Coming Clean
Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, 2287.237, 1540 hours. He felt a sudden pressure against his cheek—firm, but not hard enough to leave a mark.
:::a pair of heels beating a steady, retreating staccato against the linoleum:::
:::a person coughing:::
:::curtains being drawn:::
:::shifting bed sheets:::
:::a low moan:::
:::a name:::
More pressure was applied along with a message. "You must awaken, sa-fu." Selas struggled against the bonds of sleep. A third blow was delivered and he blinked awake. "Sa-mekh?" His voice was hoarse from disuse and as he attempted to sit up he felt Mama's cool hand on his back easing his way while a straw was pressed to his lips.
"Yes, sa-fu. Your mother and I are here." And we were deeply concerned for your safety.
Selas gulped the water greedily; when he was through he nodded and laid his head back against the newly raised bed and pillows. "I was concerned as well," he answered aloud. Mama brushed the hair off his forehead with feather light touches. "How are the others?"
He felt her hand still in his hair and neither parent answered him immediately. Finally Mama spoke. "They're resting right now, Sweetie." He listened to her refill his cup. "Here, have some more water." Selas knew when his questions were being deflected.
"Sa-mekh?"
His sa-mekh exhaled in a manner that, had he been anything other than Vulcan, would have been termed a sigh. "Lieutenant Commander Pravat's leg has been re-set and he is currently sitting under the osteo-regenerator to expedite the healing process. Cadet Billings presented with a broken arm, which has also been re-set, and he too is sitting under the osteo-regenerator. You and Cadets Billings, Johnson and Adams all suffered varying degrees of hypothermia and exhaustion for which you are receiving individualized treatments from your physicians. Cadet Mason suffered a traumatic brain injury which has required extensive surgery. He has not yet left the operating room though he is expected to survive."
Selas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now that they were all out of danger a myriad number of emotions washed over him. He was grateful to have survived but was also violently angry that he and his friends had been subjected to such abuse in the first place; and, for perhaps the first time in his life, he cursed his own blindness for putting them in such a precarious position.
"Selas?" Mama said, still stroking his hair. "Why didn't you tell us about Commander Rourke?"
He scowled then quickly tried to hide the grimace. "What do you know?"
He heard his sa-mekh about to launch into a speech full of particulars before his mother cut him off. "We know enough. Why didn't you say something?"
"I was handling the situation on my own," he replied with as little inflection as possible.
"The manner in which you attempted to resolve this issue was insufficient." Selas gritted his teeth; he now had a better appreciation for how Se'tak felt when Sa-mekh stated the obvious. "We are attempting to bring the Commander in now for further questioning and a thorough review is being undertaken into his behavior here at camp, both now and in the past."
In the past? "I do not understand."
Mama placed a hand on his shoulder. "Commander Rourke's missing; he disappeared not long after you boys did. Since Starfleet was made aware of your missing shuttle they've been looking into the Commander's record; he's been running the camp for the last 12 years and we suspect that you're not the first cadet…" her voice trailed off.
"I'm not the first what!?" he asked sharply. Selas instantly felt ashamed—he had not intended to speak to her so harshly. Still, the idea that Commander Rourke had used his position to bully other cadets in the past, and the knowledge that he had stayed silent just like those before him, irritated Selas to his very core and prompted his anger to increase tenfold.
Sa-mekh placed a hand on his arm—exposed as it was by the hospital gown—and deepened the bond. Peace, sa-fu. We mean you no harm. But Selas did not want peace; he did not want to be calm. His parents were poking at raw emotional wounds which he was too tired and ill-equipped to handle right now. He curled on his side away from their touch. "I am tired. Please leave me."
He turned away from her, curling up on himself and looking so small and helpless that it made her heart break. Nyota looked up to Spock, his face resolute, her expression begging to remain by Selas' bedside even though it was expressly against her son's wishes. With a shake of the head he bade her follow and she slowly rose from the plastic chair, hesitating.
"He requires rest, k'diwa," Spock said. "We will not venture far and will return to his side shortly."
She did not want to leave but his look and tone brokered no argument and so followed him down the hall. They were nearing the lobby when Dr. Dietrich came upon them working intently on a PADD. His gaze flicked up at their approach. "Any news on Rourke?"
Spock shook his head. "Admiral Pike and Admiral Galatas are coordinating the search from Headquarters and have stated that they will contact us when there is news."
The Doctor looked away, internalizing his anger. "If I'd only done more…"
Nyota placed a hand on the sleeve of his white coat. "Dr. Dietrich, no one understands better than us what a difficult position you were in. Believe me, if this hadn't happened to Selas we might not have believed another officer could act like this either." He gratefully squeezed her hand as she chanced a look at his PADD. He had been reviewing past medical reports for any other suspicious incidents that involved Commander Rourke. "Have you found anything?"
Hugo's mouth set in a thin line. "Yes and no."
Spock quirked his head. "Explain."
Dr. Dietrich began a rather lengthy account of the goings on of the camp for the last dozen years. Injuries and accidents were to be expected but as he reviewed the past medical files he discovered several cadets with injuries that—had the severity of them been made known outside of Soledad—would have raised red flags with Command; the cadets themselves also had personal hallmarks that, if Selas was any kind of model to go by, would have made them prime targets for Commander Rourke. Of the 17 cadets Hugo flagged as potential victims of Rourke's 'special attention' none passed basic training; the longest one lasted just 29 days before washing out of the program. Selas was the first to reach survival training.
"Why did previous physicians not make note of these discrepancies as they occurred?" Spock asked.
"Well that's the thing," Dr. Dietrich explained, "I'm the first doctor here who's been dedicated solely to one patient. No one else picked up on the pattern because staff rotates from year-to-year and—based on the sheer volume of cadets—practice a sort of 'catch and release' medicine." Sensing Spock's confusion he added, "If a physician's available when a cadet walks in they treat that cadet. Of the people I've flagged none of them ever saw the same doctor more than twice; if anyone looked more closely at the files then they probably thought they were just accident prone."
Nyota furrowed her brow at the disheartening news and glanced over to see Spock's slight frown. Just then his personal communicator chirped and he excused himself to answer the call.
"I'm about to go check on him, but how'd your son look to you, Commander?"
"Tired," she automatically answered, re-calling the way he sank back into the pillows. "But his color looks good."
"That's good," Dr. Dietrich said with a smile. "I don't think he'll have to spend more than a day here before being released to his quarters."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"My pleasure."
Spock rejoined them just then, his communicator clenched in his hands. "Commander Rourke has been apprehended. He is now in the Brig in San Francisco."
1911 hours. His parents sat with him throughout the afternoon before he insisted they return home; Selas was glad he urged them on for within half an hour a member of Starfleet's JAG corp came to take his statement. He recounted everything of relevance—from his first days at camp with Commander Rourke to the moment he and the others were rescued—as there was no longer any logic in remaining quiet on the subject. The knowledge that there were others out there who had done as he had done and maintained their silence spurred him on. Selas would not stand to see another cadet crushed under the Commander's boot heel.
When he was through giving his interview Selas asked to be taken around to the others' beds and see to their well-being. Markus was about to be discharged, and now that their ordeal was over he chatted away happily, talking about nothing but long hot showers and good hot food. Rick was in good spirits despite the state of his arm. He would be remaining overnight while the bones healed, awaiting one more osteo-regen treatment in the morning. Lieutenant Commander Pravat was resting so Selas did not disturb him and Frank was still unconscious from surgery. The last bed he visited was Paul's.
"Hey man," his friend called out. His voice sounded weak. "You ok?"
"I am recovering," Selas replied. Reaching about for a chair he soon found one and sat down. "How are you?"
"Hangin' in there." Paul chuckled and he listened to the steady beep of monitors beside the bed.
"Have you spoken with any JAG officials yet?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yes," Selas said, "And I have told them everything."
"Good." Paul coughed and groped about for some water. "'Bout time." He sucked down several deep droughts through a straw.
"Paul?"
"Hmm?"
"How badly were you injured?"
His friend hesitated, then set his cup aside. "Not too badly…"
"Clarify."
Paul sighed. "I broke a couple fingers dragging the guys back up. That and the cold weather…well, let's just say that my fingers and toes hurt like hell and my left hand's kind of fucked up for a little while." In that self-deprecating manner that was classic Paul he added, "What can I say? Hypothermia's a bitch."
He let out a little mirthless laugh that Selas could not reciprocate; after all, he was the one responsible for this entire mess. "I am sorry, Paul. This should not have happened to you."
"What?" he asked, incredulous. "Selas, this isn't your fault. I know you've got a thick Vulcan skull protecting that big head of yours but how many times do we have to tell you you're not to blame?"
Selas started to refute him. "Were I not the target of Commander Rourke's illogical prejudice…"
"…then we might've been on a totally sanctioned survival training trip out in the snow instead of the one we were on. I'm telling you, none of that matters now, what matters is we're back here in one piece and Commander Hard Ass is getting what's coming to him."
Upon hearing that Selas did smile and felt some of the tension he had been carrying around drain from his shoulders.
Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, 2287.238, 0735 hours. The following morning Selas awoke to a sliver of sun on his face and the scent of cherry blossoms wafting up his nose. He rolled over onto his back and attempted to surreptitiously wipe the drool from the side of his mouth.
"Morning, Sleepyhead."
Consulting his internal chronometer he determined that he had not slept quite as late as she implied. "Good morning."
"Heard you had quite a trip." Rebecca kept her tone light but he could tell she was worried. He tried changing topics.
"How was your trip? When did you return?"
She sighed and he heard the rustle of fabric as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in the plastic chair. She always could see right through him but this time decided not to press the issue. "It was fine. Jamas, Missy and I, along with Cadets Vitter and Tully, spent a couple days on an uphill hike in the woods. We got in last night and I ran into your parents in the quad; they told me you were here." She paused and he envisioned her chewing the inside of her lip. Very hesitantly she said, "They kind of told me a little bit about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he quickly replied. Reminding himself of his manners he added, "But thank you for asking."
"Ok." The comfortable silence that always existed between the pair settled and Selas found himself feeling better simply knowing she was there. "You know," Rebecca finally declared, "When Jamas finds out where you guys were he's going to be so jealous."
Selas grinned and played along. "Truly?"
"Oh yeah. The coldest it ever got for us was like 4°C, and that was only at night. He even got a bit of sunburn on his shoulders our second day out from all the heat and he wouldn't stop moaning and groaning about how purple his skin was turning." She chuckled. "Yeah, Jamas definitely would've killed to be in your shoes."
"I have no doubt."
She spent the rest of the morning aimlessly chatting away with him. Markus and Paul popped in so they could all share breakfast together; and in that time Selas realized how truly fortunate he was in his group of friends.
