appreciations 2Lt Arturo Maxwell - I know that you know that I know

[Lhandon_Nilsen]

This sim broke me.

When the simmer behind Maxwell messaged me to say that he has picked up my tags and rounded off the scene, I thought it would a nice fun ending to the party.

I didn't think I'd be emotionally wrecked. 

To give some extra context, this sim is all about remembering all those friends we have lost along the way,  and a big reason why this sim so damn epic, is that it stands opposite a sim where Nilsen, Tyber, Dahlquist and Arlill go on a spacewalk to sign their names on the hull, tick off an item on Oumuamua bingo and in someway, seal their friendship as a group. 

That spacewalk was a fun one and full off joy. The two big tough guys holding onto each other for dear life wanting to go back inside was so funny. 

Then we fast forward through the party thst happens a day or so later to this endont scene. Nilsen had no idea that Maxwell knew about their little space walk and at the end, as you can read, he asked how he knew and almost begged Maxwell to not tell Sherlock.

And then we get this sim which is the perfect ending to this little story where Joy and grief can often be two sides of the same coin. 

Quote

((OOC: Bit later than the others, but Sherlock seems to have started a trend))

((Deck 7, USS ‘Oumuamua))

As Max had reached the door of Seven-Forward, he'd found himself alongside Nilsen again.

The young Ensign looked a little sheepish to Max's eye and he raised an eyebrow.

Nilsen: How’d you know?

Maxwell: Know what lad?

The half-smile was gave off a knowing air and Max ran a hand over his beard.

Nilsen: ‘bout the walk? ::whispers:: on the hull. We signed our names and everything.

Maxwell: With the laser scalpels, aye? You're right, I know.

The smile broadened into a grin.

Nilsen: Well, would you ya keep it to yourself. She’s scary. I don’t wanna like…you know.

Maxwell: Aye

Was he stringing things out? Was he winding Nilsen up a little?

Most definitely.

Nilsen: ::Continuing the last last sentence:: Get inta trouble.

Maxwell: Nae worries there lad. Lips are sealed.

After he had left and found a viewport to stare out of, Max half-pulled the laser scalpel from his pocket. Smirking down at it, he stuffed it back into his pocket before heading for his quarters and bed.

Desperately he hammered rapidly at the console, attempting to fully identify the incoming vessels profile against the Federations almost non-existent data on Delrothian Republic ships.

Maxwell: Captain, its a trap! Vel'Tar-class Battlecruiser incoming!

Capt. Vestoria: Red Alert! Evasive ma-

Devasting fire smashed into the Meili, ripping through the shields like a hot knife through already soft butter. The Nova-class vessel bucked and heaved as it was battered from prow to stern and back again. An explosion, sparks flew, his face felt hot. The bridge itself was smashed open seconds later by the next hit, and he-

-sat bolt upright in his bed, almost imagining he could hear the cry that had awoken him echo around the silent room. The duty uniform he'd been wearing for the leaving party the night before was soaked with sweat and his hair was plastered to his head with it. Swinging his legs from the bed he sat silently in the dark for a few moments as his breathing returned to normal.

Maxwell: Lights. Low.

There was a soft chirp of confirmation and the lights in his room came up to a soft, gentle glow. Ishani and Milly beamed at him from the photograph on his beside table and he picked it up. He sat looking at it for a few moments, gently running a hand across Milly's face as if to brush stray hair aside before placing it back on the unit. Standing, Max stripped off his sweat-soaked clothing and padded out of his room to the communal shower room. From the other bedroom he could hear light snoring as he went into the bathroom and flicked on the hot-water shower. As clean as they were, there were times a standard sonic shower just woudn't cut it.

((Timeskip: One hour later. 03:48 Deck Time.))

Scrubbed clean and dried, Max had donned a tshirt and a pair of cargo pants before making his from the junior officers quarters to the Marine armory. He'd checked out an EV suit and made for one of the nearest airlocks where he suited up before stepping in and initiating the exit cycle. Now after walking along the hull for about twenty minutes he stopped, turning on the spot as he gazed out at the starfield before sitting down cross-legged on the grey-ish plating. Closing off the suits comm-system he shut his eyes as he sat there in silence for a while before reaching into a pouch on the EV suits belt. From within he removed a small plasticised cylinder embossed with the Starfleet Delta logo.

Within the cylinder was a rolled up sheet of replicated papyrus onto which he had used quill and ink to scribe “In Memoriam, USS Meili 239904.22”. Beneath the title and date, he inked the names of nineteen officers and crew that had been killed, three names of those too badly injured to remain in service and the twenty-one others that had been wounded. Rising to his feet, he turned the cylinder over in his hands. Turning to face away from the Esh-O System, out into the blackness he drew his arm back and hurled the cylinder out into the vast and dark abyss of space. Watching as it sailed end over end into the distance, Max sank to his knees and roared his frustration into the heavens.

--

2nd Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell.

Marine Officer, 4/73 Marines.

USS Oumuamua: NCC-81226.

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