Tunnel Vision
Posted on 04 Mar 2026 @ 9:53pm by Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan & Lieutenant Jorik
1,408 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission:
Silent Inheritance
Location: Jefferies Tube - Deck 08
Timeline: After the Medical Video Conference call
// Somewhere on Deck 08 //
Elias Harlan was beyond exhausted.
Whatever small reservoir of rest he’d managed to build up during the slow voyage from the Intrepid had evaporated like coolant in a breached line. He almost laughed—bitterly—at how he’d chided himself for feeling bored toward the end of that trip. Boredom. As if the universe had taken personal offense and decided to punish him by making sleep a luxury he could no longer afford.
He slumped against the bulkhead in a vertical Jefferies tube somewhere on Deck 8, knees bent, back pressed to the cool duranium. Somewhere farther down the horizontal crawlspace that snaked around this section of the saucer, the last unshielded EPS coupling was being replaced. Once that was done, the tactical array would finally be ready for startup and low-power tests.
All he had to remember was reconnecting the hard lines to the bridge tactical console.
No. He wasn’t doing that himself. He could delegate. He still had people for that.
Elias tapped his combadge, the chirp echoing faintly in the tight space.
“Harlan to Caldwell.”
“Caldwell here, sir.”
“Lieutenant, we’re about done on Deck 8. As soon as the team crawls out of this tube, the tactical array will be ready for startup. Would you mind shimmying yourself between Decks 1 and 2 and reconnecting the tactical console hard lines?”
“Of course, sir. I’ve got Ensign Torres with me. If I can’t fit, I know he can.”
Elias let out a small, tired huff—almost a laugh. Mike Torres and Nathan Caldwell had transferred over with him from the Intrepid. Both competent, both young, both still finding their footing on a new ship. Caldwell was by-the-book, precise, the kind of officer who triple-checked everything twice. Torres had a looser, more relaxed energy—quick with a tool and quicker with a joke. Together they balanced out nicely. When they were assigned to tasks, things usually got done.
“Appreciated,” Elias said. “Watch your step in those tubes. You’ve already fallen through a hatch, and had your hands fixed twice this week. Don’t make it three.”
He cut the channel, then leaned his head back against the bulkhead with a soft thud.
The ship was quiet around him—too quiet. No alarms. No alerts. Just the faint vibration of the warp core far below and the occasional metallic clink of tools from the team still working.
He stared at the PADD in his hand, the tactical progress bars ticking slowly toward green.
Almost there.
He exhaled once—long, slow, the sound of a man who’d been running on spite and black coffee for too long.
One more connection. One more test. Then maybe—just maybe—he could sleep for more than four hours without something exploding.
He pushed off the bulkhead, wincing as his back protested.
The vertical hatch above him slid open with a sharp hiss, startling Elias enough that he stumbled back a step, shoulder scraping the bulkhead. He steadied himself just as Jorik descended the ladder—precise, graceful, skipping the last rung to land evenly on both feet. The Vulcan’s uniform was, predictably, immaculate; not a crease out of place despite the cramped tube.
Elias exhaled once—short, tired—and managed a weary half-smile. He was too drained for the usual knot of anxiety Jorik’s presence always triggered.
“What do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, voice rough from too many hours without real rest.
“This Jefferies tube exits near sickbay,” Jorik replied evenly. “I surmised it would be more efficient to come to you than to wait for you to report to sickbay.”
“So this isn’t a social call,” Elias guessed, already knowing the answer.
“Indeed.” Jorik tilted his head slightly. “I could frame this as a routine check due to the increased engineering visits to sickbay and reiterate the necessity of adhering to safety protocols during tactical array repairs… but we both know you have already reviewed the statistics and issued directives to your personnel. They are complying as best they can under the circumstances.”
Elias huffed a small, humorless laugh. “Which makes the real reason for this visit…?”
Jorik’s dark eyes met his—calm, unblinking. “On the video conference earlier, you appeared fatigued.”
“There was no ‘appeared,’” Elias shot back, rolling his eyes. “I am fatigued.”
“And you have not reported to sickbay for your post-transfer physical.”
“Is that all?” Elias huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to crawl down here for that.”
“If I did not come down here, it would never be done.”
Elias groaned and held out his arms in mock surrender, too tired to argue the point.
Jorik produced the medical tricorder from the small satchel slung over his shoulder and began scanning. The device chirped almost immediately—multiple warning tones overlapping.
“Elias,” Jorik said evenly, “I cannot perform a physical or file the official report with your vitals in this state.”
“And what state is that?”
“Your blood pressure is hypertensive. Caffeine levels are dangerously high. Melatonin and serotonin are nearly non-existent. Blood sugar is critically low. Physically, your eyes are bloodshot, your skin is pale, and you are severely dehydrated.”
Elias gave a tired shrug. “Sounds normal to me.”
Jorik’s lips thinned—a rare, visible crack in composure. He looked as though he might speak, then chose silence instead. His expression softened, just fractionally.
“Elias, I am well within my rights to declare you unfit for duty and sedate you for twenty-four hours—”
Elias held up a hand, cutting him off.
“I know you’re busy,” Jorik finished quietly. “So is the majority of the medical staff.”
“I’m about to contact the constabulary planetside to get the ball rolling on whatever’s happening down there,” Elias said, leaning harder against the bulkhead. “Most of engineering has had at least some sleep. I’ll be fine.”
“You are exhausted,” Jorik stated, already fumbling in the satchel for a hypospray. He tapped dosage parameters with precise, economical movements.
“What’s that?” Elias asked, eyeing the device warily.
“An old remedy you may remember from the Triton.” Jorik finished calibrating and pressed it to Elias’s neck. The hiss was soft, almost gentle.
Elias felt the change almost immediately—the tight coil in his chest loosening, the bone-deep ache easing a fraction. Not gone. Just… manageable.
“That mystery mix you concocted when I had no other choice,” he muttered.
“Glucose, a hypertension stabilizer, electrolytes, with a hint of serotonin and a mild stimulant,” Jorik confirmed, returning the hypospray to the satchel. “This is temporary, Elias. You require hydration and at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Eating would be beneficial as well.”
“I will,” Elias said softly, “but I need at least four hours first. I have to get the ball rolling on the planet—get personnel in place once we know what’s happening. I’ll delegate. Trust me, I’ve gotten better at that with my old age.”
Jorik studied him for a long moment.
“I believe you,” he said finally. “I will check on you in five hours. If you are not in your quarters and resting, I will remove you from duty until you are. We need you, Elias—but we require you to be functional.”
Elias nodded, noting the extra hour Jorik had granted—probably more than he’d get otherwise.
“I promise.”
Jorik inclined his head once. “Very well.”
He turned to climb back up toward Deck 7.
“Jorik,” Elias called out.
The Vulcan paused, glancing back, eyebrow raised in silent question.
“You look different somehow,” Elias said quietly.
Jorik considered the observation for a moment.
“A new meditation technique I developed,” he replied. “Perhaps, when the current crisis concludes and if you remain curious, I can explain it to you.”
Elias gave a small nod. “Okay.”
Jorik nodded once in return, then climbed out of sight.
Elias stayed where he was for a long second—back against the bulkhead, hypospray’s effects still spreading through his system like slow warmth.
He exhaled once, long and slow.
Then pushed off the wall and headed toward the nearest exit hatch.
Five hours.
He could manage to keep functioning for five more hours.
And after that?
The ship—and whatever mess was waiting planetside—would be here when woke back up.
Probably.
--
Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn
&
Lieutenant Jorik
Medical Officer
USS Arawyn
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