Counselor Achende's office was, as usual, lit to about half standard brightness; the lights covering the chair where he sat and the couch opposite it were brought up to standard, which helped create the impression that the patient and the counselor were the only things around. Or at least the only things worth noticing. To wit, the office was sparsely decorated; a few paintings and cloths mostly from around the African Confederation decorated the walls, and an incomplete Kurlan naiscos figurine sat on his desk.
Decker took notice of none of this, sitting on the couch without a word.
"Well," said the counselor. "How do you want to do this?"
"One of my team is in Sickbay right now," said Decker. "I don't want to do this."
"Well, you're going to anyway," said the counselor pleasantly. "And that sounds like as good a place as any to start." His tone lost all traces of flippancy. "How is Ensign Laurin?"
"Flesh wound," said Decker. "She'll recover."
"What happened?" asked Achende.
"We were inspecting the freighter," said Decker. "Captain had a belt of photon grenades stuffed in a secret compartment. Secondhand charges he didn't know how to store properly; the containment shell on one degraded to the point where our scanning set it off."
"But you didn't know all that at first, did you?" asked Achende. "All you knew was there'd been an explosion and there was an officer down. Right?"
"Right after it happened?" asked Decker. "Yeah. What else could I know?"
"So what did you do?" asked the counselor.
"What the hell do you think I did? I called for a med evac."
"And then?"
"And then I figured out what happened," said Decker, exasperated.
Achende nodded. "You knew the freighter captain had undeclared weapons before the grenade went off, right?"
"...Yeah," said Decker, frowning.
"You'd just called it in to the ship when the grenade exploded."
"What's your point?" Decker demanded. Achende shrugged. "You think I should have known this would happen? Look, we followed protocol. There's no way you can predict which ridiculously unlikely set of circumstances will combine to blow up in your face."
"That's an interesting profession you've chosen," said Achende, raising his eyebrows. "...So you don't feel responsible."
"I wasn't responsible. The captain was, for hoarding equipment he didn't know how to manage and then lying to us about it."
"Hmm," said the counselor noncommittally.
Decker rolled his eyes. "This is the part where you just keep feeding me rope and wait for me to walk myself into some kind of confession?" Achende just shrugged. Decker folded his arms, leaning back in the chair while still glaring at the counselor. "I'm responsible for my team. My team did their jobs."
Achende nodded. "Okay, then."
"Okay, then," Decker repeated. Silence hung for a few seconds afterward. "So are we done?"
"How well do you know Ensign Laurin?" Achende asked.
Decker sighed. "Met her at the Academy. Lost touch afterward. Then we both got posted here."
"Okay," Achende said. "So you're friends."
"Sure," said Decker, perfunctorily.
"She was just injured on a mission you commanded."
"I know," Decker growled. "I was there."
Achende nodded slowly. "Tell me about the Ajax."
Decker frowned. "What does that have to do with this?"
"Humor me."
"It was a ship," Decker said. "I served on it. It got destroyed."
"But you weren't on board when it was destroyed, right?"
Decker rolled his eyes. "Obviously not."
"Why not?"
"I got transferred off."
"Why?"
"Everyone got transferred off."
"But you never got transferred back. Why not?"
"I was at Spacedock."
"Why?"
"Psychiatric evaluation. This is all in my file."
"No kidding. Want to tell me something that isn't?"
"The file's pretty comprehensive."
"Try for me."
"This is stupid," Decker said, standing. "What do you want?"
"I want you to pretend, for the next half-hour, that I'm a trained professional and know what I'm doing." Achende's voice had become sharp. "You're here for a reason, Ensign. I do what I do for a reason. Please have a little respect."
Decker glared at the counselor for another second before breaking eye contact, sighing, and sitting back down.
Achende nodded. "Let's start with New Year's Eve."
"Which New Year's Eve?" Decker asked.
"You know which," said the counselor. "Think back, and tell me what happened."
–
The ship's bridge is in such terrible shape that it is barely recognizable as such. An entire wall has collapsed inward, and half the consoles have blown out; one still has the corpse of its former operator hunched over it. There are only three officers left alive.
"Hard starboard!" demands one, the captain. "Now!"
"I'm trying, sir!" calls another, the pilot and now first officer. "The thrusters—"
The bridge rocks and lurches to the left. Another console blows out, but no one as enough free time to care.
"Decker, have you found them yet?" calls the captain.
"Yes, sir!" he replies from what is being used as the tactical console. "Bearing 074 mark 6 — but it won't do us any good; the phasers just crashed!"
The captain shakes his head, and activates his commbadge. "Sinclair to Drazen, report!"
"I've almost got it set, Captain," replies a woman's voice through the comm. "But there's no guarantee we won't have another misfire!"
"No time for that now," says the captain. "Just reset and fire!"
"That's risky, Captain."
"Furball rules, Drazen. Do it!"
"Got it. Out."
Stars are wheeling by on the viewscreen, which is barely functioning; and the tactical plot is completely gone. "Rimar," calls the captain, "roll us to starboard, then hard up. Mr. Decker, hold the lock as long as you can!"
An insistent red light appeared on the console. "Incoming!" he yells, just before the scene explodes again.
–
"Start anytime," Achende prodded.
Decker shrugged. "...Stardate five one triple-nine. We try to break through Dominion lines."
"Back to Federation space."
"Yeah, back to Federation space," Decker snapped. "Where the hell else would—" He shook his head. "It didn't work. We got intercepted. We managed to disengage."
"And?" asked Achende.
"And we were stuck in Dominion space for another two months," said Decker.
"How long had you been there already?"
"Four months," Decker said irritably. "Two plus four is six. I've told you this already."
"Yes," said Achende. "But you've left out the part that matters."
"Being trapped behind Dominion lines for six months doesn't matter?" asked Decker.
"Not in the abstract," said Achende. "What happened to you while you were trapped there, that matters. That's why you're trying so hard to avoid talking about it. And that's why you'll have to, sooner or later, if you want these sessions to end."
Decker leaned forward, head resting on his interlaced fingers and elbows resting on his legs. "I was cleared for active duty," he said, eyes closed.
"And then you were referred to me," Achende said. "And here we are. Now, let's get back to the Ajax. And what happened on New Year's Eve."
–
"Incoming!" Decker yells, a second before the bridge is rocked again; one corner of his console explodes, singing part of his uniform. "Aft shields are at maximum tolerance!"
"I can't shake them!" calls Rimar.
"Engineering to bridge; we've got the warp core back online!"
"Rimar—" begins Sinclair.
"Aye, sir!" agrees Rimar, and a second later, the ship jumps to warp.
"They didn't expect that," says Decker triumphantly. "They're falling behind—for now."
"Rimar, how fast can we go?" asks the captain.
Rimar shakes his head. "I can't get us past five point six; they'll catch up in no time."
"Weapon options?" asks the captain.
"Phasers are still down," he reports, opening the comm. "Jenn, I could really use the aft torpedoes!"
"Trust me, John, I'm not holding out on you!" came the reply. "There's something wrong with the seal!"
A new light begins beeping on his console. "They're gaining on us!" he calls. "Weapons range in eight seconds!"
–
Decker hesitated, lifting his head enough to look at the counselor. "Jenn," he said. "That's when she died."
Achende nodded. "Who was Jenn?"
Decker straightened, folding his arms. "Jennifer Drazen. The Ajax's chief engineer."
"Is that how you introduced her at parties?"
"We didn't get invited to many parties on that side of the front lines."
The counselor fixed him with his best unamused look. "Who was she, Ensign?"
Decker rolled his eyes, glanced away, glanced back. "We were engaged."
Achende nodded. "How did she die?"
Decker let a few seconds pass without answering. That stretched into half a minute; he sat motionless in his seat, staring at nothing; he would have responded sooner, but none of the answers were coming together.
"I killed her," he said.
–
"They're re-establishing the lock!" Decker calls.
Now on the viewscreen is an image of a Jem'Hadar warship, closing rapidly.
"That's it, then," says Sinclair. "Fire torpedo!"
Decker moves to do so, but hesitates, staring at the warning light for the aft torpedo room.
Sinclair turns around in his chair, glaring back at him. "Lieutenant, fire!"
A warning tone informs Decker of a solid weapons lock. He looks at the viewscreen, and sees the warship nearly filling the display, its torpedo tube glowing blue. Then he swallows, and closes his eyes.
And he fires.
–
"That's not a very helpful characterization," Achende said.
"It's what happened," said Decker.
"Well, it's certainly what you've told every counselor who's pressed you on the subject," said Achende.
"And now I'll need to do better, right?" Decker leaned forward again. "You want details? The Ajax had Mark VI photon torpedoes. Focused blast; they channel their full explosive energy in the direction of impact. Smaller explosions, more damage; work better in close quarters. Really excellent weapons. But like the Mark I through V, the casing has to be converted into a cohesive photon shell just prior to firing. And if the firing chamber isn't sealed, that can't happen. The Ajax's aft firing chamber happened to be damaged in just that way."
"And you were in the middle of a battle," said Achende.
"Jenn didn't have time to repair the seal. So she used a magnetic brace to leverage it closed. But she had to be standing by the launcher, holding the brace, to do that. The brace held the seal long enough for the torpedo to be primed, but there's always that little extra backwash when it's actually fired." He took a breath. "I fired the torpedo. Firing the torpedo killed her. I killed her."
"Why did you fire?"
"I didn't know she was —" Decker stopped, willed the strain out of his voice. "There was a Jem'hadar warship bearing down on us. Captain Sinclair told me to fire."
Achende nodded. "Do you think there was another way out?"
"She just needed more time!" Decker snapped. "She could have sealed the launcher and got out of there. But I didn't give her that." He was breathing heavily. "I was scared. We could probably have taken another hit, and one torpedo from us might not even have done anything. But I saw that ship on the viewscreen, and I was scared. So I killed her."
"You were following orders. Was Captain Sinclair scared, too?"
Decker's eyes had fixed on a particular one of the wall hangings, a patterned cloth in gold, red and black. "She just needed more time," she said.
Achende leaned back in his seat, waiting for a moment to pass before speaking again. "If you'd known she was still in there," he said, "would you still have fired?"
It was several seconds before Decker responded at all; and he didn't answer. "...I need to file an incident report for what happened on the freighter," he said, standing.
"Really?" asked Achende. "You didn't do that before you came here?"
"We had an appointment," Decker said. "I wanted to get it over with."
"And now you have an excuse to leave early," said Achende. He stood. "You can go for now, but I want to see you back here at 18:00."
"I'm on duty at eighteen hundred," Decker said.
"Not until I clear you, you aren't," said Achende. "I'll do that when we've got to the bottom of this. When that can happen is your choice, Ensign."
Decker shook his head, swaying as if he wanted just to make for the door, but restraining himself. "...Why now?" he demanded. "Ajax was a year and a half ago. Why the hell are we having to go through this now?"
"That's what we're trying to find out here, Ensign," Achende said quietly.
Decker clenched his jaw, and stalked out of the room.
