In the Dark

Posted on Wed Nov 2nd, 2011 @ 4:41am by Lieutenant Jasad Broca

Mission: Tomorrow's Arizona
Location: Jasad's Quarters, Starbase One
Timeline: After the Court Martial

The room was dark, a construct of shadows. Jasad had become accustomed to living in dark spaces. The futuristic vessel that had brought them home- the one nicknamed 'Salvation' by much of the crew- had been a veritable mirror ship. Everywhere you looked, there was a shiny, reflective surface. Everything was polished, everything gleamed. If anyone had ever fired a laser inside the ship, the whole crew would have been imperiled.

There was nothing Jasad could do about it when he was on duty. On the bridge, a million reflections under bright white light had always been there to greet him. To mock him. The Good Doctor had done her best to treat the burns, but endless battle had quickly depleted or destroyed the Arizona's medical capacity. Then, once they were on the new ship, the cycle started again. There was no time to stop, no time for something as trivial as cosmetic surgery.

And so, for three-quarters of a year, Jasad had lived with half of his face cooked away. Only now, in the tranquil environment of Starbase One, had there been the opportunity to conduct reconstructive surgery. But old habits died hard. His face was back to normal, perhaps even better than before. The flesh and skin were fully restored. Skin tone matching had been completed, so that no one would ever guess at the gruesome display once exposed to the world. But in his mind's eye, Jasad was still a wretched thing to look upon. It would take time for that to fade. And perhaps it never would. Some scars ran more than skin deep.

But here, alone in his room with the lights off, Jasad was troubled with more than old wounds. Most of the surviving Arizona (and subsequent Salvation) crew had been transferred away. Only a few had resisted and insisted on staying with the Commodore. That crazed, possibly senile commanding officer who had somehow pulled them through a wayward future and back to yesterday. None of them would have survived without that aged battle-horse leading their charge to Salvation. Even in the moments when Jasad hated the curmudgeonly old man, he also loved him. The bonds of battle were not easily forged nor lightly broken.

Of course, Starfleet Command had built no such bonds with the Commodore. The man was a problem for them. He was contrary, crass, and often insubordinate. Now he had managed to violate a half-dozen rules about Temporal Operations simply by returning to the present with a ship from the future. Unlike Voyager, there was no gathering legend surrounding the Arizona and her desperate plight for survival. The entire affair had been classified. There was no warm sentiment brewing in the Federation that might save Cowell. And so, it was entirely possible that Jasad had hitched himself to a broken wagon.

So be it. In endless battle beyond the stars, he had learned that there were things more important than his ambition.

A triple-beep broke the silence of the room. The starbase computer's voice sliced through the shadows, somehow bringing the perception of light with the substance of sound. "Requested notification criteria met: Lieutenant Broca, you have received a new starship assignment."

Jasad's mouth twitched. "Computer, what is the name of the starship?"

The computer's reply was immediate, "You have been assigned to the U.S.S. Arizona."

For the first time in nine months, Jasad's lips curled into a smile.