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Shalin

Taking a ride with my best friend ...

SS Vulture

Free Territories

On route to Nike Prime

 

T’Aral stepped on board the Vulture, waiting until the hatch was closed and she was securely inside the hold before removing her guise as ‘Doctor Tarr’. She watched intently as ‘Professor Fether’ shucked enough outer layers to return to his duties as operations officer. Within minutes the Vulture was again spaceborne, moving off to a safe distance until Commander Calestorm decided on a new target.

 

There would be a lull … a period of time for the cartel to either drop its guard or to provide a target acceptable for striking. They had to be clever, and being clever meant being a little cautious from time to time. T’Aral estimated that they would have at least six hours before a new target or task was decided on - six hours that could be put to good use. She turned and walked purposefully into the side room which served for the Captain’s Ready Room. Shutting the door behind him, T’Aral turned to Cale. “I wish to discuss Lieutenant Shalin.”

 

Crash leaned back in a battered desk chair that had once served as office furniture in some nice and tidy Corporation office; she crossed her fingers in her lap and silently indicated the CMO take a seat.

 

T’Aral settled in a rigid chair. “His behavior this evening, while ultimately effective, was impulsive, erratic, and potentially self-destructive. If this was an abberation I could dismiss it, but it was not. Over the last several months his actions have grown increasingly aggressive; periodically taking extreme turns. His violent outbursts are not characteristic for a Starfleet officer, for an Argelian, and not for Lieutenant Shalin. If this is allowed to continue it will most likely intensify, and inevitably put his life and the mission at risk.”

 

“The surveillance video streamed from your personal cams?” Crash offered no further comment on the matter, the unspoken blow at the hands of the person in question given to the Cartel representative enough of a visual explanation in itself.

 

T’Aral nodded, offering Cale a datachip. “I have reviewed his records. While a pattern has not presented itself, an origin has. Shan was enlisted to participate in phase one of this operation due to his Retrieval Operations Pilot training*. While the mission debriefing report did not include any indication of trauma, the Lieutenant’s erratic behavior began immediately after that mission.” She paused to allow Cale to take in what she said before finishing. “Someone should speak to him about it.”

 

The Commander shifted and reached over the desktop to grasp the offered item; she fingered the colored data chit in both hands, idly wondering why it was such a lurid shade of orange. She spoke thoughtfully, eyes not focused on anything in particular save the data chit.

 

“....you say what you’ve been observing, not particularly evident until this latest bar run, appears to have popped out directly following Phase 1?”

 

T’Aral nodded again. “The first indication was his initial behavior while returning from Phase 1; what appeared to be a vigil of sorts for Warrant Officer Granger. At the time he was noted as unresponsive and without appetite. While he seemed to recover initially, he refused shore leave and apparently isolated himself. Remaining alone on board the ‘Creek during re-supply, he developed strange eccentricities. Then there was the incident with the Tomcat. All of which indicating a notable change in habits.”

 

“Your thoughts, Doc? Phase 1 of the Lost Souls operation was a rough mission. Mister Shalin wouldn’t have cleared the FTR* background check if he wasn’t mentally capable.”

 

T’Aral shifted slightly. “Yes: Mister Shalin passed his background checks and psychological profile. There is the matter of his inteligence which, like most FTR officers, is considerable. While we try to take such things into account, inteligent candidates have a tendency to be able to reason out what the ‘right’ answer would be, and thus are able to pass profile examinations. While techniques are used to prevent this, they are of no use when the candidate believes what he is writing - even if it is incorrect.

 

“However: given that Mister Shalin has no detectable pre-existing conditions which would exempt him from front-line service, whatever is occurring with him would be a matter of adjustment. As an Argelian, Mister Shalin’s development was one which was, in human terms, relatively devoid of agression. His entire time in Starfleet has been a matter of adjustment to a new environment. Such adjustment is typical in most species which encounter new situations. The question is not whether or not Mister Shalin needs to change his mannerisms … it is whether or not he can do so in a constructive manner.”

 

The Commander considered her options very carefully. There was still time to perform an emergency extraction as they had not reached the critical infiltration point for Phase 2. Starfleet Intelligence had several Officer Recovery* agents seeded throughout the territory who could be contacted to come and collect Shalin for transport back across the Federation border.

 

She shifted position again, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the battered desktop, fingers intertwined. “Is it your medical recommendation that Mister Shalin be extracted from this mission? I need to know. Now.”

 

Her tone was not unkind, but there was an edge to it. One officer could not dictate the success or failure of a high stakes mission. If Shalin was having difficulties, the young man needed to be removed from the field. It wasn’t a very nice stance to take, but Calestorm wouldn’t be the first commanding officer to do so regarding an operative.

 

T’Aral considered her response carefully. “Mister Shalin’s talents regarding helm, navigation, and transporter functions are a considerable asset. He has taken to the ship’s control systems in a positive manner, believing in his own abilities to succeed. These would be difficult assets to replace, given the complex controls and considerable data feed provided. In addition, I feel it would be detrimental to him personally to be removed from this situation without an absolute necessity. If his difficulties come from experiences in a combat situation - and I believe this to be likely - then removing him now would be that much more damaging.

 

“I do not recommend removal at this time. Instead, I recommend that Mister Shalin be directed to face whatever difficulties he is encountering within himself for the good of the mission. I believe that he has been attempting to do so in his own way. What the situation requires is guidance for a positive conclusion.” T’Aral settled back slightly. “I believe this can be accomplished without removal - it would be the most efficient path.”

 

“I won’t deny that we need a good stick jock and familiarity with transport and NAV systems on this bucket.” Crash scrubbed a hand over her face. ‘“He stays with the Vulture though; I don’t want him in the field from this point forward.”

 

“Agreed. In addition, one of us must speak with him regarding what is troubling him. While eventually I should engage him in a series of therapy sessions, there are two schools of thought regarding broaching the subject. While I am a trained professional, you would find it far easier to empathize with him.” T’Aral looked directly to Cale. “I regret that I do not feel qualified to judge whether a logical or emotional approach is best. I must, therefore, leave that decision to you.”

 

“It’s better you be honest about something like this and admit that then try and make things worse.” She regarded her CMO, fist propping her chin up. Suddenly, a grin flashed. “So, I get to be acting psychologist? May the angels and ministers of grace defend us....”

 

--------------------------------------------

18 hours later ...

 

Shan sat at the controls, guiding the Vulture into a nearby asteroid field to settle into. Monitors indicated that they were clear, and the iron in the nearby rocks would sufficiently obscure their signature to passing ships unless they were right on top of them … in which case the Vulture would have the drop on whatever incoming vessels approached. As he settled the ship into a gentle orbiting drift, Shan quietly sang a pleasant tune.

 

“See the stars - they’re shining bright … everything’s all right tonight …”

 

Calestorm had quietly slipped onto the bridge from the closet that passed as the Ready Room on the B’rel class vessel and approached the helmsman. “Nice tune, Deathwish.”

 

Shalin didn’t turn from his screens as he replied. “Thank you, Ma’am. It’s an old Earth traveling song.”

 

“How’s the Vulture? We’re not going to experience problems with a planetary entry sequence and explode, right?”

 

“Not for the next few days, at least.” Shan smirked wryly. “Seriously, Cap’n, I have no frellin’ idea how the Klingons became the most feared race in the galaxy with ships like these. The hull is solid enough, but the design drives every system to the breaking point on a regular basis. If this takes much longer, we’re going to have to figure out how to sneak in a major refurbishing. Me ‘n’ Doc have been doing what we can with the manuals, but I swear - the next time I have to take off the enviro’ service panel I’m gonna scrap the bloody thing.”

 

Leaning a hip against a console, she cocked her head to one side and asked amiably. “How’re you doing with this mission?”

 

Shan paused briefly. Cale was always likeable in her own way, but it seemed that she was actually trying to be friendly. “Fine ma’am. The controls are really something; this seat has everything a pilot could dream of … well everything decent, anyway. There ain’t a part of the ship I can’t run from here.” He tapped a finger on the console confidently. “You ask for it - you got it.

 

“I expect you’re glad for the mission, in a way.” He turned back to his screens, making a few navigational checks. “It’s not the ‘Creek, but at least you’re still a ship’s captain.” He entered in a minor correction before looking up to Cale. “I apologize if I’m over-stepping; I just hope you’re ok. I mean: I mis-appropriate funds and I get promoted. You save a planet from a malignant evil and you get demoted. That’s just messed up.”

 

She chuckled softly; Crash really hadn’t thought on the situation in those terms, actually. “I’d say both of our promotion and demotion situations have similarities. I’m confident Captain Wesley picked wisely with the position of Morale Officer, and congratulations again on your promotion. And Luca was definitely a corrupt steadholder.”

 

Shan nodded in firm agreement. "Oh, I’ll give you that. As far as my promotion goes, I trust Captain Wesley - I really do. If she says I’m the right person for the job, I believe it. It just seems weird that I get promoted for my initiative … which seems to be the same reason you got demoted.”

 

She paused and eyed Shalin thoughtfully. “...I’m not at liberty to divulge all details, Lieutenant, security-wise. I can tell you I investigated a non-sanctioned contact for Intel on this current mission. It added to a political firestorm that had already flashed off due to Grayson...and I was demoted and placed on probation. It is what it is, I’ll deal with it.”

 

Shan shrugged. “Yes Ma’am … only, I can tell you right now that it won’t make much difference in the eyes of the crew. Yes: Ms. Wesley is the Captain now and it’s her orders that come first, but don’t think for a second that anyone has lost respect for you. As we see it, you did what you had to … it’s what you always do. We’ve always respected that about you and we always will, regardless of what comes from bar fights, Captain’s masts, or Court Martials.”

 

Calestorm glanced around the operations bridge, lowering her voice out of respect for their senior commanding officer. “Word of advice here Deathwish: Do not tick off Admiral Coyote, hear?” She smiled at the younger officer. “And I’m fine Shalin, thanks for asking.”

 

“Back to you now. I reviewed the surveillance footage. You tossed that thug as if he was a lightweight, slammed him into the bench. Not your usual method...” She kept her voice low, again glancing around even though the shift on bridge watch was small. Her hawk-like - or was that Vulture-like considering the name of their piratical vessel? - attention then winged back to the Lieutenant. “You wanna talk ‘bout anything?”

 

Shan stuttered a bit on his reply. “I … I just don’t want to let you down, Ma’am. This is important; we all have to do our jobs right. If we don’t … I’ll let you all down again.”

 

“Just don’t let that darkness take over. It’ll choke you.”

 

Shan’s eyes suddenly flashed. “I don’t choke, Ma’am … I *never* choke!” Shan looked down at his controls, unsure if he should say what he was about to. “Did you ever wonder why I’m such a good shuttle pilot? Why I can handle transporters, too? I was in Field Ops training in the Academy for several months; I was tagged as a front-line shuttle pilot. The ROP training you assigned me? I had already been through over half the course before I came on board the ‘Creek.”

 

He settled slightly, almost apolegetically. He didn’t mean to be so riled, but the conversation had gotten personal. “Six months in, there was an … incident*. The Commandant ordered it sealed, and I was transferred to Helm training. He considered me unsuitable for front line duty, but putting that on my record would’ve opened up a whole can of worms. The Commandant is a good man, Ma’am, and I trusted him - so I went along with it all. There’s nothing in my record about any of this, because it was decided that was the right route to take.”

 

Shan paused, looking down briefly. “Ma’am, there are people alive today because I don’t choke. When something needs to be done I do it; I’ll clean up the mess later. I have done stupid things, I’ve flown off the deep end, I’ve even screwed up bigtime a time or two - but I’ve never choked …” A deep sigh heaved through him. “... until last time.”

 

 

Crash cocked a brow. “As I recall from the post-debrief statements, you did some pretty good extraction flying for the operation. I admit, you’re probably having some delayed feelings and reactions....” She paused, considering, and then added, “Some shut down completely. Others deal head on with whatever it is that’s bugging them, or combination of the two methods. It depends on the person and their post-mission mental survival.”

 

He shook his head dispondently. “Ma’am … I only did what any ordinary pilot would do - but in the field Shan Shalin choked! I sat there and followed orders. I could’ve drove the bus right on top of those scumballs the moment I heard that Marcie was nabbed, or I could’ve waited for as many able-bodied marines before going in, or I could’ve gone over to pick them up and then gone in …” Shan took a second to breathe deeply. “I could’ve done something - anything! Instead I did nothing, and Marcie paid for it.”

 

He clutched a panel to steady himself before continuing. “I don’t do that, Ma’am. I watch out for my shipmates. I do what I have to so that they don’t get hurt like that and worry about the consequences later. When I don’t … people get killed.” He looked down at the ship’s yoke. “The worst of all: I never apologized for that. I choked in the field, and I choked when we got back. Now Marcie’s out there again, sticking her neck out where somebody might chop it off, and I never could find the strength to say that I was sorry.”

 

“You really think if you apologized, she’d have any idea what the flip you were ‘pologizing ‘bout?” She raised a hand, gently, to indicate that she wasn’t done. “It ain’t that I don’t ‘preciate why you want to do this Lieutenant, but she was doing her job. It’s a Marine thing. I don’t claim to understand it myself and I’ve been serving with or commanding ground pounders for over thirty years. I just respect it. The Thing.” Calestorm gave a little smile.

 

Finally he straightened. “I know what you’re saying; maybe I am going a little overboard, but that’s better than choking again. You have to be able to depend on me - I have to be able to do this. If I can’t … then I’m no use to anybody.”

 

Crash let Shalin talk, let him work it out as much as he could with the words. “Or....you could have acted. Your vessel could have been taken out by some nutjob slaver sporting a homemade plasma rocket launcher. And if you happened to survive the impact, the ground team would have been responsible for retrieving two hostages, not one.”

 

“Maybe … or maybe I could’ve prevented what happened.” He sunk into his seat. “It’s kind of hard to say, since I just sat and did what I was told.”

 

“Not tryin’ to complicate matters for you, Deathwish. But sometimes when ya don’t act? That’s your instincts tellin’ you what not to do, or maybe what to do. Fear versus caution? Different sides of the same coin, depends on how ya flip.”

 

Shan smirked. “Yet another victim of disorganized thinking - confusing courage for wisdom.”* He turned to Cale. “I appreciate the thought, Cap’n, but I have to pull my own weight.” He turned back to the ship’s controls. “No one’s going to get hurt because of me again.”

 

All the Commander said to that was, repeating her earlier bit of advice. “Don’t let the darkness become you. When you can’t or don’t recognize yourself from the dark, that ‘s when you got problems...and I don’t think we have to worry ‘bout that right now with you. Just have a couple things to work out for yourself is all.”

 

Calestorm walked away from Shalin, squeezing his shoulder quickly as she passed in a gesture of encouragement.

 

-----------------------------------------

* ROP: Retrieval Operations Pilot training - see “The Code” ( 11/17/2011 )

* FTR: First Threat Response, Starfleet Border Patrol

* Officer/Personnel Recovery (Starfleet Intelligence): agents trained/employed to remove personnel from undercover operations as needed

* See “Sure Promise” ( 10/6/2011 )

* The Wizard of Oz ( Warner Bros., 1939 )

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