I was being tossed from one anxiety to the next, like a rickety ship bobbing along at sea being ripped apart by a terrible tempest. The Raveks were no longer a threat—not physically, at least—and so my rational mind was able to shed that worry with ease. Emotionally, that scar was still there. It would be for a long time. But that anxiety was no longer attacking me on all fronts. Now was time for the fallout of the situation.
My feet felt too light as I paced the carpet of my quarters, so much so that I felt I might float off the ground and never come back. I'd already thrown up three times since I was returned to the Shenipsit, and even though my throat burned with acid, my stomach was still tingling in a threatening way, as though it wanted to continue voiding what it did not have. What was going to become of me? Of Julian? I'd submitted my report, and I'd tried to keep it as objective as possible, but what if it was still biased? Maybe that was inevitable, but worse yet, what if I'd overcompensated? Maybe it would look like it was my fault for being captured in the first place. Was it my fault? I don't know, but Captain O'Connelly didn't like me as it was. Could she court martial me for the events that happened on the surface?
Anxieties plagued my mind and I struggled to sort them all out and compartmentalize them as I waited for the captain to call me down to her office. Finally my fears peaked as my communicator pin began to speak.
"Captain O'Connelly to Lieutenant [Y/N]. My ready room. Now."
Needless to say, she did not sound amused.
"On my way, sir," I said quickly, and without so much as an "O'Connelly out," the dialogue ended. I took a moment to steel myself for the conversation awaiting me, and without allowing myself to hesitate, I made a determined stride out of my quarters.
I still didn't know how much the crew knew about the situation, but as I made my way down the hall, familiar faces looked at me with apprehension. Evidently, either by rumor or briefing, someone had made the crew aware of what had gone down on the planet's surface. No doubt many of them had picked up on the fact that Commander Ryan, Lieutenant Dalton, and Ensign Omax had not returned with us. I looked away from them all, too embarrassed and ashamed to meet their eyes, let alone answer any questions. The only person I could even fathom talking to about it at that moment was—Julian.
His familiar face struck me from among the traffic in the hallway suddenly as I made my way towards the bridge, and I paused in my resolute stride. He seemed to have noticed me already and before I could move or react, his hand grasped my bicep. He pulled me quietly to the side of the hallway where we wouldn't disturb traffic.
"You're all right," I gasped. I hadn't heard news that he was out of sickbay at all. I leaned in and wrapped my arms tightly around him. "I was so scared."
"I'm sorry I frightened you," Julian said softly, yet urgently, "but there's no time. You're on your way to meet the Captain, aren't you?" I nodded. I didn't exactly want to stop and chat with anyone, considering the serious nature of the meeting awaiting me, but Julian wasn't just anyone. We'd shared such a horrific situation that whether we had feelings for each other or not, he would always get my time from then on.
"We should talk more about this later. But I just spoke with her. She's not happy," Julian said quietly. He pulled away from me, grasping my forearms gently. "I got off. She's deferred my reprimand to Captain Sisko, considering my transfer here was temporary for the away mission. But she clearly has her opinions, and... I don't think she's going to be gentle with you."
"Oh—god," I whispered, my anxiety spiking. I waited for an ensign to pass in front of me before quietly asking Julian the question on my mind. "What did she say?"
"To me?" Julian asked. He hesitated. "Not much. But—is it true that you fired a phaser just before you were beamed up?" My lips parted and I avoided Julian's eyes.
"[Y/N]..." he said very softly, sounding almost hurt. "And it was set to kill?"
"It was self defense," I said softly, trying to keep tears from coming out of my eyes. "I didn't want to."
"I... see." Julian gave me a doleful look. "This is going to be a difficult meeting for you."
"Did... did he die?" I asked softly. He met my eyes hesitantly.
"It wasn't said outright," Julian said, giving me the benefit of the doubt, but a dread unlike one I'd ever known dug deeper into my stomach. For god's sake—what had I done? "[Y/N], listen. I don't know Captain O'Connelly as well as you, but from her tone it sounded like she may want to pursue disciplinary action. Not just a slap on the wrist—serious action. She believes we broke the prime directive, and while I don't think she wants to charge you for murder, I have no doubt she does want you reprimanded for weapons misconduct resulting in accidental manslaughter."
"Julian..." I said softly, my voice getting higher as my throat began to feel like it was closing up. "I can't leave Starfleet. I can't go through a court martial right now. I can't—"
"Shh, it's okay," he said lowly, and pulled me into another hug. "No matter what happens, I'll support you. I want you to see me afterwards. I'll be in holodeck 3, okay?"
"Okay," I said softly, and even though it was difficult, I managed to pull away.
"I know... we'll need to talk about what's between us," Julian said, "but even if your feelings about me are different now, we've been friends for a long time, and I want you to know that I love you, okay?"
I smiled at that, my face still a little tear stained. He reached up to wipe at my cheek, just like he had time after time down on the planet.
"I don't say things like that easily," I admitted, "but... I love you too."
"All right," Julian said softly. "Go—I've held you up for too long."
"Thank you, Julian," I said, squeezing his hand before heading off towards the lift.
Talking to him made the rest of the walk a little bit easier. I was able to better ignore the faces, and while I was still afraid of what the Captain would say, I wasn't going to spend my energy over thinking it, and I certainly wasn't going to crumple when the time came to take it like an adult. Once the lift came to a halt and I found myself walking out onto the bridge, I ignored the way a hush came over the crew and I marched, almost confidently, towards the Captain's ready room.
Once I'd entered, O'Connelly's eyes lifted to meet mine from over a cup of tea. They were displeased, to say the least.
"Lieutenant," she said, curtly. I gave her a sharp nod.
"Captain," I replied. "I presume you've read my report? I don't believe I need to guess why I'm here."
"No," she said. "I'm not starting with your report, but that will come. Sit." She gestured coldly to the chair in front of her desk, and I followed her command, sitting in the chair. She took a moment to stare daggers at me through the steam of her tea, then she slowly placed it to the side.
"I have some news to tell you," she said calmly. Too calmly. "Your phaser discharge killed one of the Raveks."
"So... it did," I whispered hollowly. I felt sickened by the thought, but it was better to get it out in the open, I supposed.
"Oh yes," she continued, her voice biting. "Not necessarily because you set it to kill—though we know that you did, from the sheer energy level you discharged into the stream. But that blast disrupted the particle stream and completely warped his signature. We lost his pattern."
"I'm very sorry to hear that, Captain," I said softly. "But there was little else I could have done. He was about to attack me."
"Did you think he was going to kill you?" The Captain asked.
"He might have," I responded.
"You know the transporter beam was coming. You could have waited another second," she insisted. I shook my head.
"We'd noted some interference in the atmosphere before the Ferengi attacked us. I couldn't be certain that you would have been able to act immediately," I explained. She pursed her lips.
"You shouldn't have had the phaser set to kill in the first place. Doctor Bashir at least had the sense to use maximum stun during your first encounter."
"The Ravek was in the particle stream by then, even if I'd used a stun setting, he still would have died," I argued.
"You may be right. But the fact of the matter is, you had that phaser set to kill," O'Connelly snapped. "You are a Starfleet officer. You could have found another alternative."
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" I growled. The Captain narrowed her eyes, but she nodded. "There was no other alternative. If you read my report, you'll know that they were capable of both kidnapping and murder. It was us, or it was them. And I had to make a choice."
"A foolish one," the Captain said. "There were other options overlooked. You could have stunned them." I shook my head.
"Again, if you read my report, you would know that we both considered and tried alternative methods. But our craft ran out of power shortly before you arrived," I explained. O'Connelly scowled at me.
"If you're so keen on your report, very well, we can move onto your actions prior to this incident," the captain said. "Let me get this straight. You detained them? On their own planet?"
"Well, letting them go wasn't an option," I scoffed. "Prime directive aside, they'd already killed three of our officers. They were going to kill us next. Are you suggesting we should have let them?"
"You shouldn't have been in their vicinity to begin with. Who did the scan of the planet?" she demanded.
"Lieutenant Dalton. Are you proposing he should have done a better job? Because good luck disciplining him. He's dead." I delivered the line with a certain uncharacteristic numbness, or separation from reality, and Captain O'Connelly seemed rather taken aback by the idea. I bowed my head for a moment and she set her jaw.
"Lieutenant [Y/N], this is a tragedy," she said coldly, getting to her feet and staring down at me. "But you understand there has been a severe breach of the prime directive, and it has led to a catastrophic first contact situation. These Raveks were afraid of you, and they reacted in kind. The one we have left might not be able to return to his planet now." The captain began to pace and I sighed, watching her.
"Captain... I gave you my report," I said softly, a cocktail of guilt and justified anger brewing in my chest. "I don't know what else to tell you. And I'm having a hard time feeling sympathetic towards people that murdered three of my friends and nearly killed me, too. May I be dismissed?"
"Not yet," she said. "Your behavior has been horrific for a Starfleet officer, and quite frankly, I'm of the opinion that this was a wrongful death. Accidental or not, you committed a homicide against an undeveloped species. Court may think differently, but I will follow my conscience. If your resignation isn't on my desk by tomorrow, I am reporting this to Starfleet Command. Dismissed." I stared wildly at her a moment, before composing myself and setting my jaw.
"Noted, Captain. Thank you," I said, my voice expressing anything but gratitude as I got abruptly to my feet. I turned on my heel and without another word, walked out of her quarters.
***
I watched him quietly for a moment from behind as he shot volley after volley at a computer generated opponent. I always thought tennis was a bit of an archaic game. I wondered why he didn't play racquetball instead. Maybe it was the simplicity, I thought to myself. Maybe it calmed him. I'd never found a coping mechanism that worked for me quite like that. I've used the metaphor before, but my life was like a ship at sea that couldn't dock. One that dealt with tempests often, and had its crew hanging on by a thread, with no hope of finding land and little chance of survival. It was a wonder I'd made it this far.
His graceful form put a jarring spike on the ball, and the NPC had no chance of returning his volley. It bounced, once, twice, three times, before phasing out of existence. The NPC hung their head in mock shame. Strange, I thought to myself, how human these holograms had become. This one could even approximate the complexities of someone who was sad to have lost, but was genial enough to let it roll off their back with a smile. It always bothered me that we could make such creations, but when it came to synthetic life, our approximations had been so, for lack of a better word, imperfect. Mechanical. It blurred the lines, in my opinion, of what was sentient, real life—and what wasn't.
The Raveks were sentient. But they felt less human than these holodeck characters. I'd never get in trouble for deactivating an NPC on the holodeck. And yet, after killing a flesh and bone alien that seemed so much more savage, violent, shallow, I was facing the end of my career. Self defense aside, what were the implications of this? When does something become sentient? When does it become worthy of life? When it has cells? When it has intelligence? If intelligence, how much? These questions are so unanswerable—so how could you be content to kill anything?
He seemed satisfied for a moment then as he rolled back his shoulders. He was trim, I thought to myself. Beautiful, as always. He hadn't gotten much leaner down on the planet—I didn't really think that was possible, if I was honest. But he had gained a bit of muscle. I didn't feel one way or another about it, because physique aside, he was himself, and that was all I needed. I loved Julian, and nothing was going to change that.
"Computer, increase difficulty again," Julian said, and the voice I always thought sounded reminiscent of Lwaxana Troi's sounded from the hidden com panel.
"Specify level increase," it said.
"Whatever the highest on file is," he replied. It made an error noise.
"No upper limit. Highest level record belongs to Xeeran Omax, at level 58. Would you like to proceed?" it asked, again. Julian paused a moment, and he lowered his racket slightly.
"I didn't know he played tennis," he said quietly.
"Xeeran Omax, Ensign, was the 104th captain of the Starfleet Academy Tennis team," the computer offered upon hearing his comment. "Under his guidance, his team is recorded as winning against prestigious Vulcan, Bolian, and Caitian teams, among others."
"Really?" Julian asked. "I wish... I wish I had known. We could have talked about the team. We could have played together. I just... well, the mission left so quickly I never got the chance."
"Seventeen recordings of Xeeran Omax's matches are on file. Synthesis of his athletic profile, personality and physicality, is possible. Play against Xeeran Omax?" The computer asked.
"... Sure," Julian said, his voice both warm and melancholy. The NPC he'd been playing against vanished, and I had to clasp a hand over my mouth as Omax's form phased to life on the opposite end of the court. He smiled at Bashir, bouncing a ball on the floor in a cocky manner. He looked so different here from when he was at the helm. There was a confidence about him—one I never got to see.
"So. You play tennis, huh Bashir?" Omax asked, his eyes glinting in the bluish light.
"Only when I need to relax," Julian replied. "I'm really more of a fan of racquetball nowadays."
"Everyone seems to be," Omax chuckled. "I like the simplicity. But I don't need to spend too much time getting to know my opponent before the match. I like to learn about them from the way they use a racket. So your serve, or mine?" Julian seemed amused by his sudden change of personality.
"I think it's best to get to know your opponent as much as possible before the match start," Julian said, and I could hear a genuine smile in his voice. "But go ahead. Serve."
What felt like a fraction of a section later, the court flared to life with movement and the echoing slap of the ball against the ground. It became a neon blur in the air as it whizzed between the rackets, and I stared, entranced. It looked like it would never stop. Julian grunted and stretched in an uncharacteristic way in order to accommodate Omax's swings, and his opponent did the same. I'd never seen him so stretched in a game before, it almost looked like he'd finally met his match.
Omax's eyes flared suddenly and he struck the ball at a diagonal, almost awkward looking angle, and for a moment it looked like Julian was going to lose it. But he made a shocking dive for the neon sphere and fired it back. Omax didn't look like he had actually calculated that hit, and even though he reached for it, there was no chance of him parrying that shot. In a sudden, grinding halt, the ball pattered to the ground on Omax's side of the court and began to roll away.
Omax looked up at Julian and whistled. "You're more agile than you look. Haven't had a game that good since my last year at the academy."
"Me too. When I heard you beat the Vulcans, I knew I had to take you on," Julian chuckled. Omax smiled.
"Ah, that match? It's old news," he murmured. Suddenly, he seemed almost modest. Perhaps he felt a little humbled... if "felt" was the right word for a recreation of a dead person. My lips trembled at the thought and I covered my mouth again for a moment. "So. Up for another match?"
"Maybe not now," Julian said weakly.
"Ah, okay. Afraid of losing, I see," Omax surmised rather cheekily. "When am I going to see you for a rematch, then?"
"I'm... afraid that won't be happening any time soon," Julian said softly. Omax's face fell at his tone, but before he got the chance to respond Julian's mouth opened again. "Computer, end program."
The stadium phased out of existence and we found ourselves standing in an empty holodeck room. Julian stared, with either boredom or melancholy, at the lattice of lines criss crossing the walls and floor. I figured I'd stood watching him for long enough.
"Your form is very good," I commented. Julian turned, face first, and his form stalled a moment as he got over the shock of seeing me. His body slowly flowed along with rest of him as he followed through and turned to face me.
"Not that I know much about tennis, of course," I said softly. "I just like the way you look."
"How much did you see?" he asked, clearly aware that I didn't really mind if he didn't respond to the compliment. I liked that he already knew me that well.
"I came in halfway through your second to last match," I explained. "You were going easy on her."
"Well, it wouldn't have been any fun if I'd beaten her on the first serve," he explained. I smiled weakly, and he returned the expression—but it was clear we were both sidestepping the real issue. He took a few steps towards me.
"How did the meeting go?" Julian asked softly once we were a couple feet apart. I shook my head.
"Poorly," I replied. "Captain O'Connelly wants my resignation from Starfleet on her desk by tomorrow morning. If she doesn't get it, she's pursuing a court martial."
"She'd do that to a member of her own crew?" he asked bitterly.
"She's a Captain. It wouldn't be right for her to ignore a crime just because she wants to protect her crew," I explained. Julian made a face.
"But you didn't commit a crime. You defended yourself," Julian insisted. I shook my head and clasped my arms uncertainly around myself.
"Maybe. Maybe... oh, I don't know anymore," I sighed, and I bit my lip. I closed my eyes to prevent any tears from falling—I was just so, so done with crying. "What if what I did was wrong? Even if it was in self defense—what gives me the right to kill another person?"
"[Y/N], this wasn't a frivolous act. Even if you acted on instinct, you thought it through in the minutes before you fired that phaser," Julian insisted. "You made the most logical choice you could have."
"Maybe you're right," I sighed, and I rested my head in my hands. "I don't know. I don't know anymore. The fact of the matter is, I'm still faced with a decision. O'Connelly's never liked me, so no matter what I do, I won't be able to convince her otherwise. Do I resign, or do I face the court martial?"
"Are you kidding?" Julian scoffed. "You're not going to resign. You're too good of an officer."
"So, I'm going to face a court martial then? In this state of mind? I'm a mess, Julian," I whimpered. He sighed and cupped my cheek in his palm in an effort to comfort me.
"There is... one other option," he said quietly. I gave him a strange look. "If you weren't a part of her crew, she wouldn't have the same grounds or motivation to have the court investigate you."
"But... I am a part of her crew," I said softly, confused. If he was suggesting that I apply for reassignment again, I wouldn't have it. If I kept getting pinged around, I was going to end up in the dullest, most menial of Starbases. Either that or they'd make me canon fodder in some Deep Space Beta Quadrant outpost. Not to mention it just felt wrong.
"I'm saying... your friends aren't around on the ship anymore. I know it hurts—but you don't have any reason to stay here," Julian explained. He trailed his fingers down my neck, but kept his gaze trained on my face. I narrowed my eyes. He'd have to tread carefully now. "I want you to consider asking Captain Sisko for your post back on Deep Space Nine."
"What?" I sputtered. "I—why would—what?"
"Just, trust me. One more time," Julian said. "Try serving on the station one more time. And if you still feel unfulfilled, you can try for assignment on a starship again. But you don't want to stay here. Not under O'Connelly."
"Why would Captain Sisko want me back?" I asked numbly. Julian shifted self consciously.
"I have it on good authority that he would," Julian said. "I suppose it's... possible that I already suggested the idea to him when sending in the reports. Even if you weren't facing this decision, I was going to ask if you'd consider it."
I blinked at Julian, stunned. "How could I even get an audience with him soon enough?"
"He's reading over both of our reports today, and we're going to discuss it in my quarters at 18:00. If you joined me, I could ask him to speak with you about a transfer." Julian gripped my arms firmly, but lovingly. "Everything's going to be okay. Trust me."
"... Okay," I said softly, though my head was spinning. "Julian, I... thank you."
"There's no need for that," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face. He leaned in, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to my lips—and for a brief, brief moment, everything seemed like it could turn out fine.