The Brunt

Posted on 25 May 2025 @ 12:53am by Captain Bane Plase

690 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: The Festival of Unity
Location: Elysia
Timeline: Directly following The Storm

ON:

It wasn't the rain that woke him. Nor was it the howling wind. It also was not the strobe-like flashing of lightning.

It was the thunder.

The lightning flashed bright, almost neon purple in color, follow by the crack of the thunder that woke Plase up. He had been splayed out on top of his covers, on his stomach, free-fall style, naked as the day he was born, in his hut that had been granted to him. The tree just outside his window had been struck by that lightning bolt, the report from the near-instantaneous soundwave jolting him awake, ready to fight.

Or run.

The near constant flashes of light stunned Bane as he looked out the window, which in turn looked out to the sea. The sea was rolling, the waves crashing onto the beach to his left, and threatening to swallow up his hut.

The thunder clapped again, seemingly inside his hut. Bane ducked from the sound and covered his ears. The wind was fierce, the flames that had ignited the treetop from the lightning strike were blowing sideways, the sparks from it disappearing in the extreme distance as fast as the wind could take it.

The thunder kept coming. Loud, major cracks, like the sky was splitting into pieces. The hut creaked and moaned, the rain pelted the glass windows and the side of the structure with the force of thousands of needles.

Plase wanted to leave the rickety building, to seek safety further inland, and in a much more secure building. He scrambled over to the pile of clothes at the side of his bed where his feet had been hanging over and, as quickly as he could, donned his beach clothes. In his scramble, it took him far longer than it should have to get his shorts back on. The thunder was so intense, the lightning equally as so, he actually screamed once. This storm was probably the most powerful one he had ever experienced, anywhere, ever.

His clothes (albeit thin summer clothes) on, he ran to his front door. He paused a moment to look out the triangular window in the top center of the door. The wooden plankway that led to the beach to his left was constantly getting washed over by the wild waters, which surprised Bane; those waters were usually several meters below. He looked at the walkway, then to the beach. He thought maybe he could make it. And if not, surly the waves that were crashing onto the beach would carry him. Admittedly, it wasn't the smartest idea he ever had, but this hut was about to go the way of the T'kon Empire, and he had no desire to be in it when it did.

The thunder crashed hard again, somehow harder and more fierce than before, the storm growing in intensity by the second. If Bane didn't know better, he would absolutely claim the skies and seas were livid at every living thing on or near this beachhead. Steeling himself to bear the brunt of those waters, he opened the door. He did not expect the howling wind to become screeching wind! The door was jerked from him grasp and swung open to the fullest extent, slamming hard against the outside wall. He attempted to get to the door, which was literally pinned by the wind to the wall. The wind was so strong, so fierce, and full of rain pretending to be needles, he retreated back to the relative safety of his hut.

For a moment, he thought he could use his commbadge to hail the Cygnus and get him out of here, but then he remembered the state his ship was in. He thought also about hailing Starbase 375, but they were outside of transporter range, and even if they weren't, or they could boost the signal somehow, they could never get a lock on anything in a storm this severe.

The only thing Bane could do was grab whatever protection he could, and huddled in the wash closet, waiting for the worst, and hoping for the best.



OFF

Bane Plase, Captain
USS Cygnus, Commanding

 

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