What a Lonely Way to Be
Posted on Wed Mar 1st, 2017 @ 12:42am by Lieutenant Jeremy Stone
Shoreleave One: SB109
Location: Stone's Quarters
Timeline: concurrent with Left of Center pt2
Stone followed the map on his PaDD that led to the quarters the computer said were for his use. Upon arrival, he inputted the security code as a vocal print, ensuring he’d still be able to enter if he wound up forgetting his actual numerical code and waited for the door to open.
He noticed his bag, as well as the folded down kennel and the second bag which was Sidi’s possessions – his bowls for food and water, toys, harnesses, treats…those kinds of things that Jeremy kept with him when he travelled with Sidi. All of which was set neatly inside the door, by the wall and ready for him to put away. Except…
“Computer, initiate a subspace message to Lieutenant Steven Mulgrew,” Jeremy said as he unclipped Sidi from the lead and the harness. He allowed the dog the liberty to begin exploring the space where they found themselves while he planned to contact Mulgrew to talk to him.
“Please state destination receipt,” the computer intoned.
Jeremy slid into the chair behind the desk while scowling. “I am not aware of the destination,” he said, his right hand tapping at his thigh while he thought. “Computer, he left on a transport ship from this station earlier today, can you send the communication using those parameters.”
“Negative, please state destination receipt.”
Jeremy shook his head while the rate and force of his tapping increased. “Computer,” he stated, almost pleading. He needed to talk to a friend, someone who would understand him and what he was going through right now and…because of his damned condition he couldn’t even do that! He couldn’t remember a single simple thing like what transport vessel his friend boarded, even though they sat and waited for it together! He slammed the desk in frustration, then, because of the pain flowing up his arm, he did it again. “Why the hell does everything have to be so hard!” he said, nearly shouting. It was just a stupid ship name! What was so important about that it should slip his mind!
He stood, his right hand aching. But…
”Computer, display all transport shuttles that left this starbase since 0600 hours this morning.”
“Here is a list of the transport shuttles listed as leaving the starbase since 0600 this morning.”
Jeremy looked at the display, the frustration growing and taking over, mixed with anger and the sadness as none of them struck him as familiar. He felt the bumping against his leg and saw Sidi’s brown eyes staring up at him then just a quiet, almost quizzical bark.
“I’m sorry, Sidi, I’m…I’m…” but he didn’t know what he was. He was angry, he was upset, he was hurting because of the situation in which he found himself and now he didn’t even have a friend he could speak with, or at the very least one that spoke Federation Standard and could talk back to him. He sat in the chair, shaking his head while his vision blurred. But, Sidi put his paws onto the chair and his lap, his warm, humid breath pressing against Jeremy’s face. “I’m sorry, you’re a great friend, Sidi, I just need…I need someone who can talk to me. I wish you could learn to speak but you haven’t.”
He shook his head again. The Captain told him to wait in his quarters, but what was the point of doing so? It was obvious she would side with Stowe in this issue as evidenced by her lie of a Captain’s Mast. Stowe already stated he was going to withhold his ‘pass muster’ from Stone, meaning that even if Stowe didn’t have him thrown from the ship himself, Stone failed to follow the captain’s requirements. He would not be a member of this ship, this crew. He should leave now and save himself the time waiting.
But the captain ordered him to remain in his quarters. Even though there was no point to it. He couldn’t even consider these ‘his’ quarters since he was nothing more than an unwanted guest on this ship. Unwanted by everyone, including himself. He looked at the pile of his and Sidi’s stuff. All he had to do was order the transport to the starbase’s quartermaster office for storage until he obtained quarters there…quarters long enough to secure travel orders to wherever Starfleet would send him this time.
Except, would they? How many more times would he have to fight for his right to be what he was meant to be? This is what he remembered. All he remembered through everything. He was a security officer – it was all he was. It’s all he could be. He didn’t know how to be anything else. He didn’t know how to be a son or a brother, an uncle, a friend. All he knew to be was a security officer and…it seemed…he couldn’t even be that. He’d been trying to hold on to that for so long, how much longer would they let him be that? How much longer did he have to fight just to be?
He didn’t even know if he had the credits necessary to book private passage home and…
He turned and went to a knee in front of Sidi. The dog sat on his haunches and just regarded the human before him. If he left Starfleet…or was put out of Starfleet…he wouldn’t have…he wouldn’t…
Impulsively he grabbed the dog around the neck, pulling him to him in a tight embrace. So few friends, so few! And one of them was a dog. A simple dog who couldn’t actually communicate with words but with looks and body language and the simple wag of a tail. He related better to a dog than he did with just about every other sentient being in the universe because of the way he was broken apart and remade into some form of mental Frankensteinian monster.
If he left Starfleet, if he wasn’t in Starfleet anymore, they’d take Sidi away from him. Take away one of the less than handful of friends he had. He’d be cast adrift with a family he barely remembered, with no purpose for his life. He’d be…nothing but a burden. Without the constant friendship of Sidi at his side.
Burying his face into the dog’s fur, Jeremy gave into the hopelessness and despair that flowed through him, giving vent to the frustration and horrors of his condition. The dog sat, pushing against the human, without any care, it seemed, that his fur was becoming damp.
It was time without measure before Jeremy’s head lifted. He wiped irritating bits of hair from his face and frowned as he turned to look at the monitor. “Computer,” he said, his voice tense and hoarse, “The Shamballa,” he said as he sat back into the chair in front of the terminal. “Send a message to Lieutenant Steven Mulgrew on the Shamballa,”.
Connecting subspace message…please standby flashed on the computer screen.