JP: Lt. Connor Dewitt & MSNPC Cadet Ginny Lacy — Means, Ends, and their Substitutes, Part II
Tim
((OOC: Thanks Isaac, for this opportunity to develop Connor deeper than I ever wanted :D And thanks for a fun experience :) ))
((Cell 2, Brig, Security Suite, Deck 3, USS Arrow))
Dewitt: I’m an engineer, Ginny, I am all for fixing things… But I guess I have a different view of what’s broken with Starfleet, about what mistakes are made.
Ginny: I imagine you think the war game was a mistake. Maybe even insane. You think Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Command are responsible for the deaths on the Libris. I think your Captain is. Your crew. But either way, wherever the blame lies, I'm right. It's the humanoid element at fault. That's the weak link.
Connor, again, took some time to think about what Ginny had said. At its core, this was the discussion they had tried to resolve before. But this time, there was no pressing situation. There was no rank in the brig. Just two people discussing. And again, Ginny had put her finger on one of Connor’s strongest beliefs.
Dewitt: The humanoid element… You talk about it like it is some technical feature of a starship. What’s the point of being out here if not for the humanoid element? It is what drives Starfleet. The desire to explore the unknown, the urge to create together. It’s what makes us humanoid, and it is what unites us in Starfleet. That might come with mistakes - being made in the admiralty, at a politician’s level or as a Captain of a ship. But look where we’ve come as a people…
Something in the way he said it made Ginny realize she’d struck a nerve, and shifted into a more predatory gear. Her green eyes locked onto him, unblinking.
Ginny: You admire your Captain.
What a simple sentence. Again, Connor took a long time to think about it. Especially after their last mission, this had become a more complicated question to answer. But he had to admit that Shayne handled the aftermath well. And it took a great man to stand up for his mistakes, especially if it put other people’s lives at risk. Something Ginny probably was not able to do, something Connor was not sure he could do himself. He decided to keep his answer short, to keep the area of attack that Ginny had small.
Dewitt: I do.
Ginny: Loyalty is an admirable trait, Lieutenant, but space doesn't value loyalty. And someday, if you let it, loyalty will get you killed. ::pause, a shrug:: Or someone else. Maybe someone you care about. Or maybe hundreds or thousands of people you don't even know by name.
He put down his lemonade and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. From his perspective, she was looking at the problem from upside down.
Dewitt: But we’re not out here to fight space, Ginny. We don’t need automated ships because we want to be out here. We want to explore! We want to stand our ground because we believe in things. And making mistakes is part of who we are. That’s why there’s 60 of us on this ship, not just one. We keep an eye out for each other.
He had to admit that she wasn’t entirely wrong. Loyalty almost got him killed, and he had learned his lesson. And losing another loved one was maybe at the core of his fears. But not doing something that was worth it, because he might be afraid of what could happen… That was something he had by now tried to fight for years.
Ginny: Does your Captain make mistakes, Lieutenant? Who keeps an eye on him? Has he ever put the ship or the crew at risk for personal reasons? A vendetta, perhaps? Pride. Curiosity. Ambition. Fear.
Connor paused. It was almost like she had read his personal logs.
Dewitt: Discussing specific mistakes will not move our discussion any further.
She held up a hand reassuringly. She was being misinterpreted, and if she was going to make headway, she needed to avoid his walls, and start opening windows.
Ginny: I'm sure he's a wonderful man. He would have to be to inspire such loyalty. But he's still a man. Even the best of us make mistakes. Can you honestly tell me that no one has gotten hurt by him? Or by the thousands of other Captains in Starfleet, each with a loyal crew of their own?
Ginny didn’t care, she tried to make her point and pin down Connor. The engineer tried not to see this as a game of debate and decided to be honest. Otherwise, there was no point in talking to Ginny.
Dewitt: I can’t. He has made mistakes. But he stood up to face the consequences. And he learned from them. ::pause:: That’s what ultimately earns my loyalty.
Ginny: “Consequences.” A righteous man will face the consequences of his actions, yes. But the eight dead, including Libris itself, can’t. There are no more consequences left for them. “Consequences” are a poor substitute for not making mistakes in the first place.
Dewitt: What about your brother? Didn’t he do anything wrong? Didn’t you do anything wrong? Don’t you, despite your mistakes, feel loyalty for each other?
He was right. Ginny knew that her brother didn’t have it. He was always impulsive, vain. But he was her brother. He carried her up that hill, and she carried him through his courses. He was bright—brighter than most, even—but he lacked the temperament to focus on his studies the way she did. The only way she knew how. Her affection for her brother, her unwillingness to leave him behind, was the one indulgence she allowed herself. She was a hypocrite, she knew it. But hypocrisy is not the same thing as being wrong. It was her shame, and it might have cost her everything. Perhaps it was what she deserved.
Ginny: ::a sigh, gesturing to her current surroundings:: And I’m paying for it, now, you see? This is the “consequence” of our mistakes. A poor substitute.
Dewitt: What I am trying to say is that I think you’re missing the point. We’re not out here because some godly power demands that a Starfleet ship should conduct a mission in the Alpha Isles. And then we weigh our options and decide that the most riskless option is to send an automated piece of equipment. We’re out here because we want to be here. And we cannot do it alone. Not me, not you, not the USS Libris. We need each other, with all our flaws and all our strengths. We embrace the fact of being more than the sum of our parts - as a crew, as a family.
Ginny: It’s not a real family, Lieutenant. It’s a choice we make.
Connor thought about her reply, but did not see her point. Only because it is a choice, it did not make the bond less strong, did it?
Dewitt: I don’t know you, Ginny… I don’t know how you grew up… or what Academy was like for you. But I strongly believe that the ends do not justify the means. And I am just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you seem to do. I see that you think that by putting ships like the Libris into action, you can save lives. And I get that this might be something we are all in favor of. But how on earth can you be so committed to that goal without valuing the lives of your crew mates or the Arrow crew? Why are you so ready to sacrifice lives today for the potential chance that you might be able to save some in the future…?
Ginny fell silent. Why was she ready to sacrifice the lives of today? What made them worth the hypothetical future? The future was vast, and though not knowable to a certainty, somewhat predictable. She remembered back to when the idea had come to her. A schoolgirl in a library. A long-forgotten record of a first contact gone wrong. Endless books by self-important generals and admirals, flawed war strategies spurred on by grief compounded. Every life lost in the history of Starfleet as a result of a poor choice, any deviation from the optimal course of action, was a cost that weighed on the Federation: past, present, and future.
The past, a wound suffered.
The present, a lack felt.
The future, a symptom untreated.
Ginny: You say the “ends do not justify the means,” Lieutenant, but you act as if the opposite is true. You act as if the outcome is secondary. “We’re here to explore, and we’ll face the consequences!” You are telling me “the means justify the ends.” It’s hubristic. Lives will be lost, as sure as they were lost, there, in the “Swamp.” Entire worlds have been destroyed as a result of these choices we make, and unless we change the way we make them, they will be destroyed again. It is no hypothetical. They were my friends, Lieutenant, but in the face of so much destruction, the lives of a handful of cadets is a small price to pay. And our “want” to be out here? To explore? Our sense of “family?” Self-indulgence. Understandable. Noble, even. But in the end, when all is weighed, when our progeny looks back on us, it will seem a shameful extravagance.
Connor leaned forward.
Dewitt: I do everything in my power to make sure the outcome sees less sacrifice. Maybe, we’re not so different in what we think is the right thing to do. You just think on a vast scale…But the future you’re working for is none I want to be part of. If you say that ‘when all is weighed’ by some godly entity that exploration and being driven by curiosity is extravagance… Why an AI ship? Why isn’t the ultimate goal that we keep to ourselves? Before we unleash an armada of ships that might make the wrong choice to protect humanity and wipe out an entire world? Or it might sacrifice federation citizens as an expendable cost? Why isn’t the ultimate goal for you that we stay at home? Cook some Ratatouille and have a good night’s sleep?
Ginny: Because I believe in Starfleet, Lieutenant. I believe in the Federation. In bringing peace and friendship to new worlds. In sharing knowledge and culture. ::gesturing out and away:: We have already unleashed our world-destroying armada. You're in it. We already sacrifice Federation citizens. We just do it on the whims of flesh and blood officers—on ego, ambition, curiosity, love, or hate—instead of strict adherence to our directives.
She looked down at the plate he brought. His family recipe. How was Lieutenant Dewitt sleeping these nights?
Ginny: We can stay home. We can eat ratatouille and sleep well. And we can explore the galaxy while we do so. We have the ability. Any other arrangement is a choice that you make. That we make. And most of us don't realize we are making a choice at all.
Dewitt: We’re out here on humanitarian missions. We do scientific explorations. That’s our main purpose. We’re not the world-destroying Armada, you depict. The Federation is about collective and peaceful creation. If you believe in that, stay in Starfleet with people like me. Let’s try to work on that without sacrificing everything for one shot… Without putting everything on one card and accepting these kinds of casualties for the ultimate goal.
Ginny shook her head. Even if she wanted to take Connor up on his offer, it was far too late for that. She knew it. She wondered if he did, too, or whether he was fooling himself.
Ginny: You’ll have a career in Starfleet, Lieutenant. A long one, probably. I won’t; I’ve failed. But when you’re out there, imagine a world where I succeeded. A world where the heat of the moment does not exist, where the decisions are all predetermined and predefined. Ask yourself, before you do anything, how would a Federation committee direct an unmanned drone in your place? With the benefit of distance and discussion. Of forethought.
Dewitt: I guess an AI or a committee that sits miles away might have sacrificed everyone aboard the Libris, because the risk of rescuing them is too high. We would not be sitting here today. It is the compassion that Captain Shayne felt for his and for your crew that brought us back here. It’s his decision that might give you a second chance.
The room went quiet after Connor finished talking. He believed in what he said. But he couldn’t deny that the heat of the moment was an element of decision making that did not always do Starfleet crews any favor. But it was what they were trained for. And replacing it with AI subroutines wouldn’t do them any favors.
Cadet Lacy watched as Connor processed her words. She suspected something, somewhere in everything she said, planted the seed of an idea in his head. Would it grow into anything? She couldn’t know. But he found something true in it all, she was sure of it. She knew and accepted, from the start, that she might never live to see the implementation of her Reformations, or anything like them. She knew the real possibility that the Federation might simply burn itself out of existence. But there, at the end of the line for her Starfleet career, alone in that brig with a man hostile to her ideology, she strangely felt a twinge of hope. Hope that her ideas might live on. That Starfleet might yet change.
She scuttled up toward the edge of the bed, dropped her legs down, and rose to her feet. The disgraced cadet moved gracefully and slowly, conscious of the observant gaze of the guard just outside the forcefield. She folded her hands behind her back. Under other circumstances, she might have offered him a handshake. But the protocols of a brig did not afford her such pleasantries.
Ginny: Thank you, Lieutenant, for your time, your ear, and your kindness. But perhaps now you might understand why I prefer to eat alone.
Connor nodded. He had not expected to meet a person like Ginny during this mission. And although he did not agree with a majority of her views, he appreciated her candor. And he appreciated her challenging his worldview, something that they might have too little of aboard the Arrow. He got up.
Dewitt: I know that you won’t take any advice from a flawed, self-regarding officer like me, but… I think you have ambition, Ginny. You have brilliance. I believe you could change something. I accept that you have a strong opinion of what goes wrong in Starfleet. That’s why I wanted to see you, to better understand that… I’m not sure if I do… But try to understand other people…
He turned around as the forcefield was deactivated and pointed to the Ratatouille.
Dewitt: And take care of yourself!
As the forcefield reactivated one final time, Ginny sat down wordlessly at the small table and carefully dined. Connor left the brig and headed down the corridor toward his quarters. His mind mulled over Ginny’s words more than he’d like to admit. Especially, her blaming Shayne for what has happened during the war games. He was sure that the Captain was not guilty of the tragedy, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that an AI might have predicted what would happen and could have made a decision on a better basis of facts.
END
———
Lt. Connor Dewitt
Engineer
USS Arrow
A239901CD3
and
Cadet Ginny Lacy
Prisoner
USS Arrow
as simmed by
Ensign Nolen Hobart
Engineering Officer
USS Arrow (NCC-69829)
A240001NH3