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)

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.”

“I have carried the weight since I was 14, Zachariah. And though I hate what I have become and would not wish it on anyone else. If becoming this…scourge has stopped another from taking my place, I would, without hesitation, do it again.” Though to do so would break her in ways she wasn’t capable of comprehending.

He barked out a humourless laugh then added more alcohol to his drink, not ready yet to address her earlier statement on his drinking.

She watched him add more of the alcohol to his drink. Everyone needed an out, needed a way to banish and lock up their demons that had escaped. They both had their own way. And perhaps there were better ways for both of them, but the patterns were already set.

“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. But 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.”

“You’re right, monsters are formed when those who know better do the monstrous deeds anyway. When they justify using the easy way when they know there is a better way. When they take pride and joy in the monstrous deeds.” Oh what a loaded statement that was, and so much personal truth to it. “They trained us, to ignore the violence, to justify it with false statements of safety and peace and protection. To become no better than a Borg drone. Except we were capable of acting independently.”

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.

She takes the items and while staring into the flames, visions of the fire consuming the thing she has become she creates first one and then a second s’more. She passes one to Zachariah. Absently she takes a bite of hers, looking very much like a young girl at the moment. She looks down at the simple confection in her hand, her thoughts on her father. He had taught her much of the wood craft and nature lore that she knew. T’Jal, Jake, F’actar had refined that knowledge, but it was her father that first sparked that thirst of knowledge. She had no idea if he was even still alive. It had been so long since she’d had work from Ever. He had been sick the last she heard and she had no idea if the doctors had been able to help him. Was her mother now truly alone without anyone? Her mother that had kept everyone smiling, singing and hopeful during the long months of the resistance. Hiding in caves with little sunlight to ease the oppressive darkness, her mother had brought it to them with her laughter and singing. Was that woman, now all alone? Casela had no idea. She took another small bite, before she choked on it or the emotions or both.

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

Casela laughed, “Oh they knew, from the moment I applied, they wanted me. They always know. Some, they coax and prod into the areas they want them. Others, like me, they dangle the carrot in front of our faces and we go, without a second thought.” Her voice sounds with disgust and then she sighs. “I have a thing about children being held captive, abandoned, mistreated, orphaned, anything. They are children. It’s customary for upper classmen to torment the newer and younger classes. That never set well with me. I had a habit of finding out who had pranked the freshman and leaving them surprises. I got quite the reputation for it. I was led to psychology, by prompting from teachers, officers, names and faces that are vague and nondescript. Counseling was my cover story, though I didn’t know it at the time. I’m actually quite good at it, or I was, before all this,” she waves a hand encompassing everything and nothing at the same time. “I didn’t know when I joined Star Fleet at the Academy what I wanted to do. But someone had heard about my time with the resistance, and was impressed by me.” She attempts a sneer, but she’s just lost in a sad memory.

“You are still good at it,” Zachariah interjected quietly, “More than good. Or so I hear regularly on the ship’s grapevine. It takes a steel mind to see and do the things we experience on a daily basis and still manage to catch sleep on occasion. And yet I hear from many that your sessions and your techniques are an integral part of keeping those memories at bay. Even if just for an hour or two.”

“I wanted to make a difference, to save more people. I wanted to join the Federation and help others like the small landing team and 4 ship fleet of the Enterprise did when they came to free Betazed from the occupation. I saved almost 100 children, on my own. No adults, no other older kids, just me. There were others that did it too, but we learned it was safer to go alone to smuggle the little ones out of the villages and cities. And when it came time to finally fight back, I did. We discovered, or re-discovered, the ability to use our psychic talents as weapons rather than simple communication. All at once, no waiting no testing no training. Every able telepath on Betazed attacked the Dominion forces, we over loaded their brains, we fried them, we melted them and we won our freedom.” Her voice is hard and sharp. “Many of the adults died, unable to survive the strain it created on the mind. My father was unconscious for days, my mother, 2 weeks. But me? I never lost consciousness, in fact when someone failed I took their target. I never learned to really use my telepathy for anything else. Many of us stopped using it all together. They were unable to live with what they had done. The section loved me.”

“I am become death,” he whispered, before more loudly adding, “A remarkable discovery perverted by the wrong hands into an instrument of chaos never ceases to remain remarkable at its core. It is the curse of our kind that we could take the very apple of Eden and use it to pollute our existence to the end of all times. But what it is not,” he attempted to insist, “is the fault of the apple.”

“Right after graduation was over, I was approached, I was fed beautiful lies about saving innocents, stopping the bad guys, bringing peace to other species around us. I hate it up like it was candy. Exactly what I wanted. The recruiters for the section are very good. They feed you stories like you are a small child going into a candy store for the first time and you’re told you can have everything you want. I took to the training like a duck to water. I’m good at it, and I excelled at interrogation. I can get just about anyone to tell me anything I want to know. But I was good at combat too. T’Jal tried to save me. She knew what would happen, but I was too idealistic to listen. So instead she trained me. And then the first mission came, and I thought we were invincible.”
Lt. Synthi-er, CNS

Cobb drained the mug of chocolate then turned his attention to the s’more in his hand. Filling the now empty cup half full with kahlua, he used the creamy liquor as a dipping sauce for the already messy treat as he hurriedly crammed it into his mouth before it could disintegrate down his beard. Such a simple, innocent pleasure that, for a brief moment, he considered abandoning this torment of honest conversation entirely. But they had travelled too far now along this road. To retreat was no longer an option either of them had the luxury to consider.

“What happened on your first mission?” he dared to ask next.

• Captain Zachariah Cobb