Culpability

Posted on May 14, 2015 @ 7:35pm by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on May 14, 2015 @ 7:36pm

Mission: The Lights of Hyperion

= Culpability =

(cont’d from “Complication”)



LOCATION: USS PHOENIX

SCENE: Main Engineering

STARDATE: [2.15] 0514.1526



“The additional replicator network in the cargo bay is drawing more power than we expected,” Cindy Rochemonte said. She was leaning over a power-distribution terminal, and with a few taps of her fingers she highlighted the cargo bay on the display ship’s schematics.



“Have you been down there since we got them up and running?” Jake asked. “They’ve been spitting out food nonstop. People are replicating more than they need, as much as their rations will allow.”



“Why?” Cindy asked, looking up. “The replicators aren’t going anywhere.”



“Old habits, I guess,” Jake shrugged. “A lot of these refugees were stealing food just to get by back on LIMBO. Federation replicator technology isn’t something they’re used to.”



“They think we’re going to take them away?”



“Or they’ll break down, or somebody’s going to take over the replicators and start charging for their use, or some other horrible tragedy that puts them all back at square one,” Jake said. “There’s not a lot to do in Shanty Town but imagine how bad things *might* get.”



Cindy sighed. “I suppose we can shift power away from the science labs to compensate. Not a lot going on there with most of the science teams pulling double-duty as security.”



“Good idea,” Jake nodded. “It’ll even out, Specs. Once they realize we’re not going to hurt them, they’ll start to relax.”



Jake rubbed at his temples. He was getting near the end of his shift, another 16 hour day. His quarters would be empty- the kids wouldn’t be back from the slapdash “daycare” that had been setup for the handful of Starfleet kids that had come aboard when the PHOENIX had fled Earth- but despite the quiet, despite his exhaustion, Jake knew he’d have trouble falling asleep. Xana’s absence had made their quarters feel almost desolate, an abandoned place full of artifacts of the life they’d tried so hard to build within its walls.



But before he even reached his quarters, before he laid down in that wide and empty bed and rested his hand on the place where his wife had once slept beside him, Jake had a stop to make. It was an errand he was dreading even more than his still and silent quarters, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.



“Alright,” Jake said, stifling a yawn. “I think I’m tapped out for the day. You good to take over down here, Specs?”



“We’ll keep the ship flying,” Cindy said, smiling at him. “Jake, are you okay? We haven’t had a chance to talk since your wife…”



“I’m too busy to be lonely,” Jake said, a little more sharply than he’d meant to. “And I’m too tired to be pitied.”



“I didn’t mean—“ Cindy started.



“It’s fine,” Jake said, holding up a hand to stop her. “I know you’re concerned. But there’s no way to go but forward, so that’s what I’m doing.”



“If you ever need anything, I’m always here for you.”



“You got 7000 people who need you to be there for *them*,” Jake said, gesturing towards the power terminal. “Get to work.”



Cindy nodded, and turned to confer with the engineers on staff. Jake realized he’d snapped at her, and regretted it. Rochemonte was doing her job, looking out for her commanding officer and trying to have his back. They were all working themselves to the bone down here, but Cindy had taken the time to ask how Jake was, and Jake realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d extended her the same courtesy. He thought about catching her eye again and apologizing for what he’d said, but Rochemonte was already in conversation with a group of techs, and Jake didn’t want to interrupt.



So Jake turned and made for the turbolift. It was time to see Montoya.



=[/\]=



SCENE: Brig



There were rows of cells, but only one was occupied. Jake nodded to the lone officer on duty as he stepped into the brig.



“How is she?” he asked.



“She’s been in and out of consciousness,” the officer replied. He was one of the members of the science team. Jake didn’t know his name.



“Is she okay?”



“Dr. Foster’s been to check on her,” the officer said. “She had a lot of drugs in her system, but they’re thinning out. Foster said she just needs time to come out of it.”



Jake nodded. If Montoya had been moved out of Sickbay, her condition couldn’t be that serious. Jake wondered how lucid she would be, whether or not she’d recognize him, and realized he was hoping she didn’t. It would be a good excuse to put this off for at least another day.



“I’d like to talk to her,” Jake said.



“I’ll let you in, Commander,” the officer said. He unlocked the door, and Jake stepped in to the long row of cells that lined either side of the corridor. Montoya was in the first cell, immediately to his left, asleep on the cell’s small retractable cot. Her back was facing him.

Jake’s view of her was unobstructed, but he could hear the faint hum of power to the cell’s forcefield generator in the otherwise silent corridor. It wasn’t the first time Montoya had been locked up; Jake had lived on GATEWAY with her for over a year, and she’d found herself in the brig on that station more than once. But though Montoya sometimes like to drink too much, to pick fights, to mouth off, she’d always been someone Jake had counted as a friend. They’d been through the Dominion War, the siege of GATEWAY, a dozen missions where they’d faced hard choices or seen terrible things, but they’d come through it okay in the end. Jake had always thought of Evangeline Montoya as a good person, someone he could trust.

And now Solomon Arn was dead, and Montoya was here.

“Sedna,” Jake said. His voice cracked as he said it. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t hear, would stay asleep. But he’d put this confrontation off for too long already, and so he repeated her name, louder. “Sedna. It’s Jake Crichton.”

Montoya stirred. Jake folded his arms across his chest and tried to keep his expression neutral as the former-FCO slowly sat up and looked around. Eventually, she turned to look at him.

“Jake?” she asked.

“Montoya,” Jake said. They stared at each other through the invisible forcefield. Jake wasn’t sure if Montoya had realized where she was yet.

“Am I dead?” Montoya asked quietly.

“No,” Jake said. “Why? Did you think I was?”

“I haven’t been keeping track,” Montoya said. Her speech was still a little slurred. “Been out of the game awhile.”

“I heard you were playing a new one,” Jake said. “Can’t say I approve of your choice of playmate.”

“This is the brig,” Montoya said, looking around. “I guess that means I’m gonna live.”

“That good news or bad?”

Montoya stood up, stretched, and took a few steps forward. She stopped short of the forcefield, slowly lifted her hand to touch it. The field shimmered into vibrant blue life when her palm made contact. Montoya nodded at this.

“You must think I’m dangerous,” she siad.

“I don’t know what to think,” Jake said. “You were with Seth on that station. Solomon Arn is dead because of him.”

“Who’s that?” Montoya asked. Jake set his jaw.

“Really?” he asked.

“I don’t know who he is, Jake,” Montoya said.

“They must have told you what happened,” Jake said. “Why you’re in here.”

“I’ve been loaded up on sedatives since I came aboard,” Montoya said. “I barely remember how I got here.”

Jake sighed. “Solomon Arn was our science officer. A Trill. Couple of hundred years worth of life swimming around in his guts, plus the potential for a whole lot more. Scuttlebutt is he’d just gotten married, too. And then Rawyvin Seth killed him.”

“Oh,” Montoya said. “Him.” Her eyes had dropped to the floor while Jake was talking. She turned, moved back to the cot, and sat down, holding her head in her hands.

“Rawyvin Seth,” Montoya said slowly “...is a monster.”

“*Was* a monster,” Jake said. “He’s dead.”

“Thank heaven for small favors, I guess,” Montoya murmured. She didn’t look at him.

“They said he’d been drugging you,” Jake said. “That when you came in, you were halfway out of your mind. But that isn’t the whole story, is it? How’d Seth get close enough to drug you in the first place? Am I supposed to believe he was dragging you along with him everywhere he went, totally against your will?”

“Doesn’t matter what you believe,” Montoya said.

“So that’s it?” Jake asked. “You don’t care what anyone thinks of you, what *I* think of you? Sedna, we were *friends*.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You once *asked* me to call you that,” Jake said. “Where’d that woman go, huh? Is she another one of Seth’s victims?”

“Jake…” she started, but trailed off. There was nothing else to say.

“Tell me this *registers*, Sedna,” Jake said. “Tell me you at least understand what you were helping Seth to do. Varn wants to come in here and throttle you, and right now I’m not convinced we shouldn’t let him, so why don’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself and *talk* to me.”

Montoya gave him one final, pitiful look before lowering her head back into her hands and shaking her head slowly. Jake sighed.

“Didn’t even make a dent, did I?” he asked. “Goodbye, Montoya.”

He turned to go, but her voice, almost too quiet to be heard, stopped him.

“Jake.”

Jake didn’t turn back to her, but he didn’t leave either. He stood, his back still to her, waiting to hear what she would say.

“Do you think you might ever forgive me?” she whispered.

Jake lowered his head and sighed again. Without turning back to her, he left, leaving Evangeline Montoya alone in the brig with her thoughts, and whatever guilt she was still capable of feeling.

=[/\]=



Shawn Putnam

a.k.a.

Jake Crichton

Chief Engineering Officer

USS PHOENIX