Flee for your life! Do not look behind you.

Posted on 28 Feb 2019 @ 6:18pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant

741 words; about a 4 minute read

[ON]

Sitting alone at the head of the conference room table, Lake ir-Llantrisant fidgeted with a widescreen PADD. He tossed the device from hand to hand, staring down at the LCARS interface on its display, but his eyes wouldn't focus on any of the specific words or contacts. After procrastinating for long enough, Lake said, "Computer, please record a a communique for Commander Andreus Kohl, USS Lagrange."

Most of the menu options scrolled off the interface and then a new window appeared on the display. The feminine voice of the Computer instructed, "You may begin when ready," and a live recording of Lake's face appeared on the new window in the PADD. Lake began:

I don’t know if I can do this.

Going back to the Starbase 74 was never an option. When my shore leave ended, the choice to return to the starbase had felt morbid. I would have been putting on the uniform of a dead woman. The Admiral has asked me to lead the Counseling department and... I had.. I had a lot of feelings about being awarded a career advantage on the back of a death. I know that's-- that's not how the promotion was intended. I know that. Intellectually, it would have been a wise choice, truly. I had a reputation on the starbase; I had friends. The hospital was staffed by the best and the brightest; we had the best trauma team in the sector. And I had a lot of feelings about it.

Not only it, but feelings about Kellin. Dating you was supposed to mean I was over him. I had had it. Officially. It was supposed to mean my marriage to Kellin was, not only legally severed, but emotionally ended as well. ...Closure's been hard since he got killed.

Galileo seemed like the only option. If I reflect on it... I think, for a time, this was the right choice. A start of something new. It was only natural for me to want to get away from all those endings, all you men and the Romulan Star Empire. I don’t think this was a mistake; it was the right choice, sort of, or at least the only choice I could make at that time.

It was the right choice until Pleione.

I wasn't fully prepared for an undercover away mission; I wasn't fully prepared for first contact. The natives had recognized my otherness so easily, so quickly. Marisa had escaped and I... I didn't. They took me. They took me so easily. I told them-- I told them everything. To hell with your Prime Directive. I didn't want to die.

I knew I would die there.

I don't know what I can do to avoid making that mistake again and again. For a minute, I served as an Executive Officer today. It was in an acting capacity, while the command officers were leading an away mission. Our ship was drenched in radiation and the colonies we came to rescue were all destroyed by... by... I don't know? Volcanoes? They built their colonies on volcanoes?

And I-- my performance as first officer was shameful. Captain Saalm was actually, literally ashamed of me. I could see it in her eyes. All I wanted to do was run. Why-- what are we going to do with destroyed colonies in an irradiated solar system? It's a waste, it's a hideous waste, but it's over. Another failed colony. Tragic, but it's past tense. What is there to learn from balls of radiation spinning through Vorta Vor?

That's the problem. That question is what's wrong with me. I'm not-- Clearly, I'm not an explorer. I joined Starfleet to learn, to discover, to be an academic. I don't belong out here. I'm not a good fit. What made me ever think I could do this?

Give me-- give me that dead woman's uniform. I'll go back to the starbase. That's where I belong...

Lake slapped the PADD off the conference room table. He murmured to the Computer to, "Delete the communique," even before the PADD hit the ground. The PADD smacked into the deck, and skidded until it bumped into a bulkhead. Lake stood up and straightened out his uniform. He crouched to the deck, muttering, "Weak," as he snatched up the PADD, and he marched out of the conference room.

[OFF]

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