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Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Masorin
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It was almost a week now that Samantha had been put in charge of the diplomatic detachment aboard the USS Theurgy by captain Ives as Chief Diplomatic Officer. She had been working with the greatest of strategic minds of the Federation yet never had a command of her own. She had sure learned a lot but the past few days had been an education in their own right. At first she had come across as too docile, she concluded, letting everyone do their own thing, pretty much. After that she had overcorrected, probably, by handing out minutely detailed assignments to her staff. It was only now that the blonde felt like she was slowly settling into the logical direction of heading a department.

And now that the administrative issues were smoothed out the diplomat had more time focusing on why she was really here. Applying her expertise and foresight to their struggle with slander and vile propaganda. So Samantha had spent a lot of time analyzing the situation and the data at hand. At least she had the time and didn’t have to shake a strategy out of her cuff like during the dominion war.

Back then she had been an advisor to the Captain of the USS Poseidon - her late husband's CO - but at the same time still held her diplomatic rank, of course. It was a wartime exception since there weren’t many negotiations to be had that didn’t involve some kind of weaponry at that point. It was like she always enjoyed to say: “Diplomacy should come before the war, not after.” But still, there were the odd diplomatic engagements relayed to the few officers at the front lines that worked for the SDC. Missions of political reach that command needed a professional opinion on … a judgment, sometimes.

Samantha didn’t miss the war; it wasn’t her arena to play in. The negotiation of the Treaty of Bajor had been her first true diplomatic assignment again after hostilities ended, albeit under a very sorrowful veil. Ever since, she had devoted all her time and energy into preventing such large-scale conflicts to gain a foothold again in the quadrant. So, it had only been logical, if not a cue of destiny, that she ended up here. As a part of the defining factor to the peace and liberty of this side of the galaxy, potentially the milky way as a whole.

At this time, the general shift had already ended, since the diplomat had put her limited staff on a single rotation from 0900 to 1700. There weren’t many diplomatic emergencies you needed a duty officer on call every time of the day – even though normally staffed starships employed such a triple rotation for their SDC detachments as well. So, the lights were set to a power level of 30%, giving the blonde a much less agitative environment to work in. She was actually preparing a protocol for their eventual departure from Aldea. Be it due to the tensions arising from their presence, within the Empire, or them being tracked down. She wanted the captain to have a procedure ready at a moment’s notice if it came to it.

So the officer poured over customs agreements and Aldean traditions while penning down valuable points to consider if they wanted to leave on terms that would facilitate a potential return to a favorably minded Aldea.

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #1 –
[ Salem Martin | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust
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Salem heard the name Rutherford, and spent the last few days digging through his personal effects. He had taken a bag from the Cayuga so it hadn't been a large mess of things to go over, but he had found what he was looking for, and as soon as he had confirmed his supsicions with Thea at the name he had made an appointment to meet with Samantha Rutherford. He grit his teeth for a moment, this was a specter of the past that still even after all these years still felt raw. He wasn't sure he wanted to face this picture of the past.

Some part of him thought he had closed the door to this particular piece of the past. Yet somehow he had managed to once again have his thoughts consumed with Kalevia and the labor camp that had robbed him of so much. Even now so many years later the physical toll on it had an effect on the rest of his life, every time his hands shook or he felt something slip from his memory he had a small fear that he was suffering effects of the Irumodic which he had come down with early in life due in part to the massive traumatic stress he had gone through at the hands of the Cardassian labor camp. He couldn't not try to address this person.

When the time came for his meeting he had with him a few documents, and when he was let into the room, he walked up to Samantha Rutherfords desk, taking a deep breath, and dumped the pad onto her desk. "Do you recognize this?"

He spared her a moment to look at it. The PADD contained a mission detail, Samantha's signature and three others had been the ones to deny the mission. A mission to save members of Starfleet at the labor camp Kalevia. Salem's mission, the one he had proposed the moment he had gotten back to Federation space, before they had ever suggested pinning a medal on him and using him as propaganda he had immediately wanted to go back into war, go save his crewmates and the people at the camp, but it had been shot down. It didn't line up with the diplomats plan for peace, and so no rescue mission was ever launched due in part to Samantha's signature on that paper.

Salem looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say, and when he opened his mouth, he couldn't find a way to close it again till he had said everything. "You and your fucking diplomatic core signed that order and killed one hundred and fourty men and women from Starfleet with your inaction! They died, tortured, starved and afraid because launching a mission that close to Cardassia was inconvenient to your plans. We had the ships, we had the people, I was irrefutable proof that those people were alive, and you let them die."

Yep it was going one of those days. Salem was too heated in the moment to control his tone and stormed into her office guns blazing despite the fact that he had never met this woman before.

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #2 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Masorin
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For the time being Samantha was not aware of the storm building up. There was no looming cloud, no electricity in the air. The atmospheric systems lulling her into a false sense of complacency just as the security doors of the former flag bridge lulled her into a false sense of safety as well. Shadows creeping in from such a distant past that they had been purged from active memory into some kind of subconscious backup years ago. To make room for more topical, current insights. Yet, it would soon turn out, a little bit of repression may have played a big part in the relocation of those specific memories as well.

Hearing the door chime, the diplomat looked up from the PADD she was holding – one in a sea of many more. The initial look at the door did of course not reveal any insights; she didn’t have x-ray vision after all. Diverting attention towards the built in screen at the side of her newly established workstation the blonde could however see her current appointment blinking red. "Come in.” she seemingly instructed the visitor, yet more precisely, gave Thea the go-ahead to unlock the high security seal. With a swoosh the wide doors zipped open and a handsome man in red shirt stormed in.

Not initially bothered by his speed Samantha once more looked at her screen, tapping the appointment to pull up the details and jog her memory. Lieutenant J.G. Salem Martin, Assistant Chief Tactical Officer. Right! She had already wondered what this would be about when the appointment had come in only a short while ago. The relationship between diplomats and tactical was usually reserved, at best. Sometimes volatile … just as another PADD was smashed onto her desk. Visibly startled the officer’s blue eyes initially settled on Martin with a mix of anger and confusion.

She let his demanding tone pass for now, more fueled by curiosity than pride. Glance dropping to the aforementioned PADD, dipping her pretty pate into artificial light, the blonde took a moment to recall the imprint of the document from her memory. Four signatures, the last one hers: Lieutenant J.G. Samantha Rutherford. She hadn’t been that rank for a long time. She also hadn’t been the lowest ranking signature on a paper of this magnitude in a long time … not since the war. But she didn’t have to come to the entire conclusion herself. The man gladly proceeded to spell it out for her in the most disdainful tone possible.

Leaning back in her chair the diplomat idly scratched the side of her jaw, pate raised haughtily so that her eyes had to look down to see the PADD still on the table as the man went on. It hadn’t taken long for her pride to overrule curiosity after all. Pushing her grandfather’s teachings to the front of her mind Samantha’s blue eyes froze over as she switched to the logical approach. She understood now that the Lieutenant was one of the few survivors of the Kalevia camp, the ones they had paraded around like show-ponies during the lull in the war. She had connected the dots back then but had never felt obligated to approach him first.

The fact that he too was stationed on the same ship now was, well, a complication. One that wouldn’t allow her to just push the responsibility away one more time. “Are you done, Lieutenant?!” she replied, her voice calm but strong, chilled sapphires looking back up at him as she moved to get out of her chair. Decidedly using his rank to instill whatever restraint he could muster in line with his duty. She understood the irony within this incident potentially having felt like the end of his life to the man when for her, the sheer act, had just been 5 minutes out of a Tuesday afternoon at war. Taking a few steps away she ultimately turned to face him with more than an arm’s swinging length of space between them. A little diplomat’s precaution.

“The only reason my signature is even on that, is because they were stretched so thin for qualified officers, they called upon a barely accredited attaché, just to conform with Starfleet regulations. Namely that four people had to sign any assessment.” She clarified the facts, knowing full well it wasn’t going to be satisfactorily. “But trust me, I am fully aware of what the ramifications of this document were. And there is not a single move I made in my professional life since then that wasn’t affected by the gravity of what had happened during the war.” Samantha added, arms now crossed in front of her chest. “Not just to you, I am afraid.” She wasn’t sure if that’s what he was thinking. He certainly wasn’t the only one suffering loss at the hands of the Dominion or the Cardassians in those weeks.

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #3 –
[ Salem Martin | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust
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Salem managed to temper his rage when she used his rank. It wasn't too much, but it gave her room to talk. He came in here wanting blood, and her words about how stretched the diplomats had been only made him sneer. He had been actually stretched thin, tortured, and whipped, and so many others had suffered so much worse than a diplomat in their comfortable office. He was lucky that he didn't have a weapon and could restrain himself from physical violence he was angry, and irate, but he wasn't about to loose his job or spend a night in the brig, there were too many consequences for going on a viscous attack even if he wanted too in the moment. So he had to settle for harsh words and mistrust.

"What do you even know of the war?" He asked not curious but rather demanding. "I've seen how diplomatic attache's work. What did you have a few too many parties you had to attend? A few goofy little headdresses too many? Propaganda and press rallies were all your people ever did, grabbing up every race with remote access to a warp drive, accelerating them and then enlisting them into a war they couldn't even understand. Tell me how many species did you trick into joining the Federation, how lax did you make the rules for acceptance."

"How do we know you aren't infested with one of those creatures cause only someone who has lost their soul could sign off on the death of so many of your own people in my books." He was so close to calling her and the other names on the list traitors, they had allowed so many to die, and now she said she knew the cost of them. "Tell me what did you have to sacrifice during the dominion war that was so precious?"

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #4 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Masorin
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A major diplomat’s folly was to think they could always be righteous – or at the very least make it seem that way. To stand above moral and judgment in an untouchable position that allowed them to see the bigger picture, sometimes forgetting those who still reveled in reality. But Samantha had learned the hard way that war and hardship did not care about the pips or the color of her uniform. When you ended up in the thick of it, everyone was the same, the only constant remaining the chain of command. So she was glad to see that reminding him made the Lieutenant at least reel it back in a little. The officer wasn’t a stranger to confrontation though she had to admit this struck a little bit too close to home. And not only because she was being ambushed in her office. The only reason she hadn’t called security was that she understood the man, to an extent, and she wished he wouldn’t make as much sense as he did.

As a diplomat she could deal with the far-fetched, angry ramblings of a detached politician who didn’t know what he was talking about. But there was very little to contest when he was making a few valid points. She understood, that was at the very least, the basic sentiment most officers regarded the diplomatic corps with. Champagne slurping royalty, signing treaties with golden pens that would end up as a gift of good fortune to the opposing party. For a few, sure, that was the life of a diplomat … for an ambassador maybe. Someone who didn’t also hold a rank in Starfleet and the duties that came with it. The blonde let the man speak, say his piece, hoping the rage would leave him as all the tense air did. But it didn’t feel like his viciousness would die down. In fact, it culminated into some pretty nasty accusations.

“That is quite enough!” Samantha cut him off, her usually contained voice carrying across the room and back. Her body towered as she took in a deep breath of air, glaring at the man with a stern face and blue eyes taking on a darker hue. “I can assure you; I was not personally involved in half of what you’re describing though I would've been honoured to. So, tell me, what is it you believe in then, if not this Federation, their allies and their union to defend one another? Why are you even wearing this uniform if our ideals don’t appeal to you? Because let’s be very clear here: The fortune of the Federation and Starfleet are shaped at pretentious parties, beneath goofy little headdresses and our concessions to the rules, if necessary. And of course the sacrifices that have to be made.” she concluded, swallowing down a lump of anger growing in her throat. She would not give into this sentiment. Nothing would be resolved if she did.

“We know, because I went through the same screenings, as everyone else.” the officer replied, rolling her eyes ever so slightly. She got where the accusation came from but given his previous, very valid, points this was just a bit ridiculous. But maybe they were reaching that stage in their conversation already where common sense went out the window and was replaced by unsubstantiated claims of vicious lies. Then he asked her what she’d had to sacrifice, and the commander froze. Brows knitted together she looked at the man for a moment, noticing the vein on his neck inflate with every beat of his furious heart. No, she wasn’t going to indulge him with her own sob story. “Those 159 officers, that didn’t make it till the end of the war, for example.” Sure, she might get punched for that, but the truth could have that effect on people. “But I do not regret the billions we saved by containing the Dominion, before they could grow a substantial foothold in the Alpha Quadrant. Neither you nor I know for certain whether diverting 2 or 3 ships from the fleet would’ve made a difference, in any regard, but it could’ve meant the loss of the war.”

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #5 –
[ Salem Martin | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust
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Salem had to take a few deep breaths to try and resist beating his hands his hands against her desk or screaming in her face. He knew for a fact that she outranked him, that if this argument left the confines of this office that he would end up loosing his spot, but when she asked him why he wore the uniform he grabbed his communicator off his chest and tossed it to the other side of the room in one quick motion. "You want to see why I wear this uniform?"

His voice was almost dangerous now as he pulled the top of his shirt of the red and grey pieces of the uniform leaving his body as he turned and displayed the many, many scars upon his back, the capital punishment lashes, burns and cuts along his back that the spoon heads had done to him over the two years he was there prisoner. "I wear this uniform because I have nothing left. The Federation you believe in, doesn't exist, it's an illusion a Utopia built upon ignoring the worlds outside it's reach. You picked the wrong ship if you think that you will get to keep all of those rules and fancy morals that made earth a paradise. I am right where I want to be to protect the last few things that I care about my sister, the captains mission, finding these creatures. I'm not here for high road morals or red tape, I'm here because I am trying to keep the rest of you alive."

"I am a tactician I know full well what wins and looses a war. I was there over Cardassia the day that we signed that peace treaty, in orbit watching the ruins of fleets that got us that victory." He sighed feeling like he said far too much, and feeling far too exposed with his back uncovered, he started to put his shirts and uniform back on. "Starfleet failed, and now it's been taken over, I'm here so I can help rebuild it so it won't fail it's people again."

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #6 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Masorin
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Idealism; what a great motivator. So intricate, so devious, it could hide in plain sight and disguise itself as conviction, passion, or even righteousness. And it was the foundation for the reality of most sentient species. Just as it was the downfall of most of them all the same. Samantha would not deny herself to subscribe at least a little bit to this scheme too, but she was very well aware of it. Idealism was an illusion of an ideal reality to aspire to, whatever that reality may have been. It could’ve been a peaceful utopia or a violent hell. So, idealism wasn’t inherently bad in what it could represent. But it was manipulative and deceiving like the greatest lie ever told.

When the communicator flew across the room the diplomat evaded the trajectory slightly, even if it wasn’t necessary. Blue eyes following the illusory trail of glimmering metal. One small chirp as it hit, then it fell to the floor in silence. Whoever was on the receiving end of that call, surely had a rude awakening. Looking back at the man, brows knitted together and ready to remind him once more of his rank, the blonde found herself dumbstruck over what indignity to address first as he started to strip. Pricking her head, making those slight curls bob, she felt as if this situation had taken a rather unexpected turn. Then he spun around to show his mangled back and the woman choked for a second. It looked vile … even though it was surely a pale shadow of the real pain it had inflicted. Obviously he held on to the scars for sentimental reasons, seeing as he could’ve easily had them removed with a cultivated skin-graft or some sort of dermal regeneration.

The scars and burns weren’t exactly ‘nothing’, Samantha thought as he continued on. But the past wasn't always a good rulebook to hold on to when plotting out the future. “You can’t possibly think that I believe the Federation is an infallible utopia after accusing us of sending people to their deaths to protect it. What kind of twisted logic is that?!” she replied almost sarcastically, if the situation wasn’t this serious. “Everything conceived by people is imperfect through the imperfection of its creators. Even that little personal crusade you seem to be on. I respect your values and motivations, but they are not mine, yet they may just be as misguided. If you feel like you need to hate me to go on with your narrative, fine. Anger can be a great motivator. If unchecked and without high road morals or red tape however it tends to result in war. And I know better than to discuss the necessity of battle with an officer whose sole purpose is to fight them.”

Taking a deep breath, the woman huffed, letting her nostrils flare as the air escaped with the buildup of her frustration. Martin didn’t exactly continue to go the lengths of disproving her last argument. “Oh really … didn’t frame my signature on that one, I reckon.” she snapped, instantly regretting the overexposure of her human side in a ‘professional’ setting. Whether he believed the peace treaty was a sham too was left up to interpretation. But she too had watched the remnants of their sacrifice and it would’ve been for nothing if no treaty would’ve been signed in its wake. The blonde sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Lieutenant, if you think you can change Starfleet, then you are the one under illusion. Best case scenario YOU can achieve: Everyone is restored to their old selves; someone gets a medal and the Theurgy becomes a museum ship. And it seems pretty hypocritical, to think YOU would have the right judgment, to decide that Starfleet failed and what to do, so it doesn’t again. You should really leave that kind of ‘moral high road’ to the professionals.”

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #7 –
[ Salem Martin | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust
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For a moment Salem looked like he was willing to talk to her, to listen to her morals, then she made the one comment that made him sure that there would be no peace between them. her signature was on the peace treaty. He had always considered himself a good person, he knew better than to strike someone in anger, but the way his hands balled into fists it honestly looked like he was considering decking her in the face at this point, he breathed and got past it. She told him the best case scenario he could hope to achieve and he just laughed.

"What's the Federation normal then? Is it sending luxury apartment buildings into space to boldly go and explore strange new worlds and find new and horrific ways to die? How many times did those original galaxy class ships explode because of Starfleet compliance to bad faith treaties. How poorly prepared were we for the dominion? You want to go back to that complacency for what?" He held his arms out like he was grandstanding for a moment

"If we want Starfleet to survive we need too build bigger guns, The Theurgy can't be allowed to become a museum ship, we need an armada of these things. If we want the Federation to survive we need to have the bigger stick, we need to stop being held back by unfair treaties, your diplomatic core is why we never had a defense against cloaking technology, why ships like the Oberth class are still in use when we could be building more Sovereign class ships to replace them." He sighed for a moment. He hated everything that she was standing up for, and yet he was going further and further down the deep end, he was saying things that were honestly... in line with the more war hungry admirals.

"We should not have allowed the Cardassian's to keep the unions territory, so many years of war, and what did we gain? We didn't retake the worlds the Maquis had been defending no we left them as branded criminals a problem for another day, another treaty. We agreed to stop going through the wormhole, despite the entire war being started because we wanted to explore the quadrant on the other side! We had everything to gain, everything to take and you chose to do nothing with that power. We could have, we should have turned Cardassia Prime to glass for the crimes they had committed time and time again, we should have done the proper thing and write their entire world off as a loss. Now we have talks about accepting them into the Federation, rebuilding their world, assimilating them like we are the fucking borg."

Salem sighed he was too deeply wounded by cardassian's to see them as anything other than monsters, he knew that. Even the conversation he had with one a few weeks ago had ended on notes similar to this. He was too wounded to trust them with anything. He hadn't kept the scars out of superficial wanting, he hated them. he hated taking off his shirt, because he couldn't stand to look at himself, what remained of his scars was after all of the deep tissue regeneration, after regrowing and stitching it together... the wounds were too deep, they would not heal, only fester.

~~~~~

OOC: I have to pop an ooc note in here that just says Salem views are not the views of the writer, any contrivorsial opinion expressed is probably not how I feel, and considering all of the current ongoings I had to seriously think about posting this xenophobic rant or not. But Salem's views are in the end a view point on how loss, anger, and bitterness can turn an otherwise good man into something ugly, and I feel it's still important to let the character have views that are ugly, views that are birthed from seeing the worst of the world and being unable to move past it.

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #8 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Masorin
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The line between failure and success, in getting through to someone, was always a fine one. And Samantha had been in this business long enough by now, to instantly realise, when she had failed. The prospect had been hopeful, for a moment. Then at the mention of her additional involvement in penning the peace treaty, that glimmer of hope had extinguished. To be fair though, she had not tried to get him to sign one himself. There was nothing valuable to be gained from getting the Lieutenant to see reason. No, the entire construct of her argument was based on fending of the baseless and emotional tirades he’d come at her with. She may have been a diplomat, not a tactical officer, but she still knew a thing or two about defense.

Listening to his every word, taking into account every jab and dig, every wayward theory and treaded out line, the blonde ultimately couldn’t contain a snarky chuckle, as he mentioned bigger guns, as a solution to their larger predicament. That was such a first year Starfleet tactical academy thing to say. Hell, it was a sentiment rooted in the very fabric of the male psyche, wasn’t it: Bigger equals Better. But despite the nonchalance, with which the man made a fool out of himself, in her eyes, she let him say his piece. A lot of his views were passed down from war hungry admirals who shared similar sentiments, but that’s why the commander in chief was still a civilian. The Federation president. Because you could not leave the ultimate decision in the hands of military strategists. People whose sole purpose it was to fight wars.

“Because we’re not a military power, neither are we an invasive one, we’re a union of equals. We seek to broaden our horizons, our territories, our technology and our understanding not by assimilation, but through mutual goals and dreams. Bigger guns have only ever urged the enemy to build and even bigger one. And where does that lead? Pretty much to what the parasites are promoting: Total annihilation. We don’t need cloaking technology to be superior to the Romulans, or the Klingons. Their animosities give us power! We don’t need Cardassia Prime to be a molten rock in space as a testimony to our victory. Cardassians at our side as peaceful partners will be our triumph. Because we will ALWAYS share this galaxy with other species and there will ALWAYS be someone more powerful, more greedy, more angry. So, the only long-term goal that works, and it has worked for a hundred years, is to stick together in peace against adversity. To make your enemies your friends. I am sorry if that ideal would ultimately make you dispensable.”

Of course, the truth may have resided somewhere in the middle between them. Samantha too had thought about revenge on the Cardassians. At night, in the dark recesses of her mind, as the pain was still fresh. But during the day she would realize that it was vanity, that had clouded her pain-torn judgment. There was no torture in the galaxy that could inflict the pain she had suffered. So why try. Because at the end, in war, just like in an emotional argument, everyone lost.

„I suggest you use your anger for something productive. Because I know it can take a long time for it to go away. It’s like a comforting blanket that you feel alone without. This might not make sense to you now, while all you want to do is to deck me, but you’re no use to anyone like this. Not your cause, not your captain and least of all, yourself.” The diplomat shrugged lightly, her voice trailing off in the end. It wasn’t really words that could make him understand anyways.

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #9 –
[ Salem Martin | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust
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"Have you been reading the history of the blind?" Salem asked actually astonished for a moment as he looked at Rutherford. "We fought in wars, we have ranks that go from Admiral to crew man. We are based off of earth's navy, Starfleet is the military arm of the Federation, we have always been a military, we fought in wars long before the dominion, and will do so again. The Cardassian's will never join the Federation, they can't their entire society has a caste system built around their military, to think they would abandon it is to think that the Bajoran's would abandon their religion. They will never meet the cultural requirements because they are monsters and we both know it."

"You disappoint me Rutherford." Salem's anger seemed to have turned into something colder, his eyes drifted to the order she had signed, his memories to all of the horrors he had seen at the hands at the Cardassian labour camp he sighed shuddering for a moment. "I used to think that the people who signed this order were in some way malicious, that they knew that they were killing hundreds of their own. I could have understood you had you been an infested or a spy, had you had some malicious bone in your body a desire to harm others."

"Now I can see that your just an incompetent bureaucrat. That your choices weren't made out of a desire to do harm, but just some idealistic hope for a future that you would sacrifice so many of your own to try and make happen. Well did it? Did you get anything you wanted out of the dominion war? I didn't... I lost everything because of your incompetence, and that is something I can never understand." He turned away from her desk and let out a long sigh, before finally walking out of her office, leaving his communicator on the ground where it had fallen. "I hope you live forever, and that you never have a good nights rest for what you did."
 

Re: Day 36 [2046 hrs.] Shadows of the Past

Reply #10 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Diplomatic Corps Offices | Deck 02 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Masorin 
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At the end of the day, Samantha could never fault anyone for living in their own reality, it was the only one either of them had. Like a self-written story developing before one’s eyes, strictly adhering to the parameters, wishes and desires of one individual. In that regard, reality was as multi-faceted and diverse, as was all life in the galaxy. But it was exactly her job to bring all these variants and nuances together into a common mutual understanding of what their reality, as people coexisting, was going to be. It was an ever fluid and shifting stream, influenced by political tides, natural incidents or events of sheer chance. Reality never was one fixed constant, as much a science wanted you to believe it was. But despite all of that, her talent and duty, she had colossally failed. Not only in the context of this very recent confrontation with Lieutenant Martin, but indeed the confrontation with her distant past.

Regret was that one part of her life without absolution. For the only one who could truly give her that sweet release was the reaper of souls himself upon the final judgment. But it could also be a source of power in an attempt to do better and better with each mistake made. So, it wasn’t entirely justified to disregard all of it, despite defending her values and efforts. There was no such thing as admitting defeat in the diplomatic arena. You fought to be the last one standing, to impose your reality on those on the ground, using your power to make it a favourable, mutually beneficial one. Not to destroy. Sure, it didn’t always happen that way. Such were the rapids and tides of the notion.

Salem’s last words didn’t strike a chord, they were not intended to. Samantha believed the heated moment had been more a way to get something out into the open than to hurl it back at her. There were five signatures on that assessment. She was the one that got the wakeup call from the past. She didn’t need any more motivation to try and do the right thing than her own conviction, and that constant was unwavering. Because in the end, no matter what reality you prescribed to, a big part of it was likely a delusion. And once you knew that, once you embraced that, you could live your life to the best of your abilities and beliefs.

Running her fingers to the edge of her PADD, the blonde switched the system off with the capacitive switch hidden in the shiny alloy. Cold light vanishing from her pate still fixed on the door. The environmental lights in the room followed shortly after, dipping the whole flag bridge in a comfortable dark. A reality devoid of everything but what you carried with you in your mind … the sweet embrace of hope.

-FIN-
 
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