Dirty Harry

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I'm filled with guilt from things that I've seen.

Your water's from a bottle, mine's from a canteen.

- Gorillaz

 

“Life can be so badly underrated sometimes. We always remember the gloriously patriotic emotions of those gathered round a proud fighter, cut down in his prime, slain in their attempt to save their people from evil. Yes, that is the pinnacle of death earning victory. However we always forget the feelings associated with those who just survive and continue living. We neglect to mention that terrified rush of adrenalin that hits the system, that buzz one gets when they know its all over, the realization that everything’s gonna be all right and they aren’t going to be mutilated and that maybe, just maybe, the reason it turned out that way was because they added that little extra bit to the struggle and made it possible. In the end, sure everyone did their part but perhaps it was your particular part that changed the score.

 

It’s an incredibly crude and selfish feeling but it’s the best and most alive feeling someone gets after a battle before they have to deal with death. Not just the death that automatically springs to mind; the tragic loss of friends, colleagues or other loved ones but the deaths one has actually caused. The killings one will never have to mourn or answer for. I stand in this room, the room where I manned a phaser turret and fired on the Jem Hadar and the only sensation I get is a bitter taste in my mouth. Though it was a kill or be killed situation, it’s hard to shake off the mantle of a murderer. I’ve been in combat before and its always the same. If I stop feeling like this ever I’ll begin to worry.

 

The Morningstar is heavily damaged, perhaps beyond repair. The bridge and almost the entire front section were totaled. I won’t miss the ship that much, I barely knew her but I’ll remember this dance we had together till the day I part this mortal coil. And it was one hell of a shindig I must say. I discovered that Murdok Helios and I actually kept up our fire even after the command staff had evacuated the vessel and we’d lost all our sensors. Being left behind by those meant to guide the way might hurt some inside, but I myself see it as a compliment testifying trust and the expectation of loyalty. These two characteristics are what Starfleet officers are made of. Even if we had been slaughtered like I had previously predicted, it would have been our place. As the human poet Tennyson put it “Theirs is not to reason why, theirs is but to do or die”. I struggle to find a Trill statement that puts the case so well.

 

The good news is the arrival of the vessel I was assigned to in the first place, “The Excalibur”. She’s been fully repaired and sparkles like a diamond in this field of wreckage, the evident aftermath of a violent skirmish. I have been ordered to bring over all my belongings to The Excalibur and to take up new quarters as well as my post. I will finally get to where I wanted to be ever since that brouhaha back on the Shanghai. I’m sure the comfort of a prestigious posting, even if it is more perilous than my last, will slowly wash away the memories of the last few days.

 

Aagh!

 

This cut on my head is really quite stingy. I banged it on the floor during the fight and since there are so many war-wounded, I’ve resigned myself to waiting until a less inconvenient moment to ask for a physician’s examination. I believe I could also take my annual physical when things in sickbay cool down, killing two birds with one stone.

 

 

Oh and I forgot to mention, apparently both our Chief of Ops and Chief Science Officer sadly perished in the battle…

 

Hmmmm…

 

Can’t remember their names…

 

I wasn’t acquainted with either of them of course…

 

Funny that, how the demise of another living being, no matter how hard you try, never hurts if you never got to know them or meet them. Its still a tragedy, but it’s a black and white silent tragedy with subtitles. You know what’s happened just as much but the only reason its important to you is because the writing on the screen says it should be. There’s no actual attachment, no real understanding of the pain being felt. We just watch the words and nod our heads. “Maybe afterwards there’ll be cake” we think.

 

Damn. What the hell is wrong with me? I know for a fact I never used to think like this. Or did I and just never let it out?

 

…

 

But still, I’m sure they did their duty well up to when they met their end. That’s all that can be expected and we should honour them. There’s going to be a funeral I expect so I must make sure my dress uniform is ready for the occasion.

 

Computer, end recording.”