Earth
#6
==Same day as Artemis launches==
==0900 American Pacific Time
1500 Zulu Time
~1030 Bajoran Time (As observed on DS9), 3 hours after Artemis launch==

==But I told that kid a hundred times, "Don't take the Lakes for granted;
They go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted."
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover's gone into the white squall.

--Stan Rogers, “White Squall”, chorus==

Benjamin hated dress uniforms. He tugged at the collar uncomfortably as he entered the courtroom and sat down, LCdr Rabb taking her own seat next to him. He couldn’t believe just how crowded this room was - every seat in the gallery was full, and he could hear more people outside still talking while they waited before shutting the doors.

Even worse, the room had a larger collection of brass in it than he’d seen at the Crawford Ranch shooting range. There were so many admirals in the room that he wondered how the day-to-day work of Starfleet was getting done for a moment before realizing that it was done by the commanders, lieutenants, and ensigns under them.

“Is that,” he said with a start, “the CinC over there?”

Mackenzie turned and looked over her shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Yep,” she said, “talking to the head of the JAG office and… I think that’s Admiral Bill Anderson? I’m not sure, I’ve only seen him once.”

“Why does he care about this? I’m… I’m nobody,” Elias said.

“Because you may be nobody,” she told him, “but there are a lot of moving parts going on. I’m honestly not sure how this is going to go today.”

He couldn’t blame her. He still was wrestling with his choice, and wasn’t sure how it was all going to work out. Part of him thought about his friends - no, his family - back on Artemis, and just how much this was hurting them. He wished he could have done something different, but it was all far, far too late. 

He thought about his sister, his brother, and his father. He had barely been able to speak to them, and if today went like he expected, it was going to be even worse before it got better. If it went badly, like she seemed to think it could - and with all of the brass in the room he couldn’t say she was wrong - it could be even longer.

Why couldn’t you just let it be, he scolded himself for approximately the seven millionth time. But he couldn’t have done that; he had to make sure that the ax didn’t fall on his friends. He had been certain that the book was being thrown, and he’d tried to jump in the way.

“All rise,” the sergeant at arms said, and a door across the room opened up. He saw Rabb stepping back over to her chair from where she’d been speaking with the opposing counsel, and everyone in the room came to attention. There was another thud, this time the doors from the rear of the room closing.

Three more admirals filed in and took their positions, though despite their lofty ranks they didn’t make much of a dent in the average rank of the room. “This general court martial is now in session,” the voice intoned once again, “the honorable Admiral T’Lara presiding.” The Vulcan woman nodded to her compatriots - a human vice admiral and a Bajoran rear admiral on her left and right, respectively - and they sat, followed by everyone else in the room.

“This court is convened in the matter of Starfleet versus Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Elias,” she said as she consulted a padd. “Do you have the charges, counsel?”

The prosecutor - Benjamin half-expected to see another admiral taking the lead but was pleasantly surprised to see it was only a captain - stood up. “I do, your honor,” he said, and stood with a padd. “Starfleet has seen fit to charge Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Elias as follows: Illegal possession and manufacture of a controlled substance, three counts; possession of restricted technology under the Treaty of Algeron, to wit, a Klingon cloaking device; illegal experimentation with a restricted technology under the Treaty of Algeron; failure to report treaty violations, re the Treaty of Algeron; and conduct unbecoming an officer of Starfleet.”

“Thank you, Captain Stern,” she said, and the prosecutor sat down. Benjamin couldn’t help but notice that he looked almost worried as he stole a glance at Rabb, who wore a solemn expression with just the hint of a smirk. He noted that said hint was on the side next to him, where the prosecutor couldn’t see it. “Lieutenant Commander Elias,” the admiral was saying, “do you understand these charges that have been read to you?”

Rabb nodded, and the pair stood. Benjamin nodded, trying not to let the collar of his dress uniform bother him. “Yes, your honor,” he said.

“And how do you plead?”

Benjamin took in a deep breath and let it out over a three-count. Now that it came to it, he almost couldn’t say it. His life was irrevocably changed at this moment, and in some ways over. He wanted to just go and crawl in a hole and not face reality, but that wasn’t an option.

He had no options.

This is where the road has led you, Ben, he thought, whether you like it or not. Your career is over; you’ve done all you can for your friends. This is it.

So just do it and get it done.


“Guilty, your honor.”

Admiral T’Lara quirked an eyebrow and looked back into the room as the brass all began murmuring to each other, the sheer number of them beginning to take over the room. She reached forward and struck the bell placed in front of her, its clear and brassy notes cutting through the din as she called for order once more. “Quiet please,” she asked, and it was given - if not immediately, then at least quickly enough for her approval.

However, before she could say anything, someone hurried forward and handed a padd to Captain Stern, who looked at it and nodded, sending the newcomer scurrying back to their seat. Ben, still standing, saw that it was a rear admiral acting as errand boy, and wondered when his life had become a circus.

“Are we quite ready to proceed, counsel?” T’Lara asked in a tone that seemed level, but in a Vulcan was tantamount to being called directly to the carpet.

Evidently Stern had enough dealings with Vulcans to know the tone, because he stood and looked decidedly uneasy. He looked at the padd again before continuing. “Yes, your honor,” he said. “In light of the defendant’s plea, the state would like to drop the charges of possession of and experimentation with an illegal technology, and failure to report violations of the Treaty of Algeron.”

This time the audience did more than simply murmur. It was almost deafening. Ben couldn’t help but look at Mackenzie, who seemed as shocked as he was. “What’s happening?” he asked her quietly as the Admiral rang the bell again and again.

“I don’t know,” she hissed back, and stood straight as the bell decidedly failed to bring order to the room.

“Quiet, please!” the human vice admiral on the board was saying, standing up and almost yelling into the room. The bell kept ringing, but the call for silence finally broke through and the room quieted back down.

“Thank you,” T’Lara said, setting down the small rod she had used on the bell before stopping it with her hand. “This is highly unusual, Captain Stern,” she said into the silence. “Do you have a reason for this last-moment change?”

He swallowed and looked back over his shoulder. Ben followed his gaze and saw no less a personage than the CinC just slowly shaking his head. Stern looked back forward and replied, “No, ma’am. I am simply following the directives given me.”

T’Lara looked between the prosecutor and the man at the back of the room, an eyebrow quirked high once again. “Very well,” she said. “Does the state have a sentencing recommendation to accompany Mr. Elias’s plea?”

Stern picked up another padd, and opened a new file. “Yes, your honor. In light of our… changed list of charges,” he said with less surety than the man seemed accustomed to, “our recommendation is a minimum of two years incarceration at a facility of the court’s choosing.”

T’Lara nodded, and then leaned in to listen to the admirals on the left and right of her, before they all nodded in agreement. The Bajoran rear admiral leaned forward and began to speak.

“In light of the prosecutor’s recommendation,” he stated in an almost sepulchral tone, “and the remaining charges against Mr. Elias, and in light of his years of service and his prior record, this court sentences you to two years incarceration without parole. However, a minimum of the first six months of this will be served at the Proxima Centauri III rehabilitation facility, where you will undergo treatment for alcoholism. Once you have been deemed rehabilitated from this, you will be transferred to serve the remainder of your sentence at another facility to be determined at that time.”

“Once you have served your sentence,” the human vice admiral picked up, “you are to be dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. Do you understand this sentencing, Mr. Elias?”

Ben nodded, his heart heavy and his shoulders sagging. “Yes, your honors,” he said, “I do.”

“Let it be noted,” Admiral T’Lara said, “that this court wishes you well in your recovery and in your future life, Mr. Elias.” She made eye contact with someone in the back of the room, an inscrutable Vulcan expression on her face. Ben thought it best not to turn to find out who, exactly, she was looking at. A heartbeat, then two, and she turned her focus once again back to the front. The bell rang, and the board stood. “This court is adjourned,” she said. “Sergeant at arms, please take the prisoner into custody.”

Ben nodded and turned to Mackenzie as the enlisted security came up to him. “Thank you for your work, Commander,” he told her. “I know you didn’t get to do much…”

She smiled and nodded. “You would be surprised how many trials wind up just like this,” she said. “Well, not just like this. But pretty close.” She offered a hand, and Ben shook it heartily. “Like the Admiral said, I wish you luck, Commander-- no,” she corrected herself, “Mister Elias. Get past the alcohol, and I think you could do whatever you put your mind to.”

“Please,” he said as he turned to walk with his jailers, “just call me Ben.”


==Ten Years Later==
==Somewhere between Vulcan and Andoria==

Ben smiled as he stood on the deck of the Fiddler’s Green, looking at the front screen as the stars streaked by. It was a small ship, a cargo hauler, but it was his, and he couldn’t be happier.

“What’re you thinking?”

Ben turned and smiled at Maria, who had just walked up behind him. She leaned down and hugged him, nestling her head on his shoulder and staring at the stars with him. “Oh, just how glad I am to be back in space.”

“So, same thing as every run?” she asked. “I swear, you are a very simple man.” She kissed him as he laughed, and she walked over to one of the consoles on the bridge’s wall.

“Yes,” he said, “I am indeed.” Fiddler’s Green was an old ship, constantly breaking down, but the shipments they carried - luxury goods in the heart of Federation territory - kept them flying, and kept them happy and together.

He thought back to meeting Maria, back at the rehab facility on Proxima Centauri III. She’d been under treatment for PTSD after the Frontier Day attacks by the Borg had left her so mentally scarred that she had shot and killed a fellow officer after being surprised on an away mission. He’d helped her recover, and she’d given him something to focus on to help him finally beat his alcohol addiction.

He had been able to petition the court to let him serve out his full sentence there at the rehab facility, where he’d become a trustee for the back half of his term. They were discharged together, and had gotten married less than a year afterwards.

“Uh oh,” she said, and turned back towards him. “Looks like we’ve got an imbalance in the port plasma injector.”

He stood and stretched, walking over to the console with her. He looked at the warning, and pulled up a set of readings. “Yeah,” he said, barely suppressing a grin. “Looks like she’s getting cranky again.”

“When are we going to get a newer ship?” she asked with a smile.

“When she finally keels over,” he told Maria, and gave her a deep kiss. “And not a minute before.”

He turned and started walking away, and felt her looking after him, shaking her head. “Need anything?”

He turned, walking backwards through the door and towards the cramped ship’s engine room. “Not a thing, beautiful,” he said. “I’ve got all that I need.”

==But when I get back onto the shore
I’m going South where it stays warm
And there’ll be someone on my arm
To help me spend my pay
So I’ll take it from day to day.

--Stan Rogers, "Take it From Day to Day"==

==Fin==
Reply


Messages In This Thread
Earth - by Paul - 06-20-2024, 01:33 PM
RE: Earth - by Tyra Crawford - 07-13-2024, 02:58 AM
RE: Earth - by Tyra Crawford - 07-14-2024, 01:32 AM
RE: Earth - by Benjamin Elias - 08-07-2024, 10:44 PM
RE: Earth - by Tyra Crawford - 08-09-2024, 05:25 PM
RE: Earth - by Benjamin Elias - 10-18-2024, 09:39 PM

Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 3 Guest(s)