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

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

For the last few days the image had haunted him - his friend, Casela, lying injured and scared in a hospital bed. He had gained from it a focus and a clarity that was rare in these alcohol-washed days. It had forced him to admit how much her friendship and her advice meant to him. It had also forced him to realise how destructive her current lifestyle was and the damage it was wreaking not only on herself but also on those around her.

They needed time out, far away from the Leviathan and the ARU and anomalies and the bloody RTF! And if physical distance was impossible then mental distance would have to do in its stead.

And so, upon returning to her quarters after a long and arduous shift, Synthi-er would find a message on her terminal, requesting her presence on the holodeck with her captain.

Casela saw the message flashing on her screen. Well, it was from the Captain, and he wasn’t too happy with her at the moment. She couldn’t blame him really, she wasn’t too happy with herself. She was tired. She’d been pushing herself, the added 12 kg was a pain in her ribs. She was slower and not as agile. She resented Fey for not telling her it was experimental to begin with. She wasn’t so proud, however, to admit even if Fey had told her the truth, she still would have chosen this option. She trusted Fey and her medical expertise. But the deception had caught her wrong and along with the heavy sedation, she hadn’t handled it well. She’d spent quite a bit of time in the meditation room working it out. She’d considered talking to one of her staff, but unfortunately none of them had the required clearance. She even pondered, for a flash of a second contacting Revna Edman because she did, but her ship was listed as MIA at the moment. And of course those were all excuses. She should talk to Ryder or Zachariah, but she did admit, to herself anyway, her pride, not wanting to seem weak, or as anything other than the carefully cultivated hot-headed persona she had created over the years, stopped her. If it was a patient, she’d break them of that habit. She chuckled darkly, doctors really do make the worst patients. She read the summons, for that is what it was, again. She couldn’t ignore the captain, even if she wanted. She changed out of the uniform, into her black gi pants and black under-amour t-shirt, and headed out to the holodeck.

If she chose to accept, then beyond those innocent, nondescript doors, Casela would find a moonlit forest, silent except for the chirping of crickets and the snap-crackle of a campfire. Through the trees she could glimpse the welcoming, orange glow and beside it, a lone figure. Toasting marshmallows.

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Upon arriving to the holodeck, out of curiosity she scanned the description of the program and then left, albeit briefly. The quick jog, adding to her new workout to recover from her ‘treatment,’ brought her back carrying a small bag. She stepped through the doors and stopped; the door closing behind her. She looked around and shook her head. The men in her life…knew too much apparently. The similarities between Cobb and her father was not lost on her, yet again. This was something her father would have done if he knew about this place. She moved quietly without a sound towards the clearing, out of habit. Though it was harder and took a moment to adjust her gait due to the added metal in her system. Jake would have her hide if she spooked the animals on her way in, but this was a holodeck and it didn’t matter. Her tread became a little heavier, snapping twigs and crunching fallen leaves as she moved.

Casela stepped into the clearing and looked around. Every. Single. Detail. was as it should be. The deep dug fire pit, surrounded by large obsidian stones, the clearing cleared of debris and underbrush. The ground, hard packed dirt well worn and soft in places to sit. Surrounded by evergreens that towered like ancient giants, standing guard about the clearing. “You, Zachariah, have been reading up on my file,” she spoke into the silence softly. This was Norda III, the clearing of remembrance, as Jake called it. Here, Jake would take T’Jal and F’actar to tell old war stories, to remember their fallen friends, and to chase away the demons. After she had returned the first time, to Norda III, the first night Jake had brought her here, and the four of them had stayed the whole night, the stories filling the silence and escaping into the stars.

Cobb chuckled softly. “Who among us does not enjoy a good campfire, Cas? I just took some additional inspiration, is all.”

Casela recognized her position here in this space, even if Zachariah didn’t. She moved to his right sitting down, as she would have as T’Jal’s apprentice, the spot familiar and comforting to her. She knelt by the fire after a moment and looked among the stones; she smiled softly pulling out a small leather bag, she opened it and took out a handful of what was inside and threw it into the flames. The sent slowly drifted to them, the rich soothing scent of dragon’s blood wafting to them. Out of her bag Casela pulled a kettle filled with water and placed it near the fire to warm. She placed two cups, hot chocolate mix, and handed Zachariah a new bottle of Kahlua to add to his when it was ready. “I peaked at the program description, it said campfire, so I went back and got this,” she said pointing at the things in front of her. “I take it T’Jal, or maybe Jake, left a detailed description of this place and its purpose in my file?” She sat down staring at the flames, but not at Zachariah. In this place, she felt the weight of disapproval and concern, and, as she gently touched the Freya rune on her necklace, affection from light years away, and she was ashamed of her behavior.

Lt. Synthi-er, CNS

He shrugged, as if deeper meanings held no significance for him. “I thought, considering the events of the past few days, that you could use some time out.” The marshmallow bordering on liquidity, Zachariah finally took his retreat from the flames and settled into his own chair. While his companion prepared the hot chocolate, he set the marshmallow aside and instead concentrated on the kahlua, allowing himself a small sample, eyebrows raising with appreciation at the creamy taste.

A time out? She suddenly felt like she was back in primary school. She didn’t get into trouble then, though. She had been happy, light hearted, she loved learning and drove her teachers and parents to distraction with questions. She remembered she’d laughed, all the time. At herself, at life, at everything simply because she had been happy. And then the Dominion came and she only laughed because it was expected of her, and that never changed. He laughed dryly, his eyes fixed on hers. “I know you have your reputation to uphold here, the tough-as-nails war veteran that nobody can break. And don’t worry, I’m not about to go telling tales to Raauhl or Manhattan. But. you don’t have to keep it up with me.” And this was why Zachariah brought her here, on the holodeck, to Norda III. Because here, reputations never mattered. Everyone had the same one, and so it was nothing important or special. Here everyone understood the hell that life was. She poured the boiling water into both mugs and added the chocolate to it. She stirred it slowly and then passed one to Zachariah. It was thick, smooth, and very rich. She left enough room in his mug so he could add the Kahlua if he wanted it. She raised a single brow in question, “And what events might those be?” There were many to choose from, but she knew, and she asked anyway. If this was really Norda III, she wouldn’t have been so cheeky, and honestly other than habit she couldn’t justify why she was being so evasive.

Zachariah accepted the mug with genuine gratitude, filling it to the brim with kahlua then waving the bottle in Cas’s direction. Not that he expected her to accept after her last encounter with strong alcohol. Still, he appreciated the gesture of her bringing some just for him. They had come a long way, the pair of them, since she had discovered him snoozing in the big chair and chewed him out for his day-drinking. He chuckled at the memory.

Casela shook her head at the offer. She was thinking about her first encounter with the captain as well. All on her own. She had been none too pleased at him. And if she had been asked then she would have denied that they would ever be friends. It wasn’t the first time on this boat she’d made a wrong conclusion.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged, staring into the dark-caramel coloured liquid cupped between his hands, “nothing specific. Just you almost killing yourself in the holodeck.”

Casela rolled her eyes. “If I almost killed myself in the holodeck, then you are almost killing yourself with all the alcohol you are drinking.” She quietly requested a small camp knife from the computer, picked up a stick and began to whittle it to a clean point. Then she put a marshmallow on it and stuck it into the fire. “Your demons rear their ugly heads and you use drink to drown them. I go to the holodeck to kill mine, over and over again. Same result, different techniques. And I tried your way, and we see what that got me.” She picked up another stick and began whittling it as well. “Doc Fey is telling everyone that I take multiple men to my bed. The woman has a wicked sense of humor.” And thinking about the way Fey had told her, as she was being forced under sedation, her mind being taken from her, “Her humor can be quite ruthless.” There is more there, Zachariah is sure of it. Something that has nothing to do with Fey.

He nodded. “She is quite the woman indeed. Although I have always found her humour to be merely a dressing for otherwise raw honesty.”

Was that the source of the tension he could detect in Casela’s voice? For while their observations on Fey Kastil seemed to drift on the surface of casual conversation, Cobb could sense that beneath it all, an ocean remained unsaid.
“I know I’m not the only one who gave you a hard time over those injuries,” he attempted to dive a little deeper. “And I also know it was not easy for you to be so vulnerable and in need of care from others.”

“This has been a difficult few weeks for both of us,” he continued to explain. “This ship, this whole world, it’s a situation like no other in the Federation. Survival depends on us reconnecting with those parts of ourselves we’ve long since buried and for unquestionable reason. I’m not sure if either of us truly realised that when accepting this assignment. Those things we’d be required to dig up, the armor we’d be forced to pull on once again, when we’d prayed it consigned forever to the mists of oblivion. It’s…” he paused and ran a hand through his hair as if the motion could sweep every trace of the ARU from him, “…it’s more than I think I have the strength for, some days. And you’re the only person on this ship I can admit that to. As you can hopefully feel comfortable in admitting the same to me.”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Casela listened quietly while he talked. She certainly wouldn’t argue with him. They both knew he was right. She picked up her mug and blew on it softly for a moment, both hands wrapped around the warmth of the mug. She took a slow sip, savoring the flavor. She hadn’t had this in far too long. Cobb had buried this part of himself. Casela had not. She wasn’t there yet. This was to be her last assignment, so they said, but not she knew it would never be over. She had come to Leviathan, eager to work with a crew made of such impressive officers, to make a new career for herself, for it to be shattered the moment Roebuck had pulled her into his office, asking a favor. One she owed him several times over. But she had, still expected to put that armor away, as Zachariah had put it. “You have the strength, maybe not the desire, but you have the strength. If you didn’t, none of us would still be here, at this moment.” Her conviction was absolute. And then she sighed, and it was weary and even though she hid it, Zachariah would recognize the heart break in it as well. Zachariah needed someone to confide in, and it was her, and so she would be his confidant. What she didn’t consider was that Zachariah was attempting to turn the tables on her, and had done so for the moment in recreating this place so perfectly. She stared up at the stars and the moon light filtering through the tops of the giant pines, “What bothers me the most, what is most disturbing to me, is how well that armor slides back on. Like I never took it off, like it is my true self, who I really am, and not the armor created to ensure my survival instead.”
Lt. Synthi-er, CNS

“Aye,” he murmured in gentle, pensive reply. So hypnotic were their surroundings, the heat of the fire like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s day, the gentle pop and crackle of twigs a lullaby drifting on motherly breath. All around them, the walls and ceiling of the holodeck were camouflaged to perfection by the sentinel forest of pines, the velvet, star-kissed void of illusionary night sky. Oh, that he could remain here forever with the promise of alcohol between his fingers and deep friendship by his side.

Casela was still whittling on the stick, it was bigger in diameter than the one she had put the marshmallow on. She turned the knife in her hand and began carving into the side of the now cleaned branch. The deep thooming of the fire, a sound that is almost like a heartbeat, comes from deep within the fire, from the center where the larger logs are stacked and burn. The beating steady caused by the gentle breeze that moves steadily through the ringed obsidian. Jake had told her the shape and position of the stones helped to create the sound, breaking up the wind as it moved. The hooting of an owl sounds suddenly and she moves her gaze swiftly to find it, “A Ural Owl, there in that pine tree, where the lightning burned the top off. At your 2 o’clock.” It’s eyes are dark brown, being relatively small and closely set together. It has an exceptionally long tail in a wedge shape. This one is a plain pale greyish-brown, with a brown black mantle. “If we were really on Norda III, Jake could coax it down to sit near the fire. I don’t know how he does it.” She goes back to carving on the stick.

Synthi-er seemed more at home here than he’d hoped for or expected and her natural knowledge was impressive.

But for decades had he been impervious to lullabies. The siren-song of easy slumber came not for those sinners tormented by antecedent deeds. This location drew him with the promise of serenity and peace. But deep down Cobb knew that he would find sanctuary here as easily as in the middle of a Cardassian battlefield.

He sipped at the steaming chocolate, the dual warmth of heat and alcohol a transient soothing for this eternally tortured soul. But it was extinguished before the taste had even left his lips.

“It’s a hard truth, lass,” he murmured, “to pass beyond the mirror-gate to our true selves and find us forged from every moment, every memory and every lesson that we had tried so desperately to forget. I wonder at times if I am a changeling? That innocent, studious, hopeful child transposed by the inhumanity of conflict into a perverted, abominable imp?”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Casela shakes her head, “Changelings are created in infancy. I have seen changelings, I have been there at their creation. You, nor I, are changelings. Changelings don’t know who or what they are. They can’t see the cause or understand the necessity of what they have become. We…we are cursed and, I wish I could say blessed, to understand how we have been forged into the weapons we have become.” She turns the marshmallow over in the fire, to toast the other side equally. She looks at Cobb, the starkness of her expression frightening and heart breaking. “Zachariah, I have looked into that mirror and I hate what I see. I don’t recognize it as anything other than a monster.” She taps herself on the chest, “If I could, without destroying the person trapped inside, I would destroy it as quickly and as cruelly as I have destroyed the human monsters that I, their weapon, have been aimed at.”

“Weapons?” he snorted, although in her case it appeared accurate and Zachariah remained impressed how Casela could channel her anger and her hurt into potent action. But for him it had been many years since he’d called on his demons for anything other than impotent shame.

“Those chosen to carry such weight on their backs are often disfigured by the task,” Zachariah offered. “But it’s the way of the world that somebody has to do it. So while they might see the scars of their burden as a scourge, the rest of us see it as a sacrifice and one for which we are eternally grateful.”

He barked out a humourless laugh then added more alcohol to his drink, not ready yet to address her earlier statement on his drinking.
“I know it seems the most inequitable roll of the dice imaginable, that while your friends from the Academy perhaps found themselves chosen for exploration missions or diplomatic positions, you get thrown to the shadows. Possessing the kind of strength and resilience that you do truly is a curse and there is no way to paint it otherwise. Bus Cas,” he reached out and placed a hand on top of hers, “true monsters are formed from far more than simply carrying out monstrous deeds.”

She turns to the fire, after her confession. Lost in the flickering dance of the flames, allowing the illusion of the place to soothe her lost soul. Casela takes the marshmallow from the fire and looks at Zachariah, some other memory playing across her face and she looks much younger and more relaxed than she has ever appeared to be. “Please tell me you have chocolate and graham crackers with you. Because if you brought marshmallows and not the rest of the ingredients for s’mores, I’m leaving.” She only appears to be half joking. She eats the marshmallow before it cools, cleaning the remnants from her fingers. “My dad used to take me camping on Betazed, when I was little. We went all the time. Sometimes just in our backyard, past the fields. We always had s’mores. We never went again after the resistance.” She flips the knife over, point down and stabs it into the dirt near her. “And it was that, that fight for our lives, our survival that made me, young and ideal, the prime target for S31.” And now, much to Zachariah’s amazement, or not, he had her talking.
Lt. Synthi-er, CNS

“Now lass, I’m not a complete rookie here,” he laughed as he dug underneath his chair then, with a flourish, produced the requested items.

So temping it was, in that moment, to allow himself to fall silent and enjoy the vision of his friend building s’mores and pointing out owls and otherwise radiating in the amber glow of the fire. But momentum had been achieved and in his gut, Cobb knew, that were he to stall it now, they might never reach this moment of open communication again.

“Tell me about it,” he pushed, “how they initially got you in.”

And in that moment he despised himself for willingly throwing her into those flames.

• Captain Zachariah Cobb