The Paradox ((Caine))

[C.T. Caine 0]

When Christina-T'Prinn Caine had been about thirteen years old, she'd developed an "emotional affinity" (as her father had disapprovingly called it; her mother had been more blunt -- "the kid's got a crush, leave her alone") for one of her half-brother's classmates at the Vulcan Science Academy, a dark, handsome, highly intelligent young full-blood Vulcan whose field was computational linguistics.

 

His name was Sutak, and she found him, to coin a phrase, fascinating. He was relatively approachable for a Vulcan, and one of that rare breed who knew that there is nothing a child of that age enjoys more than to be taken seriously; he recognized her as housing an intelligence (albeit mired in emotion) equal to that of her father and brother and he took pains to interact with her in the same style with which he would have approached them, thus firmly capturing both her heart and her mind. Whether he knew he held quite such a fascination for her, she never precisely questioned him on, but in the thirty years of retrospect now separating her from that period, she thought she could remember a rather un-Vulcan note of amusement in his voice which suggested that he probably did.

 

He had been her first debate partner; though their conversations tended to start out in the fields of physics, chemistry, linguistics, and computer science which were most familiar to him, he had allowed her to range out into all sorts of ideas which had caught her attention. As she grew older, they had both noticed that these subjects began moving further and further away from the academia her father encouraged, but to his credit, he made every effort to continue offering her an ear to run her ideas past, and he had been the only full Vulcan she had spoken to who had not blinked when her interests turned in the direction of military history.

 

"Really?" he'd asked, in the low, smooth, calm voice with which he addressed himself to all of their conversations. "Indeed...you will find little on the subject on Vulcan proper, I think. It would hardly be considered the most logical use of your time; we are a pacifist people."

 

"But other people aren't," Caine had said, with the childhood certainty of being absolutely right. "We need to know what they might do. So we can stop them." Even thirty years later this still made more sense to her than much of Vulcan dogma.

 

Sutak had raised one eyebrow at her firmness. "Those who would make their living in the military may well find this their concern; it is not yours. Your mind is strong enough to move beyond such concerns."

 

"Into school stuff?"

 

"Yes."

 

Caine wrinkled her nose slightly. "I mean...it's fun and all. And I'm good at it. But what good does it do anyone else? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one..."

 

Sutak was silent for a few moments. "It is your own choice, in the end, how you define your contribution to the greater good. For my own part...I choose science because the knowledge of one furthers the knowledge of the many."

 

"Yeah..." Caine's voice was skeptical. "And you think that fighting's for fools." It wasn't a question, just a statement. She'd heard it from her father enough, in less casual wording of course.

 

"The ability to defend oneself is of course important. But to lash out, to be the aggressor? That is only waste."

 

She had taken the words to heart in her own curiously interpreted fashion. From then on, the military had been her goal -- with the sole purpose of being a defender. A protector. She would, she'd promised Sutak and her parents, never advocate the striking of a blow before one was struck at her first. And with this, she had convinced them that she was indeed serving the needs of the many by her departure from the sciences.

 

Of course, she'd then begun the tactical track at the Academy and realized that it was a nice sentiment, but it didn't really work out that well in practice, and the lesson had been taught and retaught to her over her years in Starfleet until it was merely a calculated paradox which she could shove to the rear of her mind with the ease of practice.

 

The irony was not lost on her now, though, as she scrolled through the intelligence reports that were the foundation of what was probably the most dangerous, complicated, and potentially foolhardy mission of her career. They were going into the mouth of the enemy and, hopefully, coming back out. If things went smoothly, they would be stealing equipment; if things didn't, there would be property damage and death. That was war. There was no defense at work here except in the broadest sense. This was an offensive move, a blow struck to prevent other blows. The best defense was a good offense. Logical.

 

They had a good team. Yates was a steady hand; he had experience and self-control. Mattingly did as well, in addition to a keen sense of observation which would be valuable in the upcoming trenches. Decatur...was young, certainly, but he had energy and he knew when to keep his mouth shut, and both were imperative.

 

She knew less of the marines; but she had worked with Karo Veras in the context of the projectile training courses which had run some weeks earlier. He knew his business, and though he too was extremely young, he had taken on the authority required for this mission without blinking under it. Between the two of them, they would manage alright. They would take it one step at a time, get in, get out, get going, and strike first so as to defend.

 

Highly, highly logical, she thought, making a noise of amusement deep in her throat as she flicked off the screen before her and leaned back in her chair. Oh, y'tek jacktah, Sutak, if only you could see me now.