Posted by Lieutenant Casela Synthi-er (Counsellor / RTF) in side-sim Needing Cobb’s Advice

Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in side-sim Needing Cobb’s Advice

Posted by Lieutenant Casela Synthi-er (Counsellor / RTF) in side-sim Needing Cobb’s Advice
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Casela groaned as the turbolift doors closed. She leaned against the bulk head, a hand pressed to her ribs. It STILL hurt. She grinned though, she gave as good as she got. But then…oh never mind, not right now. She had too much work to do. In her hand she had two PaDDs. She was on her way to see Cobb. He didn’t like her, but she had a grudging respect for the man. And out of everyone on this ship, she wanted…no she needed his advice. The turbolift doors opened and she straightened slowly. She forced her gait to be relaxed and natural, not to show the soreness and pain she was dealing with. She pointedly ignored looking at Ryder as she walked across the command deck to Cobb’s ready room door. She rang the chime and waited.

Lt. Synthi-er

Inside the ready room, Cobb had been…studying, that was it. Not snoozing at all, no! All around him, covering every inch of his desk and cascading onto the floor, were myriad diagrams and charts and schematics, some of them on digital screens, others on good, old-fashioned paper. To a passing observer they might have resembled nothing more than random equations and incoherent scrawl. But to a trained eye such as Synthi-er’s, once granted admission, she would recognise hand-drawn maps of the Leviathan’s jefferies tube network, hierarchical tree-charts of the ARU Research Corps and the RTF, calculations of the intermix ratio for a Mjolner-class warp engine and pages and pages of notes on everything from anomaly severity levels to three different recipes for a cocktail known back on earth as an ‘old fashioned’.

And in the midst was Zachariah Cobb, reclining in a large, comfortable desk chair that appeared as old and as decrepit as he. His head was back against the headrest, eyes closed and shielded from the surrounding ambient light by a paper copy of ‘Frankenstein: or, The Modern Prometheus’ and his mouth hung open in a fashion that, back on earth, was colloquially known as ‘catching flies’.

At the sound of the door chime, he all but leaped out of his seat, the book tumbling noisily to the floor as it became dislodged from its resting place on his face. “Eh? What is it?” he called out, still groggy from the premature termination of his nap. “What’s the emergency?”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Hearing his voice Casela stepped into his ready room, she sighed. At least he didn’t smell like he had been drinking. “No emergency, Captain,” the first time she’d really used his rank with any sense of respect. “I have a few personnel reports to go over with you.” To Cobb she would seem not like herself at all, but distracted and unsure, which was not like the counselor at all. “You look very busy, I can come back.” Definitely not like the counselor.

Casela had personnel issues to discuss with him, but it was herself that she needed to talk to him about, and Gen as well. But for Casela the two were intertwined at this point. The throbbing in her ribs reminded her that she would really love a stiff drink at the moment. Casela admitted to herself that she really needed to unwind at some point, but first this had to be dealt with.
Lt. Synthi-er, CNS

“No, not at all,” Cobb countered, moving quickly around his desk to her side. “Please, come in. Here,” he began to half-gesture, half-physically lead her towards a vacant seat, pulling it away from the desk in a surprisingly gentlemanly fashion as he nodded for her to sit down.

Casela allowed him to usher her to a chair, nimbly twisting so his gentlemanly gesture didn’t hit her ribs, and then she in turn back handing him across the room from relex. She sat down, suddenly tired, of. it. all.

It had only been a few days since Cobb had first crossed paths with Lieutenant Casela Synthi-er and, in that time, he’d made no inroads to her character beyond the superficial requirements of his role as her captain. And yet, even for one as oft-insensitive as he, it was immediately obvious that something weighed more heavily on the counselor’s mind, and spirit, than the standard evaluation of personnel reports.

Not bothering to inquire whether she wanted a drink and instead interpreting her need from, not only her own appearance, but a desperate projection of his own desires, Cobb placed two clear glasses on the desktop. With no care to remove his piles of papers first, he filled both glasses three-quarters full with whiskey. Handing one to her, he returned to his seat and, for a few moments, concentrated only on the enjoyment of his beverage.

Casela picked up the glass, contemplating it. She never drank, it dulled the senses and slowed the reflexes, and that was something, in her line of work, she couldn’t afford. And sense she had to real experience with alcohol she did NOT handle it well. She honestly had no idea if she should sip it or just knock back about a shots worth of the glass. She opted for two small sips. Only partially hiding the gag and cough reflex as the smooth whiskey burned its way down her throat, that then created a shiver down her spine. She then carefully put the glass down.

Then, the glass half-drained and quickly replenished, his eyes met with hers. “What is it that I can do for you, Casela?” he asked, softly, the use of her first name signifying, if it were needed, that this conversation would spread no further than the walls of this room.

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Casela stared at the PaDDs in her lap. Was this a good idea? Should she have come here? Cobb didn’t really feel comfortable with her, or anyone that wasn’t strickly a standard Star Fleet officer. Of course she would have rathered by strickly Star Fleet, but she’d done good work, hadn’t she? She’d saved a lot of people. She’d saved a lot of children. And that was the problem she had now.

“I have a problem, and…” Casela just sighed. “Have you read my official file? Well it’s not as interesting as my real file, and not the one that S31 keeps on me.” Retired Admiral T’Jal kept her own files on all the officers she personally trained. Those files containing information that no one else had access to, but her and that officer. This one, was even more complete than the file she’d offered McHarrie. She reluctantly passed it over to him. T’Jal, like Casela, had been trained as a psychologist and had a full psychological profile included in the file. She gave Cobb a few minutes to read it. If he asked, she’d answer his questions.

He had read her file from front to back, but allowed her a moment of stillness and peace as his eyes once more scanned that which he knew, almost by heart. Once done, he laid the PADD on the table top where it joined with the detritus from his own, painful history.

“I have a son,” he offered quietly. “Seventeen years ago, he was born. And since that time I’ve lived in constant fear of hearing his name, that he’s shackled himself to Starfleet like his father. Or followed me into the gutter and failed to claw his way back out.” He snorted and drained his glass. “My only hope is that his hatred for me is sufficient to send him down any other path than mine.”

Locking eyes with Synthi-er, Cobb allowed a hesitant smile to play across his lips. No joy to be found in that upturned mouth, but a silent pledge of understanding between two, damaged souls. A promise of secrecy and of empathy and of mutual, unyielding shame.

She handed Cobb another PaDD with the information she had collected on Gen: Family name McCallister sent back a hit in the starfleet archives. Commander Kenneth McCallister - Executive officer USS Phantom, his wife Doctor Anna McCallisater (neé Jones) - Assistant Chief Medical Officer USS Phantom. Their children Cadet Zachary Kenneth McCallister aged 16, adopted son Orion Jackson McCallister aged 8 and their daughter Genesis Laurie McCallister aged 11. All last on the USS phantom. The ship was last sent to investigate a distress call from near Romulan space 5 years ago. The record showed that they had reported encountering some sort of storm and then nothing. The exact nature was unknown as no records had been recovered. The ship was lost with all hands and no trace found. Starfleet command decided that it had been a warp core breach and the young girl, currently painting black and dark blue clouds onto the canvas, and her family were declared KIA. A plaque was commissioned in the Phantom’s honor at star-fleet command. Pictures were included confirming Gen at least, physically, was the same as the person in the file.

He’d seen that plaque. Walked by it a thousand times with barely a thought. The agonising miscellany of death amongst the stars. Cobb merely nodded an acknowledgement that the girl in the photograph was indeed the same who had recently invaded his briefing room.

Casela changed subjects, or so it would appear at first. “Sir, what’s going to happen to Gen? I have spent the last several days with her, and…she’s just a child. Human, but not quite. Strangely arriving on the ship, but a child non the less. No one, other than Doc Fey, has come to check on her, and I find myself perpetuating that problem. Keeping her out of sight of anyone that might threaten her. She’s…something happened to her and her family, and I’m sure RFT and ARU are going to want her for all kinds of testing.” Her voice changes, softly whispered, hard and dangerous. “I can’t allow that. Not won’t. I can not. It is not…I am not capable of letting them do that. She is mi…under my protection. I won’t let them experiment on her, interrogate her, cause her any discomfort at all. I. WILL. NOT.” Casela was trying to convey to Cobb the extent of the problem. From a professional stand point, on the subject of Gen, Casela was compromised. She knew it, but she was unwilling, or unable, who knew, to do anything about it.

Casela Cynthi-er

He moved with a speed that belied his years and, before her sentence was done he had been at her side, crouching down to meet her seated height and taking her hands into the confident grip of his own.
“It is not us who are the monsters, Counselor. And as far as the ARU are concerned, we are already in pursuit of a target that should satisfy their desire, whatever form that may take.”

Cobb rose once more and, with his glass freshly replenished, drifted slowly over to the observation window. On the other side, space flew by at dizzying speed, making haste for the Paulson nebula. And whatever it was that lay in wait.

“But safe haven comes at a price, Lieutenant,” he continued, his back to her now. “Even for a child such as Gen. She claims to have information on our mission and I want to know every detail of it. If she can help us, then perhaps we can expend some effort into helping her in return. And I would continue to shield her from other members of the crew, as you have been doing. Or, Manhattan and McHarrie at least. I would not trust their scientific intentions around her.”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb