Lt. Haukea-Willow: DEATH
Aly Drolet
OOC: All thoughts are Haukea’s and have no reflection on the author or other players.
Content warning: One direct mention of suicide, no graphic detail.
((Deck 4 - Corridor))
McLaren: Oh it was your idea actually... ::she laughed:: You're going to take a long walk... out of the nearest airlock.
At that Haukea mentally froze. While her experiences with McLaren had consisted of regulation during an attempted Borg assimilation, and consequently further off duty discussions, she still did not know the woman well enough to read her facial expressions. Personally her own emotions were difficult enough to acknowledge that she hardly knew what to make of them. Not anger this time, but more a form of disgust with a hint of surprise and happiness. Disappointment, disapproval - she was appalled, nauseated and bordering on horrified. Yet still somewhat thankful.
Despite it, Haukea knew the final report would be a nightmare to write. Personally she could excuse Metet having his skull cracked open, but to threaten, if not commit murder, she could in all good conscious find no way to gloss over, nevermind her own hatred of the Romulan before them. Yet, she practically imagined the relief at him gone, the necessity to conceal the act - as the highly protective security chief that she was, naturally, she would allow herself to take the blame for McLaren’s actions. Though, in reality, her response would be a combination of all available options.
Willow: A milligram of compassion, if you please.
The wording may have been aimed to reach McLaren, not having the exact desire to respond to a dead Romulan, even though it served as much to refocus her own mind.
Metet: Does your colleagues behavior disgust you? I'm sure this is in the Starfleet rules of how to treat a prisoner.
McLaren: That was for the Borg comment... ::she leaned back:: I told you... we swim in the same ocean... just at vastly different depths. I'm the one Starfleet turns to do the exceptionally dirty work. ::She pointed down the corridor, now a dead end with the airlock at one end and them at the other:: So you have until we reach that airlock to come clean and actually surrender... or you're gonna find it a whole lot harder to do much of anything.
Yet it was the fact that McLaren landed a direct punch to his kidneys that had her shocked, not necessarily Metet’s comment on Starfleet prisoner regulations.
McLaren: That was for the Borg comment... ::she leaned back:: I told you... we swim in the same ocean... just at vastly different depths. I'm the one Starfleet turns to do the exceptionally dirty work. ::She pointed down the corridor, now a dead end with the airlock at one end and them at the other:: So you have until we reach that airlock to come clean and actually surrender... or you're gonna find it a whole lot harder to do much of anything.
The cog wheel of emotions turned one click too fast. Anger, disgust, happiness, surprise - eventually they tumbled out of order. And now, seemingly having reached the air lock, Haukea stepped around Solaris.
Willow: Commander, ::breath:: I want him ::she did not utter the word dead, that would be far too obvious. Though she hoped McLaren caught her meaning:: taken care of just as much as you. But not like this. Consider the consequences.
The way McLaren sized up Haukea told her that, truthfully, a whole heap more was at play, what though, she could not tell.
McLaren: I have considered them... there are only three of us in this corridor... even if internal sensors are still up in this section... no one would have to know what occurred here.
Yet Haukea would consider herself obligated, through moral and ethical implications, to provide a record, if it was by McLaren’s hand, through the airlock that Metet died, considering that the implications, as far as she knew, were serious.
Metet: Ah now your true colours show Starfleet. You are no different than those you propose to guard against.
McLaren: Step aside, Lieutenant.
Haukea stood, arms braced on either side of the air lock, safeguarding McLaren from a harsh fate with Starfleet regulations in the aftermath. Even if Metet decided to provide the truth, it was, according to her, unlikely that McLaren would be responsive. It was further unlikely that Haukea would cease her attempts, in any given situation, to provide respite for actions easily avoidable.
However, the intelligence director’s actions, her vocalization in direct opposition to Haukea’s thwarted attempt at self sacrifice, provided only a small measure of doubt as to her intentions.
Metet: Yes, step aside Lieutenant, let the Borg exterminate.
Willow: I say, the brig is easily just as formidable. We can quite easily forget about him, you ::glaring at Metet:: there. Forget to bring sustenance ::the unspoken part was this: to have him dead either way but with a more easily excusable notation in the report::
Haukea did not have a - directly - personal death wish for any living individual - including herself - still, if McLaren had to make a sacrifice it would be her out the air lock or Metet in the brig, with an arguably uncomfortable stay, which she hoped would be a compromise.
Even then she faltered. McLaren had taken pause at her change in tack. Even her previous actions had formed cracks, illuminating the false face that she wore. Though, with her own heightened state of emotions, Haukea found difficulty in fully ascertaining the accuracy of her words. Did she truly want him dead, or was she playing for an invisible camera?
McLaren: Hmm, I think there is some merit to that... but we certainly can't trust the Commander to make it there without trying something now can we...
Metet: Me? I am what you humans call sweetness and light.
Wrong.
Though to provide a great deal of personal autonomy to both McLaren and Metet, suss out Solaris’s true intentions, she gave them a distinct choice.
Willow: What shall it be? The air lock or the brig?
McLaren: I think you already know my vote... ::she glanced at the airlock::
Metet: It makes no difference to me. The more time you take the more time my crew can cause havoc. How is sickbay? Any big bangs?
McLaren: A big bang indeed…
Haukea herself watched McLaren with intense observation. What doubt would she provide now? Metet himself, by words alone, had accepted his death a while ago. Yet, the exact outcome was still unknown. What was known, in a way, was her own emotional stance on the situation. Where she once was filled with suspicion then anger and uncertainty, now she held a sort of resentfulness towards McLaren’s act of deception.
Metet: Want to whisper some last words Commander?
McLaren: A weapon set to overload.
Willow: “Because I could not stop for death, It kindly stopped for me.” You will die either way, Metet.
Now she understood it, but it confused her. McLaren had been play-acting, and now the intentions of Metet were all the more visible. Even then, in an alternate world in which McLaren had provided the means for his death, she knew not what to think or how to react.
Death, though not at their hand, had still come.
Metet: ::Dropping his smile and regaining his composure:: How astute. However too late. Maybe you'll both be joining me in the cold darkness of space.
Willow: Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
McLaren, Haukea not long behind, grasping at Metet’s plan, physically searched for his hidden overloading disrupter pistol. She palpated his sides, waist, arms, discovering the object in the most intimate of locations. Said object was illuminating red hot as she displayed it for Haukea to observe.
McLaren: Open the airlock... ::Sol waited and then tossed the weapon inside, hearing it clatter off the far bulkhead:: Cycle it! Jettison it into space!
Now her intentions were plain, simple, understandable, no hidden mask for invisible cameras.
Metet: I had wondered where I had left that. Tick tock.
Willow: Boom.
Haukea impacted her palm on to the release for the external airlock, McLaren launching the weapon out of sight. The item impacted the haul, soundlessly detonating. In that same alternate reality, that could have instead been Metet or even Haukea, to which she had no exact precise logical reasoning towards. Though now, she felt neither adrenaline nor relief.
McLaren: I must say Haukea... that was excellent acting. Placing yourself in the airlock like that... brilliant.
McLaren smirked, certainly pleased with her whole show. Nevertheless, her own use of Haukea’s first name, rather than the more professional terms of Lieutenant, Willow or some combination thereof, rattled the woman. Haukea had not understood the act she had been performing when she placed herself between them and the airlock, her realization did not come until afterwards. Therefore she had been entirely certain McLaren’s intention had been to force Metet to answer or meet his end, out there in the blackness. And while she had been willing to be a sacrifice herself, once she realized the angle Solaris was driving towards, her whole thought process shifted. Now she knew not what to do, despite Metet having justice served to him.
Willow: That was no act, Sir. I genuinely meant what I said. Though once I realized your intentions, they were clever.
McLaren: ::laughing:: And you... never forget who you're dealing with. I didn't get this position just because of my good looks. I got it by being exceptional at my job. All facets of it.
Metet: It makes no difference. Starfleet brigs are like a holiday for a Romulan.
Willow: Your holiday is about to have some bad weather.
Later, having Lieutenant Jay Anthony, one of her trusted officers, guard his cell, she’d realize, he, Metet, was the sacrifice from the start. Having ingested a carefully hidden capsule of slow acting poison. The report, with Jay’s additions, merely stated DEATH: SUICIDE in large bold letters. An open and shut case. No further explanation required. Though the implications of what could have occurred would haunt her for a while to come.
END
Lt. Haukea-Willow
Chief of Security - Crisis Response
Starbase 118 Ops
M239512BG0
Ad Astra Per Aspera/To The Stars With Difficulty - Una Chin-Riley
