LCDR Nolen Hobart — Setting Targets
Nolen Hobart
((Security Training Range, Deck 8, USS Khitomer, en route to Sector 001))
Lieutenant Commander Hobart hadn’t intended for the walk to be silent, but it was hard to carry on a conversation with someone who followed behind you. Other senior officers might slow their pace to allow their subordinates to catch up, or bark a command that the junior officer quicken theirs. But it was a short walk, and Nolen knew they were going to the same place. And he knew that when they did begin to talk, he’d be armed, a trait which carried its own persuasive weight.
When they arrived at the weapons locker, before Nolen could retrieve the sidearm that would imbue his two-and-a-half pips with deadly force, Ensign Zerva sidled up beside him.
Zerva: Permission to speak freely sir?
This wasn’t ideal. And though slick, oily nervousness washed off the Ensign’s mind, Hobart felt a distinct need to stall.
Hobart: Right now, Ensign? I’ve got to check out this weapon.
Zerva: Yes sir. I know you have something you wanted to discuss. But if I could just for moment sir?
Hobart pressed his thumb into the scanner, and logged his name and the time into the locker’s computer. It was just enough time to pull a hand phaser out, and Hobart gripped it by its body, the shooty bits facing downward.
Hobart: Alright, let’s have it.
Zerva: Thank you sir. ::cleaning his throat:: I want to apologize for my outburst in the transporter room sir. I was out of line. I let my emotions come over me.
Nolen gestured towards the entrance to the firing range, and didn’t respond immediately. Once the pair were inside Nolen stepped up to the first firing position, and began to check the settings on the phaser.
Hobart: ::firmly:: You were, and you did.
Zerva: Yes sir. It’s the first time I’ve had to really deal with death. Especially under my command. I’m not sure how exactly how to do this. It’s all new. Everything is. As an XO does it get any easier for you sir? I was just wondering how you handle things like this?
The Ensign seemed adrift, his consciousness bouncing around and bumping up against a variety of concerns. Hobart adjusted his stance, gripped the phaser pistol with support from his off-hand, and aimed downrange. Before going to Zerva’s desk, Nolen had reviewed Ensign Zerva’s personnel record. A disadvantage, Hobart found, of being one of the most youthful command officers in the fleet is that junior officers looked to him for guidance, even when he might as well be their peer, given how little experience he actually had. Or even their subordinate—Ensign Zerva was seven months older than Lt. Commander Hobart. Another few weeks of waffling before he applied to the academy and Nolen might have ended up in a different class; he could be addressing the unjoined Trill as “sir,” instead.
Hobart: Targets, Mr. Zerva. ::a pause, to wait:: It doesn’t get easier.
Zerva: Response
Hobart sympathized with Ensign Zerva. He’d had his own crisis of conscience not too long ago. Where he felt he wasn’t up to the job. He’d drafted a resignation letter. A few stern talkings-to later and he’d come to a place of acceptance. It wasn’t always a comfortable kind of acceptance, of the role, the risks, the leap into the unknown and uncontrollable. But that’s where he was, and that’s where Ensign Zerva needed to get to. With any luck, he’d have time to ease into it, and not get tossed into the deep end in quite the same way.
The first targets appeared.
Hobart: ::firing:: On Deep Space 33, I got a marine killed. I allowed him to take point into an unknown environment, and it cost him his life. It was the right call, but it still happened.
Zerva: Response
Hobart: I know it was the right call because I’d make the same one today. ::firing twice, in quick succession:: If it was the wrong call, then I just make a different choice next time.
Zerva: Response
Three holographic targets appeared downrange, and Nolen made a snap decision as to which to target first. It wasn’t a big decision, but it was a decision, the same kind that officers were obligated to make day in and day out by virtue of their rank and responsibility. One, two, three, arbitrarily numbered, but cognizantly so. The warmth of the phaser in his hands became apparent to him.
Hobart: Be the uniform, Ensign. ::firing thrice, at targets two, one, then three:: It doesn’t grieve. It doesn’t doubt. It doesn’t hesitate. It decides and it acts. For so long as you wear it, strive to carry out its will. When you get back to your quarters and take it off? You do whatever the hell you have to do to live with yourself.
Zerva: Response
Tags/TBC
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Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart
Executive Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240001NH3