Held in Reserve: What Stayed Behind

Posted on Fri Apr 10th, 2026 @ 11:38pm by Lieutenant Darik Moreau

1,567 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Ghost Starship
Location: Lakaria City, Cardassia Prime
Timeline: [Character Backpost] 2370

2370, Lakaria City, Cardassia Prime

The travel case was too small.

Darik had reached this conclusion several minutes earlier and was now observing the problem with a slight, confused pout as he waited for the adults to reach the same conclusion. His Mama usually noticed things like that. His Papa not as much. Spatial awareness hadn’t been why Mama had married him...apparently.

He sat cross-legged on the dark stone floor beside the bed while the contents of his small room gradually reduced themselves into a smaller and smaller pile. The apartment was typically Cardassian in its construction, all dark surfaces and geometric lines, the walls cut from the same warm-toned stone that held the city’s heat long after sunset. Narrow amber light panels ran along the upper corners of the room, casting long shadows that sharpened every edge and ridge. Darik knew every inch of his room. He knew which spots held the warmth best, where he could curl up and play if he was bored. He also had hidden some sweets under a loose stone, for a day where Mama needed cheering up.

His father moved through the room with a kind of restless energy that did not quite belong in such a place. Tomas Moreau crossed from cupboard to bed and back again, opening drawers that had already been opened, folding clothes that had already been folded and occasionally stopping in the middle of the room as though he had forgotten what he had meant to do next. He wore, as always, a simple short sleeved shirt that showed off his arms and also kept him cool, and his dark brown hair, which had a stubborn tendency to curl when left alone, had begun falling forward again no matter how often he pushed it back. Standing in the middle of a Cardassian home with its deliberate order and sharp architecture, he looked slightly misplaced, softer in outline than the room itself allowed.

Darik watched him for a moment with mild curiosity. His mother did not move like that.

Nareth Teral stood beside the bed with the quiet precision of someone who had already measured the situation and found no reason to hurry. She had removed her uniform jacket but the rest of the grey Cardassian officer’s uniform remained, the high collar framing the cords of her neck and the severe lines of the garment emphasising the natural angularity of her posture. Her dark hair had been drawn back tightly from her face in the traditional style, every strand held exactly where it belonged. Even without the jacket she carried the unmistakable presence of an officer, the calm authority of someone accustomed to making decisions and standing by them. If she had been crying earlier, there was no trace of it now.

Darik turned the object in his hands again. The puzzle box rested comfortably between his palms, its black metal surfaces etched with narrow silver lines that formed shifting geometric patterns when the hidden catches were moved in the correct order. It was Cardassian in design, which meant it had never been intended to open quickly or easily. His mother had shown him the correct sequence once and then refused to repeat it, telling him that he would remember if it mattered.

“It will not fit,” Darik announced at last, glancing from the box to the case with quiet certainty.

Nareth’s eyes moved briefly to the puzzle box before returning to the case. “No,” she agreed calmly.

Darik frowned slightly at the confirmation, his fingers tightening around the object. “But it is important.”

Behind him Tomas made a small noise that might have been agreement or discomfort, though he said nothing.

Nareth considered the matter for a moment before answering, her eyes still resting on the case. “Important things do not always travel with us,” she said, her voice measured, firm…but warm. His Mama always spoke with warmth to him.

Darik didn’t like the answer. But he knew better than to argue, arguments and throwing things got nothing. Easier to accept it, so he could have stories and cuddles. He turned the puzzle box once more before reluctantly setting it beside the pile of clothing. After a moment he crawled to the box by his bed and opened it, pulling something out. “This will,” he said with quiet confidence, holding up the object in his palm.

The die rested there, carved from pale stone worn smooth by age. Its sides were marked not with numbers but with small symbols, each one uneven enough to suggest they had been cut by hand rather than by machine. Tomas had brought it home from an expedition two years earlier, presenting it to Darik with the conspiratorial seriousness of someone entrusting a small but important secret.

Nareth reached down and took the die from his hand. For a moment she studied it, her thumb brushing lightly over one of the faded markings as though testing the shape of the symbol against memory. “Your father found this,” she said.

“Yes,” Darik said and gave her a small smile, excitement in his blue eyes. “It’s my treasure…”

“As you are ours,” she said softly, nodding. She placed it carefully into the travel case.

Behind them Tomas stopped moving. Darik noticed the silence before he noticed his father. When he turned, Tomas was standing near the doorway with both hands resting on the back of a chair as though it were the only thing keeping him still. His expression had the strained composure of someone trying very hard not to interfere with a decision that had already been made.

“Darik,” he said gently after a moment, glancing around the room with his bright blue eyes not really picking up details in their haste. “Why don’t you get your boots.”

“Got them,” Darik replied, pointing toward where they sat, smiling before he lowered his hand and instead went to trace the seam of his jumpsuit.

“Ah,” Tomas nodded once, accepting this as useful information. His eyes went over to his wife, just watching her.

Darik watched his parents for a moment, then looked down. Something was changing. He knew it. They had been speaking in lower voices for several days now. Doors had been closed more often. His father had developed a habit of checking the time. Conversations stopped when he entered the room. His mother had become calmer, cooler. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand it. But the hugs were longer now. And he got two stories from her rather than just one.

Nareth closed the travel case and secured the clasps with a soft metallic click. Then she knelt. The movement surprised Darik enough that he stopped fidgeting immediately. His mother rarely knelt. Up close he could see the ridges along her temples and the subtle contouring along the edges of them, the restrained cosmetic shading many Cardassian officers used to emphasise the natural structure of the face. She smelled warm too. Safe. Comforting.

Her hands moved automatically to the front of his jumpsuit, adjusting the collar where it had twisted. “You must listen to your father,” she said quietly, her hands slowly smoothing the fabric.

Darik nodded. “I always do,” he said, because that was a rule. You listened to your parents. You respected your parents.

“I know.” Her hands lingered for a moment before smoothing the fabric flat again. “You will go with him,” she continued, her voice calm. “You will see new places. You will learn many things.”

Darik considered this carefully before asking the question that had come easily each time before. “Will you come later?”

Nareth’s hands stilled. For a moment the silence stretched just long enough for Tomas to turn his head toward the far wall, his jaw tightening slightly. Then she nodded. “Yes,” she said and smiled, her hand going to cup his cheek.

Darik accepted the answer immediately. His mother did not lie. “Good,” he said with a nod.

Nareth’s hand went to smooth his brown hair back, lighter than hers, a touch darker than his father's, her fingers coming to rest lightly against his temple. “Darik,” she said softly. He looked up at her. For an instant something moved behind her composure, something fierce and bright that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. “You are stronger than you know,” she smiled, reassuringly, before she moved her hand, palm flat.

Darik thought about this before nodding once. “I know,” he said before his palm went against hers.

Nareth let out a soft breath, shaking, watching her son closely. “Good,” she said before she stood. She gave him a hug before she looked at the case. “It’s time.”

“Nar…” Tomas swallowed and moved to take her hand, holding it for a moment.

“It is time,” she said, firmly, meeting his eyes before she leant close to kiss him. “It has to be done, husband.”

“Doesn’t mean I got to like it,” he whispered and took the case, carrying it out of the room.

Darik looked at his mother and for the first time, a stab of worry settled in him. Because as he saw her watch his father leave the room, all he saw in her was sadness. And something he didn’t yet have the words for.

[OFF]

Darik Moreau
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Missouri

RSS Feed