From: Live Long and Prosper <mgoto@indiana.edu>
Date: Mon, 5 May 1997 14:19:30 -0500 (EST)
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: The Heart of the Soldier
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SD 90505.1731
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CSciO's Quarters
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MD 5.2210
Anne was glad that she had tidied up somewhat before dinner; the
piles of PADDs that had littered her room less than five hours ago had
been swept into her desk drawer, and she had managed to find a suitable
table for permanent use in her living area. She headed for it now,
nodding to Galia, who was still holding her drink. Anne wasn't sure
that such a large container of liquid, even if lidded, could be trusted
on an arm rest of a chair.
After the Marine had seated herself, Anne sat down and looked at
her with what she hoped was a sympathetic expression.
"If you want to tell me anything, please go ahead," she said,
glad that she had seen Catherine Ledoux do this kind of thing just this
morning; Anne did try to be helpful, but she often came across as too
aggressive... and something told her that Galia didn't need aggression
just now. "I promise you that whatever you tell me now will remain with
me and that it will go no further. And if you don't want to tell me,
that's okay, too... I can just keep you company."
Galia hesitated. What was she supposed to say
to something like that? Never terribly socially apt,
she felt even her language skills deserting her. She
had grown expert at handling cruelty; she had always
known how to handle brusqueness. Kindness un-
nerved her.
"It's just all such a *mess*," she finally sighed, trying
to find an... appropriate... way to explain. "You've got
to understand, the whole company was together on the
LONDONDERRY..." Galia seemed to recoil physically
just from the name, although what it was that gave that
impression was uncertain; she didn't actually move. She
lifted her brandy cup and took a couple of swallows. *Be
careful*, she warned herself. *You know you talk too much
when you're drunk.*
"Anyway," she went on finally, "there was this platoon
leader there... my platoon, I was sergeant, then." How
the hell did one say this without giving away details she
had no wish ever to tell anyone? "He wasn't very good."
She winced a little, hearing the terrible scratchy strain
in her voice. She wasn't doing a great job at staying in
control of the situation. Oh, well, better go on. "There
were... some serious problems; eventually, I took it to
T'sharet -- she's my best friend, she was the sergeant
for another platoon; now she's platoon leader like me.
They took all the platoon leaders away and replaced
them from out of the ranks... then they took us all for
four months' leave and rehabilitation. We were all pretty
messed up by then." Her voice had lost its edge, grown
very quiet, very level.
"They offered to release us on the spot from our contracts.
We talked about it... the whole company is pretty close, I
guess. We decided to stay, if they'd assign us together, so
here we are. But everyone -- especially my platoon -- but
all of us, really -- has been through so much --" Her voice
cracked once; she steadied it again. "It gets in the way of
the work," she admitted, ashamed. "I try not to let it. We're
a good company when we have our heads together. Or we
would be," she corrected herself. "I'm sure we would be. I've
never actually seen us with our heads together for very long,
though. Why can't we just have a chance to do what we're
trained to do and be left *alone*??"
Left alone, thought Anne, listening to Galia's speech with mounting
apprehension and sympathy. She had felt that way more than once; had
felt it all the way through her school years, then aboard her previous
ship. Why, indeed.
Anne wondered if Galia had been through the same sorts of things that
she had experienced on the BELLEROPHON. She knew how to read between
the lines; she had written things there herself. She began to feel as
though, perhaps, her problems with Mallory had been a small thing
compared to what Galia and her platoon must have gone through... she
had never met a Marine who was so shaken up in her life before; and,
being posted on a battle ship, she had seen quite a few.
She also realized that she had been lucky. Galia had mentioned a leader
of her section who "wasn't very good"; whatever her problems with the
Ship's Counselor, Anne had always been able to count on her own
department head. To be denied that... that was almost too terrible to
contemplate. She bit her lip, nodding slightly. She wondered what she
could say to the woman sitting across from her.
"It sounds to me," she said, quietly, hoping that Galia wouldn't see it
as an interruption or an intrusion, "like you and your platoon have gone
through a whole lot." She chose her next words carefully. "I admire your
courage and your determination to serve," she said finally. "To be
offered a release from your contract... you really must have been through
a whole lot. That you stayed... it tells me that you really are strong
people." She smiled slightly. "I'm sorry..." she murmured, blushing
slightly. "Please go on, if you want to... I just... well, there were
some little problems on my previous ship as well, and..." she shrugged,
smiling rather stupidly, holding out her hand toward Galia in a "go
ahead" gesture.
Galia looked intently at Anne, wiped her mind clear of
the alcohol by an act of will. How far could she trust this
stranger? Randomly there floated through her head, "You
shall not wrong or oppress the stranger, for you were
strangers and slaves in the land of Egypt..." She'd been
on a cultural exchange program to Egypt once, in high
school. She had felt every inch a stranger there.
Mind back on the subject, Halivni. What do you say,
what do you leave unsaid? What will this entirely too
discerning woman pick up anyway? She's already
guessed too much, as though you were only filling in
the details of her own story...
...of her own story? Galia narrowed her eyes and studied
Anne even closer. She hadn't exactly struck Galia before
as a victim, but she might be. Certainly she saw too much,
too fast; if it were not experience it must be extraordinary
empathy.
"Andersen," she pronounced slowly, keeping herself as
far away from the syllables as possible. "His name was
Lieutenant Andersen. I never knew his first name. He liked
us to call him sir, even off-duty. Or just scream. He liked
it best when we couldn't do anything but scream."
Unconsciously, her arms crossed over her chest, protecting.
She spoke as though in trance now, very slow, very calm,
eyes somewhere beyond Anne, beyond the room. "At first
it was just sex, at least with me. He was rougher with the
men, but I didn't know that. They didn't tell me. None of us
told each other. That's why -- I should have known -- I thought
it was just me, and I could live with it. Better than I could live
with telling. I only told T'sharet when I heard about the men."
Her voice gathered momentum, picked up speed; it was like
rolling down a hill with no brakes, no way to stop till you crashed
at the bottom. "After a while it was the burning. Afterwards. It
was his way of resting before he wanted sex again. He'd play
with matches, and see what they did to skin. And knives. He
liked to cut patterns. Words, symbols. When he found out I
was Jewish he cut swastikas." She gestured to her breasts
with shaking hands.
"The men, it was different. He wanted to defeat them. He knew
he had already defeated me, right from the beginning. He used
whips on them, made them beg for mercy. He wouldn't take that
from me, he got worse when I tried. He said I had nothing to offer
that he couldn't take anyhow. So I stopped begging. Stopped
caring, after a while. It only mattered that nobody know. It was
a common view among us. We were... a strong platoon, strong
people. It took eight months for the first of us to break. He cried
when he told me. I didn't cry when I told T'sharet, but she did. I
didn't know she could cry. She's a Vulcan," Galia finished unnec-
essarily, in a solemn, childlike voice. "They're not supposed to cry."
Anne got up from the table. She went to the replicator and got herself a
hot cup of tea. On impulse, she got some half-frozen lime soda and
placed it in front of the Marine. She remained standing, warming --
nearly burning -- her hands with the hot replicated teacup.
"No," she said, finally. "Vulcans are not supposed to cry." She slowly
walked around the room, then returned to her seat, setting down her cup
and stirring some sugar into the tea. "But then, platoon leaders aren't
supposed to torture their people, either."
She took a thoughtful sip of her tea.
"Thank you, Galia, for trusting me," said Anne. "I know that such
revelations don't come easily." She stirred even more sugar into her tea.
"I wish I could tell you that I understand exactly how you feel... and
that everything is going to be okay. But if I said that, I would be
lying." She took another sip of her tea, then made a face. Two lumps
weren't enough, she reminded herself. Three, at *least*, would be the
amount she needed.
"I can't begin to imagine what you and your platoon have been through,"
she said, stirring the third lump into her tea. She took a sip. Just
right. "It wasn't that bad for me, I guess. There was a bit of a...
problem with the Ship's Counselor on my previous ship, nothing at all
like the horrors that you faced..." She trailed off with a small sigh.
She had hoped to be able to tell Galia her story, to give her the same
kind of trust that Galia had given her. But it was still too fresh in
her mind; she could feel her expression slipping into complete
nonemotion. She shook her head. Now was not the time. Perhaps later...
but now, she needed to be *there* for Galia... as a fellow human.
"Galia," she said, "I know this is kind of a weird thing for me to say, I
mean after how short a time we've known each other and everything, but...
if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to listen, I'll be here." At
least, she thought o herself, I *hope* that I will. "And if you get the
urge to get drinks at 10-Forward and you want someone other than your own
people, for any reason..." she shrugged. "Remember what they say about
people who drink alone," she concluded with a smile.
Galia nodded and stood up; she still looked a bit drawn, but at least she
was in control of herself. And, Anne noticed, the lidded container was
almost as full as it had been when they had entered her quarters.
"Thank you," said the Marine, "for listening... and for not letting me
drink alone." She smiled in what Anne considered a brave manner. "I
guess I'd better go see to my platoon... make sure everyone's all right..."
"Aren't you on leave right now?" asked Anne.
"It's something I must do," said Galia seriously. Then she amended her
statement a tad. "It's something I *want* to do."
Anne nodded slowly. She thought she could understand that.
"All right, then," she said, accompanying Galia to the door. "Just...
make sure *you* are okay, too."
After Galia had gone, Anne went to her bedroom and sat down on her bed.
She contemplated her recent guest, admiring her courage and
determination. And... she would be able to keep her promise. The matter
had already gone to the correct authorities; it had been taken care of,
in that respect at least. She would not have to blow the whistle, as it
were, nor be forced to make a report.
A report! Anne sighed and rested her forehead on her fingertips. She
wished that there were some way that she could report another officer who
was insisting on starving herself.
"Catherine!" she cried, as if the vet could hear her from afar, "I can't
lose you, do you understand? *I'm not going to let you go*."
She *would* scan her the first chance she got, she promised herself. So
what if one needed reasonable cause? Wasn't the CMO's behavior
indication enough? Anne was no lawyer; and, from her point of view,
Catherine's recent eating habits were certainly enough cause for concern.
She flopped down on her bed, too tired to undress or to get under the
covers. Her mind wandered, and she fell asleep, thinking of Amy and
Cassie, the two anorexic students she had known, and of Catherine
Ledoux. She would rather go through eighteen years of Kevin Mallory's
treatment, she thought to herself, than watch her new friend melt away as
Amy and Cassie had done.
Let's not cause any more anxiety, the Counselor had said. Well, Dr. Winslow
had done *everything* he could do *not* to cause anxiety in Amy and
Cassie... and they had still died. That, to Anne, was proof enough.
Now, if only she knew whether or not Catherine was upset with her about
what had happened in the Officer's Mess...
Respectfully submitted,
Masako Goto Nora Rivkis &
LT Anne Murray, Ph.D. 1LT David Shachor 2LT Galia Halivni
CSciO MCO Platoon Two Leader
USS CHESAPEAKE NCC-31813 USS CHESAPEAKE NCC-31813 USS CHESAPEAKE NCC-31813
<<NRPG>>
(from Masako)
Naomi: I hope that I played Galia in character; from what I've seen of
her so far, I figured that she might be starting to be concerned
about her platoon by now. If there's a problem, please send me a
virtual boink so I won't do it again. :)
Chris: Beware, the next time Anne sees Catherine, she jsut *might* have
that science tricorder with her. :) Did you still want her to
crash the med emergency drill? BTW, she won't be available between
6.0800-0900.
Melvin: Hope school & finals are going well!
Fabian: Anne will find out about the Bunny Incident around 6.0900... so
if Oz hasn't shown up in her office by then, he just might be in
for a big surprise... depending on what else is going on at the
time. :)
Lynnaea: I got K. Mallory's bio... want a copy?
James: No, Anne does not give up easily... she's going to rig up a
science tricorder as soon as she gets the chance. :)
BTW, how are those little grey cells doing today? Any progress on
the social structure of the Delta Corellians? ;)
Amy, Takako: I don't know if Anne will be able to look Bell or Brennan in
the eye for a while... *but* any sociological and/or
scientific information will be most welcome... ;)
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