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Post by Nola on Mar 27, 2017 5:26:54 GMT
Part 1 With Aoibhe as Kesh Suder
Jace Durant calmly watched the rotating UFP logo on the screen in his office at Starfleet HQ. This was fairly typical - the man he was trying to reach never answered on the first attempt, and he liked to spend the time debating whether this was more a sign of intelligence or laziness. The debate was never really settled.
He sighed and glanced around the office, a temporary accommodation for a temporary assignment. They hadn't even put his name by the door, though that was only ever a vain gripe. It wasn't like he actually belonged there. He held no rank or title; he was simply Mr. Durant. The people who needed to see him knew where to find him.
His breath caught slightly as the logo stuttered a moment, indicating an imminent connection. The large viewscreen on the wall shifted to a disorienting blur as what must have been a portable comm unit was jostled about. It was finally set on what appeared to be a table in a small kitchen.
The mark came into view as he sat awkwardly in a chair. His face was covered in the makings of a beard, something just beyond stubble. His hair was longer than he remembered, and bleary eyes told Jace that he was either just waking up, or had been drinking. Again, either was equally likely.
"Christ," the man muttered, slowly rubbing his eyes. "Whoever this is, you picked a real shi- oh, of course it's you."
"Hello Henry," said Jace, wearing a smirk with just a hint of glee at being an inconvenience. It was how he knew he was doing his job, after all.
"What do you want?" Mr. Sumner asked, his tone soaked in resignation.
"Your expertise is requested at Starfleet Academy," answered Jace.
"My expertise?" scoffed Henry. "What, does the JAG need a refresher on court martial proceedings?"
Jace couldn't help a genuine laugh. He couldn't recall ever seeing any real self-awareness in Henry Sumner before. For a fraction of a second, he wondered if something was wrong, if perhaps Henry was trying to give him some signal. It was doubtful, but he kept an eye out for further hints anyway.
"I'm not at liberty to give any specifics over subspace, even on an encrypted channel," he explained.
"Specifically me?" Henry sighed.
"Precisely you, and no one else," said Jace.
"Fuck," huffed Sumner, running a hand through his hair. "I like what I have here, Jace," he lamented. "It's a good thing. Like, a genuinely good thing."
Jace briefly contemplated sympathy, but that wasn't really in his job description.
"It's not an extended stay," he explained. "You'll be gone two weeks, max."
"And if I say no?" Henry asked, not overly serious.
"I will come to Orion and hunt you to the deepest, darkest hole and drag you out into the light of day and clear across the quadrant," said Jace, entirely serious.
"Yep," Henry remarked before stifling a yawn. "I assume transportation has been arranged?"
"The Ontario will be there first thing tomorrow morning," said Jace.
---
Henry stared ruefully at the deactivated comm unit as a stream of near-manic belligerence entered his thoughts. He could fuck with Jace if he wanted. He could make himself extremely difficult to find, or he could sabotage the Ontario, or he could spend his entire stay on Earth punching Jace in the nuts, or a thousand other soothing fantasies ranging from the cheeky to the ultra-violent.
He suddenly winced, and fought to quell the thoughts before looking sheepishly back over his shoulder towards the bedroom. He hoped he hadn't woken her, but a familiar stirring in the back of his mind told him otherwise. Carefully rising from the table, he made his way back, pausing by the door to take in the scene.
The dawn light was beginning to pour through the bedroom window, alighting the woman laying in bed. She lay on her stomach, only half-covered by the sheet, which clung to her figure. He took an extra moment to admire how the shadows hugged the contours of her body, and he briefly wished he could draw worth a damn.
Alas, all he could do was carefully slip back into bed and make like shadows.
"Hm," she moaned as she stirred, instinctively turning her body towards his in her half-sleep state. She stretched luxuriously and chanced an open eye, her jet black iris examining him through a mussed curtain of tousled blonde curls.
Her mind reached out like it always did first thing after waking, touching his gently. He gave her a warm smile as he wrapped her in his arms, their foreheads touching in what had become a morning ritual of sorts.
Good morning, he thought, as he felt the connection take hold. It had been a strange thing at first, foreign and uncomfortable, but now Henry reveled in it. It filled a void inside him that he'd never really admitted was there, and had added an entirely new dimension to his being. In short, being with Kesh made him feel whole, and he communicated that to her now in the strange, subtle language of thought and feeling that Imzadi shared.
She closed her eyes once more, letting the wave of contented peace wash over them both. This new life, this deliberate, unsteady step away from Starfleet had been the bravest and most satisfying decision either of them had ever made. She felt happy and safe and needed and for the first time in her many lives, she refused to ask why.
Her thoughts hit a snag and her dark eyes opened suddenly, her brow furrowing with concern.
"What's happened?", she said aloud. Some questions were best not buried in nuance and imprecision.
He took a deep breath and settled onto the bed, a small frown on his face.
"Jace Durant apparently knows where we are," he explained. "Officially, he's an attache to Admiral Romare's office, but he's gotta be SFI. They want me to come in for some kind of briefing, sounds like."
"They found us..." Kesh's entire demeanor altered in a million minute ways. She tensed, her focus pulling away from Henry and facing inwards. Before she'd died, she would have reacted to this news with immediate fury. Why had Henry answered the damn comm?! Why wasn't he packing to leave already?! Who the hell had informed on them?!
But now, she just leant her cheek on his well-inked chest and sighed. She knew all too well how they'd been discovered.
"I shouldn't have taken that medical centre position."
Henry's frown deepened as he sensed her echo of panic. He had been happy when she'd taken that job; she'd spent weeks sitting around the apartment, bored and twitchy with nothing to do. It had been bolstering to see her rediscover her passion for medicine, and thrilling to feel them himself via their bond.
"No, I don't think that did it," he said, idly petting her golden hair. "Jace makes a habit of finding me when I don't want to be found. He tracked me down both times I left Starfleet. I don't know how, and none of my theories about it aren't batshit crazy. In truth, he's probably known where I was for months."
She shifted a little in his arms and twisted to look up at him. She had begun to wonder where they'd go next, how this small Orion community would cope without them, but Henry's expression put an immediate halt on that train of thought.
"You're going to go, aren't you?"
He gave her a wan smile, a hand lovingly caressing her cheek.
"If they've known we're here, they've been content to let us be until now," he reasoned, as much for himself as for her. "But if I don't go, they'll come after us, and I've grown pretty fond of this 'quiet life' business we've got going on."
She didn't seem convinced.
"If you keep feeding him, he'll keep coming back for scraps, you know. Feral animals are like that."
Henry chuckled and craned his neck to plant a kiss on Kesh's forehead.
"I think we both know who the feral animal is on this end," he said with a wink. It wasn't his strongest redirect, but he wanted to avoid this getting too serious.
"My point exactly, Henry. You can't get rid of me, either." She gave him a half-sincere smile.
"It's only for two weeks, and I promise you, if they try to keep me any longer they will regret it."
"I don't like the idea of them having you at all."
I will always find my way back to you, he emoted her way, his hazel eyes locked on her black pools. Always.
She remained silent, listening to the sound of his heart beating steadily in his chest. He seemed unfazed, but she knew he was aware of her rising unease.
"If you think it's best, ok... But I swear to Rixx, Henry, if I end up having to rescue you, you'll never hear the end of it."
He gave a resolute nod.
"Then it's settled; if it doesn't go as it should, vengeance all around," he affirmed, flashing her a boyish grin. "Now, what do you want for breakfast?"
Despite her myriad reservations, she echoed his smile. It was difficult to maintain a sense of panic around Henry Sumner, she had discovered. She yawned and pulled her hair out of her eyes, kissing his chest lightly.
"Surprise me," she replied eventually, rolling onto her back beside him. There were many things in life that had proven wholly unpredictable, she mused, as she watched him swing his legs out of bed, but the one thing you could guarantee with Henry Sumner at your side was a life full of surprises.
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Mar 27, 2017 9:20:20 GMT
Oooh! Lovely atmospherical writing there. I'm so happy about this
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soph
Recruit
Posts: 34
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Post by soph on Mar 27, 2017 12:26:30 GMT
Is it bad that part is me is glad that Torel called it way back when? Just took one of them to die to happen! hahahahahaha
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Post by Nola on Mar 29, 2017 8:38:42 GMT
Part 2
The Ontario was a gorgeous Nebula-class bird, apparently just back from a post-refit shakedown in the Arachnid. The corridors were bustling with crew, and it was something of an adventure for Henry to reach his quarters. They had given him VIP lodgings, which seemed like a red flag.
Everything seemed just a little bit brighter than Henry remembered, and, standing in his spacious Deck 4 living room, he felt an uncomfortable sense of nostalgia. He had been content to bundle his Starfleet career into a giant filing cabinet simply labeled 'bad,' but being aboard a ship again, seeing the minutiae of the crew interactions, reminded him of the good times he'd had.
He'd never gotten along overly well with his superiors, but, as a Chief Tactical Officer, he'd reveled in his relationships with his subordinates. The Tactical departments of the Kraken and Bremen had been a blast, with countless late-night games of hold 'em, ludicrous holodeck simulations, and more than a little alcohol conveniently nicked from the contraband lockers.
Even his brief foray into engineering had been an enjoyable one, and he found one of his bigger regrets was leaving his Corps of Engineers crew so suddenly. He didn't regret why, of course. The Twissel cover-up needed to be exposed. Section 31 needed to be exposed. Even now, as the consequences of forcing Section 31's hand were playing out across the quadrant, Henry knew in his soul that it had been the right decision, and he would forever be proud of his little sister for her bravery in making it.
He tried not to wonder if the hundreds of Starfleet personnel and their families aboard the Ontario had any idea that he'd played a role in what may still become the downfall of the Federation.
The Ontario's CO was a Benzite named Cora Enta, and Henry found himself in her office shortly after boarding. His initial read pegged her as one of the good ones.
"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Sumner," she bade, as she sat behind her desk, a steaming mug of unidentified liquid in her hands.
"I'm sure you've read my service record," he replied with a knowing grin.
"I have," she said with a nod, though her tone suggested she'd been less than satisfied. "Don't take this the wrong way, but it's a light read."
"Short, but interesting, I like to think," he offered as summation of his career.
"When was the last time you read your service record?" she asked, one of her lip tendrils giving a small twitch.
"It's been a while," he replied, a small frown on his features. Something was up, and he was nearing his fill for red flags. "Why do you ask?"
Captain Enta grabbed a nearby PADD and thumbed at it a moment before tossing it in his direction. Henry snatched it out of the air and glanced at his own humorless visage. He immediately sighed.
"Oh," he said, pointlessly trying to scroll through the heavily redacted file. "Wow, it doesn't even list all the ships I was on; this is with level 10 clearance?"
"Yep," she curtly affirmed.
"Shit," he sighed. Something was up, and it was far too late for him to bail. "Well, I haven't been given any instructions to withhold anything. If you have any questions, Captain, I'll answer best I can."
"Who are you?" she asked, a slight smirk to her expression.
"I am a man who was not a very good Starfleet officer, but I had a number of skills that Starfleet Intelligence found useful," he explained.
"Such as?" she pressed.
"Compromising data security, gathering intel from disparate sources, and being comfortable in seedy places, primarily," he answered.
"And how much of your career consisted of this kind of thing?" she asked. Her tone remained calm, and Henry got the impression she was looking out for her crew, doing due diligence. Carrying a known spy was a risky proposition.
"Not enough to necessitate this," he said, indicating the PADD. "I did a handful of jobs for SFI over the years, but most of what's redacted here shouldn't be."
"Like what?" she continued. Henry took a deep breath and sighed.
"Well, I was court martialled once, and was about the be court martialled again when I resigned a couple years back," he began. "The first one was while I was on the Seleya, and disobeyed my XO at the time who intended to unnecessarily endanger civilians. The second time was for drawing a phaser and aiming it at my CO on the Bremen because I thought he was being an irrational asshole. I don't regret the first one, but the second was me being a shitty subordinate."
Captain Enta raised her brow as he elaborated, staring in silence a moment before taking a sip from her mug.
"I appreciate your candor," she said. "And you're right, it doesn't make sense that it would be redacted."
"I think I have some idea why they did," he said, feeling a growing sense of dread as the words left his mouth. "But it shouldn't affect your crew, Captain, and I want you to know I wouldn't have come if I thought my presence would put you or your ship in danger."
Enta stared at him for a moment before giving a nod.
"I appreciate you saying so," she added. "It's a short trip to Earth, and we'll be swinging by Starbase 235, so there shouldn't be much chance for something crazy to happen. Still..."
"You'd like to keep an eye on me," Henry guessed. "That's understandable and fair. I'll make it easy on you and stick to my quarters for the duration."
"I'm glad you understand my concern," said Enta, seeming genuinely relieved.
"If our positions were reversed, I'd be pretty pissed," Henry offered, holding up the PADD once more. "There's nothing here that warrants keeping a Captain out of the loop."
"Why do you think they did that?" she asked.
"My guess? They're in the process of doctoring it," he answered, setting the PADD back on the Captain's desk.
"What for?"
"They have a job for me."
---
Henry had always felt a subtle dislike of San Francisco. It was too bright and sunny, and far too colorful. He preferred his coastal metropolises to be gray and rainy, the colors limited to a few landmarks and the dark, natural green of forest and grass. It was a shitty reason to hate a place, of course, but he couldn't help it. It was as if it were encoded in his genes; Seattle was simply better than San Francisco.
When he was younger, he had all kinds of justification for the bias. Seattle was more 'real.' The progressive roots of Seattle had seemed just a little more progressive. It was the kind of silly justification that saw brooding as evidence of realism, and bright, sunny optimism as the mark of the vain and clueless. It made for lively debates during his time at the Academy, and it was always fun to give the locals shit, but Henry was old enough to realize how pointless the actual viewpoint was. Now he could be honest with himself:
Henry just hated the sun.
The shuttle had dropped him off on the wrong side of the Academy grounds, but he hadn't felt like complaining. He slung his lone traveling bag over his shoulder and trudged off.
The Commons were mostly as he remembered them. Cadets ran back and forth between classes while others sat gathered around the various benches and tables, sipping their subpar espresso and chatting about whatever gloriously inane bullshit they were up to. Even more cadets had put blankets out on the stretches of grass, laying in the dreadful sunlight and also chattering.
Henry wasn't prepared for the conflicting feelings that assaulted him. He felt the familiar annoyance from being around crowds of Academy brats, the deep, toxic loathing of 'The Man' that was also embedded in his DNA, but he also felt a sense of regret. He had devoted far too little of his youth to inane bullshit. Maybe if he had spent a little more time out with his friends bitching about the sun, he might not have been such a shitty officer. He might still be happily rolling with a crew aboard a starship, passing the time with games of poker and long sessions of shit-talking.
Perhaps there would be two Captain Sumners.
It was just as well - it was unlikely the galaxy would have been able to handle such a thing, and besides, he might not have met Kesh Suder then, and that would have ruined whatever positive impact the rest might have had. No, for all his mistakes, he couldn't have asked for a better outcome. He loved Kesh, and the sheer joy of being with her had made all the pain in his life seem worth it. The profundity of that notion wouldn't occur to him for a few hours yet.
Henry pressed on across the Commons, catching little snippets of conversation here and there, until he saw something new. One of the building walls enclosing the commons had been converted into some kind of monument. Henry wasn't going to stop, his eyes content to simply skim the wall's contents. It wasn't until he noticed that all the pictures had dates beneath them that he began to slow. It was the realization that all the end dates were the same that brought him to a halt.
'Remember the Kyoto,' the wall beseeched. A polished granite statue of a Nova-class ship was held up by wrought-iron supports. A score or so of pictures surrounded the monument, each bearing the too-young face of a Starfleet cadet. Little handwritten notes had been stuffed behind the frames, with more lining the base of the wall. A small eternal flame next to the walkway added the finishing touch.
"They were on a training mission near Denobula when they were ambushed by a Section 31 marauder," explained a familiar voice. Henry turned to see Martin Walker's somber expression. He wanted to say something along the lines of 'gutless cowards,' but it didn't seem strong enough for the revulsion he was feeling, and nothing in his vocabularly seemed up to the task.
"It's good to see you, Henry," said the Admiral, bailing him out.
"Likewise, circumstances aside," said Henry. Somewhere below the rage-filled stream of thoughts, he realized that Martin was the real reason he was here. The Admiral gave him a knowing, almost apologetic smile before motioning for Henry to join him. Henry took a final look at the monument, a sense of dread building within. Things had changed all of a sudden. His heart insisted upon action, and the quiet life he'd been building with Kesh had just flown out the window.
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Mar 30, 2017 8:56:09 GMT
Great! I also love all those world-building elements in there, enhancing the civil war setting
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2017 7:32:39 GMT
Some phenomenal writing here. I particularly enjoyed the interaction with Enta. Nice job!
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Stop-Loss
Apr 13, 2017 23:47:54 GMT
via mobile
Post by aoibheni on Apr 13, 2017 23:47:54 GMT
Goddammit! Kesh was literally... finally... happy. Now she's gonna have to go back to being brooding and awesome again. Brilliant writing, CJ, as always.
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Stop-Loss
Apr 14, 2017 1:05:08 GMT
via mobile
Post by Nola on Apr 14, 2017 1:05:08 GMT
Face it - it was gonna get boring eventually
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Post by Nola on Apr 20, 2017 5:07:31 GMT
Part 3
"The Jem'Hadar?" Henry echoed, his features plastered with incredulity.
"That's right," said Admiral Walker. Martin was sitting back in his comfortable-looking chair, scotch in hand as he watched Henry pace.
"Never took you for much of a bullshitter, Martin," Henry grumbled. He was feeling a great many things all at once, and it made him feel agitated. He felt a need to do, and there wasn't a lot of doing in this conversation.
"That's 'cause I'm not," said the ever-calm Admiral. If he was bothered by the accusation, he didn't show it; he understood the source of Henry's agitation.
"You have to have hundreds of people more knowledgeable about them than me, if not thouands," Henry remarked.
"Maybe," Martin acknowledged, "but you have something they don't."
"What's that?" asked Henry. It was a reflexive question; he knew what the Admiral was talking about.
"You're the most recent Starfleet officer with significant combat experience against the Jem'Hadar," Martin confirmed.
Henry couldn't argue the point, though he wanted to. He eventually stopped his pacing and sat, giving Martin a look of annoyed resignation. The pictures of the slain cadets continued to flit through his thoughts.
"So you pulled me back here to give a briefing on the Jem'Hadar," he repeated. "Why?"
"We've been hearing some troubling things from our Gamma listening posts," said the Admiral, who poured a separate drink. Henry stared at it a moment before grabbing the glass.
"Sounds like the Vorta are losing control of the Jem'Hadar," Martin continued. "We may not be the only ones involved in a civil conflict."
"Sounds about right," mumbled Henry. He took a sip of the single-malt, trying and failing to relax.
"We do have many who've researched Jem'Hadar psychology, and gathered what they could about Dominion history, but the information is so incomplete that it's mostly just guesswork," Martin explained. "But you were there, Henry. You saw the conflict first-hand, if only by proxy. That's the information we need."
Henry stared at his drink, involuntarily replaying the memories of New Juarez. He recalled the desperate relief he'd felt at the Kraken's return, when the Founder had given the order to stand down. It had been the first and only time they'd heard from a Founder since the end of the Dominion War.
The relief had been short-lived as the force that had been sqeezing them in a vice for three days split in two and slaughtered each other. The carnage was brief, but absolute; of the thousand or so Jem'Hadar that landed on New Juarez, less than a score survived.
One of his scouting parties had performed a minor miracle late on the second day and captured a Jem'Hadar alive. He hadn't said much, and Henry had gathered that being taken alive was a great shame for the Jem'Hadar. When the slaughter was finished, however, Henry had tried to talk to him again. The prisoner refused to speak, except to answer Henry's last question: why?
'Because we deserve to be free.'
After the battle, the motivation of the invading Jem'Hadar had become clear as Starfleet picked through the remains of the Jem'Hadar and their crashed ship. Some Jem'Hadar has shown signs of mutation, specifically the ability to naturally produce a substance that negated the need for Ketrecel White. The Honored Elder sought to establish a new home for the Jem'Hadar, one free of the Vorta and the White, and had convinced hundreds to join him. The rest he'd deceived, telling them he'd been ordered to carry out the assault by the Founders.
The stories that got told about the Jem'Hadar painted them as soulless murder machines, but Henry had been forced to alter that perception in light of that information, along with the conviction in that prisoner's voice. Despite the hell that Henry and his impromptu militia had gone through to keep the Jem'Hadar at bay, the knowledge of what the Jem'Hadar had sought deepened the tragedy of New Juarez. Henry refused to wear the decorations he'd been given for that battle, and spent significant time learning everything he could about the Jem'Hadar
Starfleet Intelligence had apparently noticed.
"Not only that," the Admiral continued, drawing Henry from his contemplation, "but I need someone with some fire to get through to some old-school types."
"Like you?" Henry quipped. Martin chuckled and sipped his drink.
"Worse."
---
The glower game for the Alpha CentCom staff was on point. It was understandable - things in the Alpha Quadrant weren't much better than the Beta, and they had far fewer ships at their disposal. With the Breen on the doorstep, and the uncertainty in Cardassian space, the idea of a conflict between Jem'Hadar spilling through the Wormhole must have been agonizing.
"Some quick introductions before we begin," said Martin, as the last of the group sat down. He started at the far end of the table.
"Fleen Admiral V'Nem, head of the Breen Taskforce."
'Admiral Venom' had always seemed like an odd nickname for a Vulcan, but the Admiral's reputation made it seem like that was the point. Most accounts painted him as a calm, patient commander, right until battle was joined. Then the Admiral became ruthless and efficient.
"Admiral Ksar of the 12th Fleet."
Ksar was a Suarian Captain who'd been promoted shortly after the Second Tzenkethi War. She'd taken command of Taskforce Andoria after Admiral Leng had been killed, and had proved more than capable, holding the flank against the Tzenkethi onslaught.
"General Andross, Alpha Marine Command."
Henry didn't know much about the Risan, but Andross had overseen the invasion of Lamemda, Starfleet's first planet-wide ground assault in over a century, and it had been executed flawlessly. Andross and his staff clearly knew their shit.
"Admiral Romare, Alpha SFI Liaison."
Romare was one of the most bland, vanilla people Henry had ever met, which made sense for an Intel head - non-descript was the name of the game, after all. It had, however, disproved the notion that everyone from New Orleans was charming and interesting.
"And, of course, you know Mr. Durant."
Jace gave Henry a superior smirk, to which Henry gave a mirthless smile. The gesture he really wanted to give would have derailed the briefing before it began, which wasn't inherently a bad thing. It would, however, prolong his stay.
"Alright," sighed Walker, taking a seat near the middle of the table. "For those of you unaware, this is Henry Sumner, formerly a Chief Tactical Officer aboard the Seleya, Kraken, and Bremen, and occasional consultant for Starfleet Intelligence."
Henry had to fight the urge to snort at the title of 'consultant.' Of the assembled, only Ksar seemed unfamiliar, which Henry guessed by the fact that the Saurian was the only one to nod in greeting.
"'Sumner,'" V'Nem echoed. "You're related to Captain Sumner, of the Bremen?"
"That's right," nodded Henry. "Her older brother."
"Curious," said V'Nem. The cryptic tone put Henry immediately on edge.
"How so?" he asked, his tone flat.
"A somewhat infamous report involving your sister comes to mind," answered V'Nem. "A leak of information, covertly obtained and released to the public via advanced communication algorithms."
Henry stared long and hard at the Vulan, a small flame burning in his stomach.
"Your point?" he asked.
"Captain Sumner's brother just happens to be an insubordinate washout with the skills to create such a program," Andross cut in, making the accusation plain. Well, plain enough.
"Captain Sumner herself isn't above subverting the chain of command," V'Nem added.
That turned the flame into a conflagration, and a flurry of threats and insults filled Henry's thoughts, which he was plenty willing to unleash, but Admiral Walker beat him to the punch.
"Gentlemen, this is irrelevant," insisted Martin. "Need I remind you that the matter was closed?"
"I see no reason to trust anything this man says, Martin," said Andross. V'Nem didn't comment, but the mutual staredown between he and Henry indicated agreement.
"You don't know him," argued Martin. "This man has laid his life on the line for the Federation more times than either of you can count, and he's given far more than his record will tell you."
Henry broke the stare at that, and he gave Martin an appreciative nod. He wasn't used to people who weren't Sara standing up for him that vigorously.
"Regardless, his record shows him to be recklessly disobedient and emotionally unstable," V'Nem pressed. "I fail to see how anyone can trust him with any task."
"Listen here, Admiral," Martin began, showing uncharacteristic irritation.
"You're right," said Henry, cutting off Walker and drawing the room's attention. "I was an incredibly shitty officer. I was arrogant, insubordinate, and I was lucky to avoid prison."
The other half of the table, Romar and Durant, had been content to watch the proceedings, and Jace had paid particular attention to Henry's expression. There had been a flash of outrage at the mention of his sister, as he'd expect, but he'd been surprised that the man hed kept his cool during more direct criticism. The fact that Henry then admitted fault was just astonishing. Perhaps he was a changed man after all.
"I learned far too late what it means to be a good officer," Henry continued, "and I learned it from the exceptional people who served and fought beside me. People who died because of actions I took and decisions I made. I'm sure I don't need to tell any of you how much that puts things into perspective."
Ksar had been silently absorbing the exchange to that point, but she nodded at Henry's last comment.
"I read Mr. Sumner's record as well," she offered. "He is a decorated officer; his attitude may have been questionable, but his dedication to Starfleet and the Federation is not."
"Two purple hearts and a Medal of Valor, the latter of which he earned fighting the Jem'Hadar," said Martin.
"And an Axanar Humanitarian Medal for his work on Ira IV," added Jace, drawing a surprised look from Henry. Jace only gave him another smirk, and Henry chalked the interjection up to shit-stirring.
"The content of Henry Sumner's character cannot be in doubt," Martin affirmed. V'Nem and Andross still looked displeased, but they offered no rebuttal.
Henry remained quiet for a moment, staring intently at the floor, his thoughts in many places at once and all of them far from the briefing he was ostensibly there to give. The debate over his merits had taken him back to countless arguments with his father and brother, which had evolved into countless arguments with his superiors and a raging inferiority complex. He wasn't sure how, but somewhere along the way he'd learned to let go of all that.
That's why he could look at V'Nem and see the man's caution instead of his impossible-to-please father's condescension. That's why he could look at Andross and see a ground pounder wary of an unknown element, and not the lunatic XO that had him shot for protecting civilians.
That's why he could look at Martin Walker and see a good friend who believed in him, and not a two-faced bureaucrat looking to use him as a tool.
He was least sure about that last one.
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Post by Einar on Apr 20, 2017 20:09:26 GMT
More!
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Post by Nola on Apr 20, 2017 20:12:51 GMT
I think I've got at least two more for this arc
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Post by Einar on Apr 21, 2017 18:43:56 GMT
yes yes...write!
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Post by Nola on Jul 5, 2017 2:09:35 GMT
Part 4
Seattle at night was Henry's favorite place in the universe, metaphysical spaces notwithstanding. Glittering sculptural buildings loomed like giants in the darkness, only their feet illuminated by a variety of street lamps that shifted in hue every few minutes. Shuttle traffic flew well overhead, far enough to not be a nuisance, but close enough to keep things from being too quiet.
That was never really an issue for Beacon Hill, though. Strolling along the avenue led you past more than a dozen different music venues, and the sounds spilled out into the street to create a vivid mix of aural sensation. A similarly eclectic mix of people strolled as well, or stopped in for a bite, or stumbled out of a bar, or just hung out and shot the shit with friends. The kids all ran about in their counter-culture chic, many spotting some form of flannel a full four hundred years after it had been popular.
The bustle of the avenue gave way to Jefferson Park, and the sounds slowly died away. It was one of the few quiet places in town, which was probably why so many couples found their way there after dark. Henry tried to enjoy the quiet, to be mindfully present in the park's serenity, but he wasn't quite able to get Kesh off his mind.
Starfleet would be calling on him, probably soon, for some mission or other, and he would take it. Kesh would be furious, probably, and he wouldn't blame her. Simply disappearing into their lives on Orion had been so tempting that Henry was effectively in mourning. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.
The Seattle-Bremerton ferry was still running, though largely as a tourist attraction. He and Sara had come here so frequently when they were kids that Henry still had the schedule memorized. He got to their spot near the pier just in time to see the small island of light and music slowly make its way out of port. He watched it for a moment before chuckling as a hint of Nirvana hit his ears.
"Figures," he sighed, to no one in particular. He watched the ferry as it drifted further away, and began to think about how far he'd come from the angry child who'd sat here a couple of decades ago. The journey hadn't been a steady one; in fact, it was only in the past few years that Henry had felt he'd made any progress at all, but it seemed to come in droves. As he thought about it, it was all a little dizzying. Fortunately, his contemplation was interrupted.
"Holy shit, is that one of the Sumner kids?" called a voice. Henry spun around and grinned at a familiar face.
"Datone!" he greeted his childhood friend, striding forward. The two laughed and embraced. Henry was somewhat surprised at how glad he was to see one of his childhood friends. Appropriately, Datone seemed somewhat surprised by the enthusiastic greeting. Both men just kind of laughed at themselves before stepping back.
"Christ, how long's it been?" asked Datone. Henry had to think for a moment.
"That's... actually a good question," he remarked. "What do you recall about our last visit?"
"Uh, you were in-system to see a friend, I think, in a treatment center," Datone recalled.
"That's about five years or so," calculated Henry.
"Really? Feels like it's been longer than that, somehow."
"It's been an eventful five years."
"To say the least," Datone said, with a nod. "Well, shit; how long you in town for?"
"Probably just another day or two," said Henry.
"Man, we need to catch up," said Datone. "You doin' anything right now?"
Henry glanced over his shoulder. The ferry had gone out of sight.
"Nope."
---
"Last I'd heard, she was doing the drifter thing in Tibet, or some shit like that," said Datone, in-between bites of a good and sloppy late-night cheeseburger.
"Shit, of course she'd do that," laughed Henry. Datone had been updating them on the rest of their school friends. He was finding the conversation somewhat surreal. Here was his old friend, Datone, who still seemed more or less to be Datone. At the same time, Datone was talking to Henry, who was not at all like the Henry his friend had known.
"What about you?" he asked.
"It's complicated," Henry mostly joked before taking a drink of lager.
"Heard you'd left Starfleet a few years back. What happened?" Datone asked. Henry gave a rueful smile, looking down at the mess on his plate.
"It was a better alternative to court-martial," he answered honestly. Datone stared at him blankly for a moment before giving a smirk.
"You were never fond of rules," he said, an odd hint of warmth to the remark.
"No, I was not," grinned Henry.
"I always thought that was a weird-ass choice for you," Datone continued. "I know you wanted to get away from your family, but Starfleet? You?"
"That was back when I still thought I was gonna be a scientist," Henry explained. "If you wanted to do cutting edge physics work, Starfleet was the way to go."
"So what were you gonna get court-martialed for?" asked Datone. Henry gave another laugh and took a bite, thinking about his answer.
"I pulled a phaser on my CO," he said. Datone's smile disappeared, more in shock than disapproval.
"Wow," he mumbled.
"It was a self-destruct situation," Henry volunteered. "We didn't have much trust as a bridge crew, and we didn't trust him to cancel the order in time."
The two sat in silence for a moment, Datone mid-chew.
"Man, you never think of that shit when you think about Starfleet," he eventually offered. "How tenuous shit can get."
Henry glanced at one of the nearby wall screens. A muted newsfeed was on, some report about fleet movements. Datone noticed the look, and moved to change the subject.
"So, let's talk about you," he said.
"I thought we were talking about me," Henry smirked.
"You're different," said Datone. "Like, uh..."
"Like an adult?" said Henry, the smirk turning into a knowing grin.
"Yeah," nodded Datone. "What the hell, man?" Henry laughed and took a drink.
"Been wondering that myself," he said. "Leaving Starfleet helped. Met a girl, sorta, and just kinda learned from my many, many mistakes."
"Who's this girl?" Datone latched. Henry was more than happy to talk about Kesh.
"It's that friend I was visiting last time," he explained.
"You were always attracted to the crazy chicks," Datone quipped. Henry snorted, and the pair broke into a hearty chuckle.
"It's a good kind of crazy," said Henry. "Mostly."
"How's that all goin'?" Datone continued. Henry managed to avoid explaining that Kesh had been a brain-in-a-box at one point, though only barely.
"Great," he said, a warm smile on his face as he thought of Kesh. "It's been wonderful, actually."
Datone beamed at his friend, nodding a bit.
"Fuckin' finally, right?" he offered. Henry had been about to answer when a strange scent hit him, a distantly familiar mix of cloves and carcinogens. He turned in his chair and looked to a nearby group of 20-somethings. Late-night cigarettes and coffee. One of them noticed.
"Is that a cigarette?" Henry asked.
"Yeah," said the smoker, giving him a look.
"They still make cigarettes?" he continued, an incredulous look on his features.
"Yeah; a shop has 'em down on 31st," said one of the smoker's friends. The smoker was looking hard at Henry, expecting some form of judgment and likely formulating some snippy response that he used to live for.
"Jesus," sighed Henry, giving his head a slow shake.
"The cool Seattle kids are smoking cigarettes again, like we needed more proof that society has lost its way," he remarked. Hopefully the cool Seattle kids got the joke.
"Yeah, but here's the thing," said Datone, nodding to the newsfeed. "A society that knows where it's going is a society that can't see where it is."
"Mhm, mhm," Henry mumbled as he took a drink. "You know what I hate most about what you just said?" he added.
"What's that?" asked Datone, with a laugh.
"That it makes any fucking sense at all," finished Henry. The pair laughed, and laughter erupted at the cool kids' table as well, apparently listening in. The laughter was replaced by silence after a few moments. Both Henry and Datone were watching the newsfeed again.
"How did it come to this?" Datone asked, an uncomfortable edge of melancholy to the question. Henry finished off his burger and sighed, thinking as he chewed.
"Do you remember when they had that Admiral come to Archer after zero-zero-one?" he asked. Datone nodded. "You remember what he said? Kept going on about how Starfleet would always protect Earth, and that it was the center of the Federation, and how precious the Federation was."
"Yeah," Datone recalled. "Nice flag-wavy speech."
"How many Starfleet Admirals do you think gave that exact same speech to schools all over Earth?" Henry continued. "How many in Sol? How many in the sector?
"That's the thing: you say 'the Federation is great' often enough, and it becomes a habitual belief. You don't question it. It's self-evident. Not just its greatness, but its goodness. Not just its goodness, but its righteousness. Not just it's righteousness... but its supremacy."
Henry paused to take a drink. Datone was just staring at him, and he thought he felt eyes coming from the cool kids' table as well.
"You start believing in supremacy, and it's no longer important to ask whether what we're doing is right," he continued. "We're the Federation; of course it's right. And once you no longer have to worry about whether you're right, it doesn't take much to start cutting corners. You sanction a coup here, an assassination there, whatever it takes to destabilize anyone who might challenge the mighty Federation.
"And sure, maybe on some level you think what you're doing is wrong, but then you tell yourself that the Federation is so great that you're willing to sacrifice your own moral code to ensure its righteous superiority. Suddenly, killing men, women, and children doesn't make you a monster - it makes you an unsung hero, performing a necessary service for the great, blessed Federation, and how dare anyone insinuate otherwise? Maybe they need to be eliminated too, for the good of the Federation.
"And that's Section 31," he concluded, finishing his drink. Datone just continued to stare, digesting it all. In fact, all conversation inside the small burger shop seemed to have vanished.
Henry took a deep breath and got up from his seat, empty glass in hand.
"Gonna get a refill," he muttered, trying not to think about how he'd just talked himself into rejoining Starfleet Intelligence.
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Post by Einar on Jul 18, 2017 19:05:30 GMT
uhm. wow
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Post by Nola on Jul 18, 2017 19:18:07 GMT
Hopefully it was worth the wait
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