Mind Games: The War Is Over
Posted on Sun Feb 11th, 2024 @ 5:22am by Commander Patricia Cooke & Lieutenant Commander Tsukasa Izumi & Lieutenant Commander Lahki Bakshi Dr & Lieutenant JG Eradaar Ezazzan & Lieutenant JG Danielle Sidney
1,086 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission: From the Inside
Previously, on Star Trek: Missouri:
Patricia then shot the main I-400, disabling the unit, but not the rest of the I-400 drones.
"Cooke to away team:" She said, beginning to make her way back to the beam-in point. "I-400 might be plotting to depressurize the-!"
Patricia rounded the corner and she trailed off by what she saw, or rather, where she found herself, next...
And now the continuation:
Patricia found herself standing not on Klawe's space station, but rather the promenade of Deep Space 9. The promenade was packed, as Starfleet officers (wearing outdated uniforms), Klingons, and Romulans made merry on the station. For such merriment to be happening meant something huge must have happened, and judging by the uniforms of the Starfleet personnel, chances were good that Patricia was at the conclusion of the Dominion War.
But something was off about the scene: Despite the scenes of joy around her, Patricia could hear the sounds of combat permeating the scene. Even amongst the merriment, some drunken Klingons were engaged in a brawl.
Patricia stopped walking: Was this a dream? she wondered. Did that freak send me back in time?
"Ah, there's my favorite granddaughter!" A familiar voice called out from behind her.
Patricia turned around and found herself staring down her grandmother; appearing exactly as she did during her final tour of duty.
"Aw, you want to dance with grandma?" Francine asked.
Patricia herself had now changed. Despite still being mentally an adult, she had assumed the appearance of her three year old self, looking up at her grandmother who towered over her little body.
"Well, don't be shy..." Francine said, grabbing her very young granddaughter and starting to dance with her.
Patricia was still confused. She was never aboard Deep Space 9 when the war ended. She would have never had these memories... Patricia broke from Francine's grip, and the scene shifted slightly: Now it was just Patricia and Francine; alone on the empty promenade. Patricia had regained her adult form.
"The war is over, Pat." Francine said. "We can go home! Wouldn't that be nice?"
Patricia blinked as she processed the words that Francine was saying: She knew that the words were meant in the context of the Dominion War, and fought hard against the implication that they were meant for Patricia.
"No, grandma: Your war is over:" She said. "You..." She trailed off as tears welled in her eyes, realizing she was repeating the last thing she had said to Francine: "You can rest now..."
As the words left Patricia's mouth, Francine vanished, and the promenade was now arranged in a funerary arrangement. Starfleet officers clad in dress whites to show their respect, and on a pedestal in front of the chairs sat the urn containing Francine's ashes. A lone bugler played Taps as the disembodied words of the Joliet's Captain played ethereally:
"I just received word from Lieutenant Shishod that Major Francine Cooke passed away this morning...
"Needless to say, the Starfleet Marine Corps played an important role in the liberation of my homeworld, and though Betazed was never Francine's theater of operations, it is a debt my species will owe them for a long time, if not forever..."
"Stop... Please..." Patricia pleaded as she stepped down the aisle. "I can't take this anymore..."
In reality, Patricia was pounding fruitlessly against a bulkhead, though Patricia was unaware of what she was doing, as she was still consciously viewing the vision of Deep Space 9.
"No... No, please, come back!" Patricia mumbled. "Grandma!"
Eradaar was not a Betazoid. She could not use magical telepathic abilities to help or hinder. She couldn't grasp at the threads of fate and twine them to and fro. She couldn't look at a viewscreen image of someone and predict and their thoughts or actions. She was none of these things. What she was, however, was a Gorn. Her advancement into Counseling had not been because of any special factor of her heritage or DNA. It had been because she was caring, sympathetic, empathic, and appreciated those around her. While she had been mostly unable to display those traits recently due to the violence, now was the time for her traits to shine.
And shine they would as she followed the poundings against metal. It was disorienting, especially following her own spell of horrors she had endured by a psychic attack - and she was sure it was such an attack. She moved forward, cautiously, with purpose.
"Captain?" the Gorn female called out, though her tone held no anger or malice. It ebbed with concern and empathy.
She heard the mumbles coming from Commander Cooke. She listened intently for a moment as she stood perfectly still, then moved forward with greater purpose. Her toe-claws tacked gently against the metal surface of the corridor as she rushed to bridge the gap between herself and the Commander. As the fog - the haze? - cleared around her, the ominous circumstances within her vision began to clear to allow the darkened shape of a human against the wall. As she approached further, she make out the Commander. She also made out the distraught expression, the manner in which she held herself, the horror and pain and grief. You didn't need to be a betazoid to see the grief on the Commanders face.
Gently approaching, the Gorn softly placed a claw on one of Patricia's shoulders, then the other. She neared, gently moving her claws down to softly force together the Commanders arms. Slowly, the Gorn continued her method of therapy by sliding her arms protectively across the Commanders chest. Lastly, she gently guided the Commander to her protectively. This was a method that Gorn mothers used with distraught or disruptive hatchlings. Eradaar had effectively approached the Commander from behind and to her left, moved one arm then the other to her shoulders, slid those arms around her front, and then protectively encircled her and guided her against her chest. It was clear the Commander was not in her right mind and in this position, Eradaar could more effectively guide her back.
"It's alright," Eradaar said, her voice soothing, taking on a more motherly tone. "It's over now. What you are seeing is unchangeable. It cannot be altered, no matter how hard we try. Turn around to the present, now. Follow my voice, Commander. Follow my voice back home."
To be continued...
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