Shadows At The Door
Posted on Tue Oct 14th, 2025 @ 9:51am by Lieutenant Commander Aer Feshau-Patton & Colonel Jack Patton & Lieutenant Hotaru Wymund & Veiric Thol
3,328 words; about a 17 minute read
Mission:
Mission 5 - The Cold War Ends
Location: Intelligence, then Aux 3, Faltan Station
Timeline: MD03 - 1230 hrs
The door to the Throneroom slid shut behind them, leaving the weight of decision behind—but not forgotten. Aer walked in silence beside Hotaru, her mind already moving several steps ahead.
Back in the Intelligence Suite, her demeanour shifted—calm focus settling over her like a second skin. Without needing to speak, she motioned to her staff. One nod, and the auxiliary debrief chamber was cleared and prepped: shielded, secure, eyes-only. Quiet enough for a whisper. Safe enough to start asking real questions.
Aer moved to her console, fingers sweeping through commands with efficient grace. She input temporary clearance for Lieutenant Wymund—limited but direct, tied to her own access tree. Just enough for the work at hand.
She tapped a brief message into a private comm relay—encrypted, routed to Jack’s command channel.
To: Col. Patton
:: Moving to debrief with Wymund. Secure room active. If you're joining, we'll be in Aux 3. ::
— A
Her eyes lingered on the screen a moment longer, then dimmed it.
Turning back to Hotaru, Aer gave a small nod. “He’s your lead. You set the tone. I’ll be listening.”
And with that, the two women left the control suite—side by side, toward the room where truths either held or fell apart.
Velric had considered leaving. The only issue was that he did not know if he could get back in if he left. Thus, he felt trapped. How had he let himself be manipulated into this position, he wondered.
Jack received the message on his terminal at Ops. He turned the command of the station over to the officer of the watch and made his way to the Intelligence Suite. After being challenged for his credentials which was expected he was in Aux 3 and stood next to his wife. He folded his arms and waited for the debrief to begin.
With quiet steps, Hotaru entered the room. Her demeanor was one of confidence, and hope. In a soft voice, she spoke to Velric.
"I have kept my word, to bring you to those who maybe able to help you in your plight. This is Commander Aer Feshau, and with her is Colonel Patton. Please tell them what is happening upon Faltan, as you had told me. And also the help you are hoping to gain."
Aer didn’t move.
She stood beside Jack, hands gently resting against the curve of her abdomen, fingers loosely laced. Her expression was neutral, unreadable—but her gaze was locked on 'Warlock', steady and quiet, like a still lake reflecting back everything it saw.
No intimidation. No sympathy. Just presence.
One brow lifted by a fraction. Not enough to pressure. Just enough to say: We’re listening. Your move.
The silence she held wasn’t empty—it invited truth.
Warlock looked around at those gathered and asked, "Who are all of you?"
Jack adjusted the Starfleet Marine beret that he wore. On the beret was his wings, that indicated his rank of Colonel. He stepped from the shadows and into the light. "As to who I am. That means nothing. Suffice to say that I am in a position to help you. Should the information you have prove to be useful enough for me to lift a finger. Now, I suggest you begin to tell us what you have. For if the Commander and I get bored we leave the room. If we leave the room then any, and I do mean any help leaves with us."
Aer didn’t step forward. She didn’t need to.
Her presence, just beside Jack’s, was steady—anchored. One hand resting at her side, the other loosely at the curve of her abdomen, her dark eyes fixed on Warlock with a quiet patience that held more weight than raised voices ever could.
“Warlock,” she said evenly, “you’ve already been told who we are. Lieutenant Wymund gave you names, and more importantly, gave you a chance. If you’ve forgotten that already… I’d start questioning your readiness, not ours.”
The words weren’t cruel—but they cut just the same.
“I spend my days listening to what people whisper when they think no one’s paying attention,” she added, voice lowering slightly. “So believe me when I say… I hear a great deal.”
Her eyes narrowed—not in suspicion, but in focus.
“So if you’ve come all this way to be heard, then speak plainly. No more circles. No more hesitation. You asked for this audience—don’t waste it.”
"I don't know that I asked for an audience, but I do admit to seeking help. Though, since you are with the Federation, I doubt you can help. I came seeking weapons. I'm Faltean. I'm part of a resistance movement against Governor Taga."
So, this Warlock had done his homework on the Federation. That was something that Jack took note of. The other thing he took note of was the word resistance. "Tell me why a resistance is needed. Prove to me that the Governor is a threat to peace and this station. Then we can perhaps talk of weapons." There was a lot for this Warlock to prove. The only person who could sway Jack easily was his wife. It was why he married her, better make her an ally then have to go against her.
Warlock looked skeptically at Jack. "Are you ignorant of Governor Taga, or what she ordered to occur at the planetary station that you leased? How many did that disease kill? What makes you think that she will not send it here? She does so much to her own people to keep control. We even suspect she killed our prior governor who invited the Federation in.... Is that not enough?"
Aer’s gaze didn’t shift when Warlock spoke, but the subtle change in her posture said enough—chin lifting slightly, the corners of her mouth drawing into something unreadable.
She didn’t argue. Didn’t scoff at the accusation.
Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly. “You’re not wrong to be cautious,” she said softly. “But suspicion and proof aren’t the same thing.”
She stepped a little closer now—not aggressive, but deliberate. “We’ve heard whispers. Patterns. Gaps that don’t make sense. But you’re not here to echo rumours we already have. You’re here to fill them in.”
Aer paused, letting the silence settle between them before adding, “So give us more than outrage. Give us details. Names. Events. Timelines. If you want weapons, you need more than good instincts and ghost stories.” Her tone gentled slightly at the end. “We don’t ignore suffering. But we don’t act on sentiment, either.”
"What names do you want? What events? They're daily occurrences down there. What timelines?" Warlock asked, trying to understand but his tone also conveyed frustration. The man was hurting and desperate. "And why would the Federation get involved now? You've stayed away for years. Aren't you afraid of a war?"
"We are not afraid of war." Jack began as he paced behind his wife. The pacing helped him think. "I am part of a division that is bred for war. Although most of us would rather be out of a job. War is something that no one wants, but we are not afraid to fight when it is needed. When it is warranted. Let's start with who is in charge of this resistance, and why is the resistance even in existence."
Hotaru, even though she was there in the flesh, and not moving from where she stood, in essence she had faded into the background, quietly watching. This was the time for Patton and Aer to take point.
As she listened, Hotaru silently wished in her mind, that Warlock would provide the needed information.
After all he was on a time limit.
Aer said nothing at first.
She let the tension settle like dust in a room gone still, not cutting through it but listening—really listening—in that quiet, steady way that made people forget they were being watched at all.
And then, slowly, she stepped forward—not as an officer, not even as a commander, but simply as a woman trying to meet someone where they stood.
Her hand lifted, subtle, and came to rest lightly on the table near Warlock—close but not invasive. Just a quiet gesture of presence. Her voice, when it came, was low and even—like someone opening a door instead of raising a wall.
“You don’t need to convince us of your desperation,” she said softly. “That much walks in with you.”
There was no accusation in her tone. No edge. Just quiet empathy layered beneath control.
“But the Federation doesn’t act because someone hurts. It acts because someone speaks. And right now... you have the floor, and more power than you think.”
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“I’m not asking you for names because I want to catalogue them. I’m asking because I know what it feels like to lose something… to see people slip into silence while others look away.” Her words weren’t dramatic—but the emotion behind them was real, threaded through with something deeper. Not personal tragedy. Inherited memory.
“I wasn’t there when El Auria fell,” she added, almost quietly. “But I was raised among those who remembered. I know what fear turns people into. What control looks like when it comes dressed in faith or order. And I know how fast the world stops listening if the first words are too vague to hold.”
Aer too a soft breath.
“So speak, Warlock. Not for us. For you. For the people who can’t. Because the moment you start to give us something real… we stop being strangers at a table.”
And she said no more. The silence after was intentional—a space she let him choose how to fill.
Although he did not outwardly show it, there was a moment of pride that welled within Jack. His wife was indeed something to behold, especially when she was working. He allowed that feeling to linger within himself as he looked on eager to learn what this Warlock had to say.
"I don't know what to say," Warlock replied softly. He had not expected this response or anyone to listen to the horrors on the planet. "Taga's machinations have led to the death of my wife and my family. I am lucky to still have a sister...."
Aer didn’t answer right away.
My wife and my family.
The words landed heavier than she expected, and something in her shifted—an ache, low and sudden, threading through her chest. She glanced, almost involuntarily, toward Jack. Not for guidance. Just... connection.
What would that kind of loss do to him? To her?
Her hand drifted to the curve of her belly, fingers brushing the soft fabric that stretched over the life growing inside her. For a fleeting moment, the room faded. What would she do if—
She drew in a breath through her nose. Slow. Centred.
Empathy was natural to her kind, but lately… it hit deeper. Hormones, emotion, intuition—sometimes they braided together into something sharp and wordless.
She looked back to Warlock, her features composed once more, but not untouched. There was no cool detachment now. Just warmth, real and quiet.
“You don’t have to stand,” she said gently. One hand gestured toward a nearby chair—not directive, but invitation. “Sit, if you like. It’s easier to carry something heavy when you’re not holding yourself upright too.”
A breath passed, not for tension, but for grace.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and this time it wasn’t the Chief of Intelligence speaking. It was Aer. The woman. The listener. The mother-to-be who suddenly couldn’t quite imagine the shape of her world without Jack, or the lives they’d yet to meet.
“If your sister’s still alive… we may be able to protect her. I won’t promise what I can’t deliver, but I will do what I can.”
She paused, letting her tone settle into something softer still—weightless, but anchored.
“You don’t need to give us everything. Start where it hurts less. Or start where it hurts the most. Whatever gets you through the telling.”
A heartbeat. Then quieter:
“I’ll listen. All the way through.”
She eased back just enough to give him space—but her presence remained steady beside him, unblinking in its offer of refuge.
"What you do not understand is how Taga has created cults. They're bizarre. They blame the affliction of our world on our population, on certain citizens, or on the poor.... It is..." Warlock stopped to sniff. "It is barbaric. It is nonsensical. Anyone with half a brain would not participate. But the pressure.... If you don't.... Then there's the public humiliation. Being accused of being a Federation sympathizer or a Kiter lover. If that occurs, then vandalism and harassment follow. You're never safe."
Aer let his words settle, then met his eyes with a steady, human warmth. “Cults. Blame. ‘Kiter lover.’ Public shaming, then the crowd does the rest.” She spoke it back to him softly, not to correct, but to show she’d heard every edge of it.
Her tone stayed gentle, conversational. “Think of the last time someone was named… the moment it started. Who said the words, and what happened in the next hour?” A beat of quiet followed—room for him to step into. “Start there. The most recent one you can bear to tell.”
She held the silence like shelter, gaze calm, inviting the shape of his answer without pressing it.
Jack stopped pacing at the mention of cults. "I need you to clarify. Are these actual cults or are these political factions that are cultish. For what you are describing sounds like political pressure." Jack had already formed his impressions about what occurred on the planet. Those impressions did not make the Falteans look good at all.
"I really don't know what the difference is," Warlock explained. "However, when you start talking about sacrificing children and bloodletting, does it really matter?"
"Do you have proof of these conversations about bloodletting, and child sacrifice?" Now that got Jack's attention. If there was truth to what this Warlock said, or more accurately if there was evidence, Jack could go to the Captain... A smirk crawled across his face as an idea dawned on him. He could leak some of this information to that damned Candy and maybe just maybe catch two fish with one hook.
"Proof? I'm the proof. I've seen it with my own eyes. If you got to Faltan, you would see it." His voice spoke more rapidly and direly. "Every second that the rebellion has no arms, is another child that dies, especially if it comes from a family that does not support the Governor. If you had anyone that has been down there since you left the planetary station, they would tell you. Why did you abandon it anyways? Leave us to die?"
That... That was an excellent question, Jack thought. It was also something he would make sure to touch on with the Captain. "What I need is something irrefutable. That is the only way that Starfleet will be able to intercede."
"I don't know how to get you that. I barely escaped the planet, stowing away on a shuttle. I don't even know how I'm going to get back, let alone get assurances of help." Velric sighed, putting his face in his hands. "Maybe it is hopeless. Maybe I need to get help from someone else."
Warlock stood up. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, but I get the sense that your hands are tied."
They were for the moment tied. However, Jack knew that like any bonds there was wiggle room. "We can get you back without anyone knowing. If you are willing, we will place a recording device, and tracker on your person. You will get recordings of what you described. In shall we say three days time we will get you out and get the data. Then you will have what you need. If you get caught, we will make sure that no harm comes to you. Hence the tracker."
Warlock considered his options. What was the worst that could happen? HE would still be here for a day or two to try and find weapons, but something to potentially guarantee his safety? But how if the Federation was not allowed near? "How can you guarantee that? The Federation is not allowed near Faltan."
"Lieutenant Wymund you will report to Dr Marcus for surgical alteration. I believe you are Faltean. Your assignment will then be Warlock's shadow and to get any and all evidence. Your handler for this mission will be Commander Feshau Patton..." Jack's voice trailed off for a moment as he thought about how he could get around the Captain with this and then for the first time since this meeting began he smiled. "...These orders are coming from Starfleet Marine Corps. I will sign the orders myself. That is if the Commander here agrees." He motioned toward his wife as he spoke.
Aer inclined her head slightly, the gesture smooth, professional. “Then we make it an intelligence op,” she said evenly, her gaze shifting between Jack, Wymund, and Warlock. “Lieutenant, you’ll need the surgical alteration to pass as Faltean as Colonel Patton has said. You'll travel back with Warlock on your ship — it will make his return look less suspicious if he isn’t alone. Covering the run as merchant business on your ship should give us the discretion we need.” A beat. “I'll draft something.”
Her focus shifted back to Jack, softer now but no less firm. “I’ll handle the details — the prep, the surveillance measures, the safeguards. This stays clean, quiet, and under Intelligence control. When the evidence comes back, it’ll be for you to decide how it moves up the chain and what the Captain sees.”
Her fingers brushed the edge of her chair, a faint trace of tension that never reached her voice. “I’ll run it. You’ll decide what to do with it. That’s how we keep this from blowing up in our faces.”
Warlock looked skeptically at everyone and after a moment simply asked, "Why?"
"Because if what you say is even half true then this station and its crew are simply a pawn in someone's chess game. I will not stand for that." Jack answered Warlock before he turned to Aer. "Agreed. No one is to know about this save for higher ups at Starfleet Intelligence."
"I don't know what you mean about you being a pawn, but I assure you that I do not lie about what is going on down on Faltan. It is why I came here to get assistance with the revolution," Warlock answered.
Hotaru spoke up after having been silently observing. "And this is why I connected you with Commander Feshau and Colonel Patton. Now though I need to get myself put under the knife so to speak." she looked towards Patton and Aer. "Permission to take my leave and get myself prepared?"
Jack nodded in the direction of Hotaru and then to his wife. Without so much as another word he turned on his heel and left. The less he knew about what this mission would be the better off he would be when the inevitable confrontation with the Captain came. "Dismissed." He said as he left the room.
Colonel Jack 'BlackJack' Patton
Commanding Officer, The Kingsmen
Executive Officer
Faltan Station
Lieutenant Hotaru Wymund
Intelligence
Faltan Station
Velric Thol
Refugee Faltean
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