Cabin In The Woods

Posted on 07 Sep 2023 @ 11:30am by Commander Kristiana Petrova & Ensign Unknown 'Weirdo'

2,645 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Deus ex Machina
Location: Holodeck

It was the end of a long day, a boring day. He had spent it studying – which in his case meant 'read through the materials twice'. He just couldn't fathom having to read it more than that and not retain the information it contained. Of course, he was aware it didn't work like that for others, but why that was so was something he didn't fully grasp. Perhaps something in people's minds. Well, he wasn't a doctor, though maybe he should read up on some xenobiology, just for fun.

Enough reading for now, though, he thought as he tossed the PADD he'd been working on into a corner and strode out. It was time to move, time for action, time to do something. And it was a time when this ship, for all its size and all the nooks and crannies it contained, felt very small.

So, what to do, where to go? He called up various places, various faces, and at one of them he nodded. Yes, it had been awhile since they had talked and he was curious how she was doing.

Calling up on the computer where he could find her was a matter of moments, and then he changed course and strode with long steps through the corridors of the ship, took a shortcut through three Jeffries' tubes and two connecting shafts. On a good day, he had discovered, that was just slightly faster than waiting for the turbolift to arrive. He popped the hatch not far from where he needed to be. Five steps through another corridor, then he opened the holodeck doors and stepped inside.

Two crewmembers otherwise distracted in their own, flirty, conversations were startled by this - ... weirdo just popping out of a bulkhead like that, but they resumed their way quickly enough, leaving him alone. The holodeck doors opened, revealing a forested area. An old, wooden farmhouse stood in the distance, a field with farm animals off to one side, but for the most part, it was forest that surrounded him.

There was only one other occupant in that forest, one Commander Kristiana Petrova, kneeling down in concentration, holding a long, wood and steel tool on her shoulder, peering over the top of it. An old rifle from earth - whether holographic or not, he could not tell from this distance. A Mauser Karabiner 98 kurz, in this case, a bolt action weapon chambered in the original 7.92x57.

He watched her for awhile with seemingly uncharacteristic patience, studying the strange object she was holding. A weapon, yes, an old-fashioned one by the looks of it. Shooting projectiles instead of energy, which made for nasty and occasionally deadly injuries in other creative ways.

As he watched, she focused, controlling her breathing, listening to her own heartbeat. Drawing a bead, and ... with a loud, echoing CRACK the rifle fired, sending sharp recoil into her shoulder, though she handled it admirably. In the far distance, a holographic deer fell over, giving a final twitch before passing. Seeing that, Kris lowered the weapon, pausing a moment before putting her arm to the carrying sling and hanging the rifle from her back. She still hadn't noticed him.

He had been studying not just the weapon but also the way it was wielded, and his face tightened briefly in concentration. In rapid succession, he discovered suddenly, different images and scenarios were appearing in his mind, ways to grapple and disarm someone wielding such a weapon, noting strong and weak points, lines of fire, where to grab and where not to grab… Most fascinating, all, but he dismissed those thoughts with a curt shake of his head and strolled over as she slung the weapon back. "Hi there," he called out once it was safely secured and couldn't be fired accidentally if she got startled.

"Oh - hey. Didn't notice you there," she said, turning towards him, looking a bit sheepish. "You ok? What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said with his usual grin. "Just thought I'd pop by for a chat, see how you're doing… you know, friend-like. Didn't mean to startle you, though, so if I'm disturbing…" He waved vaguely into the air around him.

"Not startled. As for disturbing? Only a little bit - still trying to figure out what you did to me that one time. Some - energy of a sort that you put in to me, that - well, helped me recover," She mused, walking over, tilting her head a bit. "You're an enigma, Tychon. Wrapped in a mystery. Just who are you, where are you from," she asked, rhetorically.

"I haven't quite figured that out myself yet," he said, with that cheerful tone that seemed to say 'But isn't it going to be fun to find out?'. "What I am, or what I did. But it did come in handy."

"That it did," she said, though without much humor in her voice, nor a smile on her features. Instead, she seemed tired and introspective. "I'm alright, I suppose. Just - thinking. Hunting always helps me think," Kris explained, motioning around her. "This is Vengerovka, or near it anyways. A village in Russia, on Earth. My family has a farm there. Though I guess it's mine now. Come, there's something to drink in the farmhouse."

"Then by all means, lead on," he said and gestured her ahead. "It sounds like you have a lot on your mind. A lot of very heavy thoughts."

"Always do," Kris said, dismissively. "Comes with being first officer." 'And being me' she added in unspoken thought. It wasn't a long walk to the farmhouse. A wooden building, at least several hundred years old, but very well built and in decent condition. Sure it could use some attention, some fixing up, but that was par for the course with buildings like these. Kristiana cleared her rifle of remaining ammunition once inside and hung it up on the wall, making a mental note to clean it later. It, unlike everything else in this simulation, was real instead of a hologram.

He looked around with great interest again, not just at the landscape around him but at the house as well. The contrast between this old wooden dwelling and the regular quarters of the starship was very interesting. He ran his fingers over the wood and wondered what it would be like to really touch something as old as this, to make a real connection with something which had lived hundreds of years ago, had been lovingly shaped and fitted to become part of a house.

"Any heavy thoughts which particularly stand out, or just the regular business which comes with your position?" he inquired, leaning against the wall.

"Nothing in particular. Well, almost nothing," Kris said, taking off her hunting jacket and tossing it onto a chair, revealing a black, form fitting tank top worn above camo pants and combat boots. "Just some thoughts, some chaos I need to beat into a semblance of order," she mused, opening a cupboard and producing two glasses and a bottle, pouring drinks for both of them.

The farmhouse was rustic, with heavy oaken furniture, though the light colors on the walls and the large windows gave it a spacious feel contrasting with the dark furniture. A large flat screen TV was set against a wall, very old fashioned technology from before holodisplays were common in rural locations like this. "Computer, music," she added, a soft, melodic, folkish soundtrack starting to play as she wandered over to the comfy looking couch and set the drinks on the table before flopping onto the soft cushions, leaning back and just taking in the moment.

He sauntered over to the couch and sat down on the other end, relaxing into the cushions. "Would you like to talk about them, or would you rather process them by yourself?" he asked as he picked up the drink. He took a sip and smiled. "Oh, nice bite." Alcohol, he had found, didn't affect him the way it did on humans but he liked the taste.

"So how've you been doing?" she asked, opening her eyes again and shifting a bit on the couch, pulling her legs up on it, just looking at him, completely ignoring his question. "How've your studies been going? Have any memories resurfaced?"

He smiled at the quiet evasion. It was an answer to his question, of sorts. "Fine, good and eager to continue, and no," he answered the questions as if following a shopping list. And… seeing or feeling strange defense and attack patterns were no memories in itself. It was curious, though, and worth exploring. At some other time. "I think I have the basics covered by now."

"You learn quick, don't you. That's good," Kris smiled. "Normal officer course is four years, but the way you're blazing through the curriculum it'll only be a few months. You still happy to be going the security track?"

"The theoretical bits are easy. The practical bits, well, that remains to be seen. I think there are holodeck simulations for the basic scenario's, it'll be interesting to see how they will play out." Most interesting indeed.

He took another sip of the drink and considered the last question a little longer, taking into account what he had learned from the other departments during the basic courses. "Overall, I'd say yes. Engineering is nice but Starfleet doesn't like it as a general rule when people are trying to improve things like efficiency parameters. Tactical is security with ships and bigger guns, with the additional drawback that by the time they have to act the time to talk people down has already passed. Science can be either very interesting or very dull depending on the types of missions… I won't bore you with the rest," he added with one of those casual waves he used to dispel his own thoughts.

"That's why I picked security originally as well, everything you just described," she mused, taking another sip of her drink. "Well, except science. I don't have a head for science. Or engineering, really. So, nothing like you said, I guess," Kris chuckled.

He grinned back, his curly hair danced briefly around his head. Then it faded away again. "I think, when it comes down to it, that other than command and medical, security people are the ones who have to make the hardest choices on the spot. When to act. When not to act. A delay, a wrong take on the situation can get your crewmates killed, the ship taken over…" This time his hand waved around not to dispel a thought but to indicate the ship around them. He had only come on board after that situation with the tentacle things, but he had seen the footage – and the results.

"Well, you're not wrong," she heaved a deep sigh, lying her head back and closing her eyes again. She seemed entirely comfortable around him, in a simulation of her ancestral home. "You'll find more burnout and other mental issues in security and command than, say, engineering or science. It takes a specific kind of person to be able to handle it." 'and I'm not sure I am that', was added in silent thought.

"Oh, yes," he said with a nod. "And the nasty truth is that you can throw as much theory and as many simulations at people as you wish, you'll never know which one you are until you're actually there, in the thick of things, and have to make that life-or-death decision on the spot." And he suddenly knew, with absolute certainty, that he had been in situation like that, had needed to make calls like those. How? Why? No idea, that was still – maybe forever – locked in the murky depths of his mind. He shivered briefly.

She cracked open an eye, watching him, reading his expression when he said that - and especially after. "Sounds like you know what that's like," she offered, sitting up straight again. "Memories? Or - the knowledge of memories without the actual memories? Things resurfacing?"

"No memories," he replied, promptly and easily again. "And although it feels that this is something I did experience at some point, I have no idea how or why." And suddenly- A smoke-filled place – corridor, room? Indoor somewhere, shouts, no, shrieks in the distance and coming closer, running footsteps- And just like that it was gone again, back to the impenetrable depths. He sighed and finished his drink.

She watched him, expression unreadable, somewhere between thoughtful and concerned. A few times already she's asked if he were ok, and his answers had been somewhat dismissive, so another approach was necessary. "I'm - having some doubts. About myself, I mean," he'd always seemed more interested in being a rock for others rather than needing one, so maybe that's what he needed now. "About these sort of things. It's not just making the call, you know, making the tough choices, but also reflecting on them afterwards. Did I do the right thing? What could I have done different? That kind of thing."

He had already shifted his focus. Interesting though this flash of memory was, it had been just that – a single flash, nothing more. Straining his mind to try to catch anything else would only result in more nothing, or maybe his fantasy filling in details which hadn't been there to begin with. Relaxing his mind, on the other hand, might give room for more flashes to rise from the depths. Or not.

"That seems only natural," he replied. "Decisions like these cannot be reflected upon thoroughly, weighed and thought through from all angles. They have to be made on the spot, and at the time you can only hope it's the right call. Only later you can reflect whether it was or not, either based on the outcome or because you learn of more information in the meantime." He shifted position, turned to look at her – he never seemed to be capable of remaining still for longer than a few minutes at a time. "However, dwelling too long on the past is as detrimental as not reflecting at all. There's a fine balance, as I'm sure you know… so for you to bring it up now, does that mean you fear you're losing that balance, doubting yourself too much?"

"Me, dwelling on the past? Whatever gave you that idea," she said dryly, sitting in the holographic representation of the house she grew up in, that had come to be in her possession now, back on earth. "I've never not doubted myself. Today isn't really unusual in that regard. I just keep telling myself that as long as Starfleet sees fit to keep me on as first officer on a starship I can't be doing that bad, really. I just - " 'wish that someone would say to my face that I'm doing a good job.'

As he listened to what he said, and to the words behind the words, a realization hit him and he voiced it aloud, in his usual matter-of-fact way. "You are a very lonely person, commander, are you not?" Command was a lonely position, that was a given, but the position right beneath it, the factual bridge between the captain and the crew, could be just as lonely. The captain was still fairly new to this ship, he'd learned. And though many of the crew had shared harrowing experiences in the past, they at least had the benefit of being able to lean on each other and seek comfort there. With a command team, that rapport was typically with each other – but with the departure of their former captain, who did Kris have to lean on, and bounce her thoughts off against now?

To be continued~

 

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