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The Intelligence Officer's New Clothes

Posted on Thu Sep 3rd, 2020 @ 10:15am by Lieutenant Commander P’rel M.D

MD-01. After leaving the bridge.

Entering her quarters, P'rel undid her duty jacket and placed it on the back of a nearby chair, her boots came off next followed by her trousers and duty undershirt, although all were heading straight for replicator recycling programme, they were still neatly placed. Standing in her underwear, P'rel looked at herself in the mirror through the open doors to the bathroom. She walked in, turning her face to closer inspect the dried green blood down one cheek and across one temple.

Brill had been captured, the ship was being repaired, and she now had a task to complete. Rage built inside of her, deeply in her stomach; rage at the rank hypocrisy of what she had to do, for Starfleet, for the Federation; rage at what she would have to make of herself in the course of this mission. She exhaled deeply, wetting a facecloth and lifting it to her face to clean the dried blood; "Computer, begin personal log" she requested, beginning when the computer chirped.

"I find myself in a paradox. I must begin to interrogate Commander Brill, it is imperative that we discover what else he may have done to this ship. Furthermore, we must find out what his role in all of this is. This much I know, I understand; but I can't help thinking of the futility and pointlessness of it all. Starfleet and the Federation - bodies of peace and stability, supposedly, yet aggressively pushing back as the Typhon Pact establishes itself in this part of space. Ultimately the same thing happens, under a bullshit banner of peace Starfleet militarises an area of space, so someone else arms themselves further; so Starfleet enhances military action, and one again people die. The destruction of the Pico whilst unfortunate is hardly a surprise, since we can't just leave well enough alone..."

Leaving the bathroom, she gathered her dirty clothes and placed them into the replicator recycle program.

"...So another crew are murdered, and the Athena crew seem to be not far behind. We are being pursued by a number of destroyers, and are hopelessly outgunned. We have recovered Commander Brill, and have yet to understand the extent of damage done to this ship. My NCO is in a stable state in sickbay, though with a terrible leg wound, and I must now yet again set aside my thoughts and opinions on this dreadful, suppressive Federation in order to better it's position. Part of me can't help but think it's better to leave him in the brig, and allow whatever is in play to happen..."

Tapping a few controls, a fresh uniform materialised and she began to dress herself again.

"...But that isn't conducive to the mission. So I will suppress my values, my convictions, my morality - again - and focus on the task in hand. The extraction of information from Commander Brill. I have reviewed the status report given by the officers who arrested him, and believe he will be in a relatively malleable state. So onwards I go, to break a man in the name of the Federation; a man who is likely just some poor soul caught up in the imperial advances of the Federation..."

Facing the mirror again, she straightened her uniform and headed for the door.

"...Computer, end log."


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