Late Night Talks

Posted on Thu May 26th, 2022 @ 10:12pm by Lieutenant Didrea Zade & Commodore Jacob Kane

Mission: Ares Ascending
Location: Lounge
Timeline: Prior to Arrival at Rondac, 0130am
2233 words - 4.5 OF Standard Post Measure

The lounge was quiet, the chairs that were normally occupied by crewmates empty and neatly tucked into their tables. The quiet hum of the ship blanketed the room, comfortably draping itself over its only occupant. Zade found the quiet rather soothing as she took a sip of her tea. She was near the windows of the lounge, curled up in a chair with one foot resting on the edge of the seat. Out the window, stars were whizzing by in little streaks as the ship approached Rondac, the mission Zade hadn't planned to stay for.

But the mission wasn't what had disturbed her sleep, it was her memories. It was infrequent but practically habitual for her to occupy some part of the ship late at night for an hour, because after her nightmare it felt as if Darius had invaded her quarters. Balancing the cup on the chair's armrest, Zade set her chin on her knee and sighed, a lock of her curls escaping the loose bun she made and tickling her cheek. It was always the same day twelve years ago that haunted her, after all this time, and it didn't get easier to deal with. Little things helped, though, like spending some time to acknowledge that it happened after the nightmare was over. The Trill did find that it also helped to don her uniform before sulking somewhere on the ship; she couldn’t really explain why, but it seemed to help convince her that she had grown since then and that she was on her path for a reason. She could barely see the yellow fabric on her shoulder in her peripheral as she stared into the void of space through the transparent lens that separated her from it.

"Can't sleep?" Kane's voice disturbed her from her distant stare.

He was sat in the corner, tucked away in the shadows and fairly motionless until he leaned forward. His uniform jacket was parted, a sure-fire sign he wasn't on duty. Not anymore, at least. But he'd not returned to his quarters. He pushed the half-empty bottle of Kesatian Ale forward on the table, an indicator that she was welcome to share, as he sipped from a glass.

The Trill pulled her attention from the stars and lifted her head to see the Captain in the corner. He had sat so still that she didn't notice him earlier. "Not anymore," she responded, declining the offer to ale by giving a small shake of her head and lifting her cup of tea slightly. Zade noted his less-formal appearance, her own jacket partly unzipped to indicate a similar sign that she was off duty, but she was hesitant to treat it like such with Kane present. She knew captains had to told their own appearances, and based off their few conversations she pegged Kane as a guy who liked to keep things professional. Then again, she had yet to interact with him off-duty, so she didn't know if he cared for such formalities at a time like this. "Bad dream. Anything in particular keeping you up, sir?" Her voice was hushed, loud enough to be heard but not enough to disturb the silence that enveloped the rest of the space.

"Oh, you know." He tilted the glass, letting ale breathe a little. "Flying into the unknown, after months of clues, mysteries and deep-running conspiracies." It was a dry response, but there was humour underneath it. He wasn't usually so casual with his thinking. And certainly not to the extent that he would air it.

Who are you, and what have you done with the Captain? Zade thought with raised eyebrows, surprised at how casual he was being. It was a complete 180 from the Kane she talked to, but also held hints of the same personality, which was a strange combination. She did not expect this level of casual from him, even if they weren't working. Perhaps it was the ale? "Understandable," she said, recovering her composure. Briefly standing, Zade rotated her chair to face him before settling back into it. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back into the seat, cupping her tea in both hands to take a sip. From the new position, the necklace chain to her locket was visible, but the locket itself was almost entirely hidden by her mostly closed jacket. "Being on the brink of solving a mystery is enough to keep anyone up."

"Assuming we solve the mystery, and it's not yet another set of breadcrumbs," he nodded. That was a real possibility, and one he wouldn't want to deal with. He was already technically breaking standing orders by taking them there. If it turned out to be a wild goose chase, he could set their progress further back. "So, Lieutenant..." he put the bottle down in front of her. "Tell me about these bad dreams."

Zade glanced at the bottle as he moved it, then back at him, feeling his eyes lock hers into place once she made eye contact. That stare was almost as intimidating as a Vulcan's, but aside from that she couldn't really read his expression. He obviously cared enough to ask, but talking about the dream made her feel vulnerable, it made people try to pity her and she hated it. Their pity wouldn't bring back the dead. It took enough effort just to talk about it with a ship's counselor. But the way Kane held himself, both in their previous conversations and even in what she assumed was currently his somewhat-intoxicated state, suggested that he might understand to a degree. The Trill took in a slow breath, the herbs and cinnamon combined with the more subtle woody scent of the whiskey she decided to put into the tea tickling her nose. "I'm not sure how much detail you want to hear," she started off, keeping her expression neutral. "... but the dreams are of the day my parents and sister were murdered. The man responsible got away, but not before he took my voice and nearly my life."

Guilt started to form a knot in her stomach, growing spikes of anger that felt like she was being stabbed by him all over again. Her stubborn need to know more was what got her into trouble in the first place, and she was neither strong nor smart enough to prevent the consequences. She still wished Darius had just retaliated against her instead of her family, there was no reason to involve them. There was no reason to be so merciless to the innocent. Why the hell did her family have to pay for her stupid decisions?

Feeling those emotions try to breach the surface, she broke her eye contact to avoid revealing them to the man before her. Her stare focused in on the cup in her hands as she took a long drink of tea, her grip on the cup notably tighter. There was not enough whiskey in this tea.

"Survivors remorse?" he said out loud. A question, but not really much of one. He'd read her file, and he knew about the incident - to the extent that Starfleet would list such things in broader terms. Rarely did they capture the full picture. "I try not to deal in 'what ifs'. We live by our actions, and accept the consequences. Dwelling on things in the past robs us of time in the present."

Of course she felt survivor's remorse. It was pure luck that she was even alive. If she hadn’t decided to stop by the new bakery on her way home, she would have been the one dead on her living room floor. But she still barely knew Kane, and sure as hell wouldn't admit to that out loud to him. Ignoring the question, Zade lowered the cup, "I can't change what happened, and I've come to accept that. I choose to do better so I can honor them."

Zade narrowed her eyes at the cup in her hands, as if it were the culprit. Her eyes were the only part of her expression she allowed to hold that cold anger she felt. The anger was delicate, the kind that turned into a nastier demon if not controlled. "The only part of the past I dwell on is a desire to put that man where he belongs. I doubt I'll find true peace of mind until I know he's either behind bars or in the ground." She had plenty of experience managing revenge. That particular demon whispered to her what she wanted to hear, which clouded her judgement and blinded her to everything but the target of the anger. While tempting to listen at times, she hated being used by her own emotions, so she learned to convert those feelings into an anger she could control and let out in her own way.

"A lot of people would tell you to move on, or find a more constructive way of dealing with that desire," he remarked, sipping the drink again. "But it wouldn't be my advice." He smiled ruefully as he stared at the glass in his hand, memories of his own slipping to the fore. "Violence is usually the only language a certain type of person understands. I don't think someone that would assault a young woman - and her family - would be swayed by forgiveness." He played with the glass a few seconds longer. "Just don't tell Dr Savin that I told you that."

Zade couldn’t help but give a brief, closed-mouth chuckle. She gave her tea a slight swirl as she collected her thoughts. Last she checked, the report she made had largely been closed, and his name on a wanted list was the only thing preventing the case from being officially archived. It was still unclear if he stole or killed the Kal symbiont, but endangering a symbiont in such a manner couldn't be ignored. "Darius didn't just have intent to kill, he decided to be a friend first." A hint of venom coated the man's name when it left her lips, as if saying it left behind a sour taste in her mouth. "Murder also isn't his only crime. Even if forgiving him were the right thing to do, he doesn't deserve it."

Realizing her anger was starting to get the better of her, Zade briefly shut her eyes and forced herself to take a slow breath. It wasn’t worth her energy to be angry at him all the time, she did that during her academy days and it was exhausting. Acknowledge it, then let it go. That was why she ventured to the lounge to begin with. Opening her eyes again, she released the breath she took in, imagining the anger dissipating with it. Finishing what was left of her tea, she finally decided to accept Kane's silent offer and poured some of the ale into her cup. "I've found ways to deal with it. Like punching a bag of sand once in a while," she said with a slight smile.

"I find alcohol helps," he mused. Once upon a time he would have taken his own frustrations out in a similar way. But his workload didn't always allow for that anymore. He eyed the drink in his hand. "Orion pirates killed twenty-four officers and crew on board the USS Lakota. I was the XO at the time. They would have killed our Captain, had I not acted when and how I did." He took a sip. "Violence was the only language they understood."

Zade nodded slowly, watching Kane recall his memory. Her intuition that he would understand ended up being right, after all. She knew the normal response to such a story was to offer an 'I'm sorry,' but it felt strange to give someone the very pity she didn't want. "My condolences," she finally said, breaking the brief silence between them. A little swirl of her cup left the ale gently chasing itself around the inner wall of the glass.

"That's not needed," he replied calmly. "For them, or for me." He finished the drink. "Don't ever apologise for being the survivor, Lieutenant. Let it shape you just enough so that you don't have to experience the same thing over again." He pushed himself away from the table, a sense of finality about that statement. He'd promised his former Captain something similar. It felt right to bequeath that same oath to someone not far removed from his own past.

"More an acknowledgement than an apology," Zade said, sensing the conversation was wrapping up but staying seated. By the way he phrased his story, she was acknowledging that his actions were probably not easy ones to make. Silence filled the space again as she let his words soak in. She liked to think she had done what Kane said, to let her survival shape her. In a way, it had: every step she took was to make herself strong enough to keep that small seed of fear, the worry that it could happen again, from ever reaching the surface. But it was a never-ending marathon to stay ahead and be strong enough. "It won't happen again," she muttered, more to herself than to Kane as she raised her cup to take a sip of the ale. "Not on my watch."