Posted by Lieutenant Miranda Martel (Chief Engineer) in Lost in the Crowd - Side-sim

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Tolar Zareth (Chief Science Officer) in Lost in the Crowd - Side-sim

Posted by Lieutenant Miranda Martel (Chief Engineer) in Lost in the Crowd - Side-sim
Posted by… suppressed (10) by the Post Ghost! 👻
It was approximately 17:30 hours. After chow time for all the shifts. Breakfast for gamma. Lunch for beta. Supper time for alpha. Space was limited with only enough seating for twenty-eight people at a time. But not everybody came in at the same time either. Never the less, most of the latter two shifts had returned to duty. A few of Alpha group were chatting off to the side, or were around the small gaming area.

Even though they were officially burned, blacklisted, with the Federation, and a crew of mutineers and soon-to-be-pirates and murderers… they still maintained some semblance of discipline, order, and respect. Though nobody was in uniform anymore, per their cover. She’d been quick to ditch her own immediately, even though in some ways she wore it almost like armor most of the time. Now it was just her in dark cargo pants, functional boots, and a sleeveless dark top that showed some of the scars along her midriff. And of course the visible cybernetics along the left side of her temple and eye. The one they’d replaced.

Miranda sat apart, staring at a padd resting on the table without really seeing it. A half-eaten plate of an alfredo style pasta dish sat in front of her, along with something that looked alcoholic. A few of the operations group, including a few engineers drifted by, with an occasional “Hey boss.” or “Hey Lieutenant” in greeting.

NE Hammer paused, drifting closer. “Hey, bosslady. You alright there?”

She flashed him a strained smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m alright. Just reading some of the reports, now that we’re actually out of the nebula. We didn’t have any real shakedown time. So I’m looking at how we’re doing, and if anything is about to break on us.”

NE Hammer nodded. “Alright. You let me know if you need anything?” She nodded and told him she would.

A minute later she’d lapsed back into silence and was staring a hole through the table without really seeing it. She swiped down to another section of the report she wasn’t really reading and sighed, then downed her glass.

Martel

A shadow fell over her and a body sat down at the chair opposite her. “Chief, you look like you aren’t having just the absolute best time ever.” the FedSec agent said. “Feel like taking a walk? Or you wanna stay here and drink?” the older man asked.

Pikelsimer

“There really isn’t anywhere to go on a Brazen-class destroyer,”she murmured, then began cleaning up her space, preparing to leave.

“She’s mad she missed the party in Sickbay.”

Miranda shook her head. “No. That’s not it at all,” she said, her tone low, quiet, and flat, almost dead.

The Andorian sat down next to Pikelsimer and smiled at the two, antennae questing forward slightly. The ebony cane was hung on the edge of the table. He had the beginnings of a rather glorious black eye, or in his case, darker blue eye… He held a cup of something neon orange that steamed slightly, clearly a hot beverage. Zareth took a sip and then held the hot glass to his forehead for a long moment. “I guess we’re all having that kind of day…”

-Zareth, CSO

True, there was some anger there, but if it was really that bad she would have been in the cargo bay pounding hot steel, or on the holodeck taking it out on a punching bag. If Zareth concentrated on the chief, he would notice elevated temperature, blood pressure, and even variation to her bio-electric field. But whatever was going on didn’t seem to be physical. She was drawn in, guarded, wearing her shoulders for earrings. But her expression and other body language was about as blue as Zareth himself.

Martel, the idiot

Pikelsimer ignored the CSO for the moment, concentrating on the person across from him. Years of reading people made it plain to see… she was in trouble. “So… is it the mission that has ya down? Or something else, Miranda?” Micah asked, using her first name purposefully. “I may not look it, but I can be a good listener. And this one here-” and he jerked a thumb at Zareth, “- even has extra ears. So give us a shot. Whats eating at ya?”

Pikelsimer

The look she gave Pikelsimer could have bored a hole through tritanium. “Geeeeee, where do I start.” She shook her head, letting her gaze fall, looking anywhere but at either of them. “Whoever slotted me for this op is an ass. I shouldn’t be here. Not that my skills aren’t up to snuff, but after what happened on the Shamshir… which I’m assuming you read my file… Whoever put me here should have known that it would be a severe PTSD trigger. Not the ship but the operation. ORRRR .. maybe they thought, by some twisted logic that having dealt with something similar I’d be ideal to throw back into the mix. And yeah, that might be true. Maybe I have a–” she brought both hands up, making finger quotes–“‘cognitive model of malevolence.’ Which means I’m better prepared than some of the yuppies on this tub.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Soon as I learned the mission profile I went into one hell of an anxiety attack. Which then lead me to find out how inept our ‘ship’s counselor’ is.” Her tone was dripping with bitterness and sarcasm at that. But then her expression dropped. The real issue was just there, just under the surface now. “I thought I found…” She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing at her left eyebrow with her left hand, one finger really. Almost as if her cybernetic implants were bothering her.

“Doesn’t matter what I thought I found. I was dumb and naive. Wasn’t real, doesn’t matter. And so… yeah. Now I’m in Hell all on my own again. Doesn’t matter either. I’ve got a job to do. Fight now. Cry later. Assuming we get the job done. Assuming the next Federation ship we run into doesn’t rip us in half on sight. Assuming there’s even a shred of actually getting my f2#$^ng life back.”

“And yeah, I know. I opted to stay on and do the job. But who else was gonna do it? NE Hammer?” She shook her head. “Boo hoo,” she muttered to herself.

Martel

The Andorian’s demeanor changed, a lot more of the real Zareth peaked through his grim expression. “You’re right about all of it except one thing…” his gravelly voice was soft, but stern. “Yes, the brass makes decisions that don’t make sense, particularly regarding one’s skill set versus one’s state of mind and mental health. However… You aren’t alone. We’re in this hell together, Chief. When we’re here in this situation, we have to take care of each other.” Zareth took a sip of tea. “…And we will. I give you my word.” He glanced sideways at Pikelsimer, a look which spoke volumes if the man had read his file.

-Zareth, CSO

Miranda cocked her head to the side. “It’s a nice sentiment,” she said, then lapsed into silence, eyes downcast, as she searched for the words, stones in her heart. “I used to believe in that. The idea that we gotta take care of each other. And that we can and will.” It was getting hard to see. Her jaw tightened, and she blinked rapidly a few times, trying to stay steady. She’d sacrificed so much to that ideal. Believed in it so fiercely. But now? What was there but being betrayed and discarded. As soon as she let her guard down.

Why did she still carry the blades she made, twinned to another set elsewhere on the ship?

Pikelsimer didn’t miss the look from the CSO, nor did he miss a word of what Martel said. Looking at her directly, he said “If you’re gonna place the blame on anyone here for this, blame me. Blue made the call, but I chose the ship. And you were one’a the reasons I did. And yeah, I made that choice having read your file. And yeah, I knew that this would more likely than not put ya in bad situation. But… I also knew from talking to people that know you -” and he looked at Zareth, “-and you, too… that you… this crew… has the best shot at making this happen. If we sent anyone… and I do mean anyone… else? Well, more likely than not they’d all get killed and we’d lose the only chance we have at bringing down an organization that infiltrated Star Fleet to the most high and influential places. So punch me, slap me… whatever ya need to do. Because I’m the SOB that decided you were our best shot at this.” and he sat his hands, one flesh and one metal, flat on the table and waited.

Pikelsimer, FedSec

Reaching up she pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “I knew it. And none of that will do any good. Doesn’t solve anything. Except maybe breaking my effin’ hand. And likely getting a lot more broken bones in the process.” There was, of course, the type 1 phaser she had in one of her pocket.s And the blades. But there was no point. Pikelsimer was in the crap like the rest of them. Hurting him, or killing him, only endangered the operation.

“Though I really have to question what logic, reason, and empirical evidence… facts, if you wail.. that the choice was based upon. This ship. This crew. Me. Somebody who could go monkey s#!7 at any time during the op. Or were you just hoping I still had some of that same ice in my veins left over?” It was then she realized she was standing, hands resting on the table, leaned toward the FedSec agent. Her voice hadn’t changed in volume or pitch, but the tone was black and red around the edges, smoldering just a little like glowing embers. The engineer dropped back into her seat with a small bounce in an almost boneless fashion.

Marti

Pikelsimer didn’t flinch or move a muscle as she spoke. He looked her square in the eyes, even as she stood up and sat back down.

“Ok. One. I chose this ship because it has some of the finest minds deployed in the fleet on it. Two. I chose this ship because its small and versatile. Three. I chose this ship because the individuals here are not cookie-cutter officers. Almost to a man everyone here has a record of thinking outside the box, taking risks, and being able to see past themselves to the bigger picture. Add all that up, and it made the choice pretty straightforward.” He took a breath and leaned back in his chair.

Miranda opened her mouth as if to counter, but then stopped, and seemed to fold in on herself again. She couldn’t really argue with that.

“What we are doing here is probably more important than any other operation in the past century of Federation history… and trust me, I know a lot more about that history than anyone on this ship. But putting even that to the side…” and his eyes looked away from Miranda for a long moment, “… a few months back I pulled one of the most dedicated and honorable people the Federation has ever had working for it out of a hole in a backwater planet in a horror show of an mental asylum where their eyes had been cut out of their head while they were awake and they had been tortured for over a year… and they never broke. And that one fact probably saved more lives than we will ever be able to figure.” His eyes focused back on the two at the table.

At the mention of the missing eyes, she twitched, and her hands balled into tight fists. There was no way to stop the particular flashback that mention brought up. A similar situation happened to her on the Shamshir. How many nights had she woken up screaming in a night terror for just that alone. Sometimes it was ripped out of her face. Others it was cut. Others it was gouged out.

“And that guy, not six months later, is putting his ass on the line again to try and stop the pricks that did that from doing it to anyone else. The least we can do is give him the best shot possible to succeed. And you…” and Pikelsimer looked at Zareth, “… and you…” and he looked back and forth between the two, “…and me, and the Skipper, and Calloway, and Galdi, and all the rest… we’re the best shot. This whole thing deserves no less.”

Pikelsimer, FedSec

Once more she was quiet and while not exactly withdrawn, it was clear she still wasn’t in a great place. She gave the FedSec agent a small nod. The knowledge, the in formation was good. And she wasn’t as fired up to break the superior a-hole’s face that got them into this mess. Instead, she seemed barely there. Finally she put her head in her hands, elbows on the table, and ran her fingers through her thick sable hair. She licked her lips, wetting them down and nodded. There was no question about her doing the job. There really wasn’t anyone else to do the job. Not like she would, and nobody else she trusted to get it done. Even if she’d walked away whens he could, she’d have still been stewing over it while in that black site, pretending to be dead.

It didn’t change the anxiety. The isolation. The worry. The sense of loss in general.

It didn’t take the edge off. But in some ways it made it a little easier. A little easier to swallow.

Martel

Zareth had listened quietly, save for the occasional twitch of an antenna. His dark eyes mostly stayed on Martel, though he glanced at, and met the eyes of Pikelsimer whenever that was warranted. He knew the look in Martel’s eyes. No one should ever have to endure things like that… He’d seen the look in many pairs of eyes, his own included.

“Chief, you may not know me… but you know this look, don’t you? You don’t have to trust me just yet, but…” He made something similar to a shrugging motion, but involved an intricate twitch of his antennae. “There are times when Security’s little speech will help.” Here, Zareth motioned to Pikelsimer with one antenna. “Mostly the waiting part before the drop.... Then there are times when we can’t think about the mission. We have to think about home. Why we’re doing this.” The Andorian leaned forward slightly. “I don’t want to be here, either, Chief.” He went on, a little softer. “I have my ghosts, just like you. I’d rather be somewhere else, drinking them away… Hoping that someone else is handling the making of the sausage… But I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t say no because even though I’d rather be watching Security here get his ass beaten by Nausicans…” He gave Pikelsimer another of his signature dirty looks. “There’s only a few people that can do what we do. We’re already broken, Chief. Let’s keep it to ourselves. No one else needs to see what you’ve seen. Let’s make sure that won’t happen…”

-Zareth, CSO

((I guess James will post later.))

The word home hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest as her mind, for just an instant dredged up thoughts, images of home. Both of her dads, her mom’s wry smile when she disapproved but still found something she did funny, fighting with her sister over something stupid. Fresh, hot tears began to well up, turning her vision watery, but she locked her jaw tight, doing her best to lock that back down. The strain was evident on her face, even if all she did was wipe at the outer corner of one eye. She managed a nod as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s the only reason I’m still here. That’s the only thing that keeps me going. The very set of reasons I didn’t bail when I first heard about this.” She paused again, her mind wandering back over those reasons. “It’s still hard.”

The truth was, she wasn’t afraid of dying. Death might well be a release. It was only having to endure all the suffering she’d gone through all over again. The physical part, sure, but that was relatively easy. It could be repaired, fixed, and faded fast. But her mind? Every day was a continual battle already. Then again, maybe if she did snap, it wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t have to be a dark and scary place her mind went. Not that she wanted that. Her mind was her best tool. Was there any road back? Back to who she was before… that place? It was doubtful. This was the reality now.

Slowly she reached out and placed a hand on Zareth’s arm and gave him a gentle pat and squeeze. “I’m still figuring out how to move forward, but right now, all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and pray eventually I’ll navigate out of the mess.,” she said quietly.

Martel

Pikelsimer had remained silent, watching the exchange between the two. “And you will. If I didn’t think you could, you wouldn’t be here. And its like Commander said… we’ve already paid the price to do the job. So… if we can keep going… and keep somebody else from having to deal with the aftermath of what we do… well, thats the best we can hope for sometimes. Just mitigate the fallout best we can.” and he nodded at Martel once. “Now… I will leave y’all to it. But the offer to punch me stands.” and he stood up and put a hand on Zareth’s shoulder while looking at both of them. “And for what it’s worth? I’m really glad y’all stayed. I don’t know anyone else better equipped to get us through this.” and he turned and walked out of the room.

Pikelsimer, FedSec