Hope

Posted on 05 Nov 2018 @ 6:55pm by Cadet Senior Grade Jody Scott

1,851 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Empty Creche
Location: USS Redemption, Corridor
Timeline: ED1 1630

As the Redemption travelled at maximum to warp to find the kidnapped children of several high-ranking Starfleet officers, Jody was trying to piece his life back together; again. After seeing Rhyan off on his reassignment to Earth, the cadet had wandered the corridors of the Redemption aimlessly. So much had changed on the ship over the past year that he barely recognised the crew. There was once a time when he had listened to the woes of Rhyan, Sarah or Lucy, and they to his; now none of them remained on board.

‘At the time when he needed them the most,” he thought to himself, sad for the loss of friends and friendships.

Even Captain Ashcart, the only commanding officer he had ever known, had moved on to another assignment. Rumour had it that he was promoted to rear admiral and was now in command of Starfleet Intelligence. With any luck, Jody hoped that Ashcart would clean house at Intelligence and make sure no more Jon Marshall’ were serving under him. Intelligence had a lot to answer for, the least of which was the violation of Jody and the attempted murder of Daniel.

Jody couldn’t even think about Daniel any more. Every time he thought about him, he could feel great anger and sadness building up in him; threatening to overwhelm the trainee counselor. Their friendship had developed into something much more than they had intended; Dan had been a shoulder to lean on and then suddenly a person to share his bed with. Now, thanks to Jody, Dan lay in a coma that he may never wake up from.

‘No,’ he thought inwardly, refusing to blame himself for what had happened to Dan. ‘No. Thanks to Jon Marshall and Intelligence.’

The counselor had wandered the corridors for a number of hours before duty, finally, caught up with him. Captain Barron had placed Jody on restrictive duty, which was not unusual after someone had been exposed to a traumatic experience. But the Klingon commander also seemed to believe in, how did he put it? ‘Getting back in the saddle,’ Jody laughed to himself; he knew of the captain’s Texan roots.

So, after shedding a few tears to himself in the auxiliary power room – a favourite hide-out of Sarah’s when she was still alive – Jody straightened himself out and made his way to the counselling offices on deck 21. It was there that he had been made an appointment with Crewman Alicia Travers, who was assigned to one of the ships many repair teams. Like Jody, she was human. She and her family originated from the Australian continent, somewhere in New South Wales if Jody’s memory could be trusted. It was there that her brother, sister and parents still lived.

Jody had been seeing Crewman Travers on a regular basis since Rhyan had him transferred back to the Redemption. Unfortunately, Alicia’s brother had been badly injured during an attack on Earth some weeks ago and lay in a coma. Lieutenant Smith, Jody’s immediate superior, had assigned the crewman to the cadet as he had personal experience of what Alicia’s brother was going through. Over a year ago he had been badly injured on an away mission, which resulted in a short-lived coma and prolonged period of convalescence: the reason why he had not graduated with the rest of his class in 2390. Smith truly believed that Jody’s positive outcome would act to reassure the crewman, something Jody had agreed with, until today.

“The communication came through early this morning,” she had said after what seemed like half an hour of tears. Her upset demeanour told Jody all he needed to know: Alicia’s brother was dead, or dying. She continued after blowing her nose on one of the tissues the counselling department helpfully provided. “They plan to switch off life support as soon as I can get back to Earth. The doctors agreed that there was nothing more they could do.”

Jody faked sympathy. “I am so sorry Alicia. I can’t begin to understand what you are going through.” He lied; he knew exactly what she was going through.

“I mean, I held out hope for as long as I could. You,” she looked at Jody with an almost accusatory glance, “gave me hope. But that wasn’t enough for Christian.” She broke into a new flood of tears and blew her nose multiple times on the now-saturated tissue. Jody pulled another one out of the silver box in front of them and handed it to her, for his benefit more than hers.

“We always knew this could have been a possibility. When those Andorians attacked him, they did a lot of damage.”

Jody knew the story well: Christian had been out walking when he encountered a group of Andorians harassing a Vulcan close to the Starfleet facility in his home town. The Andorians were obvious sympathisers with the Confederacy of the Underdark, taunting the Vulcan, and then the human. Christian asked the Andorians to leave peacefully, but they did not. There was only one witness, and they did not give a perfect account of the events that followed, but it resulted in the death of the Vulcan and Christian having his skull caved in against a nearby rock.

To think that the Confederacy had tendrils as far as Earth made Jody sick.

“I… I…” Alicia tried to speak, but her sobs were just too hard to fight against. She took the new tissue and instantly saturated it. Any other day it would not have bothered the cadet, but today was no other day.

“Just spit it out,” he said with more vigour than he had intended.

Alicia immediately stopped crying, surprised, and looked straight at Jody with hurt on her face. “I trusted you that everything would be alright.”

“Well,” he said, being straight with the crewman, “sometimes situations don’t resolve themselves the way we want them to.” He regretted the words as soon as he had said them.

Alicia stood up without warning and stormed towards the door. He thought he heard her say the word ‘asshole’ as she walked off, but her lips didn’t move. ‘How was that even possible?’ He thought to himself as he jumped to his feet and started to follow her out the door. They were now both standing in the corridor on 21.

“What would you know, anyway,” Alicia shouted, catching the unwanted stares of officers and crewmen walking through the corridor. Some chose to turn around and avoid the brewing scene. At this point Jody didn’t care who was watching them.

“I know damn well more than you,” he said with unexpected venom behind his words. He wasn’t about to be told that he didn’t know how it felt to watch a loved one slowly slip away from you. The image of Dan lying unconscious on the biobed in sickbay would not leave his mind. “The man that I love is currently dying in sickbay…”

“Cadet.” Lieutenant Smith, Jody’s department head and trainer, heard the commotion and had stepped out of his office to investigate. His expression told Jody all that he needed to know: he was in trouble.

Jody wiped away tears from his own face and tried to compose himself. Alicia remained still until one of the counselling assistants stepped up to her and brought her back into Jody’s office. Smith looked at the cadet for a moment and then ordered him into his own room. Reluctantly, Jody followed.

“What was that?” Smith barked, ignoring the fact that Jody was one step away from a blubbering mess.

“I…” He tried to speak but couldn’t formulate a sentence.

“I wasn’t asking, cadet. That was an order.”

Wiping some more tears away, and straightening himself up, Jody responded. “I had another session with Crewman Travers.”

“I can see that,” Smith stated bluntly. His gaze at no point wavered off of the younger counselor. Jody was doing everything in his power to stop himself from breaking down in the same manner Alicia had just done in his office. Smith continued. “I told the captain that you would not be ready for duty, but this seems to be the only ship in the quadrant where the words of the chief counselor mean nothing!”

“I’m sorry,” Jody said once he had regained a little composure.

“You will be, cadet,” the senior officer said. “This incident will have to go in my final report to Starfleet Academy. You are only a few months away from graduating and this is not behaviour becoming of an officer.”

“I…” He started to speak again, but Smith put his hand up to silence the cadet.

“However,” the chief counselor said, the features on his face softening. Slightly. “I understand that there are mitigating circumstances here, and your record has been more than exemplary up until now. So don’t think that the Academy are going to stop you from graduating, again.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Jody couldn’t lift his gaze from the floor. He didn’t know whether to be more embarrassed about being caught speaking to a patient in the manner he was, or being caught blubbering in front of a senior officer. Both reflected badly on him.

He thought back to Alicia’s brother who was about to have the machines keeping him alive switched off. The man had tried to perform a kind act to a fellow Federation citizen, and now he was declared brain dead. He was a true hero: more so than Jody had ever been.

Smith stepped closer to Jody and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I am suspending you from duty, indefinitely. This is not a punishment, but an opportunity for you to come to terms with recent events and spend some time with the ambassador.”

“Aye, Sir,” Jody replied numbly.

“And,” Smith continued, “you are ordered to come see me at least once a day until I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Smith withdrew his hand and motioned Jody towards one of the chairs either side of the small coffee table in his office. Jody, reluctantly, obliged.

The cadet couldn’t immediately tell if his first session with the lieutenant had helped, but he certainly felt a weight of his shoulders as he talked through Marshall’s violation of his body, Sarah’s death, his burgeoning relationship with Dan and the departure of his only remaining friend on the ship. It seemed to last for hours. He knew he may never truly feel normal, but Smith had help him realise that he might get his life back on track eventually. And the one silver lining to his new circumstances meant that he could spend precious time with Dan; time that Alicia would never get to have with her brother.

He didn’t know what the future would hold, but like he had once said to Alicia: the future must contain hope. And he sincerely hoped that both he and Dan would make it.

 

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