STF

Many Hats - Tag CNS

Posted July 25, 2022, 1:58 p.m. by Lieutenant Paige Rowan (Counselor) (Calé Reilly)

Posted by Lieutenant Maria Beckett (Chief of Security) in Many Hats - Tag CNS

Posted by Lieutenant Paige Rowan (Counselor) in Many Hats - Tag CNS

Posted by Lieutenant Maria Beckett (Chief of Security) in Many Hats - Tag CNS
Posted by… suppressed (12) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The Lieutenant made her way through the Memorial. Anyone taking a look at the security chief just then knew to get out of her way. It was the set of her jaw, the set of her brow, the purpose of her stride as she marched through the ship, almost leaving a dark wake behind her. Even if she wasn’t necessarily, it looked like she was spoiling for a fight, and despite her average stature, there was an unmistakable danger for anyone too much in her way.

Stopping just outside the Counselor’s office she sighed, straightened the black and gold uniform. She missed the red from Strategic Ops on Outpost 42. It just worked better for her. Of course her Sector 31 uniform could pick up any color she needed to move from one department to the other. But for now operations gold was fine, as it worked for tactical, security, and intelligence, and all the other hats she was wearing.

Reaching out, she punched the door chime with a sigh. The one big difference for most such offices was that instead of sending an audible tone, it usually sent a silent signal for the counselor in question in case they were in session and they needed to avoid sudden noise or interruption. That way they could draw things to a close as was appropriate. Though it might be a bit of a wait.

Lt Becket, COS/CIO/CAG

Inside the office the tone did indeed play and was answered with a short muffled yipping bark. “Come in!” A voice called while the panel with the chime turned green, an indication that visitors were welcome.

Inside the office, a woman with long dark hair pulled up in a pony tail was busy taking a bonsai tree from a container. A few other boxes were open and seemed to indicate she was unpacking some personal possessions. The desk had been moved to the corner of the room with two seats in front of it and the majority of the space taken up with some squashy looking seats and a sofa and chairs making a small circle around a coffee table with a built in water feature and some sand. A zen garden it seemed. A small round cushion sat on the floor by the desk where a jet black fox sat patiently, ears on alert and tail swishing as it took in the stranger at the door. It didn’t move however.

Paige smiled and placed the bonsai on a book shelf. “Hello, I’m Paige, how can I help?”

Paige Rowan
CNS

((Welp, that’s what I get for posting when I’m tired, left out some crucial details))

The woman on the other side of the portal wore a set of lieutenant’s pips like her, with jet black hair pulled back into tight, neat bun. Shew as a decade older, though ti would have been hard to tell for most. She was athletic, with the kind of build most career security or tactical types worked into, but tempered. There were hints of stress lines around the eyes, the mouth, and perhaps hints of salt creeping in just a tiny bit into her dark hair.

Stepping into the office space she took note of the layout, assessing distances, and sizing Rowan up, first tactically… and then socially. It was fast, reflexive, so ingrained it was automatic and the woman probably wasn’t even aware of it anymore. “Nice setup. Or it will be,” she observed, breaking into a small smile. “I’m Lieutenant Beckett,” she said offering a hand. “Do you prefer your rank or salutation for address?” Either were appropriate, though rank was moreso since Maria wasn’t a civilian nor were they academic colleagues.

Paige’s smile widened and she took the hand and shook it. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with is fine.” She said goodnaturedly as she looked around the room.

She’s either running behind, or it took a little bit to figure out how she wanted to use the space, Maria mused silently. “I hope I’m not too early. When I saw the appointment on my itinerary for the day I figured it was best to get it out of the way. Can I help you move any of your gear?” fro the moment she ignored the dark-furred fox, though she kept one eye on it, unsure of how it would react. Foxes weren’t known to be aggressive or hostile. Most were skittish if not playful and friendly, especially the semi-domesticated ones.

Lt Beckett, COS/CIO/CAG

“No not at all, you know what they say, no time like the present!” She glanced at the boxes and gave a light chuckle.
“Thank you for offering. It’s more decorative really. I tend to give myself a week or so before I rearrange the furniture so to speak. Let’s me know what sort of office space I want to set up.”

The fox settled itself on its cushion, head on paws, still watching.

Paige glanced at it. “That’s Maddox. He won’t bother us if you’re concerned.” She indicated the seating arrangements. “Would you care to sit down while we chat?”

Paige Rowan
CNS

“Please. It probably will be my only chance to sit between breakfast and lunch,” she said with a small note of relief in her voice. Moving quickly she made her way over to the couch and sat in the middle, back to the bulkhead. It gave her a clear view of the entire room.

Lt Beckett, COS/CIO/CAG

If Paige found this interesting she didn’t comment merely walked over and positioned herself in a chair near enough to encourage conversation but not overly close or in the way of the other Lieutenant’s observations. She folded her feet underneath her. “Sounds like you’re busy, I can imagine given how many roles you’re currently holding. So normally with these appointments it’s the big standard how was your academy days when did you get to the ship etc. most of which I can access in your personnel file.” She smiled. “So how about you tell me whatever you want to. You can talk about duty, starfleet, things you like…your favourite replicator recipe…or we can just sit in silence and observe each other.” The last was clearly a joke.

Paige pulled a PaDD from the cushion of her seat.

Paige Rowan
CNS

Maria took a deep breath and let it out slow, puffing her cheeks some. “Truth be told this isn’t something I regularly do. I just.” She shook her head. “A lot of my postings didn’t have a counselor. Or rather most of my time on Outpost 42 we didn’t have one. I … Suppose that meant I had to deal with things in other ways. And at this point it’s been eleven years. So i don’t really know what I’m doing in this situation most of the time. But I know it’s probably necessary, even needed. Last thing you need is the guy or gal handling some of the most sensitive stuff on the ship, and access to all the weapons and things that go boom going pear-shaped. No to mention the nightmare of–” she paused, letting the word transition into a small puff of air at the end “–a career spy running amok with all that access.”

Paige listened and gave a reassuring smile. As the silence started to stretch she just sat and waited for Maria to find the words she needed.

She shrugged one shoulder, shifting uncomfortably. The lieutenant lapsed into silence, her gaze far away, haunted. Worried. But not or herself. Shaking her head again she seemed to shake it off. “I also suppose I don’t know how to shut it off. Someone wants to take me to a beach and go for a swim. Ten years ago, great. i would have loved it. now it just looks like a vulnerable tactical position. I’ve never found a good way to hide a phaser in a bikini.” She sighed. “Say I get sent back to Earth for Leave, I go visit my dad, and I’m looking at every vehicle for a grab team, checking every entry and egress to the property, and the whole time wishing I had a transport inhibitor.”

She thought back for a moment. “I think it was eight years before I took shore leave the first time? Right after I got my lieutenant junior grade pips. Should have been a good day for me, but I cried when I got the promotion. It wasn’t bad. I just, for a minute, felt relieved. Felt seen and validated. Accepted. I’ve always worked too hard I guess. There as no such thing as vacation or downtime on the Atlas and… I suppose after joining Starfleet I was trying to prove I … something. I dunno what.”

She took another deep breath and let it out slow. It came out a little shaky. Where was this all even coming from? Normally she wasn’t so verbose. Talking, even here, was a security risk. But maybe she needed to. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t even sure how she was holding it together. There were no friends. Family was … a liability and might as well be on the other side of the galaxy. Shes till missed her dad, but her mom. That brought a fresh stab of pain, of grief through her chest. She could still feel the weight of her mom in her lap, the warmth of her blood soaking through her skin. Remember the alarms and klaxons going off on the Atlas and of course the whistle-hiss of the ship starting to decompress, the oxygen only further consumed by plasma fires.

Mom was gone.

Nothing had been the same since.

She’d found a second home on Outpost 42. That was gone too. Since then she’d drifted from ship to ship, post to post, assignment to assignment. no real connection. Do the job, move on. No friends. No family. No vulnerabilities. Have nothing you can’t walk away from in thirty minutes if not thirty seconds, or less.

And how many faces had she worn now?

Beckett

After a moment Paige spoke, softly and in a tone that seemed to suggest she was looking to understand.

“There are some that consider vulnerability to be an important measure of us allowing ourselves to be seen and understood by those around us. We become closed off because of events in our lives that lead us to try to protect ourselves and put up barriers. Do you think that’s what’s happening?”

Paige Rowan
CNS

It took her a minute to parse the words, and she had to go back over them two or three times. finally she shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t know. It’s more complicated than that.” She lapsed into silence once more, taking her time to dig the right words once more. “My job is… a lot of things. Protecting everyone on this ship. Protecting the Federation. It’s collecting, analyzing and working with intelligence and assets. Tactical analysis and planning. Sending people out to die. Things that, if it got out, would be dangerous. Distasteful. The sin-eaters. We do the things nobody else has the stomach for.”

“It’s busy. And it’s difficult. Possibly one of the most difficult.” Paige agreed and made a note on the PaDD.

“So it’s a job requirement.” She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. “When I took this assignment, I hoped I’d feel … better. More connected, I suppose.” Slowly she shook her head. “I suppose it’s the isolation getting to me. And the waiting.” She brightened after a moment. “But at least nobody’s tried to kill me this week.”

Lt Beckett, COS/CIO/CAG

Paige gave a smile. “ well that’s something positive. Do you feel disconnected from this crew in particular or is this a common thing for you?” She asked.

Paige Rowan
CNS

The lieutenant thought about it for a few moments. “It’s sort of both. I know part of it is my own fault too. But I’ve felt like this for a long time. Maybe going back as far as the Atlas.” The family cargo ship, old, outdated, a little shaky, but a small crew handled a lot of supplies running from place to place inside and outside Federation space. Small family, really. And after tragedy struck, they mothballed the venture. Her father remarried. Gained a step sibling. Life since then had felt pretty up-ended. Four years at the Academy had felt pretty stable. Then graduation. A tour on the Scioto. Then stationed to Outpost 42 for years. That had felt like home, the crew almost family again. and then McCormick left and … everyone scattered to the winds again. Since then, she’d been little more than a leaf on that wind.

What did she really want? Stability? Or community?

Beckett

Paige nodded. “Why don’t you tell me about your assignments, you can start at the Atlas if you like, or just whatever comes to mind.” She contemplated the woman before her, taking in the body language and the palpable levels of stress. “If you’d like we can have something to drink while we talk or feel free to move around or play with anything in the space while you do. I sometimes find it helps me vocalise when my thoughts are a bit jumbled.”

She indicated the sand in the zen garden and the small rakes. There was also the cushions and some tactile items on shelves nearby. And of course the fox who seemed to be sleeping but opened one eye as if he were checking up on things.

Paige Rowan
CNS

“Well the Atlas wasn’t an assignment. I was born and raised aboard it. Small crew, all family. Flitting about from system to system or station to station, delivering supplies and materials. Sometimes some pretty dangerous stuff. Then we had a problem with our navigational deflector. Ran into a bunch of micrometeorites. It was like rail guns punching through the hull. Didn’t do a lot to the ship, but my mom got caught in the path. There… wasn’t anything we could do.”

Paige made a sympathetic face but didn’t interrupt, letting Maria continue. Giving her space to process the memory and then move on when she was ready. She busied herself with the PaDD so she wasn’t staring at the woman during this transition. Part of her pondering the process of grief there.

Her gaze dropped then, hands between her knees, fingers laced together, gripping white-knuckle tight, but then she seemed to ease down a little. “Dad moved us Earth. It took a while to get over the agoraphobia. Get used to real gravity.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t the same, and it wasn’t what I wanted. I got into the Academy. Went through all that. Got assigned to the Scioto for my first cruise. Routine patrols, some search and rescue. Nothing to write home about. It was basically my end-of-academy cruise. I knew it would be a temporary assignment. Then Outpost 42.” She shook her head. “All I heard was ‘starbases are where careers go to die’. Sure we’re not expanding the borders and going to new places. But it was a strategic hub. And we had all kinds of interesting stuff happening all the time. I was still just an ensign there. Security on the station felt pretty thin. My direct supervising officer seemed glad for the reinforcements. Especially since I was pretty quick to be self-directed. Making rounds, meeting all the crew I could, getting to know the regular faces and places. I didn’t have much of a life. In the first few weeks, I went through everything in the armory, making sure it was cleaned, calibrated, test fired and in good working order. Then went on to test out all the tactical systems on our auxiliary craft. Then the station tactical systems and those aboard the U.S.S. Lancer.”

“I wouldn’t say so, my first assignment was on an outpost too.” She added.

That drew a small smile from the Lieutenant. “Oh yeah? Where at?”

“It sounds boring. And it was. But I was always working. Always something to do. Maybe it’s a throwback to the Atlas. Downtime wasn’t much of a thing. Soemthing was always breaking and I was one of the ones always fixing the breaks. Or working on keeping stuff running tip-top shape.”

“Acel’ex left the outpost. I inherited his position. Security was still thin, but I managed to get a few more warm bodies sent to us from Fleet. I was there for.. Another six months to a year. I was selected for further intelligence training. I’d been delving more into that on the station, and it was needed. So off I went. Learned more about ISR, asset development, signals intelligence, personal intelligence. Some direct action too, but coming from a tactical background that was a field day for me.” She smiled then, just a little, but it was fond.

“Came back to the Outpost. A lot had changed. All the familiar faces were gone. Felt like just ‘some place’ again. I stayed on for a while, but then I went back into the dark.” Most of that she couldn’t talk about. “And now I’m back in the light, on the Memorial.”

She took another breath and let it out slow. “I guess I haven’t felt that I belong anywhere since my early teens. Since the day my mom died. Of course it’s not her fault. It’s just… a marker in time. There’s before… and there’s after. And I suppose before I left the Outpost.. and after, the first time.”

Becket

“Do you think that that particular marker in time fuels you to protect everyone around you in your current positions because you weren’t able to then?” She asked.

Paige Rowan
CNS

She shrugged. “i dunno. Maybe. But you’d think I would have gone into Engineering then. Build better shields. Or materials science, make better hell materials. Build a better mousetrap.” She let out a sigh. “Instead, I chose violence. Or rather… not. I’d rather not have to use violence if I can avoid it. I think going into security allowed me to work out a lot of my anger and resentment towards my dad and his new wife and family. Maybe hopefully find somewhere else to belong. Combined with just … I wouldn’t say the search for safety. Maybe needing to create that for others. And maybe looking for a sense of satisfaction and purpose.”

“ I can understand that. Do you feel like that happens when you do your job or do you think the reason you don’t feel able to relax is because you’re still looking for that sense of satisfaction? I mean what would that sense of satisfaction feel like if you managed to get to it?”

She shrugged then as she turned the matter over in her mind. It struck her that it had been years since she’d done anything creative. She hadn’t drawn anything besides tactical floor plans in forever. Connection as an intelligence operative was risky, a liability. Running around with a sketch pad full of faces of friends and family was painting a target on them to get to you.

And she’d been tinkering with certain tech on the Outpost. Working with her hands was still important to her, as was creating and it had been forever since she’d done anything along those lines. Even if Paige didn’t recommend it or make mention of it, she made a mental note to get back to that. And flying. That was something she loved to do. Though she’d never gone into flight operations, she was certified in basic flight and advanced flight (combat). One of the reasons why she supposed the Captain had taken her on the boat and had made her CAG. But she only viewed that as true on paper, in an administrative role. Farren was the one doing the heavy lifting down there.

She lapsed into silence again, examining and turning things over in her head. Concern crossed her features, then frustration, then resignation, but subtle.

Beckett, COS/CIO/CAG

Paige let the silence settle a moment watching Beckett’s expression shift. “What about your hobbies, what other outlets do you have? Or what do you like or did like to do?”

Paige Rowan
CNS


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