Counseling a Rebel

Posted on 27 Jun 2018 @ 9:52pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant & Petra Varelli Ph.D.
Edited on on 21 Aug 2023 @ 1:41pm

3,622 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Episode 16 - A Far Sun
Location: USS Schofield - Sickbay
Timeline: MD -04, 1000 hours

[ON]

Petra didn't want to talk to the counselor. She really didn't want to talk to anybody, but part of being able to work on a starship was making sure she was mentally fit for duty.

She still thought it was a joke, but she set an appointment and walked into counseling. "I have an appointment," she stated to the person at the front desk.

Standing at attention behind the freestanding LCARS conosle, Ensign Yuulik snapped her head up at the sound of Petra's voice. Her bulbous eyes narrowed to slits and she didn't say anything while she studied the new patient. At the mention of an appointment, Yuulik supposed this wasn't a time for emergency triage, but she still studied Petra's body for signs of grievous wounds. Having scanned her from head to foot, Yuulik turned her attention back to the LCARS display and scrolled through the medical and counseling appointments for the morning. "Your face is indistinct," Yuulik said without looking up. "I don't know who you are."

Indistinct? That was rude. But then, Petra guessed to some species humans all looked alike. "I'm Petra Varelli. I have an appointment with the counselor."

"Ahhh, Petra," Yuulik remarked, as if that explained everything; "Ahh, yes". Although Yuulik nodded at Petra, she appeared to be struggling to hold her eyes open. Tilting her head down, she considered the schedule on the LCARS panel. "There's no room in the ward for you," Yuulik said. Although Schofield's Sickbay was petite, it was clearly open-concept and there was one biobed available.

As if at the start of a race, Yuulik bolted from behind her freestanding console and ran for the corridor. "Follow me!" she proclaimed.

Petra couldn't help smiling in amusement. She was beginning to like Yuulik. However, she wasn't going to run after her. So she followed at a quick walk.

Yuulik ran ahead of Petra, jogging down the corridor and hooked a left at the second intersection. She managed to catch a turbolift moments before it arrived at this deck and she held the door, begrudgingly, until Petra caught up. Yuulik asked for section twenty-five of deck five and then lead the way to a single door panel that was only labeled as compartment forty-two. At Yuulik's touch, the door slid aside, revealing a glorified utility closet. Glorified, because the buckets and mops and been removed and replaced with a couple of standing stools.

"Well hullo," came a voice from within. Stepping towards the door was a Romulan Lieutenant in a uniform highlighted with medical-teal. "You must be Varelli," he said.

"I am," Petra replied, looking around. "Nice digs."

"Thank you," he replied wryly, and one could read on his face that he was in on the joke. Looking over Petra's shoulder, Lake ir-Llantrisant offered Yuulik a curt nod to dismiss her. That done, he welcomed Petra in by sweeping an arm at the one free space in the compartment that wasn't currently being occupied by his own body.

"It certainly makes me question my career choices," Lake said, "to think how my job was more of a hobby of a Chief Medical Officer in the Schofield's heyday."

"I don't know," Petra said, grinning. "It looks like they gave you the best broom closet on the ship. Science does okay, but I'm a civilian on a starship. That has its own problems."

"Oh?" Lake asked, and he eased himself onto one of the standing-stools. Looking to Petra, he asked, "In what form have those problems arisen?"

"According to some, I don't know as much about science as someone who went to the Academy. A university degree apparently doesn't measure up." It was more a minor grievance as she would happy disabuse them of the notion if the problem continued. "At the same time, it does have its advantages." She couldn't help smiling. "I don't have to worry about sleeping with an enlisted man."

It didn't take long at all for Lake to offer a reply. "Sleeping with enlisted men may not cause worry for your career," he said with a bit of a smirk, "but it can still be a worry for all the otherreasons, and those are plentiful enough." He spoke from a tone of experience. And the tone of someone with a dead ex-husband. Since Lake didn't know this had been a minor grievance to Petra --he only knew it was the first thing that came to mind-- he asked of her, "What does it mean to you when someone quantifies your knowledge?"

"That they think I'm an idiot," she rejoined. "That I'm being talked down to." She may not know physics, but she did have a PhD in Forensic Anthropology. She'd gone through a lot of general science classes to get there, too. "As for men, well, it is a great way to release oxytocin and reduce stress. Kreanus was hell."

Lake had been nodding at each of the points Petra made, and then the final one gave him pause. His posture went stiff. Tilting his head to one side, he asked, "Tell me more about that. I wasn't part of this crew at Kreanus."

Marisa and I were on the Cartagena," she began. "Our ship was attacked. We were sent out on a shuttle with four other people to help guide the ship into the nebula to escape our attackers. But the ship was destroyed and we crashed on Kreanus." She paused, not wanting to go over the details again. "To cut a long story short, the other four were murdered and we found the Galileo crew. They had some sort of deal to get off the planet and we left with them. The rest you probably know."

"I'll have to thank you for your patience," Lake said, raising one palm as an admission of guilt and apology. Smiling sheepishly, he said, "I never served aboard Galileo nor the Cartagena." --He shrugged-- "I don't know what you mean by... the rest..."

"Really?" She looked at him for a long moment. "I guess you don't. Okay, then. Ban and Waraquim made some sort of arrangement to get the Galileo crew off the ship if they took some sort of message to Qo'Nos. We served with Klingons on the Duja'Q, there was a mutiny by the Klingon XO, some disgraced Klingon General tried to take over the ship, he was stopped by the Romulan woman who got us off planet, and the Klingon and his crew were captured by the Klingon Empire. Or something like that. I was stuck in science and missed most of the action." She paused for a moment. "Except when some of the Klingon mutineers came in and killed the woman over research. Well, we went from the Romulan ship to a Federation ship and then to Earth, where we were all interviewed and Saalm faced Court Martial. I had to each at Starfleet Academy and babysit some old fogey. And then, I got to come here. But there are no Marines.."

"Okay, wait, that's a lot of information," Lake said, waving his palms through the air. "I can't say I was curious for general information purposes. You said Kreanus was hell. What did all of that runaround mean to you, to you specifically?"

"Well, you asked," she said. "What, Kreanus? Or was there another runaround you want to know about?" she asked.

Ignoring that deflection, Lake looked at Petra unblinkingly, and he asked, "What about Kreanus was hell for you?"

"Two shuttles left the Cartagena to find a safe route into the nebula for the ship. But before we could, the ship was attacked and destroyed. No one survived. The other shuttle never made it to Kreanus." Her tone was almost clinical in its detachment, but there was a hint of anger behind it. "Our shuttle came down hard but intact. Two of the crew stayed to guard it while the rest of us went to find out more about the planet. When we returned, both of them were dead. Impaled on posts and left for us to find. Marisa, Pete, Tilly and I found an abandoned room where we hid. We went out in pairs to scrounge for food and to get information. There was never enough food. We heard about this starship that was mostly underground. Marisa and I went to check it out. That's where we heard about te Galileo crew. We took the information back to Pete and Tilly, to tell them we had a way off the planet, but the Klingons found them. From the evidence in the room, Tilly was raped and beaten, then strangled with her own entrails while Pete was forced to watch. Then he was eviscerated. We left the next day. I'd call that hell, wouldn't you?"

Nodding twice, Lake said, "Hell for Pete and Tilly; I'll tell you that for free." He spoke evenly, unmoved by Petra's tale of sexual violence and gore. Lake squinted at Petra, and he said, "I may be mistaken --please correct me if I am-- but I'm hearing you tell Pete and Tilly's story. I'm hearing you as a narrator, rather than hearing from your own experience."

Petra's eyes flashed. "My experience was watching my friends be killed off. All of them, except for Marisa. And then being stuck on a ship where the Klingons crew wanted us dead. Hell, some of them tried."

"There was never enough to eat, never a place we felt safe. And then, when we get back to Earth, we're treated like pariah. I had to babysit an old goat at the Academy who should have retired a decade ago."

As the escalating statements escaped Petra lips, Lake "mmhmm"ed and nodded at each of them. "How should Starfleet have treated you," Lake asked, "after what you endured?"

"I'm a civilian attached to Starfleet," Petra said. "They should have either assigned me somewhere or told me to take a hike and go back to work in the civilian sector. Instead, they told me I had to wait for them to make a decision and to babysit some professor at the Academy--without the possibility of taking his place at some point. So, basically, busywork." She looked at him suspiciously. "I'm not asking for special treatment. I'm asking to not be told to do nothing but wait on their pleasure. Look, I'm just answering your questions."

Taken aback by the suspicious look, Lake sat back on his stool. Openly, he said, "Your candid truth is a refreshing; that makes it easier to have a conversation." --Still thinking about that look in her eyes, Lake shrugged helplessly-- "Why do you think I wouldn't want to hear your truth?"

"I've done nothing but tell the truth," she countered. "But your questions don't indicate that you believe me."

Lake tilted his head to one side. "Belief is a strong word. It implies truth versus false," he said. "What makes you think I don't believe you?"

"Your response to my answers."

Lake stared at Petra when she said that, and he nodded, and he stared at her some more. When nothing more came, he shook his head. "No, I can't make the connection," he said. "Tell me more about why you think I don't believe what you're saying."

Petra sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "Why does it matter? Is my opinion of you important to the evaluation?"

Cocking a quizzical eyebrow at Petra, Lake rhetorically asked, "Are you new to Starfleet?" --He nodded twice to emphasize his next point-- "This is how this works. Feel free to think I'm a dumpster fire of an officer, and I'm going to keep on asking you questions." Lake sat back in on his stool too, and then he steepled his fingers together, and then he set his jaw. "Every time you answer a question with, one, a simple sentence, or two, what sounds like a prepared narrative," Lake affirmed, "I'm going to ask more questions. How else am I supposed to understand your cognitive processes? This is how this works."

"First, no, it's not my first round with Starfleet. Second, I've been poked and proded, both physically and mentally, since coming back with the crew from the Galileo, so I'm a little tired of the bull." She paused. "If you want more than a short answer, ask more than a routine question."

Shaking his head, Lake asked, "Why are you even working with Starfleet today if this is what you think of the organization?"

It was a valid question. "Because as messed up as it is, it gives me a chance to get out and look at other planets. I'm a Forensic Anthropologist. This gives me a chance to look at some unique skeletons. And I do have a background in general science. I spend a few years with Starfleet, I can find a job in research. Don't get me wrong, I like Starfleet. Mostly. No job is perfect and Starfleet rarely lives up to the hype." She cocked her head to one side. "Why are you in Starfleet?"

Squinting at Petra, Lake had to think about it for about three seconds. Then, he said, "Starfleet was my only choice -- literally my only choice. I would serve the Daystrom Institute, the Hucklesby Instute, the Federation Science Bureau, or even the Corgal Research Centre in a heartbeat." —He tilted his head to the left— "They were less impassioned about working with me. My word is dust. I defected to the Federation as a refugee." --Lake shrugged helplessly-- "I didn’t have the standardized test scores or the education I needed to get the education I needed. Honestly, I would probably be a bartender today if not for Starfleet and its post-wars shortage of talent.” —His voice dropped— "I owe Starfleet my life. My entire life. So I live in servitude."

Petra took that in for a long moment. "Do you enjoy it, or do you honestly feel like you're in servitude?"

Shrugging with his palms up, Lake said, "I don't know. I would have to ponder on that." --He shook his head-- "Enjoyment isn't a criteria one uses to measure one's life against, not where I come from. I don't... think... the verb to enjoy has a direct translation in my dialect?"

Cycling through his memory, Lake couldn't find an answer to his own question. All the same, it didn't take him long to wave off the puzzle with a shake of his head. His eyes lit up. A far more interesting puzzle came to mind. Setting his gaze on Petra, he asked, "Do you honestly feel like you don't live in servitude to the Federation?"

"Of course not. I'm grateful for the opportunity," she said. "How many civilians get to work on a starship? Yes, I have issues, and I'm still angry, but it's not Starfleet's fault. It's those...Klingons on Kreanus. I may not like the way Starfleet treated us, but I know professors who are far more anal than Starfleet."

"I hear your gratitude for the opportunity to work aboard a starship. How important is it for you to be working aboard a starship?" Lake asked, following where his curiosity led. It was basically the same question, and so he asked, "What do you want from your time aboard Galileo?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I like working on a science ship, and I like the possibility of exploring old worlds, but I would also enjoy other opportunities. I guess it all depends on which starship and which opportunity."

Nodding at Petra's words, Lake recognized her confusion at the question. "I've never served aboard a starship before," Lake said, "Not full time. I suppose what I'm asking is: what do you like about working aboard a starship?"

"Oh, that." She shrugged. "I like traveling to different worlds, and it's a little easier to meet people. On land, everyone is so busy doing their own thing, but on a Starship, you're forced into a relatively small space. The rooms aren't great, but that also makes you want to get out and find company."

Petra's revelation brought a question to Lake's mind. It was lazy counselor-bait, but Lake couldn't help himself. Not after the way Petra had poked and prodded back at him. "Oh," Lake asked, "do you have trouble meeting people otherwise?"

"Not trouble, exactly, but when you work odd hours it can be harder to meet people. On a starship there are three shifts, so someone is always around somewhere." She shrugged. "Have you ever tried to meet a decent guy when you spend forty to sixty hours a week in a lab?"

Lake shrugged at that helplessly, raising his palms to the overhead. Non sequitur or not, Lake dryly said, "Starfleet murdered my husband."

Petra looked at him seriously for a long moment. "What happened?"

At that, Lake bit his lower lip. He scraped his front teeth across that lip, and that was the only physical indication that he regretted what he had said. The expression in his dark eyes remained flat, aimed squarely at Petra. But the seal had been broken, so to speak, and Lake said, "I don't rightly know." He shrugged helplessly again. "Half the senior staff were killed in action and Starfleet classified the whole affair. I don't know if that means time travel, or space ghosts, or Borg flu..." he said. Lake trailed off, and he squinted slightly, lost in reverie. "I met Kellin on the starbase. He was Starfleet too. We made time, we made a life for ourselves. It wasn't all good. I didn't leave things well. And then they sent me Kellin's ashes," Lake said, "in a jar."

Petra put a hand on his arm in consolation. "I'm so sorry. What branch did he serve in?"

"...Operations," Lake said, offering up his answer hesitantly. Welp, he'd lost control of this session; that was undeniable. As he'd gone of the rails so deeply, he couldn't even see the rails anymore, he continued full steam ahead. "Kellin pursued me," Lake said. "Er... or... he investigated me, more accurately. To increase the resolution I desired on hyperencephalograms for my patients, I was stealing computer core processor resources from" --he waved a hand in Petra's direction-- "civilian researchers."

She couldn't help a bark of laughter getting out. "Sorry, but that is funny, in an ironic sort of way. So, he tracked you down for stealing computer core processors from people like me, and you ended up falling in love. Cool. Sad, yes, but cool. You know, there are a million ways we humanoids can die. We can choke on dinner, fall down a flight of stairs, get hit by an air car, catch a rare disease, or die trying to make a difference. I like to think it's better to die trying to make a difference than by some stupid accident--or because some thug Klingons decided to torture and kill you just to get their jollies." She was angry again by the end. She took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm glad you two found each other. Were you happy together?" she asked.

Bobbing his head from side to side --as if he were weighing the question out in his head-- Lake eventually stilled his movement once he could articulate his response. Waving briefly at Petra, Lake said, "I was indifferent to him at first; I didn't think I could meet a man aboard a starbase. I worked as a crisis counselor. My duty could send me to four different starships a month. Kellin thought I was selfish. He went out of his way to make that known to my department head." --Even now, even after all those years, even after Kellin's death, Lake still smiled bitterly-- "Eventually we became acquaintances, even familiar. We were happy, for a time, but we'd come apart before he died..."

"Yes. That does seem to happen a lot, doesn't it?" That was one reason she didn't want any serious ties right now. She even avoided Marisa when she could. "But it's not peculiar to Starfleet. It happens everywhere."

For a time, for a long time, Lake didn't look at her. His gaze had wandered over Petra's shoulders and into the middle distance, while he answered her questions and then while she spoke. "Are you ready for it," Lake asked of her, and that's when he looked at Petra, looked right at her. "Ready to blast off into the middle of nowhere with only the limited Starfleet crew of a tough little ship by your side?'

"Of course." She met his gaze for a long moment. "Maybe I'm running away from my past, but I prefer to think of it as letting go of what happened and moving toward a better future." That sounded like something Marisa would say. It made her frown. "I don't want to stay angry and bitter." And then she cocked her head to one side and asked. "Do you?"

"No," Lake said, shaking his head once. He didn't even have to think about it. "Let's run," he said, fully admitting that he was running from his own past, "and keep on running." He leaned forward, as if Petra was the Galileo-A herself. "And when we run out of breath, let's run some more."

[OFF]

--

Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Schofield

Petra Varelli
Forensic Anthropologist
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Sandoval]

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