breach alarms, and the frantic comms traffic of the Marines rushing to deal with boarding parties. Moments before, Lexy had been wrestling with the near-certainty that they were all going to die, but was suddenly more focused on what was happening out there. Her best friend—no, who was she kidding, she wanted much more than friendship—was about to eject into the middle of a dogfight, and there was nothing she could do to save her. With growing horror, she realized that she was about to hear the last breaths of what might have been.

Lexy looked over toward where her everything slept next to her in the dark, quietly choking back tears of relief that they’d both survived the ordeals of the past year and were now here together. The comfort that this thought provided, however, was no longer sufficient to ease her mind. Kate was the Captain of the whole ship now, and Lexy’s troubles were obviously unimportant compared to that. Though aching for closeness, she rolled to her side and faced away, berating herself for the desire to bother Kate with her selfish needs. She so desperately wanted their relationship to continue, despite the fact that everything was different now and that this scenario was far beyond anything she was emotionally equipped to deal with… she felt obligated to hide her own struggles in order to be a supportive partner, but lacked the strength of will to do so successfully. I am weak and worthless, Lexy thought angrily. Kate deserves so much more than I can give her in her new life. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Admiral Blackthorne’s sonorous baritone came over the comms, “Atlantis, this is shuttlecraft Naiad on approach, requesting clearance to land.” Glad that things would shortly be back to normal aboard Atlantis, Lexy smiled and responded, “Shuttlecraft Naiad, you are clear for approach and landing. Welcome back, Admiral, Captain.” She thought she detected a smile in his voice as well when he replied, “Thank you, Commander, it’s good to be home.” But mere seconds later, routine fell apart when sensors indicated the beginnings of a warp core overload aboard the shuttle. As a startled Lexy raced to comply with the order for emergency transport, her earpiece made her uniquely privy to the sounds aboard the Naiad — a sudden alarm prompted Admiral Blackthorne to begin, “What-” which was abruptly cut off by a painfully loud burst of static, and then… nothing. Urgently checking her sensors, she found nothing but an expanding cloud of debris. The emergency transport was unsuccessful, her hails in vain. She had been too slow and now they were dead. The world came crashing down.

Tears welled in Lexy’s eyes and she buried her face in her pillow, a sickening twist of guilt and shame in her stomach. Blackthorne and T’Kirr were dead, arguably because she had personally failed them, and she was angry at them for having the nerve to die like that and ruin her personal goals? She felt like a horrible selfish monster, hopeless and irredeemable, who deserved nothing good in life. It had been arrogant and foolish for her to think that she could become something more than a soulless academic, an organic machine only good for producing science. At least a machine wouldn’t hurt like this. Pushing the pain down deep, she sought solace in familiar numbness instead, pointedly ignoring the little voice in her head screaming that she was only running away.

Lexy crouched in a Jeffries tube on the Sigma Rho, cupping her earpiece to listen in silent dismay to Feyna’s scream of pain and the sounds of battle in response to her frantically whispered calls over the comms. Terrified and clutching her hand phaser in a laughable attempt at self-defense from the angry howls echoing up the tube, she realized how helpless she was to rescue Feyna. Hell, alone and cornered in this tube, she couldn’t even save herself.

Slowly, silently, she slid out of bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom, her presence triggering dim illumination as she closed the door. Here, with no one to hide from, she allowed her careful mask to fall away and regarded the reflection of a defeated woman in the mirror. The eyes that looked back were haunted, the face tired and drawn, and no trace of her typical professional confidence was visible in her slumped shoulders. Briefly assuming the mask again, she squared her shoulders and attempted a tentative smile, then dropped it with a sigh and wondered how she was fooling anyone. Maybe I just don’t belong here, she thought to herself for what felt like the thousandth time. I don’t know what I thought I had to offer.

The Sentinel had saved the Atlantis from certain doom mere moments ago, and pure adrenaline was the only thing keeping Lexy functional despite the looming specter of death. With the ship continuing to rock from hit after hit as the battle raged on, she continued to coordinate fleetwide comms and shipwide operations in what was feeling more and more like an exercise in futility. The elation brought by the explosive destruction of the accursed enemy Dreadnaught lasted only the few heartbeats it took for the shockwave to reach the crippled Atlantis. That dying gasp hit with enough force to take out main power, the abrupt change in lighting and simultaneous loss of inertial dampeners vertiginous and surreal. Panic rose in Lexy’s throat as the sudden disorienting motion pitched her to the floor, her head striking the console violently on the way down. She found herself completely powerless, swimming on the edge of unconsciousness where the fear and pain threatened to drag her under. I’ve let you all down, she thought, then nearly laughed because it didn’t matter. One more hit and they would all be dead anyway.

Pressing her back against the wall and sliding down, Lexy sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, staring listlessly at nothing while considering her options. She was so far out of her comfort zone in so many ways that she despaired of ever getting back. The most disheartening part was that she’d been in this same position, thinking the same thoughts, on more nights than she cared to remember, for weeks on end. The scientist in her kept arguing that it was irrational to keep doing the same thing and expect different results, but had nothing to offer in terms of alternative suggestions. The only conclusion she had any confidence in was that repeated trials of additional self-loathing had proven ineffective. Knowing that her current state was not sustainable but unable to correct it, she had become mired in hopelessness.

It was Lexy that had sent Feyna to that exposed panel in the first place. She told herself that it made logical sense—Feyna was the mission’s Tactical Combat Specialist, after all— but on a deeper level, it felt like pure cowardice. This sort of thing was not even remotely in her wheelhouse, but if she’d sent the other woman to her death, she would never be able to forgive herself. Once they were finally transported to safety, Lexy waited with great anxiety as the medical staff struggled to restart Feyna’s heart, lingering nearby whenever she could until someone finally told her to get some shut-eye. She laid awake in bed and slowly sank under the waves of guilt, whispering quietly to herself over and over, “It could have been me…”

Scoffing at her past self for allowing fear to override logic, Lexy mentally enumerated all of the ways she had failed in these scenarios for several minutes before realizing with frustration that yet again, she had fallen into the same trap of self-destructive rumination that had only added to her misery. She looked up at the ceiling, the back of her head hitting the wall with a soft thud, and thought about the dire emotional straits Kate had been in a few months ago. I’m so glad she took my advice instead of walking away, she mused, completely missing the irony for several seconds before realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. How… how could I have not seen that sooner, she wondered, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead. Her emotional distress was causing her to consider resigning her commission and walking away, and she had apparently already forgotten the advice that she’d so recently given to Kate in a similar situation.

Lexy stood and looked in the mirror again with a determined expression she hadn’t genuinely worn in some time, splashing water on her face and patting it dry, then turned and opened the bathroom door to find Anna standing there with an inquisitive curl to her tail. Scooping up the purring cat, she crossed to the console and booked an appointment with the counselor. “I guess we’ll see,” she whispered to Anna, who responded by rubbing her face against Lexy’s chin. With a brief smile at this display of affection, Lexy carried Anna with her back to the bedroom.