LtCmdr. Talos Dakora - How We Make It Matter
Travis
((Crew Quarters, Deck 03, USS Artemis-A))
Standing alone in Lieutenant Junior Grade Sarah O’Connell’s quarters, Talos had taken a moment to reflect before setting about the grim task of gathering her personal effects. It wasn’t strictly his responsibility to do this– the Operations Department usually handled this sort of thing– but he had wanted, needed to do this himself.
Lieutenant O’Connell– Sarah– Hadn’t been among those killed by the Borg, or a casualty of the battle that had raged in space around them. She had died as a direct result of decisions he had made, at the hands of an ally who had had no other choice.
For Talos, that was the hardest part; Not having anyone to blame. The Assimilated O’Connell had very nearly succeeded in strangling Nathan Richards to death and in the struggle to save his own life, he’d taken hers. He’d analyzed the scenario hundreds of times, considering all of the ways he might’ve been able to prevent it but in the end, what happened had happened.
A voice from the doorway dragged him out of his daze and he set the little model starship he’d been holding in the crate.
Richards: Uh…mind if I come in, Commander?
Talos didn’t have to ask what had brought Nathan here. Though he hadn’t known the man very long, he’d gotten the impression that they were cut from a similar cloth in many ways. For better, or for worse.
Dakora: Oh, uh… sure. ::He gestured to the crate.:: Just securing the personal effects of...
He trailed off, suddenly concerned he’d misread the situation, but the flood of emotions pouring from the other man provided all the confirmation he needed.
Richards: Sarah O’Connell…
The Amity Ops Chief picked up the holoframe, staring down at it as the display scrolled to a picture of Sarah with her parents on her graduation day.
A quiet moment passed between them and Talos tried to give him the time to process what he needed to process.
He cycled through a half-dozen different things he might say to the man, but nothing seemed like it would be appropriate. Instead, he just began carefully organizing the items in the crate as he waited for Nathan to speak.
Richards: I’m… I’m sorry. Sir.
Talos looked up from the work he’d busied himself with and met the other man’s gaze.
Dakora: Yeah. I’m sorry too. ::Beat.:: I’m sorry that this happened, to both of you. But you did what you had to do, and I think you know that.
He dropped the knick-knack he’d been holding in the crate and stood, leaning against the wall behind him and crossing his arms.
Dakora: If anything, Nathan, it’s my fault. I’m the one who put us in that position. ::He paused and let out a long sigh.:: If you wear that uniform long enough you’ll have more of these moments– where doing what you must feels like doing something wrong. And, yeah, It feels like shit every time.
Richards: Response
Talos reached over and pulled open one of the drawers in Sarah’s desk and continued moving the contents into the crate as he spoke. Whether or not the Engineer knew it, the words were for both of them.
Dakora: But here’s the thing: in the end, we have a choice. We can beat ourselves up over it and let it consume us until there’s nothing left, or we can accept that what happened here—Sarah’s death, and all the others we lost on F-Day for that matter— will not be for nothing.
He reached out and placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Dakora: If we find the strength to persevere, to rebuild, then we honor them. That’s how we make it matter. That’s how we move forward.
Richards: Response
TAG/TBC
LtCmdr. Talos Dakora
First Officer
USS Artemis-A
O238811CD0