Command of the Dead Part II
Posted on Wed Oct 14th, 2026 @ 7:19am by Commodore Tyler Malbrooke & Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trellis & Major Edmund Merrick
1,768 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Episode 18 - The Edge of Darkness
Location: Command Information Center - Camp Nostromo
Timeline: MD004 1200 hrs
A claxon can be heard in the background. "That's Medical calling. I'm going down there." He ran from the room. The log recorded the empty room as the klaxon sounded for a second or two and then it showed the seal of the Marine Corps.
Forty-one cases now, and Torres and Stefanowski were dead.
Edmund could feel his stomach tightening and his pulse hammered in his temple.
The concern that Mercer had could be seen on the man's face, and seemed to permeate that room. The one they were seated in.
Edmund gave a sidelong glance towards the bodies once more. before turning back to the screen
The next log begins with Mercer already seated. His uniform is slightly disheveled. His office seems to be just as disheveled. There are dark circles beneath his eyes. The formality of the previous entries seems to be all but forgotten. The computer registers that this log was recorded 24 hours after the previous one.
"We've lost twelve more Marines. With thousands ill and in quarantine in their quarters. Doctor T'eseri finally identified what she believes is the mechanism behind the illness. Unfortunately, identifying it isn't the same as knowing how to stop it. We've tried three treatment protocols. None have been successful. The Medical Bay is full.
There are Marines lying in every available treatment space. Some are too weak to speak. Others are still trying to convince the medical staff that they're fit for duty."
Mercer gave a tired, almost humorless smile. "That's Marines for you. Even when they can barely stand, they're worried about missing their watch. We've had to pull personnel from nearly every department to maintain essential operations. And now we're losing people outside Medical. Two Marines collapsed at their posts today. One was on perimeter security. The other was monitoring the communications array.
They never made it to Medical. Just died right where they were, blood poured from their nose and mouth."
Silence. "I've ordered everyone who remains on duty to wear protective equipment and report even the slightest symptoms. But I'm beginning to wonder whether we've already waited too long. Doctor T'eseri hasn't slept. Neither have I for that matter."
Mercer looked toward something off-camera. "They're calling for me again. Another Marine has collapsed." He stands, then stops. "If anyone receives these logs... Tell their families we didn't abandon them. We stayed. Every one of us."
Arion stands a little wearily and he walked out of frame. As the log continued to record he is heard coughing as he left is office.
Lieutenant Trellis watched the Colonel walk out of frame and heard the cough.
Just the one. Dry, brief. The kind a man dismisses because he has somewhere to be.
"There." He said it quietly, almost to himself, then looked at Edmund. "Did you catch that?" He reached back and pulled the timestamp up alongside the medical logs, cross-referencing. "He's been in that Medical bay. Probably hasn't left it." He looked back at the empty doorway on the screen where Mercer had been standing. "He doesn't know yet."
He sat with that for a moment.
"No, he didn't. It could have been played off as just a dry throat," Edmund replied, his brow crinkling as he turned his gaze to Galen, then back to the screen.
The log activates. The image is unstable, shaky, as if the system has not been maintained properly. The timestamp stated that this recording is 48 hours since the previous one. Arion Mercer is seated in the CIC command chair. He looks extremely ill. He is pale and sweating, there is a small amount of blood on the sleeve of his uniform. His uniform is rumpled, and his breathing is labored. He tried to start the log a few times, and could not due to his breathing. Finally, he began to speak his voice low and raspy.
"This is Colonel Arion Mercer. Commanding Officer..." He coughed violently and turned away from the camera. After a moment, he continued. "Doctor T'eseri says I shouldn't be recording this. She's probably right. But there are things that need to be said. Camp Nostromo has lost contact with three of the outer security posts. We've confirmed that the Marines stationed there are dead. There are only a handful of personnel still responding to communications. Medical is..." He stopped himself and then gathered himself to continue. "...Medical is gone. Doctor T'eseri is the last one. She was still working when I left her. Still trying to find an answer." Mercer coughed again. He covered his mouth with a cloth. When he lowers it, there is a small amount of blood visible. He quietly sets the cloth aside.
"The illness has reached me. Fever. Weakness. Difficulty breathing. And now..." He struggled for breath. "Now the coughing has started producing blood." He looked directly into the camera. His eyes were worn, tired, on the verge of breaking. Yet there was still something there, something that was resolved.
"I don't know how long I have. So this is my final order. If this recording is recovered, Do not send anyone here. Do not attempt a rescue. Do not board this installation. Do not let anyone leave. Whatever this thing is, it cannot be allowed to spread beyond this place." When Mercer gave this order, gone was the sickly man seen earlier. In his place was a tried and true Marine. One whose order would resonate through time and space itself.
Mercer leaned back, exhausted. A coughing fit took hold of his body. This time he made no effort to cover it, or the blood it produced. A red trickle of which could be seen at the corners of his mouth. "The Marines under my command did their duty. Right to the end. They stood their posts when they could barely stand. They protected this installation when there was nothing left to protect. I want that entered into the official record. I want every Marine here and Doctor T'eseri given a commendation for their service. This was not a failure."
Mercer's breathing became increasingly labored. He looked toward the door to the CIC. "I think...I think I'm running out of time." There was a long pause. "To whoever finds this...Tell them we held the line."
Mercer reached toward the recording controls, but stops. His hand just dropped into his lap. "We held—" He coughed and the recording became distorted. The image remained on Arion Mercer for several seconds. During that time he became motionless. The recording continued briefly, and recorded nothing but the sounds of a red alert and the lifeless body of one Colonel Arion Mercer.
"He fought it like a Marine," Trellis said finally, his voice low. "Right to the end. Even when there was nothing to fight, nothing to shoot, nothing to put between himself and it — he kept commanding. Kept logging. Kept giving orders." He looked at the command chair, then at where they'd laid Mercer on the deck. "That's what the last log was. A final order."
He glanced toward where Major Taban lay alongside the Colonel.
"Taban must've come in after." He said it quietly, working through it. "Mercer was already gone when he got here. Last officer standing, and he made it as far as that console." He looked at the position of the body, the hand still near the board. "Maybe he was trying to send the logs out. Make sure someone received them."
He signed deeply before he turned to Major Merrick.
"Major, is there any way to get a more precise reading on life signs throughout the camp?" He kept his voice steady. "I'm wondering if there's anyone left alive in this installation that we can scan now that we're actually boots on the ground versus trying to get through Camp shielding." He suggested.
Watching the final moments of Mercer, Edmund felt his chest constrict.
He noted Mercer's position in the chair, the very chair he was sitting in. He had watched the dropping of Mercer's hand at the last moment. He was reaching for something. Edmunds eyes scanned the console finding that flashing button that could have sent out a warning buoy. It wasn't sent. Cold chills ran up and down his spine causing Edmund to shiver.
At Galen's words Edmund looked at Galen, "It appears that he had." Sorrow filling his eyes.
"There is a way for us to find out if anyone else is out there." Edmund reaching out and activating the scanner. There was one other person he was also wanting to find out if he was alive. A quick check, his heart faltered. He found the one he was looking for, Lance Corporal Matthew Tralinsky.
Then he found the one thing that caught his attention, Edmund's eyes widened as he looked at Galen. "There is someone alive! One person, and it is looking like they are in medical." He will deal with the other news he had found later. "I am alerting the others." Edmund stated.
Lieutenant Trellis stared at the scanner readout for a moment, certain he’d just imagined something.
But he hadn’t.
“One survivor.” He said it like he was still processing the math. Twelve thousand dead and somehow, somewhere in that Medical bay, one person had made it through. “One.”
He was already moving his hands across the console, flagging the life sign’s location to transmit with Edmund’s alert to the others.
Another beat, Edmund then said. "Lieutenant Trellis, after this are you willing to have a drink in honor for these brave men?"
At Edmund’s last question he paused. His eyes moved to Mercer and Taban on the deck, to the command chair, to the screen that had recorded a Colonel dying mid-sentence.
“Hell, I’ll buy the whole away team a round.” He said quietly, looking at the last marines to stand at their posts. “Every last one of them earned it.”
A Joint Post By
Commodore Tyler Malbrooke
Commanding Officer, USS Pioneer
Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trelis
Chief Flight Control Officer, USS Pioneer
Major Edmund Merrick
Company Commanding Officer, The Cure
USS Pioneer
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