The Edison had become essential in the fight against the virus outbreak that had migrated to Eos Station. As the ship’s sickbay worked around the clock, it was evident that the situation was far more complex than anyone had anticipated. AJ and his crew were now at the forefront of a crisis that tested every ounce of their resolve. The Edison, a patrol vessel, had been thrust into an unprecedented medical emergency, and now its crew had to adapt quickly to their new role.

AJ felt the pressure like never before. His ship, designed for border patrols and skirmishes, wasn’t built to handle a full-scale medical emergency. But Starfleet had taught him to adapt and make decisions even when the odds were stacked against him. He’d commanded crews in battle before, but this? This was different. This enemy was invisible, creeping through the air, infecting his people. Each day, he watched his crew fight exhaustion and fear, wondering if they would be the next to fall ill. AJ had never felt so helpless. This was not what they had signed up for.

Dr. Andrews was particularly concerned. She’d been on duty for who knows how long, spending hours analyzing samples and monitoring the virus’s progression. She’d only recently discovered that the pathogen was mutating at an alarming rate. What had initially been a manageable threat had now developed into something far more dangerous and unpredictable. The first round of treatments developed by her and Dr. Rodriguez had shown promise but were becoming ineffective as the virus adapted. This development came as a blow to the already overburdened medical staff; however, Madison was determined.

However, AJ had something more pressing to worry about. He sat behind his desk in the ready room, the weight of the upcoming conversation bearing down on him. This was not something any captain looked forward to performing. The room was silent save for the faint hum of the ship’s engines. Before him, the comm system was active, displaying the incoming call.

As AJ sat at his desk, staring at the comm screen, he couldn’t help but think of his last conversation with Mark. It had been about a week ago, just before the virus swept through Eos Station. Heskett had approached him nervously after a shift. “Commander, do you think I’m cut out for Starfleet?” he had asked, with a mixture of self-doubt and curiosity. AJ chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Heskett, you’re exactly what Starfleet needs. Never doubt it.” He never imagined those would be some of the last words he’d say to the young ensign.

Delivering this kind of news never got easier. He took a deep breath. Reaching over the desk, he tapped a button on the terminal. The screen flickered, and the faces of Ensign Heskett’s parents appeared. His mother, in her mid-fifties with kind eyes, smiled at the sight of the Starfleet officer on the screen. Sitting stiffly next to her, his father wore the uniform of a retired Starfleet engineer. His face seemed worn and hard.

“Commander Tindal,” Mrs. Heskett greeted warmly, though her smile faltered slightly, sensing the seriousness of his expression. “Is everything alright? Is our son okay?”

AJ cleared his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Heskett,” he began. With a soft voice, AJ said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” In that moment, he wished he was anywhere, but here.

Mrs. Heskett’s hand flew to her mouth as if she already knew what was coming. Mr. Heskett leaned forward, his face growing pale.

“Your son, Mark, has passed away,” AJ said softly. “He succumbed to complications related to the viral outbreak we’ve been facing aboard Eos Station.”

The call went silent as Mrs. Heskett’s eyes welled up with tears, her upper lip trembling as she held her husband’s hand tightly. Mr. Heskett, usually so composed, seemed to collapse under the news. His face crumpled as the reality of their loss hit him.

“No…” Mrs. Heskett whispered. “Not our boy… not Mark.”

AJ tried to maintain his composure. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Your son served with bravery. He was an important part of my crew and will be missed. He died doing what he loved, and he will not be forgotten.”

Mr. Heskett’s eyes hardened. “How could this happen? How could Starfleet allow this to happen to him? He was supposed to be safe, out there protecting others.”

AJ took a deep breath, empathizing with the father’s anger. “I wish I had some answers for you, Sir. The virus spread rapidly, and despite our best efforts, we couldn’t contain it in time. Mark received the best care we could provide, but it was too late.”

Mr. Heskett wrapped an arm around his wife as she buried her face in his shoulder. “He was Starfleet,” Mr. Heskett said, his voice sharp but shaky. “He’d seen action. You tell me how a virus managed to do what battle never could. How could Starfleet leave him so… so unprepared?”

“I understand your feelings. I wish I could give you a better answer,” AJ said, trying hard to keep his own emotions in check. “Please know your son meant the world to all of us here; he was a part of our Edison family. He will be missed. We’d like your permission to have a service of some sort, something to honor his memory.”

“I would love if you could attend,” he nodded.

Mrs. Heskett nodded through her tears, unable to speak. Mr. Heskett wiped his eyes before responding, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Commander. We’ll… we’ll be there.”

AJ nodded, his heart heavy. “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

The call ended with an uncomfortable silence. AJ just sat there, looking at the blank screen for what seemed like an eternity. The room was oddly silent, save for the hum of the engines. His heart ached; delivering that type of news was hard. It was something he’d done far too many times. This was one of the hardest moments in a Captain’s career.

He glanced around the office, searching for a distraction, but nothing could distract him from his thoughts. The memories of Mark’s smile, willingness to help, and youthful curiosity were a sharp contrast to the painful reality of his absence. AJ’s thoughts drifted back to the Oberon and the family he’d lost there. He silently cursed Peter for dragging him back into this. He paused, realizing that self-pity was a poor response to the memory of Ensign Heskett.

He stood up, tugging once more at his uniform, looking out the window. He lowered his head as he said a silent prayer, a vow to honor the memory of their fallen officer.

The trip from the ready room to the bridge somehow felt longer than usual. The clinks of his boots as they tapped the floor seemed to detail every step. He sighed as he reached the captain’s chair.

Looking over to the XO, “The notification is complete,” AJ said. “They’re taking it about as well as you’d expect.”

“I’ll have someone reach out to them in a while,” the Executive Officer replied. “Best to give them some time, though.”

“Yeah,” AJ said.

Lizzie looked at AJ with a steady gaze. “We will honor his memory with the same dedication he showed us. For now, we focus on ensuring that no more families have to face this kind of loss.”