[Brig – USS Charon]
The young Vulcan entered quietly, her heavy robes barely breaking the silence in the room with the whispering of fabric. Recognizing the officer even in her preferred off duty attire, the lone guard nodded politely before performing the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug in answer to Sakarra's questioning gaze. The only prisoner still housed here had not stirred in quite some time, there was nothing to report.
She acknowledged the officer's gesture and turned towards the cell, a thoughtful air in her slow, languid movements.
Ian Lamont sat staring blankly at the grey wall before him. Again he found himself in the ship's brig. He could care less where he sat and looked off into space contemplating questions that had no answers and of which he could not rid his troubled mind. He hadn't touched the food they had brought him. He'd hardly slept. The enormity of what he had done would not leave him. It was like a knife blade stabbing him every waking moment. Even in his dreams he could find no solace.
His existence was now made up of gazing at his wall for hours upon end as he jumped in and out of memories of his past and swam in a turbulent sea of powerful emotions that ebbed and flowed like the tides themselves. He was adrift with no land in sight the victim of a sunken ship he had helped torpedo. There was no one to rescue him. He only wished he could drift beneath the waves never to return to the surface. He had to find a way to end the maddening guilt and remorse crushing his soul. If he didn't soon he was quite certain his sanity would be consumed. If that occurred it was anyone's guess if it could every truly be restored.
Even through the force field the human practically radiated distress, not only in his posture and blank stare, but judging from his appearance he had not left this very position for a considerable amount of time. The small wave of a hand prompted the other Vulcan to lower the force field, but Sakarra remained standing where she was, hands loosely clasped behind her back.
Lamont was so self absorbed he had not heard anyone enter the brig nor noticed the officer standing at the entrance to his cell.
"Mr Lamont?" the young Vulcan found it curious how such a lively individual could allow himself to fall into such a state, but it was a puzzle for another time.
Ian slowly turned his head and looked up. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and thick stubble had formed on his chin and face from lack of shaving. He was quite certain he looked dreadful, but such thoughts that would have normally occurred to him were oddly absent from his mind. He was far too preoccupied to be concerned about such trivial matters.
His mind took a moment to recognize and focus on the officer. It had been hours since his gaze had left the wall. His eyes had grown accustomed to not focusing or moving.
"Lieutenant Tyrax", he said his voice flat carrying the subtle tones of exhaustion and mental distress. His expression was as stoic as the Vulcan's. Inside of him like waves crashing and colliding against a rocky coast line with titanic force he struggled with powerful emotions. Anger morphed into fear which faded into regret. Sadness choked his breath and guilt caused his stomach to wrench. So powerful and random were the waves of emotions it was taking nearly everything he had left to maintain his composure.
He just looked at the Vulcan after addressing her. He stared into those dark depthless eyes of her hoping to find some solace within them, but there was none to be found. Only the curious gaze of a Vulcan lieutenant. How he envied her. She could take her feelings and submerge them beneath layers of solid training and conditioning harder than the thickest alloy. He could do little more than long for something he would never possess. He had emotions and had lost any power he had once held over them.
"Have you come to see for yourself a man they are calling insane", he asked. "If so, I am afraid there isn't anything to look at unless you enjoy the face of suffering. I would ask that you grant me the dignity of leaving me in peace. I would prefer that you remember me as I was, not as I am now. I highly doubt I shall leave this prison until we reach a starbase."
Where did one begin to reply to such an abnormal amount of illogic?
"I believe the answer to each of those questions, requests and statements will have to be no, ambassador. I am not here to see insanity, which would be quite illogical. As would be the assumption that any Vulcan might enjoy to see suffering."
Her head moved slightly to one side, like an inquisitive little bird attempting to make sense of what she saw.
"And while I should like to leave you in the peace you speak of, I cannot see any dignity in the situation you appear to insist on inflicting upon yourself."
The long, sable colored robe rustled in the silence when Sakarra finally gestured towards the cell entrance with a brief wave of her small hand "Will you allow me?"
Lamont had no idea why the lieutenant was here. His head and heart were so taxed with emotion he couldn't seem to grasp her intentions. Even his usual adeptness at reading a person was gone. He couldn't think clearly and as such the Vulcan's appearance made no sense to him. Still, having someone to speak to if only to take his mind temporarily off his problems would be a small blessing. Her company might help to ease his troubles albeit briefly. He would accept what fate was providing.
"Very well lieutenant. Please enter." Why the Vulcan wanted to see him still mystified him. Her attire, the traditional Vulcan robes, was certainly a change.
Sakarra nodded politely and stepped inside the cell, gliding across the carpeted floor in her silent, dignified stride and came to a halt 1.1 meters before the bunk the ambassador was sitting on. He looked up at her with haunted eyes, and once more the young woman found herself wondering as to what might compel the man to behave the way he did.
Of course her complete lack of comprehension did not help in determining just how to talk to him without possibly causing more distress. Small talk was an art few Vulcans could master, and dealing with humans even in their most composed states often was somewhat of a challenge.
For once, she did not ask permission before settling down, though he would have good reason to consider it mildly impolite. But she had always had a certain distaste for people talking 'up' at her as it were, so she slowly and languidly came to rest on her knees in a relaxed Vulcan's pose, hands loosely folded in her lap.
"Mr Lamont," her low, melodious voice held no hesitation, although she clearly was uncertain about how to best proceed. "You will wonder why I am here, of course. However, will you permit a personal inquiry first?"
"Considering the multitude of personal inquiries that the ship's counseling staff have made recently, I see little reason to deny you. It seems to be SOP where I am concerned. You may proceed with your questions lieutenant", he replied with a tired voice devoid of its usual cadence.
Sakarra nodded thoughtfully at the mention of the counselors. Unfortunately, it seemed as if even the experts had not been able to improve the ambassador's state of mind.
"You seem … extraordinarily unsettled by recent events, ambassador. Therefore I feel compelled to ask if you believe you might be able to render assistance with a matter concerning those events. I do not wish to add to your discomfort and will leave if you ask me to."
"Me? Render assistance", Lamont asked the kneeling Vulcan almost with a laugh. "What logic leads you to believe I have anything of value to offer? Haven't they informed you? I'm quite unstable." Ian noticed the eyebrow that elevated on the lieutenant's calm face. "Nevermind I asked. Your logic suggests you believe I may have something of value. I have learned that it is generally unwise to argue against Vulcan logic. You have my undivided attention lieutenant."
Lamont avoided resting his eyes upon hers for more than a few moments. Her proximity to him was unsettling and her quasi-telepathic abilities frightened him. A thin wall of crumbling pride was all that was holding back an angry sea of turbulent emotion. Sakarra would no doubt abhor such a thing and revealing such a thing to the Vulcan made him feel weak and inferior. Worst of all Lamont was terrified she might sense the fear within him. He was anxious over recent events and worse he was unable to cope with the knowledge that now plagued his every waking moment. He was an ambassador – someone who was supposed to be strong, level headed, possessing the ability to endure extreme mental stresses. Revealing this weakness, especially to someone he had a great deal of respect, admiration, and perhaps more, was simply unimaginable.
Her dark eyes calmly rested upon him causing him to fidget under their weight. He hated being under her scrutiny in his condition. He had no idea what she thought of him. Logic suggested her visit was driven by something other than curiosity; however Lamont's logic was far from certain as it twisted and warped under the unbearable weight of remorse and guilt. He couldn't bear to reveal his crimes to her. Her unfailing logic would only serve to further destroy his credibility and further reinforce the errors of his past actions. His life was a collection of failures and unfulfilled goals. He couldn't bear such things to her. He could hardly deal with them himself.
[To be continued…]
Ambassador Ian Lamont
Diplomatic Advisor
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm Officer
USS Charon
