Chapter Text
Part Two (Cont'd)
Natasha sat and waited, idly tapping her foot on the floor.
She was on her own in a large meeting room somewhere in the bowels of this particular dome of Starbase 216, where she had been led a few minutes earlier by a very polite Bolian ensign. The room was dominated by a large rectangular table, which was surrounded on all sides by high-backed chairs. The only accoutrement on the polished surface of the table was a small cup of coffee the same ensign had provided for her before he had scuttled off.
And since the Bolian had left, she had been alone. With her thoughts. Which wasn’t a particularly good place for her to be these days.
As she sipped her drink, trying to ignore the reflection of her uniform in the table, she wondered if this was all part of the debrief. Making her sweat before the questions began. She forced herself to calm down. This was a briefing, she reminded herself, not an interrogation. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
No, she corrected herself, as the blood-soaked face of the young ensign flashed into her mind for a moment, that wasn’t true either.
In the months since the destruction of the Navajo, she had been given plenty of time to think about that one officer she had left behind. She knew there was nothing she could have done for him. You didn’t need years of medical training to know that he had been moments from death. But she equally knew that wasn’t the point. Even without the Hippocratic Oath she had sworn to uphold, her basic Starfleet training should have told her to at least try and get the mortally wounded man into the escape pod with her.
Instead, she had deserted him. She had left him to die. She had run away, she had run all the way here. And she was still running.
Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the meeting room door opened. A single figure entered, clutching a padd.
“Lieutenant Kinsen,” the man said with a formal tone, “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”
He was a tall, rangy humanoid, with long jet black hair tied back in a ponytail. He walked smartly over to the table and sat down opposite her, placing the padd on the table. Three pips on his collar belied his rank, and his deep black eyes belied the fact that he was Betazoid. She immediately felt uncomfortable under the gaze of a telepath.
“Part-Betazoid,” he said, without prompting, causing her to stifle a gasp, “Sorry, I felt your mood change. Don’t worry, I’m just here to debrief you, not read your mind.”
She managed a slight smile and shifted in her seat, not feeling reassured.
“I’m Commander Javin Bari,” he continued, “And the purpose of this meeting is to establish as many details as we can about the Navajo. We had no idea there would even be a survivor to talk to, and in lieu of the black box, any further details you can provide might help bring closure to the crew’s families.”
She nodded, trying to block out any thoughts about the missing black box, which she knew had been picked up by a group of rogue Jem’Hadar. Probably best not to get into all that, she told herself. “I understand, sir,” she replied, “I’ll tell you everything I can.”
If the empath on the other side of the table realised she was lying, his face didn’t betray it. “Ok then,” he smiled warmly, gesturing to her, “How about you start at the beginning.”
She suddenly felt excessively warm, stifling in the layers of her uniform. She licked her lips, and started to talk.
“We were in the Kesmet sector, near Cardassian space. Captain D’Vora’s orders were to rendezvous with the fifth fleet. It was oddly quiet, given the last few weeks we’d had. The Navajo had been part of a tactical wing making runs at weakened Dominion supply lines after the Battle of Ricktor Prime.”
“I see,” Bari nodded, checking his padd, “Forgive me, but you know a surprising amount of tactical information for a junior medical officer.”
She stared blankly down at the table, her eyes drawn to the reflection of the Starfleet insignia on her chest. “When you’re the one that treats the wounded in a war,” she replied quietly, “You start to make it your business to know when they’re going to arrive.”
Bari nodded in understanding and gestured for her to continue. She took a sip of her coffee and calmed her breathing.
“The Jem’Hadar ships must have come out of nowhere,” she half-whispered as she recalled the fateful moments, “One minute, I was returning to my quarters after my shift, the next the ship was being torn apart around me. Bulkheads collapsing, conduits exploding…I don’t even think the bridge crew had time to raise the shields.”
She paused and took a couple more deep breaths. Bari remained silent, waiting for her.
“I tried to get to sickbay,” she said eventually, “But there was no way through. Main power went out almost immediately. The turbolifts were offline, and it would have taken hours to get there through the Jeffries tubes.”
Bari picked up the padd and made a note of something. She suppressed a flinch and ran a finger under the collar of her undershirt, reminding herself that part-Betazoids could only read emotions, not thoughts. Assuming he’s telling the truth about his heritage, she thought wryly.
“So I tried to do what I could. I walked the deck, looking for casualties, and...then Captain D’Vora ordered us to abandon ship. It can’t have been more than a couple of minutes since the attack had begun—”
She stopped and tried to compose herself. Bari set the padd down and focused on her with an understanding look. “And so you made it to an escape pod,” he said gently.
“Yes,” she said, her voice now hoarse. She forced the ensign’s face out of her head.
“And…nobody else made it?”
She looked down at the table, her eyes again found the reflection of her uniform. Her stifling, suffocating uniform.
“I don’t know if any more pods escaped,” she said eventually, “But the Navajo was destroyed moments after my pod—I mean, I barely made it out of the explosion in time. I was lucky, I guess.”
Because I ran, she thought to herself, while everyone else stayed.
She dismissed the thought as fast as she could. Bari cocked his head slightly, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d dismissed it fast enough.
“Well,” he said eventually, “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m sure this must have been difficult for you.”
She didn’t look up from the table, but she nodded. Despite everything else she was feeling, she felt herself relaxing slightly as they reached the end of the questions.
“One final thing,” Bari added, tensing her up all over again, “Your escape pod would have had room for at least, what, a dozen crewmen? I appreciate the state the ship must have been in, there was no time for any sort of organised evacuation, but...were there no other crew members in the immediate vicinity?”
The question cut through her like a phaser blast. Time felt like it had stopped. She kept staring at her reflection, the pips on her collar, the combadge on her chest. She felt sick.
As the silence lingered, she forced herself to look back up, at the inky black pupils of the Starfleet commander opposite her. A senior officer, asking for the truth.
“No, sir,” she replied.
Bari stared at her for a few more moments, then noted something on the padd again. She felt her stomach constrict into a knot. Part of her willed herself to retract her answer. To finally stop running and tell the truth.
Before she could act, she heard the door to the meeting room open. She didn’t look over, but did wonder whether it was a security detail, one that Bari had just sent for via the padd. But whoever it was, Bari looked surprised to see them. He stood up from the table and snapped to attention. Natasha turned and was equally surprised to see Admiral Jenner approaching them. She quickly stood up as well.
“At ease, both of you,” the admiral muttered, “Commander Bari, is the debrief complete?”
Even with the additional powers of deduction granted by his heritage, Bari was still confused by this question. “Um, yes, sir,” he affirmed, “I was just finishing up.”
“Very good,” Jenner nodded, “I relieve you.”
Bari didn’t move, still confused. Natasha felt equally perplexed.
“Is there a problem, Commander?” Jenner continued, as he sat down in one of the available chairs.
“No, sir. It’s just—”
“Good. Have your summary on my desk by 1400 hours.”
After another long confused pause, Bari acquiesced, bowing slightly and exiting the room. As the doors closed, Jenner turned to Natasha and gestured for her to retake her seat. She did so, slightly uncertainly.
“Lieutenant,” Jenner grunted, “Just so you know, the following conversation is not part of your debrief. Furthermore, this entire conversation will be completely off the record. Do you understand?”
Natasha swallowed hard. She had no idea where the admiral was going with this. “Yes, sir,” she managed, “I understand.”
“Good.”
Jenner leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him on the table, and lowered his voice to a dark whisper.
“I need to ask you some questions,” he continued, “About Jirel Vincent.”