For weeks, sickbay had been quiet enough to hear the low hum of the Sirona’s impulse engines. It was a constant rhythm that lulled the medical staff into a sense of security and relaxation they hadn’t experienced for years, if ever. A most enticing invitation to rest, focus on things usually neglected, and indulge in the rare chance to take it slow.

Nothing beeped. Nothing blinked. No one groaned in pain or debated why they should be allowed to return to duty before their injuries were fully healed, or be kept off duty despite it. The display at the nurse’s station showed a near-empty patient queue, and the most exciting thing was a data PADD slowly updating itself on the counter.

It had become a sanctuary – especially compared to the overworked counselor’s suite next door. Many members of the crew were on edge, and understandably so. The Blackout had not only stranded them here. It also cut off contact with family and loved ones.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Obasi Jalloh was one of those people. For him, the lack of patients in sickbay meant free time – something he, as a medical officer with very few hobbies, didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

Being unable to contribute meaningfully to the teams of engineers and scientists that attempted to find ways to get past the ‘walls’, meant feeling useless. He didn’t appreciate that either.

Jalloh might have booked an appointment with Chief Counselor T’vana himself – if it wasn’t for a far more pleasant distraction.

A rare smile tugged at his lips as he lazily leaned against the edge of a biobed, and listened to the soft voice over the comms.

“And then, he complained that it was too hot – can you believe it? So I had to send it back again, and believe me, our chef wasn’t happy at all.” Veris, only a few lightyears away on the luxury passenger liner Celeste, laughed. It was the warm and melodic laugh that made him unreasonably happy, and had been how he’d noticed her in the first place.

They had met during his recent visit to the Celeste – a rare treat, and only possible because they too were stuck here – and as far as shore leave flings went, this one was highly enjoyable.

More than that. Even though Veris and he were polar opposites, their daily conversations were what kept him sane.

He chuckled. “From what you told me, I could almost imagine him throwing that leola root stew into their face.”

“Pretty much. I’m telling you, if I hadn’t been there…”

“So you basically saved a life.”, he said, nodding along even though she couldn’t see it. “Good on you. It’s more than I have done today.”

“Still boring?” Veris asked.

“Yeah. I’ve resorted to checking the inventory for the third time today. Always best to be prepared.”

Veris hesitated, then said “You should ask for another day off and come over again… could get us a table at the restaurant I work at. Something romantic.”

Jalloh’s heart skipped a beat. Yes. He wanted that.

It took a moment before he realized that he hadn’t actually responded, and his brain scrambled to come up with something clever.

“I’m particularly looking forward to dessert,” he replied. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that he would have been better off staying quiet.

“Shit, sorry. It sounded much better in my head, I promise.”, he quickly added, but didn’t get a response.

“I’m bad at this. Miserable even. I’d love to go out with you, and really just that…”

Again the voice on the other end stayed silent.

“Veris?”

Still nothing. He straightened, his previous euphoria long dissipated.

He had gone too far with that comment. That utterly stupid comment. With a sigh, he made his way to his work station, and attempted to re-establish the connection, ready to apologize.

No response.

Jalloh frowned. Perhaps it was a glitch, he thought, and went ahead to run a system check but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary – then again, what would he know? He wasn’t an engineer.

Desperate to continue the conversation, he tried another comm line, but that too didn’t work.

Perhaps the blackout had expanded. Perhaps, very soon, they wouldn’t be able to communicate with anyone any more. Perhaps he should inform the bridge of what had happened – or at the very least ask engineering to fix his comms.

His hand had almost reached his badge when he pushed the thought aside. They would have noticed the Blackout expanding, and had other things to do than keep his romance alive.

No, he would have to do that himself. In person, with flowers.

He had no way of knowing that the choice to stay silent would cost thousands of lives.