The science ensign walked into Edie's office and plopped down onto a
chair. He didn't bother knocking; the door was open anyway, she looked
busy with some sort of work, and he didn't mind waiting until she was
finished. If she didn't take too long, at least.
Edie had been humming some insignificant tune to herself, as she
tended one of the many houseplants which had overrun her office. One
of her department assistants had once mentioned the difficulty of
focusing within the space, given its resemblance to a world's
rainforest. Behind her, the desk was overrun with PADDs and various
spent equipment. The Chief Engineer had a problem in letting go of an
old tool, instead she hoarded them with the intent of fixing them and
giving them new life. A task which had yet to move past the
'collection' phase. The disheveled appearing Commander had been too
distracted to even take notice in the arrival of Ensign Burgundy - it
had been when she turned around and saw his presence that she gasped
and dropped her rusty watering can.
"Oh….. Ensign Burgundy…. I didn't hear you come in." Edie looked at
the man blankly for a moment. She had yet to take a particular liking
to the Ensign - often finding his comments and abrasive attitude most
unbecoming. "Is there something I can do for you?" She raised a brow
and slowly picked up her misplaced item, hardly worried about the
water which was now soaking in the carpet below. She then took a seat
adjacent to the man but could not see him over the pile of equipment.
Within a moment, she had waved some of the pile to the left which had
facilitated an acceptable view.
The man sighed at her reaction. He was sooo tired of this ship. The
Captain. His annoying Yeoman. This old-and-probably-senile Chief
Engineer. Not to mention the gelatinous head of his own department… A
metallic snickering inside his head reminded him that Perdita Animo
was listening in on his thoughts, even at this distance from the
Science Department. He rubbed his temples absently and tried to return
to the moment. The small container in his hand helped with that, and
he promptly set it on a small uncluttered spot on Edie's desk.
"I finally caught the bug that's been bothering us. I was planning to
go to the Captain with it, but I know his first comment will be that
he wants a full report on all the shenanigans it may have caused. We
already know a few of those, of course." He shook the container a bit,
but the creature didn't stir, suspended as it was in a forcefield.
"I've run a thorough diagnostic on it and can fairly accurately
pinpoint if it's been present somewhere when something's gone wrong.
At least present in any dimension our sensors can reach." He produced
a pad in his other hand and offered it over a lower section of the
trash pile on Edie's desk. "Here's all the technical glitches and
other, uhm, weirdness that I've been able to tie to this little
creature so far. Can you read through it and check your reports to see
if you find anything similar that's been happening lately?" Of course,
'similar' was a bit of a misnomer considering all the hilariously
different effects a dimension-shifting, radiation-surfing,
energy-eating beetle could have on starship life and systems, but he
gladly put the onus of guessing on someone else.
"Well.. Well… Wellllll…" Edie's eyes lit up at the sight of the
creature, contained within the prison Burgundy had constructed. "Isn't
it just cute?" She leaned forward with a big grin on her face. Sure -
the little bastard had caused quite a stir within her own department,
and had truly tripled their work load since it had started running
amuck among the Lone Star. The estranged elderly woman tapped the side
of the container with one of her long and multicoloured nails - yes,
they were certainly against Starfleet regulations but she was simply
far too beyond caring about such things.
"Lonie. Run a level ten multi spectrum analysis. Allocate all
available sensor power, whatever you need. Compare to all diagnostic
and engineering reports available from the past several days." The
computer responded in due turn after Edie moved some more junk off her
desk and matched the container with a micro-densed scanner which was
built into her work station.
An array of data began to display behind the birds nest hair of the
Lone Star's Chief Engineer, she turned around to take some of it and
could quickly be heard making several different pitched "hmmmmmms" and
"ahasssss" - she was sure it would only continue to aggravate Burgundy
further, alas she had been motivated to toss in a few extra ones for
him. "There certainly appears to be some correlation with this little
friend of ours. However - not everything is matching up." She flailed
herself back around to look at Burgundy.
"Personally. I think what has not matched up has just been Lonie -
throwing a bit of a tantrum. He isn't happy that we have been out here
so long." The woman shrugged. She knew despite her best efforts, that
Lonie was in desperate need of a deep cleaning and refit at a formal
Starfleet port. The ship had grown tired in their time out in very
deep space.
Burgundy let out a long sigh of relief. Just being in the presence of
Commander Freelove was annoying; having to actually listen to her was
even worse. But it paid off this time. "Thank you, Commander," he said
as he rose and - a little too enthusiastically - snatched the little
container with the bug back. "That was truly helpful of you." The
ensign tapped some commands into his pad, attaching all the relevant
incidents to his report on the beetle.
Edie raised her brow inquisitively for a moment, then shrugged off the
feeling that Burgundy was being sarcastic. She was rather impressed
that the man had been able to capture such an elusive creature - it
truly was cute though. Part of her had been tempted to take it out of
the container and pet it.
The science officer smirked, possibly for the first time in months. He
felt like he was on the verge of finishing a grand project.
Before he exited the office he was struck by a thought, or rather a
hunch. Something was just a little too good about it all. He
half-turned back to the engineer. "Commander? Could you do me a favour
and send all the data you have on Lonie's, uhm, 'tantrums' to the
Science Department? Maybe we can be of assistance with them, in lieu
of proper shipyards."
"Oh…. Yes….. I think I can make that happen Mr. Burgundy." Edie smiled
awkwardly and looked around at the pile of PADDs on her desk. She had
a terrible habit of writing her reports offline and forgetting to sync
up with Lonie's databases. It was her way of not hurting the ship's
feelings had something been reported in less than stellar condition.
She was certain the requested information was compiled among the
mess…. Somewheres…
"Good work on the bug catching by the way." She deflected anymore
exploration of the requested information and returned to tending her
plant-children after the Ensign's departure from her office.
---
Commander Edith Freelove
Chief of Engineering
Ensign Burgundy
Science Officer
Star Trek: Lone Star
SD242011.04 - "It bugs me..." [Burgundy]
Months. Many of them.
Burgundy was usually quick to snap back whenever he didn't like something. He was cocky, so to speak. Rude and obnoxious, even.
The last many months had been, or at least should have been, a humbling experience for him. Some sort of insect had flown aboard the ship, surfing a tachyon beam to do so, and he had been tasked to find it. This, it turned out, was a sisyphean task. Each time he made progress, the bug eluded him somehow once again.
46 times he had managed to observe it. 19 of those times he had tried, but failed, to catch it.
After the initial interest in the gigantic sports event had died off aboard he had managed to wrangle access to sensory equipment to help out. The bug in question only intermittently manifested itself in three-dimensional space, yet still wreaked havoc in a bunch of systems on the ship. In strange, strange ways.
For an entire week the warp core had shut down for six seconds every hour.
During two days a couple of months ago the colour green was nowhere to be seen on the ship, as that particular wavelength of light warped around a movement caused by the bug.
Perdita Animo had been unable to make themselves heard telepathically for a blissful six hours in July. Hours that Burgundy was nostalgic about now, but that had caused a large amount of stress to some of the senior officers in the Science Department; especially Lieutenant Karien.
The hunt had been long, excruciatingly difficult, and painstakingly boring. But now Burgundy was staring at his price. The bug, no larger than a needle pin head and glowing softly orange as it was held in stasis in an electromagnetic field, was soon to be his.
He opened the small translucent container constructed for the purpose of keeping the tiny creature in three-dimensional space and still.
He lowered it towards the little thing, muttering curses at it under his breath.
=-=
By Ensign Burgundy
SD242011.01 – "Famous Last Words." [Felix/Regina]
Eleven months after the world's weirdest olympiad had poured into Lone Star space, the wayward vessel continued its drift through the outer reaches. Felix found himself once again opposite Regina Monkfish. It was funny how someone that used to drive you mad could end up being reassuring with their madness a decade later.
Each of them had a whisky; the Captain watched as Regina wiped the rim rhythmically with a damp disinfecting wipe after each sip.
"And there's still no news from Starfleet, Captain? Honestly. You would think they had all come down with some sort of virus. Perhaps a purging tincture was supplied about at Starfleet Command. Maybe long-term communications are down. *There might have been spiders.*"
Felix pretended to mull her suggestions over. He missed having an XO; even Casparo Zolog's mutton interruptions would do but instead he had become the galaxy's first trappist communications officer. The Chief of the Boat and her inane, hypoxytrithate-induced elucidations would have to do for now.
"The last pod was supposed to contain our new Chief Medical Officer and Executive Officer. That was four months ago."
"But it exploded," Regina added helpfully. "Into 4.7 million pieces. I catalogued the majority –"
"And your work was instrumental," Felix replied. His head rung. "We've had the two test communications from Outpost 404. But other than that, we've scanned and we've scanned, and there's nothing."
"I could clean the array again, Captain?"
Roused to stand, Felix levered himself out of his ready room chair. "You did an excellent job of it this morning, Chief. No need to go out again." She had, he thought, to be the only person ever to have rubbed down the *outside* of the external sensors. Alone. With vinegar, and wire wool. "I'm not sure the problem is at our end. So it must be at theirs."
"So we should go back," Regina added, after a time.
That wasn't the question. He heaved artificially and lent his empty glass down on the table. One of Regina's underlings – a pair of identical twin Andorians she had taken to having in her shadow –provided a bottle to the CoB, who topped them both up. The Andorian petty officer retreated back into the shadows. Sometimes, Felix couldn't tell if they were still in the room.
The question was: how could he do best by his crew? Hell, it had been boring out this far. All the new races they'd met had been demure, polite, in hoc to some grand organisation or other that paid little mind to their starship from a far-away federation of planets. Not like anybody else on board held all that too dear anyway; they'd all taken it as read that Starfleet didn't want them long before anybody had actually told them, collectively, to scram. Would going back make things any better for them? And if they did and there was nothing to save? They'd be breaking mission orders and voided from saving themselves in the future. Out here together, then, or sectioned off back home.
"We'll give them another week," Felix said again. "And then – and then we'll see."
He sat back down, his blond fronds bouncing into place after him. "Cheers, Chief."
Regina beamed, enjoying her role as confidante. "*Yes,* Captain*.*"
"You must be enjoying the peace and quiet anyway? No–"
The room's hue crashed into flashing burgundy as a certain Ensign came on the line.
"Red alert, senior staff to the bridge!"
Felix rolled his eyes. "Famous last words," he mumbled to Monkfish. As the doors opened he seemed to pass his glass into an open space in the air, which took it away.
=-=
by Captain Felix de l'Isle and Chief Regina Monkfish
SD242001.04 - "Challenges/Orders" [Burgundy]
There are several factors that can complicate the search for a weird space beetle on a starship. One of them is not knowing anything about the bug, other than the fact that it somehow travels on tachyon beams and may or may not be able to phase shift either fully or partially.
Another is when all processing power for the sensors has been allocated to analysing race ship data in order to determine odds for ship-wide betting rings.
“Are you serious?” Burgundy asked lieutenant Karien when he found out. “Is this even legal?” he forgot to add “ma’am”, but Karien was the only senior in the Science Department who didn’t go out of her way to make the ensign’s life difficult. Besides, she hated titles and ranks. She had chosen to remain in the Lone Star’s Science Department for personal reasons.
“There’s nothing illegal about math, Ensign.” she replied dryly, seemingly unaware that she was speaking in unison with Perdita’s telepathic voice inside Burgundy’s head. The prepondrian shivered and pressed a thumb against his temple. He often did just that when experiencing these uncanny-valley moments involving his gelatinous department head. Karien gave him a quizzical smile, as if she knew more about him than he did himself. Burgundy peered at her uneasily; sometimes it was hard to tell where Perdita ended and Karien began. They’d been working together for so long.
“I am under orders from the Captain to find our critter passenger,” he said sternly, almost petulantly. For a second he wasn’t sure whether he was addressing the lieutenant standing in front of him or the cube in the tank some metres away. “Surely that trumps any fun-and-games sort of usage of the sensors?”
He was surprised to see that lieutenant Karien simply laughed at his request, shook her head and walked off without answering. His surprise was eventually replaced by anger when lieutenant commander Animo’s tin-can voice echoed in his head again: You weren’t given an order, Ensign. You were issued a challenge. Good luck!
Burgundy wanted to scream and shout. He wanted to instill fear and respect in the people around him. He wanted them to feel as scared and diminished as he did. But in truth he was closer to tears than he was to any sort of authoritative expression; when he saw that some senior officers turned to him with amused smiles he grabbed a portable sensor kit and stormed off.
Another is when all processing power for the sensors has been allocated to analysing race ship data in order to determine odds for ship-wide betting rings.
“Are you serious?” Burgundy asked lieutenant Karien when he found out. “Is this even legal?” he forgot to add “ma’am”, but Karien was the only senior in the Science Department who didn’t go out of her way to make the ensign’s life difficult. Besides, she hated titles and ranks. She had chosen to remain in the Lone Star’s Science Department for personal reasons.
“There’s nothing illegal about math, Ensign.” she replied dryly, seemingly unaware that she was speaking in unison with Perdita’s telepathic voice inside Burgundy’s head. The prepondrian shivered and pressed a thumb against his temple. He often did just that when experiencing these uncanny-valley moments involving his gelatinous department head. Karien gave him a quizzical smile, as if she knew more about him than he did himself. Burgundy peered at her uneasily; sometimes it was hard to tell where Perdita ended and Karien began. They’d been working together for so long.
“I am under orders from the Captain to find our critter passenger,” he said sternly, almost petulantly. For a second he wasn’t sure whether he was addressing the lieutenant standing in front of him or the cube in the tank some metres away. “Surely that trumps any fun-and-games sort of usage of the sensors?”
He was surprised to see that lieutenant Karien simply laughed at his request, shook her head and walked off without answering. His surprise was eventually replaced by anger when lieutenant commander Animo’s tin-can voice echoed in his head again: You weren’t given an order, Ensign. You were issued a challenge. Good luck!
Burgundy wanted to scream and shout. He wanted to instill fear and respect in the people around him. He wanted them to feel as scared and diminished as he did. But in truth he was closer to tears than he was to any sort of authoritative expression; when he saw that some senior officers turned to him with amused smiles he grabbed a portable sensor kit and stormed off.
SD241912.18 - "Tachyon Beetles. (or "How Many Times (pt 72).")" [Felix/Burgundy]
-= Deck 8, USS Lone Star =-
The Captain and Ensign Burgundy were standing alone in a small conference room within the Science Department. Semantically alone, anyways. The room had been rebuilt so that one corner gave way to a part of Perdita's tank, equipped with audio emitter should they choose to make their presence known in a civilized manner.
Lieutenant Commander Animo claimed to be very busy at the moment, however, making their presence or lack thereof a philosophical question more than anything else. It mattered little to the two humanoid officers currently staring at a holo projection showing the rapid deployment and disassembly of small robotic sensor drones in the ship's wake. It was the fourth time Burgundy had watched the exact same sequence, and he was idly wondering if the Captain would notice what he himself had missed the first two times. Burgundy's jaw was clenched. Perdita was laughing at him inside his head. He wasn't sure whether it was his imagination or an actual telepathic laugh. Either way it made him more pissed off at them.
With the patience he normally reserved for Admiral Stanton and (other) exceptionally pretty women, Captain de l'Isle breathed as though succumbing to a panic attack: two in, three out. Three in, four out. Each beat imperceptible; each smothering his frustration not only with Burgundy, but also with this obfuscated problem, and with the fact that they appeared to have to solve it together.
"There," Burgundy paused the projection, slowly rewound it a couple of seconds and pointed to a very thin blue light streak between the ship and the infinitesimal drone that was just about to disassemble behind it. He was angry. Angry at Felix. Angry at Perdita. Angry at the universe at large. He turned to the Captain to explain, starting at the very beginning for no particular reason other than being pissed off at the whole ordeal.
"I had a design for the sensors. It was simple, it did the job and precisely only just that. But then you had stealth demands!" his arms were overly animated, and one wall had lit up with an animation going through the nineteen different revisions to the slipstream ship wake sensors. "So I added shielding, directed the tachyon beam and added an element for disassembly assistance," -- a fancy way of saying explosive -- "But of course with the turbulence of slipstream the little things wobbled and twisted so we couldn't get any input," he was rambling, and Perdita was snickering continuously inside his head. "I added stabilizers, I increased the strength of the tachyon pulse, I had to compensate for increased weight, I rewrote the sensor software," he continued going through a long list of incremental modifications, louder and louder.
Felix had begun to envision punching Burgundy in the throat as opposed to actually doing it. He rolled the major knuckles across the palm of his right hand, sometimes out of sequence, imagining their collision with the man's Adam's apple. How the chasm of his pastry throat would crumple like a dissenting soufflé. Each of these words had rippled across his ears before. Each was dispiritingly repetitive. So, each time, the captain found himself forcing Burgundy's airway shut in a single punch, embodying the ripples of crushed flesh and corrupt pleasure that would come from it.
"So what's stopping you from finishing up, Burgundy? Surely you aren't asking for the insight of an ex-pilot. Or your commanding officer." This was a holding quip. With concentration, and without visualising the visitation of pain upon his Prepondrian bridge officer, there was a solution here. "Stop giving me the history lesson and give me the (beat) problem." Felix had tried to stop swearing at Burgundy; it gave him nothing but ammunition. And it was against the Starfleet code of conduct. Allegedly.
Burgundy stared at him. "No," he stated flatly, jaw clenched. "I certainly don't need any more help from you." His tone was sarcastic and condescending. "As I said my first solution was perfectly adequate for the job. All your extraneous demands and forced modifications are what got us into this mess." He folded his arms and fell silent, staring at the projection that now ran the short sequence where a streak of light appeared between the probe and ship on a loop.
Felix watched it, too. "Just a couple of extraneous alterations to stop us being detected and destroyed, yes," he pitched cheerily. He scrubbed the timeline path up and back, interrupting Burgundy's viewpoint, speeding and slowing the motion spot as much for study as for sport. He had to reserve any true reaction for when Burgundy actually crossed the line: mutiny, perhaps, or more likely total insolence. "One way or another we still can't run with this until we have more data on the problem."
The captain started to rise to leave.
"We have the data we need," the science officer muttered. "I'm running calculations on it already, and we'll either have a result or a non-result in a week or so. The research is of a nature where more data won't be helpful beyond this point." he waved a hand dismissively. "No, the problem is not that." Burgundy turned back to face his captain. There was something else than anger in his eyes; insecurity. Almost perfectly hidden, but visible none the less to someone with Felix' experience and keen people sense. "It's the bug that was propelled aboard by the tachyon beam." The ensign clenched his jaw yet again. "And that, Captain, is decidedly your problem. I wash my hands of that mess."
Even the dim hum of the auxiliary conference room seemed to quieten, expecting the CO's reaction. Felix clapped his hands – usually a reliable way to clear a room of Perdita Animo, who disliked the smacking sound on that particular frequency – and spun on the spot, turning to face Burgundy like it was an afterthought; like he had been going to leave but had remembered something inconsequential, like Burgundy, whom he now approached sympathetically.
"It must have been difficult for you," Felix said, smiling thinly.
The science officer took half a step back. He wasn't sure what the question was about, but it somehow got under his skin. "No, not really… I… what?" The defense he'd started formulating fell apart before he even uttered it. This wasn't about the research. That much was clear. Although he couldn't cognitively comprehend right away what the Captain was getting at, he felt it in his gut.
"The feelings of inadequacy," the Captain revealed simply, searching Burgundy's visage as though inspecting a relic for signs of damage. "Usually, a scientist loves to track and find the error. But I suppose your deep-seated feeling of incompetence marrs that, does it? Originating from your childhood – or an old relationship, perhaps? I can see how it drives your emotional imbalance. Makes you give up on a problem, say things you don't mean." Each word, as the sentence progressed, became more studded.
The atmosphere was dense as the two officers locked eyes with each other. Felix studying his subordinate with determined curiosity; the ensign looking back with a face that turned from ill-concealed anguish to defiant anger. "Fine," he said at last. "I'll find the little critter." He turned around and stormed out, not waiting to be dismissed. Felix' combination of ruthless inquisition and authority had cut him deeper than he liked to admit. Years of forced therapy had attempted to unveil his being in a controlled manner, but each time he had resisted. Now, as he was cornered and so harshly dissected and condemned, his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil. For the first time in his adult life he had trouble holding back tears.
He had to find that crappy little beetle. He had to show the Captain. His very self-worth hinged on it.
-=-=-=-=-
by Captain Felix de l'Isle and Ensign Burgundy
The Captain and Ensign Burgundy were standing alone in a small conference room within the Science Department. Semantically alone, anyways. The room had been rebuilt so that one corner gave way to a part of Perdita's tank, equipped with audio emitter should they choose to make their presence known in a civilized manner.
Lieutenant Commander Animo claimed to be very busy at the moment, however, making their presence or lack thereof a philosophical question more than anything else. It mattered little to the two humanoid officers currently staring at a holo projection showing the rapid deployment and disassembly of small robotic sensor drones in the ship's wake. It was the fourth time Burgundy had watched the exact same sequence, and he was idly wondering if the Captain would notice what he himself had missed the first two times. Burgundy's jaw was clenched. Perdita was laughing at him inside his head. He wasn't sure whether it was his imagination or an actual telepathic laugh. Either way it made him more pissed off at them.
With the patience he normally reserved for Admiral Stanton and (other) exceptionally pretty women, Captain de l'Isle breathed as though succumbing to a panic attack: two in, three out. Three in, four out. Each beat imperceptible; each smothering his frustration not only with Burgundy, but also with this obfuscated problem, and with the fact that they appeared to have to solve it together.
"There," Burgundy paused the projection, slowly rewound it a couple of seconds and pointed to a very thin blue light streak between the ship and the infinitesimal drone that was just about to disassemble behind it. He was angry. Angry at Felix. Angry at Perdita. Angry at the universe at large. He turned to the Captain to explain, starting at the very beginning for no particular reason other than being pissed off at the whole ordeal.
"I had a design for the sensors. It was simple, it did the job and precisely only just that. But then you had stealth demands!" his arms were overly animated, and one wall had lit up with an animation going through the nineteen different revisions to the slipstream ship wake sensors. "So I added shielding, directed the tachyon beam and added an element for disassembly assistance," -- a fancy way of saying explosive -- "But of course with the turbulence of slipstream the little things wobbled and twisted so we couldn't get any input," he was rambling, and Perdita was snickering continuously inside his head. "I added stabilizers, I increased the strength of the tachyon pulse, I had to compensate for increased weight, I rewrote the sensor software," he continued going through a long list of incremental modifications, louder and louder.
Felix had begun to envision punching Burgundy in the throat as opposed to actually doing it. He rolled the major knuckles across the palm of his right hand, sometimes out of sequence, imagining their collision with the man's Adam's apple. How the chasm of his pastry throat would crumple like a dissenting soufflé. Each of these words had rippled across his ears before. Each was dispiritingly repetitive. So, each time, the captain found himself forcing Burgundy's airway shut in a single punch, embodying the ripples of crushed flesh and corrupt pleasure that would come from it.
"So what's stopping you from finishing up, Burgundy? Surely you aren't asking for the insight of an ex-pilot. Or your commanding officer." This was a holding quip. With concentration, and without visualising the visitation of pain upon his Prepondrian bridge officer, there was a solution here. "Stop giving me the history lesson and give me the (beat) problem." Felix had tried to stop swearing at Burgundy; it gave him nothing but ammunition. And it was against the Starfleet code of conduct. Allegedly.
Burgundy stared at him. "No," he stated flatly, jaw clenched. "I certainly don't need any more help from you." His tone was sarcastic and condescending. "As I said my first solution was perfectly adequate for the job. All your extraneous demands and forced modifications are what got us into this mess." He folded his arms and fell silent, staring at the projection that now ran the short sequence where a streak of light appeared between the probe and ship on a loop.
Felix watched it, too. "Just a couple of extraneous alterations to stop us being detected and destroyed, yes," he pitched cheerily. He scrubbed the timeline path up and back, interrupting Burgundy's viewpoint, speeding and slowing the motion spot as much for study as for sport. He had to reserve any true reaction for when Burgundy actually crossed the line: mutiny, perhaps, or more likely total insolence. "One way or another we still can't run with this until we have more data on the problem."
The captain started to rise to leave.
"We have the data we need," the science officer muttered. "I'm running calculations on it already, and we'll either have a result or a non-result in a week or so. The research is of a nature where more data won't be helpful beyond this point." he waved a hand dismissively. "No, the problem is not that." Burgundy turned back to face his captain. There was something else than anger in his eyes; insecurity. Almost perfectly hidden, but visible none the less to someone with Felix' experience and keen people sense. "It's the bug that was propelled aboard by the tachyon beam." The ensign clenched his jaw yet again. "And that, Captain, is decidedly your problem. I wash my hands of that mess."
Even the dim hum of the auxiliary conference room seemed to quieten, expecting the CO's reaction. Felix clapped his hands – usually a reliable way to clear a room of Perdita Animo, who disliked the smacking sound on that particular frequency – and spun on the spot, turning to face Burgundy like it was an afterthought; like he had been going to leave but had remembered something inconsequential, like Burgundy, whom he now approached sympathetically.
"It must have been difficult for you," Felix said, smiling thinly.
The science officer took half a step back. He wasn't sure what the question was about, but it somehow got under his skin. "No, not really… I… what?" The defense he'd started formulating fell apart before he even uttered it. This wasn't about the research. That much was clear. Although he couldn't cognitively comprehend right away what the Captain was getting at, he felt it in his gut.
"The feelings of inadequacy," the Captain revealed simply, searching Burgundy's visage as though inspecting a relic for signs of damage. "Usually, a scientist loves to track and find the error. But I suppose your deep-seated feeling of incompetence marrs that, does it? Originating from your childhood – or an old relationship, perhaps? I can see how it drives your emotional imbalance. Makes you give up on a problem, say things you don't mean." Each word, as the sentence progressed, became more studded.
The atmosphere was dense as the two officers locked eyes with each other. Felix studying his subordinate with determined curiosity; the ensign looking back with a face that turned from ill-concealed anguish to defiant anger. "Fine," he said at last. "I'll find the little critter." He turned around and stormed out, not waiting to be dismissed. Felix' combination of ruthless inquisition and authority had cut him deeper than he liked to admit. Years of forced therapy had attempted to unveil his being in a controlled manner, but each time he had resisted. Now, as he was cornered and so harshly dissected and condemned, his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil. For the first time in his adult life he had trouble holding back tears.
He had to find that crappy little beetle. He had to show the Captain. His very self-worth hinged on it.
-=-=-=-=-
by Captain Felix de l'Isle and Ensign Burgundy
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