Star Trek: Erin

Part 45: Chain of Command

     Starfleet funerals aren't emotional affairs. They're clean and efficient. Grieving is behind the scenes.

     That's what I told myself. I told myself that I'd grieved. That I wasn't the crying type. Tragedy happened, and I stepped up. That was why I was still standing.

     We all know about the stages. Shock had given way to anger, which had worn off, leaving behind... nothing. I didn't feel anything about Marple's death. I'd known him, so you would expect something, right? Did I care so little that I'd reached acceptance in barely a day?

     I couldn't tell how the captain was taking it until the eulogy. It had been his mission, after all. Four killed under his care in a mission that meant almost nothing. But there hadn't been a glimmer of emotion. Then, during the eulogy, a slight tremor when referring to the deaths as 'untimely.'

     I think I respected Kirk a little more after that.

     But I stood there, at the funerals for four fellow officers, with dry eyes and resolve where I thought there should be grief. And I realized: I didn't like Marple.

     To be fair, I didn't like a lot of people. But still. I hated myself for not feeling.

     He didn't deserve to die.

     No one does.

     I ended up standing quietly next to Nowak at the reception, sipping at punch that tasted alcoholic but wasn't, disappointing a handful of people who hadn't been on leave in awhile. Nowak had barely said a word all day. Although, I'd caught some especially dark looks aimed at him from Hoal.

     I kept my voice low. "Should I know what happened between you and Hoal?" Lieutenant Hoal was comforting Zabinski. All four of the dead officers were from her cohort.

     Nowak glanced at me. "Perhaps he is displeased with my recent promotion to his level."

     I started. "What?"

     "Four lieutenants gone in our department. Roles needed to be filled." His voice trembled, just a little.

     It was then that I noticed the new patch on Nowak's arm. "Oh." I swallowed hard. "Congratulations."

     "This is not how I wanted to be promoted, Erin."

     "I know." I remembered what he'd said about the evil dimension and realized. He needs me right now. I summoned all the happiness I could and managed a small smile. I was proud of him. Just emotions weren't my strongest right now. "Hey, you've earned this. It may not feel it, but you've proved yourself a hundred times over. So look sharp, lieutenant."

     He dipped his head. "Thank you."

     I patted his shoulder and left to get more punch, keeping an eye on Hoal. Michael raised a hand at my approach. "Sorry about Marple."

     "Yeah."

     "If it helps any, he died fighting for what he believes in. That's the best anyone can ask for."

     I scooped punch. Took a sip.

     "I don't know why you're taking this so hard. No one really liked Marple." Her eyes widened at my expression. "Damn, that came out terribly. I'm so sorry, honestly. I meant he wasn't especially popular."

     That's true. Didn't change how it made me feel. "Yeah," I said. I finished my punch.

     Michael looked at me strangely and departed.

     I've had enough. I tilted my head at Nowak in a question. He understood and nodded. I left the room. My bootsteps barely disturbed the quiet hallway.

     "Cobos!" came a yell behind me.

     I cannot deal with Sprite's bullshit right now. I continued walking.

     Sprite caught my shoulder.

     I whirled. My face was surely as murderous as I felt.

     He steeled himself and pushed on. "Cobos, we've needed to talk for awhile now. We're both hurting, and if you want to talk about what happened to Lieutenant Marple, I can tell you about Section 31 and maybe we—"

     "Shut up," I hissed. He took a surprised step back, which I advanced into. "I don't want to hear your excuses and I don't need your support. Just do your job, I'll do mine, and maybe we can keep this ship running and anyone else from being murdered. Alright?"

     A blank look came over his face. "Fine."

     My face twisted in a snarl. "At least this time, there was a funeral."

     Sprite scowled, obviously biting down on a response. He nodded and strode back down the corridor.

     I continued walking. You're making enemies, Cobos. Are you sure you want this one? My breathing began to slow. Things are going to explode between us. Only question is when.

     No, there's another question. Should I stop it from exploding?

     I shook my head. Deal with Marple's death. Sprite can get over himself.