Properly Fried

Posted on 11/19/2020 @ 9:10pm by Captain Cian D'Anvers
Edited on on 11/20/2020 @ 5:16pm

Mission: S3E1: Time of Change
Location: Captain's Quarters, USS Crazy Hourse
Timeline: Day 88 at 1700

Exhaustion was something he understood. You couldn't spend time in Starfleet without learning how to function on little or no sleep. It wasn't that. It was just that he'd been winding down, spending a quiet evening reading a good port, in port of all places, with a realistic expectation of quiet in port ... with a skeleton crew ... in the home system. Instead, he'd spent the entire night prepping for what amounted to a job interview though, as often happened when you involved politicians, rather than an interview, he'd actually had to defend himself. The theme being -- why should we even consider you for the job you had no knowledge of and didn't know you were being considered for in the first place?

The questioning had been ... intense. Still, he was an experienced Starfleet Captain who thrived under pressure and welcomed challenge. Nachtgeist's preparation had been invaluable, no question, but in the end, it was just him facing the politicians. The hardest question probably was his stand on Syndel. Did he support his former Chief of Operations. Luckily, he'd spent a lot of time working through his thoughts on this before he'd even walked into the room.

"No, I do not. Murder is never an acceptable option. As a Starfleet officer, I can be called upon to defend my crew, my ship, and any number of innocent lives. That's the job. What Syndel did? That was more of an execution and I cannot condone her decision to be judge, jury and executioner. She saw the Master Chief's body and got angry; her reaction was to change the setting on her phaser and kill a helpless individual for the crime of being there and being on the opposing side. No, I do not condone her actions. I doubt any reasonable, thinking being would."

Hours of questioning from the various members of the panel. Drop one line of attack and pursue other only to circle back to the first. He answered honestly, questioned them when they were unclear, and he thought, held his own. And only when every question had been asked and answered to the best of his ability was he released.

He returned to the ship and his quarters in something of a fog. He stripped off his clothes and left them on the floor, mute evidence to his exhaustion and his intended path. A trail that took him directly to the bathroom. He took a long hot shower, letting the water slide over him for a long while then dried off slowly. He didn't bother to look in the mirror. He knew what he would see. The mark of his ownership. The scars of his disobedience. The lean, muscled physique of someone who knew how important it was to be physically ready for whatever life threw at you.

Once dry, he changed into pajama bottoms and climbed into his king-sized bed, slid beneath the gray and teal plaid comforter, and sighed as his head hit the pillow. He hoped that nothing more would happen for a bit but he'd worn pajama bottoms because no Starfleet officer ever counted on an uninterrupted night's sleep. That was just asking for some sort of emergency. Then too, being caught naked when the klaxons went off was not an experience he wanted to repeat any time soon.

At his insistence, the bed had been positioned so that he could look at the stars while he tried to fall asleep. The least active thing he could do while his mind quieted and his body relaxed, muscle by muscle. So, he lay flat on his back and let his thoughts take him where they would. Because sleep didn't come easy. Not when there was so very much to think about.

The EC, Exploratory Corps, was a Federation initiative kept separate from Starfleet. Had its own Academy, its own rank structure, and its own rules. It drew the best and brightest, civilian, Starfleet Marine, Starfleet into an organization that put exploration as its sole focus. Its members, Pathfinders, were an elite group. This much he knew, had learned, since speaking with Nachtgeist. Beyond that, he hadn't known much. More now since they had told that he was being considered to command a new ship, a new class of ship, on a mission into unknown space. It was a plum assignment so plum that no less than forty-some other captains had submitted to the interrogation, same as him.

The question was ... now that he'd answered their questions, did he actually want the job.

"Let's think about it then," he mused. "It would mean leaving Starfleet and a career I've spent eighteen years building. That's not a small thing. Could I walk away from everything I've been working toward ... and for what? For something ... amazing ... let's be honest here. It's a chance to explore the unknown. Something I've dreamed about doing since I first thought about the Academy. Starfleet isn't pure exploration by any means. Haven't we done a fair share of investigative work so far? And not been able to see any of it through ... this would mean, getting to do more of it ourselves. See it first. Figure it out. That's ... not small. It's got possibilities. Even if it does mean throwing away my career."

But would it?

He had met Leonie when he was still more serf than free. An alien child who didn't quite feel a part of anything. Who held back. Through her and with her, he had begun to learn about Earth and about the Federation. Their friendship had helped him through a difficult time and when she made the case for him joining Starfleet, it had seemed like the right course of action.

But if he thought back to those days when he'd lain on the roof outside his bedroom window, scaring his adopted mother, while he looked up at the stars, what he'd wanted was to see what was out there. To explore. The Corps could return him to the more purified version of his dream.

I might not even get it. Then again, I might.

And maybe that's why I argued so passionately.

They said they'd make their decision soon. I need to be ready with an answer.

I need to get some sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come. He tossed and turned but his mind refused to settle. Sighing, he ordered himself a cup of Vulcan Yellow Leaf tea from the replicator and returned to his bed, propped up by pillows, while thoughts chased each other in his mind. He let everything else go and went with the first question.

Am I willing to take a chance? Reach for something that I wanted all for myself a long time ago? He sipped his tea and smiled as the answer bubbled to the surface of his mind.

Yes. Oh Yes.

A post by:

Captain Cian D'Anvers
Commanding Officer
USS Crazy Horse