Posted by Commander Qyra Nyx (Executive Officer) in Introducing Major Vektul - Holodeck 2

Posted by Major Vektul (Chief Engineer) in Introducing Major Vektul - Holodeck 2
The courtyard rang with laughter.

Terel, barefoot and emboldened by sugarfruit, was mid-sprint around the central fountain, his arms stretched out like wings. He screeched with delight when his sister, Lira, caught him by the waist and lifted him clean off the ground.

“You’re not a bird, little shadow!” she cried.

“I am now!” he shouted back, flailing his limbs as she spun him in a dizzy circle.

At the low breakfast table, Sehan leaned against the stone bench, her hair unpinned and shining in the morning light. She was watching them, a mug cradled in her hands, smiling in that way she did when everything felt suspended in time—when nothing needed to be said to be shared.

Vektul sat beside her, legs folded, a plate untouched in front of him. His eyes were on his children. Not guarded. Not distant. Open. The way he only was here.

“She’s strong,” he said, nodding to Lira.

Sehan gave a knowing hum. “Stronger than she knows. Like her father.”

Vektul’s mouth twitched slightly at the corner. He didn’t argue, but his hand drifted instinctively to rest on hers. She didn’t move it away.

In the far corner of the courtyard, a windchime—crafted from old metallurgical scraps—sang gently in the breeze. Its soft music mixed with the smell of baking bread, the sound of Lira’s voice calling for Terel to settle down, and the clatter of cups and plates on stone.

Terel eventually wandered back, breathless and flushed, crawling into Vektul’s lap without asking. Vektul adjusted only slightly, accommodating the boy’s weight without complaint. Terel tucked his head under his father’s chin and mumbled, “I’m staying here forever.”

Sehan chuckled. “That’s a big promise.”

But Vektul didn’t laugh. His arms settled around his son, anchoring him there.

The moment hung—fragile and whole.

Then Lira asked, abruptly, “Father… would you still be a soldier if the Empire had no enemies?”

He looked at her.

She was so young. And yet the question was old. Older than her. Older than him.

Sehan smiled at her husband and locked eyes with him, beaming with pride. “What a question.”

“No,” he said, his gaze still fixed on her. “I don’t think I would be.”

Sehan gave a knowing smile.

“Would you be a bird like me?” Terel asked suddenly.

Vektul turned his face down toward his son and replied, “Of course I would. So we could soar high up in the sky together… and then I could—tickle you!”

He suddenly jabbed his fingers into the boy’s sides, provoking a high-pitched squeal of laughter and delighted shrieks. Terel squirmed and giggled in his lap while Sehan and Lira laughed openly at the scene.

Then Sehan spoke, through her laughter:
“I know what you would be.”

“Oh?” asked Vektul, kissing the top of his son’s head before turning to his wife.

“Yes,” she said. “You would be a father. A husband. You would be home. And you’d be deliriously happy.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Something cracked quietly in his chest.

“…Computer, freeze program.”

The wind stopped. The laughter halted. Terel became a still weight against his chest. Lira’s face—sharp with challenge, bright with intellect—was suspended in the middle of thought. Sehan’s eyes still held their knowing smile.

Vektul remained frozen for a time as well, arms still around the small, unmoving frame of his son. Then, gently, he shifted him aside and stood.

He moved through the still life of his home—past the table, the vines curling down the columns, the tea gone cold in an unmoving cup. Every detail had been meticulously reconstructed. Every texture. Every breath.

He paused before Sehan. Looked into her eyes one final time.

He said nothing.

Then to Lira. Then Terel.

And then:

He straightened.

“You do not belong to this world anymore. And I… I no longer belong to yours.”

His voice faltered—but only for a moment.

“Goodbye, my loves.”

He turned to the arch, his expression composed, but his eyes—his eyes were wet.

“Computer,” he said.
“End program.”

The courtyard vanished. The air thinned. The light turned artificial. All warmth fled.

Only silence remained in Holodeck Two.

He didn’t look back.

“Delete all files under heading Vektul Family.”

The computer chimed. A confirmation.

And just like that, they were gone—truly gone—for the first time.

Vektul stood in stillness. Then exhaled once, slow and long, and walked out into the corridor, where the living waited.

-Major Vektul
Chief Engineer
USS Memorial

OOC: Oh my gosh!! This post is painfully exquisite. The writing is wonderful!

D…

Thank you! That means the world to me coming from you!

-Major Vektul
Chief Engineer
USS Memorial