Overthinking the Future

Posted on Wed Nov 27th, 2019 @ 10:43am by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox
Edited on on Sat Nov 30th, 2019 @ 2:43pm

Mission: Neutral Zone Neutrality
Location: USS Hera, Deck 10, Holodeck 3
Timeline: 2396

There was chaos in the ornate, vaguely art deco conference room. A podium stood in the center of the stage, with two men laying on top of each other in a heap behind it. Flags of the worlds of the United Federation of Planets encircled the rear of the stage. Along the walls, long columns of lights stretched from floor to ceiling, and moments ago, a Klingon with a sniper rifle had fallen through one of those banks of glass to fall to the floor, dead. The sniper, having just missed a shot at one of those two men, thanks to the last-second intervention of the other.

Standing up, one man was a regal and dignified Efrosian, with flowing white hair and the robes of the office of President of the Federation. The other was an aging man in a maroon Starfleet uniform with Captain’s bars on his white shoulderboard. His hair was graying and he had a bit of a paunch, while his uniform was stained and dirty. He looked more than a little disheveled, but he helped the other man up gently and stood proudly.

In the crowd, a group of Klingons had been swarmed protectively around a Klingon Woman who pushed her way forward and shouted, “What's happened! What's the meaning of all of this?”

“It's about the future, Madam Chancellor.” The Captain in the uniform that had been unceremoniously dubbed ‘the Maroon Monster’ by officers for decades said in a commanding voice. “Some people think the future… means the end of history. But we haven't… run out of history… just yet. ...Your father called the future ...'the undiscovered country'.”

Then, he stepped slightly down and looked her in the eyes with an expression that looked almost apologetic and spoke directly to her in the center of a room filled with officers and dignitaries from every Federation world. “...People can be very frightened of change.”

There was a pause as the woman considered his words and replied with a similar tone of almost apology, though tinted with her obvious authority and the respect she carried. “You've restored my father's faith.”

With a bit of an impish smirk, the Captain in maroon replied, with hope in his voice, “And you've restored my son's.”

A slow clap began to roll through the chamber as more Starfleet officers, all seeming to be of similar ages to the Captain who stood somehow taller than he actually was. And from the back of the chamber, standing in her modern Crimson uniform, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox watched with a PaDD in her hand.

The young Rihannsu Starfleet officer looked tired, with slightly deep-set eyes and loosely hung shoulders, but she watched the scene unfold with a clear focus in those eyes. From behind her, there was a light woosh as a familiar and welcome voice called out, “Computer, freeze program.”

Striding slowly into the recreated room, the anachronistically-uniformed Commander Rita Paris took in the scene, walking over to inspect the crew of the USS Enterprise, thirty years after the era from which she hailed. “This wasn’t the man I knew, but he is similar. A better man, to be sure- wiser, more seasoned, more… mature. I tend to forget that he was a master of brevity in those impactful speeches of his.”

Taking in the details with wistful eye, the striking senior officer sighed. “I wish I had known this version. I knew the rash, impulsive version, the maverick officer who made his own rules out on the final frontier. This was the statesman, the hero who had seen it all. He was lost a year or so later to the Nexus, I read, only to resurface twenty years ago or so… and die a sad death. But still a hero… always a hero.”

It was clear that the old-school officer was having a bit of an emotional moment as she turned back to the junior officer, now having advanced to that middle range of not quite junior, not quite senior, although she was still senior staff, burdened with the responsibilities of command as she learned from those above her in the chain of command. Cocking her head curiously, Paris walked over to take a seat in the front row of the gallery, in a vacated seat with the frozen figures of the legendary heroes of Starfleet standing solemnly before her.

“Take a seat, Lieutenant Commander. Let’s have one of those famous long-winded talks of mine, here in this historic setting,” Paris gestured casually to the empty seat across the aisle as she crossed her legs in a practiced motion and hung her elbow over the back of the chair, setting a casual atmosphere even though she was addressing Dox by her rank.

Walking around the frozen form of the former Chancellor of the Klingon High Council, Dox lay her PaDD down on the seat and paused for a moment to look around at the scene again. Then, sitting down herself, the young officer took a light breath and nodded. "Aye. I would say that I'll never get used to hearing 'Lieutenant Commander', but at this point, I know better. It still feels... heavy sounding, though."

“That’s the weight of responsibility coupled with a healthy dose of imposter syndrome. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, but it comes in time,” Paris admitted freely. Part of the reason that she worked well as a mentor to Dox was because she genuinely understood many of the young Romulan officer’s anxieties, having experienced them herself over the course of her long and storied career. Gesturing to the image of the heroic captain whose career was the stuff of legends, who set the standard for so many, Paris posed a seemingly simple query.

“So how much do you think he practiced for that speech he just gave there? You know, the one that’s actually part of the monument they built for him in Arlington?” Turning her bright blue-eyed gaze back to the Romulan redhead, the buxom blonde bombshell swept her short tomboyish hair out of her eyes as she so often did. “How many revisions do you figure he went through? How many nights did he practice it in front of a mirror to make sure that when he made history, he got it right?”

Looking up, Dox raised an eyebrow slightly with a light smile. "If I had to guess, none. According to the records, he escaped from a Klingon penal colony earlier that same day. There was no time for practicing speeches. It looks like he just spoke from his heart in the moment."

“That was Jim Kirk all right,” Rita Paris smiled, and sighed, shaking her head at the memory of the man she had known, yet paradoxically had never met. Turning back to eye Dox, Paris changed course, as she so often did in so many ways, and spoke with frank and perceptive directness. “So, how is the obsessive over-preparation for your diplomatic jaunt which you feel thoroughly unqualified for and are terrified of going down in history as having botched one of what might be the most critical moments in the history of the reunification of the Romulan and Vulcan peoples?”

Chuckling slightly, though there was little real humor in it, Dox shook her head. "As well as you would expect. I've studied the history of the movement from every available angle. I've read three books on diplomacy and watched another fifteen programs like this one."

The anxious, fatigued young officer gestured toward the image of Kirk with her head as she continued. "I've been at it so long that Mona comes to the office to make me stop to eat after hours, and I can't sleep even when I try. And on top of that, based on the eye daggers I'm getting from Ensign O'Dell during her extra flight training, I doubt she appreciates my idea of a work schedule."

Then, her shoulders sunk just a bit more as her voice sank to a near whisper. "But there are thirty-nine hundred colonists on just that world alone. One colony out of who knows how many. And if I screw this up, they go back to being criminals in the Imperium or worse. Because three different governments all decided I was the person to do this."

“Why are you not, Mnhei’sahe?” Paris asked, cutting to the heart of Dox’s insecurities, inviting a rant to give the frustrated fighter turned diplomat some release.

For just a moment, Dox looked up at Rita with an almost confused expression. On a very conscious level, she knew what Rita was very likely doing, but after weeks of having to keep herself together and keep her cool and be professional, she simply allowed her thoughts and fears to flow out as they came. She had cried with Mona, but it wasn't the same, and she still didn't fully open up.

Subconsciously, she rubbed the tip of an ear as she opened up, "I'm not a diplomat!? I'm not a delegate. I'm a pilot, for Al'thindor's sake. I... I relax by punching things. I barely know how to talk to people, much less for them. If I have so much as five minutes to think about something, I do THIS!"

Gesturing to the holographic simulation, Dox continued, continuing to ramp up as the accent she usually kept well hidden started to leak out ever so slightly, "Rita, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm going to get these people killed if I screw this up! I could get you and everyone else killed if I'm WRONG for believing my grandmother."

The young officer stopped her rant as she avoided dipping into even deeper anxieties. Stresses she hadn't yet told her friend and commander about her time with the Rihannsu Starfleet Admiral, Charybdis MacGregor. Of the burdens, she was feeling from all sides since returning home. Her voice calm again, she spoke with a more reserved tone, "I know I need to do this. And I know I need to figure out how. I know why they're all putting this on me. It's just... so much."

Standing, Rita Paris, Starfleet Commander, First Officer of the USS Hera, stepped over to the frustrated and overwhelmed pilot and folded her into a hug, pressing the young woman’s head to her bosom. Stroking her hair, the old-fashioned officer offered some simple human comfort in the moment. As Dox began to sob, she spoke in soothing tones.

“A small and simple life is composed of small and simple choices, of very little responsibility, and of very little impact on the universe. The larger the stage, the larger the responsibilities. The more consequences of getting it wrong, the greater reward for getting it right. Look at Spock- one mistake, one miscalculation and he created an entire splinter universe with a divergent timeline. One mistake,” Rita explained, patting the young woman’s back soothingly.

“But Spock did great things. He broke the time barrier and mastered time travel. He solved so many mysteries of the universe, revolutionized scanning technologies, and despite all of that, even he couldn’t manage reunification in his time. It’s a lot to take on. But,” Pulling back a bit from the overwhelmed officer, Rita offered an encouraging smile.

“You’re not alone. And yes, there are potential consequences. Dwelling on those will only drive you crazy, and force you to fail. If you want to succeed, Miss Dox, you MUST believe that you can. That you WILL. Because the universe, in my experience, responds to that willful determination. In the time you have known me, how many impossible situations have you seen me walk out of, maybe not unscathed, but alive, intact, and still ready to follow the next star?”

Wiping her eyes with an almost angry expression for letting herself cry yet again, Dox sniffed and composed herself. She wanted to protest, knowing it was nothing but self-pity, but the young Lieutenant Commander took a few long, deep breaths and spoke calmly. “I feel like I’m following a Black Hole sometimes. And the closer I get, the more impossible it will be to escape what’s at the end. But I know I can’t not do this. And I know that I have to do my best and protect these people. There’s really no choice. I just… even if I succeed, then what?”

“We make contact and it goes well. The colonists are willing to listen and then we need to report that all the Starfleet Command. And then Sonak tells the Vulcan High Council. And then… the senate on ch'Rihan... THEY will want to hear it from their… ‘chosen representative’. Sooner or later, even if we succeed, it means I’ll have to go back there.”

"There's always a choice, Mnhei'sahe. You can refuse and go back to your far less complicated life. You could retire from Starfleet, get yourself a little ship and go back to smuggling. You could go teach at the Academy, settle down and raise your chicks with Mona. You have a universe of choices- no one is a slave to destiny. But..." Rita knelt down next to the beleaguered young woman. so that she was looking up at the shorter woman. "You have the opportunity to make a difference. For your people, for other people. To make the universe a better place."

Frowning slightly, it was clear Rita was considering her next words before she committed to them. Then she forged ahead, as she tended to do. "Sonak has never said it, and I don't think he necessarily believes it. But his people, their culture... it had stagnated for centuries by the time they encountered the Human race. We had the drive and initiative that they lacked, the passion to explore and expand the frontiers of math, science, understanding. I wouldn't speak for him, but... I think part of the reason he and I are together is because he recognizes that he needs my passion, my drive, my thirst for adventure, just as much as I need his logic, his stability, his calm. Yin and yang, Earth philosophers described it as- two halves of the whole. Each incomplete without the other, yet so much stronger together than apart."

"I think maybe... just maybe... reunification is about that. The Vulcan people need what was lost with the Romulans, just as the Romulans need what they lost when they rejected the teachings of Surak. Two halves, equal, yet opposite, which are far stronger as a unified whole than as two separate parts. So, with that said..." Rita stood, smoothing out her skirt in a practiced motion as she did so. "You can walk away from this. From all of it. But that's not who you are, and we both know it. Knowing what you know, having seen what you've seen, and having done what you've done, you know you can't just stand by and do nothing. But that doesn't mean you have to be crushed under the weight of it all."

"You do your best. In the moment, you do what you can, with what you have, where you are. You make mistakes and learn from them, you stumble and fall, so you pick yourself back up again. You try to be prepared, but don't grind yourself down trying to ensure you're prepared for every eventuality." Looking over at the sixty-year-old holographic representation of her old classmate from the Academy, Rita nodded. "He understood that. If he were here, I suspect he'd tell you much the same. But since he isn't, you'll have to settle for me."

"I think I'm better off for it." Dox said, leaning back in the chair and stretching her neck slightly as she wiped her weary eyes. Standing up along with Rita, Dox looked over at the hologram of the legendary Captain and tilted her head slightly. “When I was younger, and my mother was teaching me the Vulcan language, she would tell me why we worked to help reunificationists. She would tell me that she believed that our people were damaged. Incomplete. That the problems that plagued us over the millennia… xenophobia… distrust… paranoia… She said they all came from that empty place that was left when we left part of ourselves on Vulcan. We are passion without reason, she said.”

Then the young woman in crimson turned back towards her golden-clad commander, looking thoughtfully down as she collected her thoughts before looking back up to meet those striking blue eyes. “I’ve felt… incomplete, for a very long time. And… maybe, deep down, this is something I need to do for myself as much as I need to do it for those people… my people. So I can say that I’m Rihannsu without feeling like I need to apologize for it. So maybe It won’t sting as much every time I hear the word ‘Romulan’.”

"I hope it doesn't sting when I say it... I've never meant it negatively. I want you to be proud to be who and what you are- it's all I've ever wanted for the officers under me, but you in particular. It's been a long road, to get from there to here. When you were ashamed of your heritage, of your background, of your mother... of yourself. I think that young Lieutenant who I walked around in a circle to get through to her wouldn't recognize the woman standing here today. if you tried to tell her what her life would be a year later, I suspect she would have called you a liar... yet look at you now." Beaming with pride, the ancient astronaut laid her hand on the shoulder of the next generation.

"You make me proud, Miss Dox. Since the first day I challenged you to be more than a sullen shuttle pilot, you have never, ever done anything but make me proud of you. This will be no different. Trust yourself, listen to your heart, and do what you think is right... and you'll do fine." Looking back to the frozen hologram of the legendary crew of the NCC1701, the old-school officer nodded. "That's what he did... what they all did. That's what made them great."

Nodding, Dox cracked the first grin that Rita had seen since she entered the holodeck. As she did, she chuckled lightly and raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, Rita. And... I'm guessing that you didn't practice that in a mirror, either."

"Hah! The day I start practicing speeches is the day I run for President of the Federation," Rita chuckled.

"All things considered, that's hardly an impossibility, Madame President. After all, I'm now a Lieutenant Commander, a pirate Baroness with her own T'liss class ship, Mother-to-be, eligible to be a senator and apparently a diplomat in training. If I tried to tell the me of a year ago any of that, I think I'd assume future me was very extremely drunk." Dox said, shaking her head with a weary smile, chucking under her breath as she realized she was leaving a number of even more bizarre things out of that implausible list.

As she spoke, Dox looked again at the representation of the legends of Starfleet's long history. As she did, her mind drifted to all of the improbable responsibilities being laid out before her, and the weight of them all. A weight she felt keenly, but knew she couldn't move forward with that knowledge without some degree of perspective. And, as always, Rita Paris seemed to know just what to say.

"And speaking of drunk... I think that there's a young Ensign that I've been leaning a bit to heavily on that I should go talk to, who is likely cursing my name in Ten-Forward right about now." Dox rolled her shoulders back a little as she thought of one more responsibility she needed to address before she could rest. "I've been putting my own anxieties about all of this on Miss O'Dell and subjecting her to a lot in her combat flight training. She's got it down and will fly the Hera magnificently, of which I have no doubt. But not if I keep pushing her so hard in the sims that she snaps. I need to take care of this and make sure she knows how good she's doing... and that I will be backing off to a reasonable level."

Hearing the words, listening to the choices and knowing the woman as she did, Rita Paris was proud. The officer she had seen within Melanie Dox had indeed come to fruition, and she would make a fine starship captain, and likely an admiral if her life did not take her on another path. Perhaps a senator, perhaps an ambassador, perhaps an empress... time would tell, and Rita was perfectly content to discover it in the natural passage of such time. But in the here and now, seeing how far the woman who was only perhaps a year younger than she herself had come, she was overcome with pride. The pride of an officer who had mentored, who now saw that mentoring being used in the service of others. It was the way she had always believed Starfleet should operate... and here in the distant future, so far from where she herself had begun, that vision of equality and uplifting others to teach them how to do the same had clearly come to pass.

"You'll do great, Miss Dox, I have confidence. You always do..."