06-18-2024, 01:06 AM
==Security Office, some time after el Telenovela breaks up==
==I thought to make a horseshoe, and asked my hammer thus/
He said “I’ll ask the anvil what you require of us.”
The hammer asked the anvil, and she at once agreed/
That they should meet together in the way that I decreed.==
“So,” Mackenzie began, “let’s just get all of this clear.” And at that, Benjamin just couldn’t help but start laughing, which of course failed to amuse the lawyer at all. She let him continue for a minute – it had been a stressful day, she recognized – but eventually had had enough. “Can I continue?”
He put a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply and calming himself before nodding. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, fighting down another giggle.
“Thank you,” she said. “So, making myself clear: I have full clearance” – she set a padd down in front of her – “to your history and your missions, insofar as this case requires. I know you’ve got a couple of classified missions in your dossier, including the one you just finished that provoked this whole situation.” She set down a couple of other padds, and then a couple more. “And what a situation it is.”
“Not a lot I can do about that,” Benjamin said, leaning his head back against the bulkhead.
“Other than not send a confession in?” she retorted. “No, probably not. This one has brass all over it, and not in a good way. They’re digging into you and everyone around you, all the way down. So we need to do the same as best we can: we start at the beginning.”
“Really?” he asked. “What beginning? Of the mission, of my career?”
“Of your life.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, that’s about what I thought.” This time Mackenzie did, in fact, smile. “If I’m going to defend you, I need to know about you, and a three paragraph precis of your life in a dossier won’t cut it.” She grabbed one of the padds out of her case – seriously, how many did she have in there? – and started to read. “Born on Eta Draconis, father was a miner, mother was a… unlisted?” Her eyes went to Benjamin.
“Homemaker, I guess,” he replied. “I don’t really know.”
Her eyebrow quirked up, but she continued. “Two siblings, both younger, and – ah, I see. Mother died in childbirth of the youngest.” Benjamin felt his head fall to his chest, not having made a conscious decision to do so. “Being a miner, your father worked long hours at hard, physical labor.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin said. “I had to take care of them myself most of the time.”
“Even though you weren’t even in middle school yet?”
“I know, it sounds crazy,” he said. “We did have help, especially early on, but the day-to-day of keeping Mary and David out of trouble, getting to and from school and the like? Getting food ready for all of us? Yeah, that was me.”
“Heavy responsibility for a child so young,” Mackenzie said, no inflection to her voice at all. He wasn’t sure if she respected him for it, or was judging his dad for neglect.
“Dad was there,” he said. “At least, he tried to be as best he could. He had to work hard to support us, and he just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “He tried his best,” he repeated meekly.
She nodded, knowingly. “I understand,” she said, and left it at that. “But I can see – anyone can see, really – that that leaves a mark on a man.” She stood, walking around the table but still holding the padd. “You resented him, even if you don’t care to admit it, because while you should’ve been playing with your own friends, maybe getting a girlfriend, getting into trouble of one kind or another, you were doing his job.”
Benjamin couldn’t help it. He simply nodded his head, admitting the truth of it. He’d come to terms with that not too long ago, and still hated himself for it. He and his dad had already talked about it, sorted through it, and forgiven one another. But even though he’d forgiven his dad for it, he still hadn’t forgiven himself. And her dredging it back up only made the pain today had already carried that much worse.
She appeared to notice she’d struck a nerve and relented. “I don’t judge, you remember. I have to dig up the skeletons to save your hide now,” she soothed. He looked up again, saw her leaning against the table and watching him. “I’ve got my own issues with my father, which I will not go into, but I can sympathize. I hope you’ve gotten on with yours since, but either way it's something that the prosecutor will likely bring up.”
“What, that I’ve been a responsible adult since I was 10?” he scoffed.
“That you’ve been resentful about being stuck as the responsible one since you were ten, that your lack of a childhood contributed to you having a rebellious streak that remains unchecked, and that your father issues likely extend to anyone in authority over you so that you see them as mostly useless and try to do everything on your own.” Mackenzie gave him a solid stare - not pointed, not condescending, just holding his gaze as her words sunk in.
“It’s a tough reading,” she said, “but it fits the facts and their likely narrative. So we have to be prepared for that.”
They continued to talk, Mackenzie asking more pointed and better questions than his therapist ever had, and making note after note on her padd. Eventually, she set it down and rubbed at her eyes. “Alright, let’s call it there for the evening,” she said.
“Evening?” he asked. He finally realized how parched his throat was, and sat down as his stomach rumbled. “I didn’t realize it had been so long.”
“Yeah,” she said, “discovery can be like that sometimes. But I think we’ve got what we want from your childhood: issues, yes, but they’ve been resolved and so they’re only partially germane to the charges you’re up against.”
“Partially?”
“Well,” she said as she started to pack the multitude of padds back up in an order only she seemed to understand, “the resolution happened after the Pomn debacle, but before the current one, so hopefully that’ll be taken into account.”
He sighed and slumped back against the wall. Pomn. There was something that should’ve stayed buried. And here he was, stupidly bringing it back up. “And yes,” she said as if she could read his thoughts, “we will discuss that in time. But not today.
“I’ll send someone with some food, and I’d recommend you get some rest. We’ve got a lot of this yet to go through.” She stood, case in hand. “Anything I can do for you for now?”
“Unless you have a time machine…”
She chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” And with that she left.
And Elias was again alone with his thoughts.
==And it’s sparks a’flying/
Passions strong/
I am the blacksmith singing/
The hammer and the anvil song.
—The Longest Johns, “Hammer and Anvil Song”==
==TBC==
==I thought to make a horseshoe, and asked my hammer thus/
He said “I’ll ask the anvil what you require of us.”
The hammer asked the anvil, and she at once agreed/
That they should meet together in the way that I decreed.==
“So,” Mackenzie began, “let’s just get all of this clear.” And at that, Benjamin just couldn’t help but start laughing, which of course failed to amuse the lawyer at all. She let him continue for a minute – it had been a stressful day, she recognized – but eventually had had enough. “Can I continue?”
He put a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply and calming himself before nodding. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, fighting down another giggle.
“Thank you,” she said. “So, making myself clear: I have full clearance” – she set a padd down in front of her – “to your history and your missions, insofar as this case requires. I know you’ve got a couple of classified missions in your dossier, including the one you just finished that provoked this whole situation.” She set down a couple of other padds, and then a couple more. “And what a situation it is.”
“Not a lot I can do about that,” Benjamin said, leaning his head back against the bulkhead.
“Other than not send a confession in?” she retorted. “No, probably not. This one has brass all over it, and not in a good way. They’re digging into you and everyone around you, all the way down. So we need to do the same as best we can: we start at the beginning.”
“Really?” he asked. “What beginning? Of the mission, of my career?”
“Of your life.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, that’s about what I thought.” This time Mackenzie did, in fact, smile. “If I’m going to defend you, I need to know about you, and a three paragraph precis of your life in a dossier won’t cut it.” She grabbed one of the padds out of her case – seriously, how many did she have in there? – and started to read. “Born on Eta Draconis, father was a miner, mother was a… unlisted?” Her eyes went to Benjamin.
“Homemaker, I guess,” he replied. “I don’t really know.”
Her eyebrow quirked up, but she continued. “Two siblings, both younger, and – ah, I see. Mother died in childbirth of the youngest.” Benjamin felt his head fall to his chest, not having made a conscious decision to do so. “Being a miner, your father worked long hours at hard, physical labor.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin said. “I had to take care of them myself most of the time.”
“Even though you weren’t even in middle school yet?”
“I know, it sounds crazy,” he said. “We did have help, especially early on, but the day-to-day of keeping Mary and David out of trouble, getting to and from school and the like? Getting food ready for all of us? Yeah, that was me.”
“Heavy responsibility for a child so young,” Mackenzie said, no inflection to her voice at all. He wasn’t sure if she respected him for it, or was judging his dad for neglect.
“Dad was there,” he said. “At least, he tried to be as best he could. He had to work hard to support us, and he just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “He tried his best,” he repeated meekly.
She nodded, knowingly. “I understand,” she said, and left it at that. “But I can see – anyone can see, really – that that leaves a mark on a man.” She stood, walking around the table but still holding the padd. “You resented him, even if you don’t care to admit it, because while you should’ve been playing with your own friends, maybe getting a girlfriend, getting into trouble of one kind or another, you were doing his job.”
Benjamin couldn’t help it. He simply nodded his head, admitting the truth of it. He’d come to terms with that not too long ago, and still hated himself for it. He and his dad had already talked about it, sorted through it, and forgiven one another. But even though he’d forgiven his dad for it, he still hadn’t forgiven himself. And her dredging it back up only made the pain today had already carried that much worse.
She appeared to notice she’d struck a nerve and relented. “I don’t judge, you remember. I have to dig up the skeletons to save your hide now,” she soothed. He looked up again, saw her leaning against the table and watching him. “I’ve got my own issues with my father, which I will not go into, but I can sympathize. I hope you’ve gotten on with yours since, but either way it's something that the prosecutor will likely bring up.”
“What, that I’ve been a responsible adult since I was 10?” he scoffed.
“That you’ve been resentful about being stuck as the responsible one since you were ten, that your lack of a childhood contributed to you having a rebellious streak that remains unchecked, and that your father issues likely extend to anyone in authority over you so that you see them as mostly useless and try to do everything on your own.” Mackenzie gave him a solid stare - not pointed, not condescending, just holding his gaze as her words sunk in.
“It’s a tough reading,” she said, “but it fits the facts and their likely narrative. So we have to be prepared for that.”
They continued to talk, Mackenzie asking more pointed and better questions than his therapist ever had, and making note after note on her padd. Eventually, she set it down and rubbed at her eyes. “Alright, let’s call it there for the evening,” she said.
“Evening?” he asked. He finally realized how parched his throat was, and sat down as his stomach rumbled. “I didn’t realize it had been so long.”
“Yeah,” she said, “discovery can be like that sometimes. But I think we’ve got what we want from your childhood: issues, yes, but they’ve been resolved and so they’re only partially germane to the charges you’re up against.”
“Partially?”
“Well,” she said as she started to pack the multitude of padds back up in an order only she seemed to understand, “the resolution happened after the Pomn debacle, but before the current one, so hopefully that’ll be taken into account.”
He sighed and slumped back against the wall. Pomn. There was something that should’ve stayed buried. And here he was, stupidly bringing it back up. “And yes,” she said as if she could read his thoughts, “we will discuss that in time. But not today.
“I’ll send someone with some food, and I’d recommend you get some rest. We’ve got a lot of this yet to go through.” She stood, case in hand. “Anything I can do for you for now?”
“Unless you have a time machine…”
She chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” And with that she left.
And Elias was again alone with his thoughts.
==And it’s sparks a’flying/
Passions strong/
I am the blacksmith singing/
The hammer and the anvil song.
—The Longest Johns, “Hammer and Anvil Song”==
==TBC==