[AU] Giving The Middle Finger to Life

Posted on Mon Jun 22nd, 2020 @ 11:15pm by Sasha Vieers (Deceased)
Edited on on Fri Jul 10th, 2020 @ 5:07pm

Mission: Divided We Fall
Location: Deck 2
Timeline: Eight years in the bubble

A Mission Post by Ensign Sasha Vieers
Mission: Divided We Fall
Location: Deck 2
Timeline: Eight years in the bubble
Tue Aug 28th, 2018 @ 4:22pm

Sasha was walking briskly through the corridors around the Starboard side of deck two, checking every room one final time. This had become the usual routine whenever the outside universe had shrank in on them and encroached upon the crew’s remaining living space. Room by room the black emptiness was swallowing up the Pandora and with no way of fighting it, all they could do was fall back.

The Ensign knew there was only one person left in this section of the ship and others had wondered why she’d bother going back for him, but Sasha would only shake her head and insist she wasn’t going to leave anyone behind. As she arrived at the secured quarters, she knocked loudly on the door before unlocking it and pulling it open. In front of her was the former Ensign Rochester, as he had remained these past seven years after killing the Captain.

Dorian Rochester cast a shrunken shadow, his eyes conveyed the weary fatigue of years in isolation. After being sentenced to imprisonment for his crime, he was detained in one of the old crew quarters with nothing but a simple bed, a few books, sanitation unit, one hour of entertainment, and a single delivery of food each day. The rest of the room was bare, and his only interaction with other crew members was the five minutes when someone - usually Sasha - delivered his daily portion of rations. At first he had been totally resistant, then somewhat defiant, then casually unpleasant, and now he was just silently distant; staring through her with glossy, vacant eyes.

Sasha had not brought backup with her this day, not that any one was volunteering, knowing that Rochester no longer had any fight left inside him.

“We’re evacuating this area,” she announced as she entered the room. “The Bubble is shrinking again.”

Rochester just stared back at her.

“I can’t force you to come.” Sasha said with a sigh. “But we’ve lost too many people already. Needlessly. I won’t let someone else just give up!”

This caused Dorian to stir a little, his face crumpled into a confused frown. He started to speak but then, realising he hadn’t spoken out loud for some time, had to clear his throat a few times first before any words would come out. “Who?”

“Fick.” Sasha replied, looking down again.

Rochester searched his mind trying to remember who that was. Seven years was a long time spent in the absence of others, so putting names to faces was difficult. “The young kid... helmsman?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He was going through more inside then we realised.”

The inmate looked off into the distance for a while, his eyes becoming cloudy with a sudden storm of emotion. “It’s... a shame.” He whispered, as his words began to get caught in his throat.

Sasha leaned against the doorframe and rubbed her eyes, trying not to let her own emotions get the best of her. She’d put on the facade of cold professionalism for some time, and as much as she had wanted to break, she had so far managed not to do so. “It’s a waste.” She replied.

“Sometimes the wrong answer looks like the only answer in a person’s mind.” Dorian spoke, “And you can never fully appreciate why.”

Sasha looked over to him with quiet contemplation, thinking on his words for a moment. There was a heavy silence in the room, as they both reflected upon the circumstances that saw Rochester imprisoned indefinitely by the crew. Few had been willing to see the situation from Dorian’s point of view; the death of the Captain seemed to overshadow any argument he had been able to muster at the time. Griffin’s punishment was that Rochester would spend the rest of his life knowing the weight of his crime. There was little opportunity for him to explain his reason for committing it.

“My people have the opportunity to live several lifetimes.” Sasha said, “If joined, a Trill will learn, remember, and see more things then I could ever imagine. When preparing oneself for the joining trials, you train yourself not to see everything in absolutes. A single day is never the whole picture.”

Rochester nodded, “I guess young Mr Fick, like many of us, could only see the one day. Over and over again. And it brought him so much pain. Too much pain for him to bear.”

“If anything,” Sasha added, “This experience has taught me the fragility of our lives. It’s hard to see life as some positive journey when everything keeps getting stripped away from you. As much as there are no absolutes, there are also no guarantees.”

Rochester strained for a moment as he stood from his bunk, his body stiff from hours of stagnated stillness, and he had to hold his hand up to the bulkhead to steady himself. His legs were weak from inactivity and it took Dorian a moment before he felt confident to stand upright on his own.

“We all had plans.” He spoke, “I was going to rise to the top of Operations; being Chief Ops on a ship like Pandora would have been a crowning achievement. But then I was going to join the Merchant Marines. Have my own ship, my own crew, flying cross the ‘verse doing my own damn thing. Work jobs when I needed, travel wherever the hell I wanted, not really answering to some pips in a red tunic. A free life.” He gave a sardonic laugh, with as much derision as he could muster. “Now look at me.”

Sasha couldn’t help but grimace, “You can’t blame the bubble universe for what you did, Rochester.”

Dorian looked to her with the sting of her rebuke, “No. No, that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I’m saying you can’t make plans. Plans are for folk too ignorant to know better. Plans are just a sure fire way to find yourself disappointed when real life happens.”

“So what, we do nothing? Stop trying?” Sasha asked. “Even with everything that’s happened to us here, the fragility of it all, I won’t accept that. Captain Temple wouldn’t have given up, even now.”

“And yet both he and Mr. Fick have departed us. Your plans and your intentions matter little in the end, it’s whatever life throws at you.” Rochester replied, his tone a little softer. “If I had the means I would have drawn the same conclusion as Fick long ago. I’ve thought of many ways to...” he voice got caught in his throat again, “Anyway, that would have just been me making another plan that life has decided to completely ignore. I’m not still here because I’ve found hope, or redemption, or some religious enlightenment. I’m here because life has dictated so.”

“We make choices.” She argued. “You clearly made a choice seven years ago and you’re in this cell because of that.”

“The wrong one, yes.” Dorian nodded. “But the only one I could see at the time.”

Sasha was stunned; for the first time since the Captain’s death she was allowing herself to listen to reasoning of Temple’s killer and she wasn’t in total disagreement. She felt like she was betraying Temple, and Griffin for that matter, by not hating Rochester anymore, but there was something about his words that were ringing true. Maybe she had spent too long in the Bubble, maybe the lack of external perspective was clouding her judgement, but she was starting to understand him.

“I... I doubt others will agree.” She said tentatively.

“Funny thing about seven years of isolation,” Rochester shrugged. “You stop giving a damn about what other people think. What do your Trill say again about a single day not being the whole picture?”

“Okay, point taken.” She nodded. “But I don’t think you can use that to justify... what happened.”

“Oh I’m not looking to justify myself.” He replied. “Even if I could, which I doubt anyway, it’s far too late now. I’m serving my time as expected. I’m just saying that I’ve given up making plans for myself. I will simply do as life requires.”

Sasha titled her head as she repeated his words. “‘As life requires?’ I like that.”

“What plans did you have, Miss Vieers?” Rochester asked. “It’s fun to say them out loud so you can realise how foolish you were for making them.”

She smirked, “Very well. I was going to prove myself to be an important asset to the Trill and show that I had the capacity to be joined with a symbiont.” She stayed in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“Ooh, important asset?” Rochester raised an eyebrow with an entertained glee. “Not becoming Starfleet’s highest overachiever? Or getting the most shiny pips on your lapel?”

Sasha shook her head. “Starfleet is not the only option in the galaxy. Especially not in the Expanse. Still, you have no idea how unbelievably difficult it is to stand out amongst the other Trill candidates. Everyone these days is taking up training with Starfleet, Vulcans, even Klingons. I heard of an applicant who disappeared in the Delta Quadrant because she wanted to be assimilated and then de-assimilated by the Borg.”

“Why on Risa would she do that?” Dorian scoffed.

“To prove she could handle being connected to another life force.” Sasha shrugged. “Hasn’t been heard from since though.”

“Ah!” He raised his hand with smug satisfaction. “See? She made a plan and followed it through and life just handed her a big dose of reality. So what’s the use of making plans?”

“But now you can make a choice.” Sasha said. She had heard his words and the brutal honesty had shaken her beliefs, but there was still a voice inside willing to take up the cause of hope. “You can leave this room and survive, or stay and get sucked out into space. Life has given you the option to live another day.”

Rochester gave a sly smile, acknowledging Sasha’s optimism. “I will leave with you. If only because I know there are people up there who would rather I did not. And sometimes you just have to give life the middle finger.”

He took a step forward but his thin leg wobbled noticeably, so Sasha moved closer and wrapped her arm around his back and propped him up. “Come now, I won’t have you taking all day.”

“Fine.” Dorian replied with a sigh, though he appreciated her unhesitating support. “You know what I was going to call my ship?” He asked as they walked.

“What?” Sasha replied with a bemused smile.

“The S.S. Freedom.” He replied. “Now ain’t that a kick in the balls?”

Despite herself, despite how much she wanted to hate this man still, despite her unease at his bleak assessment of their lives just now, Sasha let out an unrestrained laugh. And the two continued to chuckle as they headed to safety.

OFF