Holodeck Nightmares [Graphic Content]
Posted on 29 Jul 2025 @ 9:06pm by 1st Lieutenant Gavin Ross Dr. & Major Emily Janeway & Lieutenant Lamia ‘Mia’ Kildare
3,180 words; about a 16 minute read
Mission:
General Sim Postings
Location: Holodeck One, USS Tomcat
Timeline: Current
[ON]
Standing outside the holodeck, Lamia wondered if she could really access it while Emily was inside. She’d tried calling her but had no joy, so now she stood outside the holodeck, ready to enter her override code to gain access. She paused before taking a deep breath, entering her code. She waited for a moment, then entered, waiting as the door closed behind her.
The holodeck hummed with a sickly crimson glow, its air thick with the stench of ash and scorched duranium. The ground was a jagged wasteland of cracked earth and twisted starship debris—shattered consoles, sparking conduits, and the skeletal frame of a bridge long since burned in Major Emily Janeway’s mind. Above, a dying star bled red across a fractured sky, its light glinting off the obsidian horse figurine that lay discarded in the dirt, its polished surface winking like a cruel eye. The relentless chroniton hum in Janeway’s skull pulsed in time with the scene, a grinding echo of 2396’s coffin and 2402’s lost fleet, amplifying the Cardassian venom’s neurotoxic burn in her veins.
Janeway stood alone at the center of this nightmare, her tattered Starfleet uniform streaked with soot, her scarred hands gripping replica of Phaser rifle, with white-knuckled fury. Her violet eyes blazed, wet with unshed tears, as she faced a flickering hologram—a Cardassian gul, its sneer sharp as a disruptor’s edge, its form glitching between solid and translucent, as if her fractured memories were overloading the holodeck’s matrix. The gul’s laughter hissed through the air, cold and synthetic, a mockery of the Obsidian Order’s venom that still seared her nerves, green veins pulsing faintly beneath her scarred skin.
“You think you broke me?” Janeway’s raspy voice erupted, a guttural snarl that splintered into a desperate wail as she fired at the hologram, phaser bolts sizzling uselessly through its warping form. “You buried me in ’96, poisoned me with your filth, but I’m still standing!” Her hands trembled, the rifle’s muzzle shaking as she stumbled forward, her boots crunching on ash-covered debris. The hum in her head roared louder, a chroniton storm dragging her between timelines—2396’s suffocating coffin, dirt clogging her lungs, and 2402’s bridge, her crew’s screams—Kane, T’Lara, Vorn, Ellis—burning in Dominion fire.
The gul’s hologram flickered, morphing into a faceless Starfleet admiral, its cold, featureless silhouette radiating the betrayal that had sentenced her to that ash-choked grave for a “timeline fix.” Janeway’s scream tore through the holodeck, raw and jagged, as she hurled the rifle to the ground and lunged at the figure, her scarred fists swinging through its intangible form. “You took them! My crew, my rank, my life!” Her voice cracked into a sob, her knees buckling as she collapsed beside the obsidian horse, her fingers clawing at the dirt, blood seeping from where her nails gouged her palms. “Kane’s steady voice, T’Lara’s laugh, Vorn’s roars, Ellis’s pleas—they’re gone because of you!”
She snatched the figurine, clutching it so tightly it bit into her skin, a thin trickle of blood dripping onto the ash. Her raspy voice dropped to a ragged whisper, her violet eyes wild with anguish and defiance as she glared at the glitching admiral. “I was a Commodore, damn you—leading my fleet, my Marines, not this… this wraith choking on ash and venom!” She jabbed her temple, wincing as the hum surged, amplifying the screams of her lost crew and the venom’s burn, her scars crawling with green-tinged pain. “This poison’s eating me, turning me into a monster, and you—you and your precious timeline—left me to rot! I’m trying to chain it, to lead the 95th, to stand for Somers, but every night I’m back in that coffin, this cursed horse cutting my hand, their voices blaming me!”
Janeway staggered to her feet, swaying as the hologram flickered back to the Cardassian gul, its laughter now a low, venomous hiss. “You’re a glitch, Janeway,” it taunted, its voice blending with the chroniton hum, “a failure poisoning Kathryn’s legacy.” She froze, her breath hitching, tears carving tracks through the grime on her face. Her scarred hand tightened around the figurine, as if it could anchor her against the void threatening to swallow her. “I’m not done,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fragile defiance. “I’ll fight this—fight you—until I’m human enough to command again. But if Temporal Investigations sees this…” Her voice faltered, a flicker of terror crossing her face as she imagined losing her role as Second Officer and Marine CO, locked away as a timeline hazard.
The holodeck’s doors remained sealed, the hum of the simulation drowning out any hint of Lieutenant Lamia Kildare’s presence beyond them. Janeway stood alone, her violet eyes fixed on the glitching gul, her body trembling with the venom’s burn and the weight of her ghosts, unaware that help was closer than she realized.
Lamia was trying her hardest not to let the whole thing overwhelm her, the scene itself was crazy but Emily’s emotions were worse. She knew she had to get Emily’s attention, but how to do it without becoming embroiled in the scene was another thing. “Emily! Can you hear me?” She moved closer treading as carefully as she could. “Emily!!”
Emily’s violet eyes blazed like plasma torches, slicing through the holodeck’s crimson murk, heavy with the reek of blood and scorched duranium. The obsidian horse figurine gouged her scarred palm, blood hissing on the ash-strewn ground, where twisted conduits sparked like dying nerves. A fractured star bled red overhead, its pulse syncing with the chroniton hum in her skull, shrieking her 2402 crew’s deaths—Kane’s calm, T’Lara’s laugh, Vorn’s roars, Ellis’s pleas—lost in Dominion fire. But it was 2378’s gulag that clawed deepest: the Cardassian venom seared her veins, green scars writhing under her tattered uniform like serpents, each pulse a memory of Obsidian Order interrogators, their cold scalpels and hissing laughter carving her soul.
“Kildare?” Emily’s raspy snarl cracked, laced with bitter humor as she spotted Lamia’s silhouette in the haze. “What, joining my gulag reunion?” Her jagged smirk trembled, tears glinting as she lurched forward, boots crunching ash. The glitching hologram—a Cardassian gul with eyes like black pits—sneered, its voice dripping venom that burned her nerves raw. “Computer, pause!” she barked, screams fraying, but the gul’s laugh lingered, morphing into 2402’s faceless admiral who betrayed her. “’78’s poison’s cooking me, Kildare—those Cardassian butchers pumped it in, made my scars scream, and now it’s amplifying my crew’s ghosts!” Her voice shattered, eyes locking onto Lamia’s with desperate defiance. “I’m fighting to cage this for the 95th, Somers, but if Temporal Investigations sees this wreck, I’m a lab rat. Help me break this gulag’s chains, doc, before I’m just ash and spite.”
Lamia stepped closer. “We have to find you a cure for that venom, we need a break to get a firm grip on your problem and for that we need Doctor Ross as well.” She knew that wouldn’t be popular. “No lab rat here I promise! We just need to stop this in its tracks before it gets any worse. If I could enter your mind to put up temporary walls I would, but I’m not sure how much I could take.”
Emily’s eyes were like a cornered animal, wet with suppressed tears, met Lamia’s, her counselor’s courage—stepping into this chaotic simulation—echoing the forbidden strength of her adoptive mother, Admiral Kathryn Janeway. Her raspy voice, softened to spare
For the sake, weary sarcasm. “Ross? Patch a five-years old of death with a tricorder?” Her lips twitched into a faint, haunted smile, raising the bloodied figurine. “’78’s venom burns, but ’96’s broke me—yanking me from ’01, my crew’s voices—Kane, T’Lara—trapped in timeline .” A silenced memory of Kathryn—“Lead through the chaos, Emily”—warped by the chroniton hum, stung under the Temporal Investigations reprimand to forget.
The frozen gul hologram blurred with the 2401 admiral’s betrayal, the shadowy figure’s form twisting the rift. Emily eased back, her voice a trembling whisper. “Temporal Investigations’ll erase me from the 95th if anyone would see me now as a monster .” She tapped her temple, wincing at her own pain as chroniton wail. “You’re in this shitstorm, Lamia. Still these ghosts, or buy me some time with this venom, before I lose myself again in memories.”
“Let’s try something…” Lamia looked at Emily with purpose. “I want you to focus on my voice, and my voice alone. There are no other voices, I want you to imagine a box in your mind, can you do that?”
Emily’s violet eyes scanned the holodeck, the crimson haze surrounding her as ash swirled like faint apparitions. The sharp scent of scorched duranium mingled with the metallic tang of her blood, creating an intense atmosphere. The obsidian horse figurine pressed against her scarred palm felt raw and grounding. “Your voice, Kildare…” she whispered, her tone filled with a gentle plea. The chroniton hum was softer now, but familiar echoes lingered—Kane’s steady tone, T’Lara’s laughter, Vorn’s roars, Ellis’s cries—from a mission that felt lost in time.
She reached for the imagery of Lamia’s box, its edges blurring into the dark confines of her nightmares. Yet, she held onto it tightly, determined. “Not a grave… I’m trying,” she murmured, her boots shifting on the debris. She concentrated on the box, her scars pulsing softly as she expressed her wish, “It’s just a box, that’s all I can see now… please don’t let me fall to ash and fade into darkness again.”
Lamia nodded. “The box is filled with light, no ash and no darkness. It’s a safe place, where you can rest away from the memories, the voices, and the terrors. We’re going to create a space in your mind for those bad memories to go, where you can lock them away and access them a little at a time in the clarity you’ll need to move on.”
Emily’s violet eyes, sharp with Scorpio fire, softened in the holodeck’s crimson haze, ash settling like ghosts laid to rest, the scorched duranium’s tang now a fainting sting. Her scarred palm cradled the obsidian horse figurine, its cool weight grounding her, the amber glow of 2378’s Cardassian venom fading in her green-tinged scars, its burn easing. “I hear you, Kildare,” she whispered, voice raw but steady, the chroniton hum—Kane’s calm, T’Lara’s laugh, Vorn’s roars, Ellis’s cries—muted to a distant echo. Lamia’s light-filled box glowed bright in her mind, silver walls a safe haven, sealing the gulag’s gloom. Lamia’s empathic calm, a warm wave, urged Emily to match her slow breaths, syncing her cybernet heart’s steady thud. The pregnancy’s glow—Lamia’s life Emily never had—stung like Snuff’s “bury all your mysteries in my skin,” her outsider fear lingering, yet the box and breaths held her. “This box… your calm… it’s i’m still an outsider,” she said, boots firm on debris, her tone cooperative but trembling with fear.
“Getting a hold of your fear, controlling it, will come in time.” Lamia offered. “You will have to learn to face your fears, your rage, and your anger, but for now it can help you to keep that under control. I’m not trying to lock away your memories, just to keep them from overwhelming you.”
Emily’s scarred palm bled crimson, the obsidian horse’s cruel edges shredding deep, on the holodeck’s ash-strewn deck, mingling with greenish ichor to choke the air with a vile stench—scorched duranium, acrid ozone, rotting flesh, a Cardassian gulag’s festering wound. Her green blemishes pulsed, the Obsidian Order’s venom torching her nerves, its sulfur reek a 2378 blade—scalpels glinting, hisses in fetid air—stirring 2402’s ghosts: Kane’s calm, T’Lara’s laugh, now wails in her shattered mind. Her violet eyes burned, flooded with tears, raw with despair in the crimson haze. “Kildare, your box—I’m fighting, but this smell, their venom, it’s tearing my soul apart Fear’s choking me, rage drowning me” Emily’s voice cracked, a heart-wrenching sob, her bloodied fist gripping the figurine, its edges anchoring her as she clawed for Lamia’s silver haven, a shield against the venom’s torment.
Lamia instinctively took hold of Emily’s other hand. “Let go of the horse Emily, give it to me I’ll keep it safe I promise. You’re not alone in this fight anymore, you don’t have to struggle on by yourself.”
Emily’s voice broke, a raw sob, her bloodied fist clutching the figurine, its venom-tainted edges a threat. “Mia, stay back—that horse, my blood—it could sting your nerves, don’t touch it!” she pleaded, desperation raw, clawing for Lamia’s silver haven, a frail shield against the war’s putrid legacy, praying for Ross’s aid.
Dr. Gavin Ross observed the harrowing scene at the edge of the holodeck. A crimson wasteland reflecting Major Emily Janeway’s fractured mind, scarred by bio-weapon toxins and trauma. Her violet eyes, bloodied hands clutching a potentially toxic figurine, showed her torment and resilience. Gavin’s scans revealed severe PTSD worsened by neurotoxic venom, triggering cycles of trauma and identity crisis. Counselor Kildare’s 'silver box” visualization helped stabilize her, but her fear and physical turmoil demanded urgent medical intervention to prevent neural damage.
Ross calmly reassured Emily, acknowledging her fight and pain. He carefully removed the figurine, explaining that it hurt her and needed to be secured. He planned a targeted nanite infusion to reduce toxins and stabilize her, regaining control through her visualization and medical support.
Chief of Medical, Ross, emphasized her resilience as a Marine and leader, promising to guide her through recovery. She encouraged her to move to sickbay for detox and rest, supported by Kildare and the team. “Emily, we are going to transport you back to the main sickbay. You are going to be detoxed from the Romulan bioweapon that is still left.” Gavin had stated.
Lamia was grateful for Gavin’s intervention, it was taking a lot out of her trying to keep Emily calm and focussed. “It’s okay Emily, trust us.” She offered a comforting smile.
Emily swayed, blood dripping, voice a calm, eerie whisper. “It’s Cardassian venom, ’”Sickbay won’t end this horror, and this nightmare’s not only unfolding it’s a buildup welcome to the storm.” She offered a blood-streaked, ghostly nod, gripping Lamia’s silver haven, praying Ross’s nanites might ease the venom’s curse from Emily’s own wrath .
“It’s a start though Emily, and right now you need the treatment to get a handle on this.” Lamia offered. “If it helps even a little then it’s worth it, and you’re showing that you’re willing to accept help.”
Emily’s violet eyes blazed with feral, caged fury, slashing through the holodeck’s crimson haze as they locked on the obsidian horse figurine, like a traitor’s blade from her shattered 2405 timeline. Her tattered marine uniform uniform—ripped to shreds resembling with caked with mining planet filth, reeking of rotting flesh—clung to her scarred frame, green-tinged scars pulsing with 2378 Cardassian venom, every tear screaming her 2396 coffin’s betrayal. —Kane’s roar, T’Lara’s laugh, Vorn’s bellows, Ellis’s screams—ripped her skull, merging with the coffin’s dirt-choked nightmare. Lamia’s words—it’s a start, you’re willing to accept help—hit like a Starfleet trap, igniting her dread of the ship’s ears and barring her duties.
“You weren’t there to witness the destruction , Kildare.” Emily hissed , voice over her shoulder , boots pulverizing ash, the uniform’s stench choking the air. “Not when Starfleet’s gutless bureaucracy left me for dead in ’96—a rotten corpse in a mining planet’s coffin, this rag my shroud!” Her scarred hand slashed at the tattered sleeve, eyes boring into Lamia with venomous paranoia. “That horse Ross is clutching—it’s no poison, but it’s tearing opening that grave to the bone dragging me to ’05’s ashes! You breathe a word, and the ship’s ears’ll catch it—crew’ll brand me unfit, and I’m grounded unable to be the heart of my rifle regiment, carrying on being third in command of the rifle regiment.”Her voice cracked, raw flesh new terror bleeding through.
"Computer. Site-to-site emergency transport from Holodeck One to Main Sickbay, Surgical Bio Containment." Gavin ordered the main computer. The three of them were transported to Sickbay...
[Main Sickbay, USS Tomcat]
[Bio Hazard, Surgical Suite]
"Emily... you're doing great. I need you to rest in there for right now. We are decontaminating you with the residual effects of the bio containment weapon...."
Emily sleeps in the bio-stasis field, in a reposed position like a coffin sleeping.
Sighing. Gavin shook his head. He would have to develop a comprehensive treatment plan for residual bio-weapon effects and PTSD. Coordinate with Starfleet Medical for access to advanced Cardassian toxin databases. Given their expertise in genetic engineering...
"After transporting Emily to the bio-toxin suite in Sick Bay, I placed her in the bio-stasis containment fields and activated the air bio-circulation system. Emily’s condition is critical but manageable with immediate decontamination and targeted treatment in the bio-containment surgical suite.
Her psychological trauma requires attention to ensure she can return to her role as third-in-command of the rifle regiment without undue delay. The medical team will prioritize her physical recovery and mental stability while respecting her autonomy and command responsibilities."
Gavin had read his report to Counselor Lamia Mia Kildaire.
Lamia nodded. “I’d like to get Emily back on duty as soon as possible, so the sooner we can get her trauma sorted to a point of stability the better. I don’t want to draw undue attention to her case.”
"Agreed." Gavin nodded in compliance.
At this point, Gavin could almost taste the cigarette. "She should be ready within the hour. The calming sedatives we administered were effective. Emily should be waking up soon..."
Nodding her head Lamia offered a smile. She just hoped this would work for now if only temporarily.
[OFF]
RSS Feed