Jailbreak

Posted on Sun Jul 14, 2019 @ 10:16pm by Captain Maritza Soran & Lieutenant Jason Haines

1,669 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Doors of Perception
Location: Deck 528 Brig
Timeline: Day 10, 0800

[ON]

Jason was bored beyond belief. He was the only person in the brig beyond the guard, who was not too talkative. He couldn't believe that on the station this size that he had been the only one that needed to be locked-up, this whole time. Who knew, perhaps Commander Soran had given orders for him to be left isolated.

They only thing that had kept his mind going was a theory on the portal that popped into his head overnight. He wish he knew just how suspicious of him T'gan was, otherwise he would discuss the theory with her. He might still have to as thinking about the Vulcans and how they found the portals and managed to navigate through the caves without help from one of the guard units bothered him. In contrast, the Andorian and company had bounced between caves for at least 45 minutes as that was how long it took for them to get down to the planet on the shuttle when the alert was raised.

There were other things about the Vulcans coming through that bothered him as well, but he wasn't going to let those eat at him until he was at a terminal and could expand on his theory. Part of him didn't want to have anything workable. If his theory was solid, then he didn't know what his superiors at temporal would do. They were already worried enough about the unseen fluctuation that they couldn't figure out. If the theory was solid, they might take measures that were drastic. And that was something Jason didn't want to have to deal with.

"Good morning, Mr. Haines." The brig doors opened, and the commander entered, looking as crisp as always.

Jason stood up at attention, is uniform a bit frumpled given that he had slept in it.

'Mister Haines. A step up from prisoner I guess', Jason thought.

"Good morning Commander Soran", Jason replied. "How are you on this fine day?"

"I've been dealing with bullshit for twelve hours, I've got a new chief of ops starting in 2 more, and I'm in a bad mood. Would you like to make it worse?"

"Not particularly Commander", Jason replied, wondering what had gone on. "Assuming you are letting me out and assuming you are going to let me resume duties, what can I do to help clean the manure out of the barn?"

She looked at him. Silence passed. "One of the things a junior officer would be wise to learn," she shaid, "IS the best place in a sentance to stop talking. Especially to a senior officer who is a firm believer in the insubordination regulations."

Jason's cheek twitched a little bit. If there was thing that the more immediate Haines family knew was insubordination. Some might call it telling the truth, but Starfleet used the term insubordination. His uncle decided to retire rather than go through a whole court martial about it. His father may as well have changed his middle name to insubordination. He could remember his mother saying to him when he was younger, "Pup, don't be so much like your father!", when it came to issues that could be considered insubordination. No, Jason wasn't insubordinate, not yet anyways. It seemed that the Commander just had a stick that caused her constipation about it.

"Aye, Commander", Jason replied trying to be as formal as possible, but his face had a few signs of many insubordinate things that were dying to be said.

She watched his struggle, and gave him a moment to compose himself. He didn't have to like it, he just had to do it. Knowing how to play the game was an important skill for any officer with ambitions. Or potential. "I'm not sure what to make of you. But given your departure, and arrival coincided with some unusual activity on Panagea, I'm prepared to chalk this up to the planet. "

Jason didn't respond in anyway except to stand at attention. She had made a statement. She hadn't asked for an opinion or a question or for him to explain anything or assigned any duties. He would just be a good little junior officer.

"So, having hoped you've learned some self control, you can return to duty. However, I also don't believe in taking unnecessary risks. You will have regular examinations by medical and science for the foreseeable future. And I expect you to see a counselor."

"Aye, Commander. Permission to speak", Jason replied, curious about one thing.

"Granted." She'd hear him out. He was learning.

Jason still had much to say that would require a long term reservation in his cell, but for now, he would play her game.

"What issues do you wish me to seek counseling about?", he asked simply and with no emotion on his face.

"You died, and came back. That's the kind of metaphysical misadventure that can leave a mark." For a moment she remembered a bright white room, thick with the acid smell of disinfectant, and the metallic tang of blood, and the screams, and the soft, fading, breaths. "And I need to be certain that all of you came back."

"Understood Commander", Jason replied. Then, after a moment or two pause, "Thank you."

The timing and slight tone change in his voice made it difficult for Soran to tell what he was thanking her for.

She moved over to the watchman's station and disengaged the forcefield. "We'll be watching you, Mr Haines," she said conversationally, and then her tone darkened just a fraction. "We'll all be watching you. Carry on."

He looked at her with a slight scowl. He could understand some concern, but this tone, this attitude.

"With all due respect Commander", he said. "If there is going to be this much effort into watching me, would you prefer if I just resigned? Sounds like it would make things easier on everyone. I mean medical, counseling, sciences watching me for sure and then who ever else you decide should keep an eye on me. I'll clear my quarters, get civilian rentals. I'm sure Yolanthe would give me a job."

She had to fight to keep her face neutral. There was something both hilarious and wildly inappropriate to imagining him in one of the ludicrous, tight outfits, the bar owner dressed her dabo staff in. Then she huffed a breath. "Mr. Haines. Do you know how many people in the history of Starfleet have come back from the dead, without explanation, after their body has been destroyed?"

"No, Commander", he answered.

"None." She said crisply. "Every example I've found, every, example, involved the restoration or regeneration of the body. Borg can resuscitate their drones up to seventy three hours. IF there is a body. Ambassador Spock's body was regenerated by a science experiment, AND he had the foresight to transfer his intelligence to Admiral McCoy before his body first expired."

She folded her arms. "You are the first case I can find to return from the dead after cremation. People will be asking questions about that all your life. People will doubt your existence, your personhood and your loyalty. You're an intelligence officer. Wouldn't you be suspicious?"

"I would", he replied, wondering this commanding officer had been yesterday.

"Now by all means, you can throw your career away, and go flirt with transients for slips of latinum, or you can realise that understandable verification is part and parcel of being a scientific anomaly, and endure some evidence gathering that can silence your critics. Which would you prefer? A life of getting groped by nausicaans fresh of six months in deep space? Or having access to the resources of a scientific power house that might be able to figure out what actually happened?"

Jason had to stop himself from snickering. His mother would have had a field day on the last comment now. He could hear her voice now, so had to refocus himself.

"Ma'am", Jason said. "Once again, I say this with all due respect to you as my commanding officer, as I might come off a little flippant, but will try not to. I clearly understand your position of having to be cautious with us scientific anomalies, first and foremost, the crew and station depends on it at times. I would worry if you weren't. That said, you didn't answer my question, so let me rephrase this."

He paused a moment, before continuing.

"Would you prefer that I resign? You see, I don't care what any of my other critics have to say. If you do want me to resign, no problem. I exist beyond the seams of this uniform. Always have, always will. I like it here, so I want to stay, but I need to know you trust me to do my job versus being an anomaly. As you are the only critic that matters in this, do you Commander Soran, trust me enough to be your Chief Intelligence Officer or would you rather I step away? This is your station to run after all."

There was silence for long moment as she thought about it. In the end she decided you could tell as much about a person from their actions as their words. "What I would like, Mr. Haines," she said after a pause, "is to see what you do next."

Jason looked at her a moment, taking away the insights about his Commanding Officer that he just gained, and with a smile said, "I can work with that ma'am. Now, you said you have been dealing with some bullshit. After I get a shower, where do you need me to shovel?"

That was the attitude. She kept her smile to herself though. "Decks 24 and 25. There was an incident last night. Mr. Ryan or Ms. Tessaro can brief you."

Jason nodded and said, "Then with your leave, I'll get back to business."


[OFF]

Lt.(jg) Jason Haines
Chief Intelligence Officer
DS5

Commander Maritza Soran
CO
DS5

 

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