Fateful Decisions

Posted on Tue Aug 11th, 2026 @ 7:06pm by Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu & Lieutenant JG Diana Sereno

2,699 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: The Hand That Rocks The Babe

Diana looked at the vitals on the PADD and sighed heavily. The treatment she'd ordered for Commander Aries had helped, yes, but it wasn't enough. She was still deteriorating, slower than the others, but in a steady downwards spiral. Her liver functions were already at a critical point and she would soon have to decide if it were worth it to try to replace it. According to her file, her parents and brother were back on Earth, but while she could comm them, there was another name, one still on board, that was her emergency contact. She patted the unconscious woman on the shoulder through the suit and stepped away, heading to the door and the airlock that would disinfect her suit for her to move to the end of the ward and another disinfecting airlock. As the suit was sprayed, she reached out to a comm unit, "Commander Beaulieu, this is Lieutenant Sereno, may I see you in conference room five. It's on the edge of the quarantine zone, no need for a suit for you."

Ferrand had been making a respectable attempt at pretending the day was normal.

The flight crew lounge was one of the few places aboard the Dreadnought where he could occasionally forget about the endless reports, flight schedules and increasingly grim updates coming from Velis III. A meal sat in front of him, though he had spent more time nursing the coffee beside it than actually eating. Around him, the subdued conversations of pilots and flight crew provided the familiar background noise of people trying to steal a few moments of normality between shifts.

His commbadge chirped. "Commander Beaulieu, this is Lieutenant Sereno. May I see you in conference room five? It's on the edge of the quarantine zone, no need for a suit for you." Ferrand paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. That alone was enough to make him lower the utensil.

He glanced around the lounge, his brow furrowing slightly. A summons from the medical department wasn't particularly unusual these days, but there was something about the wording that caught his attention. May I see you.

Not I need you.

Not Report to Sickbay.

Conference Room Five. Ferrand tapped his commbadge. "Beaulieu to Sereno. Of course, Lieutenant. I'll be there shortly."

It was the same conference room that she'd met the Commodore in, set up so that two people could see each other clearly with only glass and a double forcefield between them. It was the place where she could give news that she didn't want to give. Again.

She left her containment suit inside the airlock this time, so she'd be able to get into it once more to visit the rest of her patients, which had dwindled from fifteen now to ten. Most of them didn't have family on board, or significant others. None of them were conscious and able to comm their families. All of them were going to die if she didn't solve this. But one of them had that significant other and it was her duty to tell him what was happening. As she waited, she paced back and forth in front of the forcefield, ticking off everything she'd already tried.

The doors opened behind Ferrand with a soft hiss, and for once the familiar sound did little to settle the unease that had been building since Diana's summons.

He stepped into the conference room and immediately recognized the arrangement.

Glass. Two containment forcefields. No physical connection between the two sides. Whatever this was, it wasn't routine.

His eyes found Diana almost immediately. She was pacing on the other side of the barrier, and there was something about the movement that concerned him more than any words could have. Diana was a physician. A scientist. Someone accustomed to dealing with impossible situations by breaking them down into problems that could be solved.

She wasn't standing still. She was pacing. Ferrand stopped several feet from the forcefield.

"Lieutenant."

The statement of her rank broke her out of her internal reverie and she stopped her pacing, knowing how it had to look and she glanced down at the floor. What she didn't do was smile, her face in as neutral a look as she could keep it. "Thank you for coming, Commander. I do apologize for the conditions we're in right now, but unfortunately I don't have that much in the way of a choice in the matter. Anyone who was down on the surface for any significant period of time is on this side until the situation is fully resolved and we can guarantee that there won't be any further outbreak." Her words were clinical, sterile.

She remained three feet from the barrier, not that the proximity would matter if they were both an inch from it, "I asked you here because you were on Commander Aries's list of people to contact in case of serious illness." She exhaled, "She was exposed to the virus down on the planet and currently taken a turn for the worse. Right now she's on life support, but has multiple organ failures occurring. I've been her attending doctor since her infection and I've tried everything I can think of, including some hypothetical treatments that have all failed. At this point, there's a decision to make and you were the one she designated to make any medical decisions such as this."

For a moment, Ferrand simply stared at her. The words had been delivered clinically, almost mechanically, but it was the name buried among them that had stripped away every last trace of composure he had brought into the room.

Aries. Exposed. Multiple organ failures. Life support.

His mind seemed to seize upon each phrase independently, refusing to assemble them into the conclusion that Diana had already reached. Victoria. His Victoria.

Ferrand's expression went completely still. He didn't move toward the barrier. Didn't speak. Even his breathing seemed to stop for several seconds as he stared through the glass at Diana. Then his eyes lowered. "No..." It was barely audible.

His hand slowly came up to his face, thumb and forefinger pressing against the bridge of his nose as he tried to force his thoughts into order. He had spent years in command of pilots in situations where a single second of hesitation could mean death. He had learned to remain calm while alarms screamed around him, while fighters burned and ships came apart beneath him.

But this wasn't a fighter.

"I'm afraid it's true, sir. Right now, it's her liver and pancreas that are failing with some necrosis in the large intestine. I can keep her going if I take them out, maybe replace them eventually, but all that would be would be buying her time, sir." Diana's face was in anguish for the news she was giving him, it wasn't something he should have to decide.

"If you'd like, we can get you suited up and you can come see her, but she's been sedated and is unconscious and has a machine breathing for her. I'm not sure you want that to be..." She paused for the right words, "She's not a pretty picture, Commander."

Ferrand glanced toward the sealed portion of the room where Victoria lay beyond the containment protocols. For several seconds he said nothing.

Then he straightened. "I'll see her." There was no hesitation now. "Whatever she looks like." His voice hardened slightly.

"She's still Victoria." He stepped closer to the forcefield. "I don't care if she's unconscious. I don't care if she's connected to every machine in Sickbay." His expression cracked for just a moment, the fear beneath the officer's composure becoming impossible to hide.

"She shouldn't have to be alone." Ferrand drew a slow breath, forcing himself back into control.

"If you'll step outside, go to the next door and inside you'll find biohazard suits in several sizes." Diana said calmly, "I'll meet you and cycle you through the decontamination airlock. We'll talk more once you're in the room with her, all right?"

Ferrand gave a slow nod, the decision already made.

"All right." The words were quiet, almost painfully controlled. He turned away from the containment barrier and walked toward the exit, though his pace was noticeably slower than when he had entered. At the door, he paused and looked back toward Diana.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." It was a simple statement, but there was genuine gratitude behind it. She had delivered the news he never wanted to hear, and yet she had also given him the opportunity to be there.

He stepped through the doors and into the adjacent room. The sight of the biohazard suits waiting inside made the situation feel considerably more real. Ferrand stared at them for a moment before selecting one of the larger sizes. He ran his hands over the sealed material almost absently, his thoughts already with Victoria.

He had seen people injured before. He had seen pilots pulled from burning fighters. He had watched friends suffer wounds that would have killed lesser people. But none of that prepared him for seeing the woman he loved connected to life-support machinery. He began putting the suit on carefully, following the posted instructions almost mechanically. Gloves. Seals. Hood. Respiratory protection.

Every step created another layer between himself and the outside world. Another reminder that the person waiting on the other side wasn't simply sick. She was dangerous to be near because of something inside her that neither of them could see. Once the suit was secured, Ferrand looked through the small reflection in the room's glass.

For a moment, he barely recognized himself. The CAG was gone beneath the protective equipment.

There was only a man going to see the woman he loved.

The suited Doctor was waiting for him as he passed through the airlock and she gestured in the direction she wanted him to go. "There are a couple rules: If you see someone, anyone, going into convulsions, you do not do anything, you don't touch them. If a gurney is wheeled towards us, we get out of their way, they have priority. This is a hot zone and so long as you're in the suit and it remains uncompromised, you'll be safe and allowed out again."

She got his confirmation of the rules and led him through the corridor and through another airlock to where Victoria lay on a biobed, the metal tree next to her with seven different bags hung on it, nutrients, antibiotics, blood and one that was marked as a radiation hazard. The medical gown that she was draped in did little for her modesty, leads were attached to her body and there was a tube that went down her throat.

Diana stepped aside, her heart in her own throat as she looked another of her failures, this one just dying slower than the others. She'd have another flush of Aries's circulatory system again, maybe this time with a cycle of a new antibiotic, but that would be for later. For now, she was an observer for a few minutes.

Ferrand listened carefully as Diana explained the rules, giving a solemn nod after each one. There was no argument, no instinctive protest at being told to stand aside if someone was in distress. He understood the environment he had just entered, and more importantly, he understood that ignoring the rules could potentially make him another patient for Diana to treat.

"Understood, Lieutenant."

He followed her through the corridor, the sterile hiss of the airlocks accompanying every step. The deeper they went into the ward, the more oppressive the silence became. There were no casual conversations here, no familiar sounds of the Dreadnought beyond the containment systems. Only the quiet rhythm of machinery and the occasional movement of medical personnel.

Victoria lay before him.

The woman he knew as energetic, stubborn, occasionally infuriating and endlessly capable was almost completely obscured beneath the machinery keeping her alive. The biobed's monitors cast their cold light across her face while tubes, leads and intravenous lines disappeared beneath the medical gown. Beside her, the metal stand carried a collection of bags that represented just how much effort was being expended simply to keep her body functioning.

Ferrand's eyes settled on the tube running down her throat. His breathing caught. "Oh, mon Dieu..." The words escaped him before he could stop them.

He moved closer, slowly, carefully, stopping beside the bed without touching her. Diana had told him what the rules were, but somehow seeing them in practice made them far more real.

Ferrand stared at her face, searching for some trace of the woman who had smiled at him across a flight deck, teased him over the comm, or complained about his tendency to take unnecessary risks.

There was none. He lowered himself slightly beside the bed, his gloved hand hovering near hers before stopping short.

He wanted to touch her. But the suit and the rules stood between them.

"I'm here," he whispered.

There was no response from her, no sign that she even knew he was there.

Diana's heart broke once more. She thought she'd been over this, all of this, but she just saw Chase's face in front of her, laying there where Victoria now was. She fought to not break down and cry, but it was something inside her that hardened into duranium.

No. She was NOT going to lose this one. She was NOT going to leave Commander Beaulieu in the same place that she had been, the rabbit hole she'd buried herself in. Dammit. This one lived. This one WOULD LIVE.

She took a step forward, "Commander, I'm not going to lie to you. We're at a critical point here and as her designated decision maker, you have to make the decision whether to let her go now, or if you want me to continue treatment. Any 'normal' treatment has already been attempted, but I could try something extremely drastic. At best, I give it a one in ten chance of success, because it doesn't attack the underlying infection. The potential treatment for that? It's a matter of if the treatment kills her or the infection first."

Ferrand stood utterly still. For several seconds, there was no response. His eyes remained fixed on Victoria, watching the barely perceptible movement of her chest as the machinery continued doing what her body could no longer reliably manage on its own. The words one in ten seemed to hang in the air between them.

One in ten. It wasn't much. It was everything. His jaw tightened as he lowered his head, his hands curling slowly into fists at his sides.

He knew what Diana was asking of him. Knew that there was no comfortable answer hiding somewhere between the two choices. There was no third option where they could simply wait, hope, and somehow give Victoria more time.

Let her go. Or gamble with her life.

Ferrand finally looked toward Diana. "Do it." The words came quietly, but there was no hesitation behind them. He stepped closer to Victoria's bedside, reaching out and gently taking her hand. "Do whatever you have to do."

His thumb moved slowly across the back of her hand, though there was no response. "I don't care if the odds are one in ten. One in a hundred." His voice cracked slightly, but he forced himself onward. "If there is even the smallest possibility that you can bring her back to me, then you take it."

He looked down at Victoria again. "I will not be the man who decided that she was already dead while her heart was still beating." Ferrand swallowed hard. "And if the treatment kills her..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "...then at least she died fighting."

His eyes opened again, and there was something different in them now. Fear, certainly. Desperation. But beneath both was resolve. "Tell me what you need from me, Doctor. Whatever you need. Whatever permission you require. Whatever risks I have to accept."

His gaze returned to Diana.

"Save her."

END:
Mission Post By

Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu
CAG
USS Dreadnought

Lieutenant (JG) Diana Sereno
Medical Officer
USS Dreadnought

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