Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Holodeck - A Captain, a Counselor and a Campfire

Posted by Lieutenant Casela Synthi-er (Counsellor / RTF) in Holodeck - A Captain, a Counselor and a Campfire

Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Holodeck - A Captain, a Counselor and a Campfire
<snip>

“Then they came. The Breen.”

Casela simply nodded her understanding. She’d not faced the Breen in all out combat, but she’d heard the stories, and she’d watched them from afar on a couple of assignments.

He rose from his chair, the temptation to flee sudden and overwhelming. The desire to seek permanent retreat in those blood-red flames even more so. Instead, he began to pace a slow circle, as if daring himself to wind closer with each uneasy step.

“We had no idea what had hit us. One minute we were casting out torpedoes like candy at a parade. The next we were dead in the water. No lighting. No power. No defences. A Keldon class slammed three Cardassian warheads into our port side. And before I could even blink I’d lost a hundred crew. There are no words to describe that feeling, of categorical, inexorable impotence. Me, pinned to my bloody useless chair, fists pounding against bloody useless controls. At my left my Second screaming for assistance and I can’t do a single damned thing to reach him. The last thing he said to me, this man whom I’d served alongside of for the best part of three years, was to tell his girl that he loved her and his mother that he missed her. And then he died, right there, on that flesh-pink carpet. Gods, I couldn’t even reach him to close his eyes!”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Casela watched as he paced, slightly closer to the fire with each pass. She knew the feeling. There was a part of her that had sat before a fire, like this one, many times and was convinced that the flames would not hurt nearly as much as the wounds she was left with. From his pacing and eager glances at the flames she knew Zachariah was convinced of the same. She could feel the frustration, the rage against fate, the helplessness of that moment radiating in waves from Cobb. There wasn’t anything she could say or do to make it better so she stayed silent, simply there, by his side, while he paced.

He emptied the bottle, tossed it into the fire then cast a wide glance for a new one, before calling out, =^= Computer. Whisky. A bottle. No glass. =^=

It was mind-blowing when you truly stopped to consider, the technological ability to conjure anything with the utterance of a single word. Like all of his generation, Cobb had studied the ancient days, when people had laboured for hours to prepare a single meal. When the abundance of certain foods had been at the mercy of the weather. Then later, in the dark days, when it had been controlled purely by man’s greed. When the tenets of manipulated chaos saw billionaires in the west flap a capitalistic wing and in the third world a thousand died of starvation.

It seemed barbaric to consider in these advanced and enlightened times. But were they truly so much better than their ancestors had been? For in the entire history of mankind one single principle remained unchanged - that technology released from the vacuum of intent would always land, eventually, on the path of destructive weaponry and the machinations of superfluous death.

It bothered Cobb when she could hear his thoughts, and so she kept her reply to herself. But she agreed. Humanity, no matter the species, hadn’t come any further than they had before. Betazed with it’s peaceful nature, still had not lost the barbarism of it’s past. Look what they had done during the resistance. And so many couldn’t handle it, that chaos had reigned for many years after. The Vulcan’s were no better. Factions of dissidents tried to reclaim psychonic weapons to use once again. Rage, hate, and justification for it would always be a constant to existence.

“When the battle was over we got towed back to base, like a lame animal brought in for the gun. It took two engineers to free me from my chair, a rod of tritanium having speared through my leg to trap me in it. They wanted to send me to sickbay, but I refused even against their screams. And for the next three hours I stood on a gantry and looked down on my ship and for every single body that was brought out, I roared them to heaven like a Klingon, as my own soul slipped further into hell.”

Cobb paused his circular tread, the memory of his injury being met by a physical ache. “They never fully healed my leg after that. I think partly it was to punish me for delaying the treatment. And partly to punish myself because I survived while so many others did not. I swore I would never again wear the pips of a captain.” He snorted a laugh of derision. “In the end even that promise fell to the depths.”

Casela grunted in response and in an effort to release the tension, “I bet Kastil could fix it. The mad doctor has skills, if you are willing.” And she pointed to her ribs, that were now metal. Zachariah would see the fear and pain there once again, that he’d seen as she laid, restrained to that bio bed, lost to the ghosts that were never far from her.

The wound was still raw, the trauma and pain from the latest incident still etched across her face. The Doctor had saved her, of that he held no doubt. But at what point did the Hippocratic oath become cruelty in its own right. In what circumstance did it become kinder to walk away and let a man fade along with his misery.

“We do not retain these wounds due to a deficiency in medical care,” he whispered, gesturing to his left leg with one hand, “we retain these wounds so that we might never forget how close we came to failure. We retain these wounds for all those whose lives were lost so that ours could be saved.” And in that moment, he sensed that he spoke for the both of them.

“Did you know, there is a weak spot in Cardassian armor? About a hand span below that strange protrusion on the top of the chest piece. If you slam a blade in at an angle, from the right side, it will go all the way through, directly to the heart, and kill them instantly? I found that out totally by accident on Mohtab 7. Sleezy thing was following a young man who had just spent a weeks wages to get fresh food for his family, with the intent of stealing it for himself. Some poor pitiful old woman,” and here she points to herself, “tripped right into that proud Cardassian soldier. In the confusion, he lost sight of the young man. Apparently beating an old woman was just as much fun as stealing food from a child.” She shrugs, “I was there to obtain supplies. Lucky for me he followed me down a dark alley. No one there would have protected an old woman, kind to her, but protect?” she shrugs again, “That put their life at risk. His mistake was following me down that alley. From there I didn’t have to keep pretending. It’s amazing how people so willingly see what they expect to see and never question.” That was why ‘Casela’ was the way she was. People saw a file and expected it, and NO ONE gave serious thought or concern for a hot headed, disrespectful, moppet.
Lt. Synthi-er, CNS

“Aye,” Zachariah nodded, moving back towards his chair, “we all see what we want to see. What we need to see. To justify answers we’ve already delivered before the question has even been asked. There is an urgency to life that threatens all rationality, a race to the finish line when we have no idea what waits for us on the other side. We constantly kick at the hourglass so the sands will fall more quickly, then panic when we see them reduced to the final few grains. I think it’s in our nature as a species to harbour such impatience. The ability to enjoy simple pleasures belongs to a very different time.”

Reaching for a marshmallow, Cobb plunged his roasting stick through it like tritanium through a leg, then began to roast it over their still considerable fire.
“It’s a rare skill, lass,” he once more turned to his companion, “to take those narrow perceptions and use them to your own advantage. To take the prejudices and the judgements of others and wield them as a weapon against them.”

She held up her cup in acknowledgement. “A skill,” she sneers, “that I’m very good at. Really though people just don’t pay attention. The small details…” She turned back to the fire a curious expression on her face and then, much to Cobb’s surprise they were both flat on the ground, his chair between them and the fire as a loud explosion sounded and glass shards flew. The fire flared up momentarily as the last of the Kahlua splashed into the flames. The bottle hadn’t broken when Cobb tossed it in, and so the heat made the glass expand and then shatter. She rolled back to sitting, “The small details.” She moved the chair aside, =^=Computer, replicated a duplicate chair.=^= and it appeared. “Told you, alcohol can kill you.” But the smile on her lips didn’t reach her face.

Had the conversation not brought him to the edge, would his reaction have been so visceral? Impossible for even a Betazoid to predict. But in that moment, as Cobb found himself surrounded by a deluge of sparks and flames, he was returned to the bridge of the Albatross, cowering on the floor at the feet of the Breen.

“No!” his voice came, raw and desperate. “Damn you, you bastards! You will not take my ship!”

Her voice was a beacon to tractor him home. In a blink he returned to his current surroundings; twilight grass damp and musty against his cheek, heat from the fire like a soothing blanket, sticky residue of marshmallow sweet on his lips. Like her lips. Like Prim.

“I…” he struggled to his feet, cheeks raging with the inferno of humiliation. “I slipped, is all.”

He settled back into his chair and once more reached for the whiskey. Computer, erase the previous five minutes. If only his shame could be so easily forgotten.

Casela shook her head. “You did not. I tackled you and saved you from getting hit by exploding glass.” She looks away muttering to herself, “What’s one more wound for the hot-headed counselor.” Now that the adrenaline has settled, Zachariah would realize, in that brief pause after she’d glanced back at the fire, she’d moved, incredibly fast, and tackled him to the ground, out of his chair, shielding him with herself and the chair from getting hit by the glass and embers. Casela doesn’t mention his temporary flashback because she’s too caught up in her own.

“I understand the temptation,” he shrugged, “that to share our suffering might welcome the sympathy of the whole world. But the undeniable truth is that beneath this weight, beneath this burden that remains mine to carry alone, what remains is as transient and unsustainable as dust.”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

The explosion, something so small as a near finished bottle of alcohol bringing back the memories. “I was assigned to a special task force at the time. I was pulled out suddenly for a special assignment. Those are words you never want to hear. Special assignment always means someone is going to die.

Never a truer word…wasn’t that the saying. Zachariah simply nodded, silently.

I was assigned to go with a team as the interrogator. The governor of Makoa III was suspected of treason to the Federation. All initial intel supported that idea. I had learned at this point though, to never, ever, take the information I was given to be true. So when we got there, we started our own information gathering. It very quickly became evident that treason was the cleanest name for what this man was doing.” Casela returns to pick up the knife and begin cutting the end into a narrower point. Then she began to draw in the dirt. It would look like a diagram, a schematic of a building.

Cobb rose from his seat and moved towards her, settling into a crouch at the side of Cas’s chair to more closely study her diagram.

The diagram was extremely detailed. More details added as the more she talks. x’s, o’s, triangles, marking locations of her team, the governor, his ‘friends’. Lines and arrows detailing movement. Locations were marked and detailed for every sin the governor had committed and looked the other way for.

“The man was helping an alien invasion force gain footholds in exchange for powerful favors. His wife, and older children were in on it as well. He was allowing these aliens to do unspeakable things to the people he was sworn to protect as governor. We captured him, and I interrogated him. He was…resistant to normal techniques.” Casela looks away. She hated herself now for the things she did in those situations. It was for the protection of the Federation, so they said. It didn’t ease the guilt now. It wasn’t required to be so brutal, but she was unable to control her gift that way. She’d never learned, not even to this day. “HQ suggested I use my greatest weapon to get the information, and I did.” She tapped her head, “He was guilty, no doubt about it. But the problem with that technique is I also knew why he did it. And I can’t say that I don’t understand why. At first. Then he turned greedy, he had a way out to make it right, but he wanted more.”

More was added to her drawing. A chart of the star system, adding locations of bases and alien encampments, numbers, weapons, terrain, it was all there in the dirt.

“The information I got from him. We were able to destroy all four bases of the alien force. And Adam Trenton and his family were sentenced to death. All of them,” She pauses here, swallowing hard. “He had a 12 year old daughter. She was to be executed with the rest of the family. I…I couldn’t do it. The rest of the team had their orders though. She had absolutely no idea what was going on though. She was innocent, we knew that. HQ knew it too. They didn’t care.”

Twelve. The age of his son when Cobb had first joined the Outpost. Not that he could make any claim to being the boy’s father. But still, even his blackened soul flinched at the thought of a child being thrown to the wolves.

She pointed, this time not making the evidence appear on diagram, to the route, how she did it. How she framed Trenton for the escape.

Casela continues to draw in the dirt with the sharpened branch. “I made it look like Adam Trenton helped her escape the night before. We didn’t have the time to track so young a child, we had the 4 outposts to take care of and then get ourselves out. The rest of the mission, legitimized murder, went off without a hitch.” She looks over at the alcohol Cobb is nursing, and a part of her really wants the drink. But that little girl deserves better than Casela drowning in a bottle. “They were all glutenous. Smoking and drinking to excess all day and all night. After they were…executed it was easy to make an accident. A lit cigar dropped into the high proof alcohol created an explosion like you’ve never seen.” And that would explain how she knew the sound of expanding and cracking glass, “I went back, after our extraction. After, on my own to find her. She really had disappeared. I only had 24 hours to look. I had to report back to my other team. I couldn’t risk staying longer, HQ would find out what I had done. I had to leave her to whatever fate she’d found for herself. And I had condemned that little girl to live a hell unlike anything you or I could fathom, Zachariah.”
Lt Synthi-er, CNS

At her side, his hand came to rest upon her knee, while the other sought to dismiss the agonizing truth etched into the dust.
“No. Casela. You saved her.”

She shakes her head silently, watching as Zachariah erases the evidence. Evidence of what, if Cobb choose to tell, would be considered treason on her part.

He sighed deeply and reached for the bottle, dragging it along the ground to rest once more at his side.
“What you gave her…was a chance. A chance to suffer? I’d be the last to deny that as the most probable outcome. But if I’ve learned anything from my time in your company, Counselor, it’s that hope is the most stubborn of all barnacles on the arse of the sunken wreck that is life.”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

“Saved her for what? The life I condemned her to, wasn’t a gift. There was no hope there. I abandoned her. I’d already defied orders, what would have been 1 more day? She was SO close and I didn’t even know it! The darkest demons I faced to get these old wounds, that Doc Fey is so worried about, are nothing compared to the plight of that little girl. I did that to her.” The firelight glints off her face, that is now damp, and to Zachariah’s dismay, she’s crying.

There is a type of rage, that starts deep, in the soul. Where the soul connects to the other souls around it. Once ignited that rage draws to itself the rage of all the other lost souls in existence, and those long gone. It builds and smolders in the nether waiting to be tapped, waiting to be let out when one unsuspecting soul reaches it’s breaking point. And once let loose, there is no locking it back up. Like a wild fire, almost out, and then one gentle breath of fresh air sends it roaring into an inferno that kills everything within reach and begins to spread.

That type of rage turns on itself. The pain of the initial rage burns and needs fuel. And it finds that fuel in the tumultuous memories, regrets, and recriminations of the self.
One regret, feeds to the next and the next, until all one can do is see every choice, every motive, every event as feeding the monster, until there is no salvation left for the one who never asked for it, but is in such great need of it. In the flames of the fire, Casela can see the demon she’s become, the monster. A Balrog, a fiery demon that can only destroy everything in it’s path. It does not matter how many lives she’s saved, how many innocents protected, or Star Fleet officers. In that moment, the demon feeding on that rage convinces her none of it matters compared to what she did to the little girl. “Four years later, the section found that little girl,” her voice is harsh as if she’s breathed in too much smoke, raw and forced as if her vocal cords have never been used.

And then the rage erupts, finding an outlet in her voice as she unleashes it towards the fake heavens of the holodeck. The rage so hot that the moisture of the body escapes as tears down her face.
Casela Synthi-er