Quiet time

Posted on Thu Jul 8th, 2021 @ 3:47am by Captain Rhenora Kaylen

Mission: Gamma Quadrant
Location: Captain's Quarters
Timeline: The next day

The sound of her own sneezes woke her, not to mention the intense dichotomy that was sneezing whilst asleep. Groaning, she rolled over and checked the chronometer, it was 0530 hours. Not an unreasonable time to be awake albeit a little early. Hoping that she hadn't roused Remal too much she slid out of bed and took a warm shower, enjoying the feel of the warm water cascading over her skin. She regarded her body with a critical eye as she saw the reflection in the misting glass, a few deeper lines here, a bit less definition there, a myriad of scars and old injuries criss-crossing her skin. She could have them removed but felt that would be an injustice against the past, against the situations and the people that were part of her life when they happened. She was a child of the occupation, of starvation, of brutal subjugation and the outright plundering of her planet and people. It was something she was neither ashamed of nor proud of. It was what it was, history and the main play in shaping her life. Her body was getting old but was still strong, something she needed to work a little harder at these days and more grey mixed with the blonde strands that cascaded from her head. Times were changing, and soon it would all change again.

A rare quiet day lay ahead, repairs, diagnostics and routine called for her not to be present but to schedule an off duty day, planning on doing everything and nothing at the same time. Dressing in casual pants and a spaghetti strap top that was a relaxed but flattering fit she headed into the kitchen to start on breakfast. Thriss had worked his magic and rearranged a few things so they had a small kitchenette, a cooking space to create their meals together. She looked through the storage compartments until she found what she was looking for. Setting the coffee pot on the burner she set to work.

Her mind wandered as she worked in the kitchen, recalling the recent battle with the Jem Hadar. In the heat of the battle she’d been all too eager to wipe them from existence merely for threatening her people. What kind of person did that make her? To treat others the way the Cardassians and the Dominion had treated others - by genocide and murder.

The coffee began to bubble and swirl within the pot on the burner, releasing its aroma into the air like a thin vein of fragrant smoke, drawing her mind back to that moment of conflict on the bridge. Had the war jaded her so much she had lost her compassion, her moral compass? She closed her eyes, blocking out the veil of smoke and finding herself back in that terrible moment. They hadn’t fired, but she’d actually given the order to do so, she was going to kill injured and wounded people with no way of defending themselves. Had it not been for Dean questioning her, those Jem Hadar despite their intent on killing, would be dead by her hand - needlessly. The universe had seen enough killing, needless, merciless, inhumane, unreasoned killing. Death for the sake of killing, for political gain, for personal vendetta or gratification or misguided delusions of grandeur and galactic domination, or for threatening the sole Bajoran survivors of an attempted planetary genoside.

Hands pressed onto the bench for support and her head hung low, hair obscuring the blue eyes squeezed shut in moral turmoil, tears beading mercilessly as those that had corrupted her moral compass to this extent. How had she allowed this to happen? What had changed her mind to the point where her compassion had been replaced by vengeance? A willingness to do harm just in spite? She was no better than those who had plundered and pillaged before.

A shuddering breath and the scent of now thoroughly burnt coffee draw her back to the kitchen, the bitter aroma now beyond saving in any hope of the word. Perhaps it represented her soul at this point in her life - beyond saving, burnt and bitter beyond all redemption? Perhaps - or perhaps she needed a few good nights of sleep and a few days without someone or something trying to blow the Sunfire out of the sky. Sleep the previous night had been adequate, her mind had been restless but still able to switch off to a degree. Remal may shed some more light on that when he awoke. He could tell if her subconscious was running wild in the wee hours of the morning and usually slept later to recharge his own batteries. She imagined it would be like sleeping next to a drunken octopus when her subconscious had a ‘night’ of it.

Composing herself Rhenora reached for the destroyed coffee and tipped it back into the recycler - it would taste like warp fuel anyways, best to start a new batch as she knew Remal would need it. Several heaped spoons of the galaxy’s best blend and some water later the pot was replaced and a stern reminder given to not ‘wander off’ this time. What was done was done, she would address the morality issues with her husband and counsellor when the time was appropriate. In the meantime she would make the coffee and breakfast by way of an apology for keeping him up half the night with the tossing and turning.


TBC