“What happened?”

Shaking his head, Jackson frowned, looking off into the corner at nothing while he thought. “It was pretty boring at first. There were four of us – the executive officer who had the diplomatic background, the chief of security who had a negotiating background and then myself and another ensign – we were basic escort detail. I’d done it before, maybe a dozen times?”

“What was it like? You said you had only just been transferred to a new vessel.” Rowan inquired.

At the very least Jackson was thinking through his answers and trying to converse instead of avoiding the questions. “I thought I was the new guy, but to be honest I felt pretty comfortable with the escort duties. Probably more than the other ensign with me? He seemed pretty spooked when the station commander showed up with a Nausicaan escort. I’ve seen Nausicaan guards before so it felt kinda… normal?”

And for a moment Jackson wondered how normal anything he did in Starfleet was. Or did you just get used to how strange things were?

“And what happened then?”

Without thinking about it Jackson found himself fidgeting, running his fingers against the edges of the chair he was sitting in. “We went to the station commander’s office, talked about defense against the Vaadwaur, and the negotiations stalled. Our executive officer wanted to see the docking bays – I think to see if there were indications of the independent forces that could defend against the Vaadwaur. There wasn’t – it was a really boring cargo bay.”

Now Jackson was just talking, trying to stall and avoid the real issue.

“Not what I was aiming for.” Rowan prodded. Very gently. Not very professionally. 

Jackson blinked. “Oh yeah. Sorry.  I mean we kept walking and then one of those underspace tunnels opened and the Vaadwaur attacked. The station was totally unprepared.” his expression slowly went blank. “They started firing and kept firing. Shields were breached, alarms went off…”

Rowan nodded slowly. Caireann Station had been prepared, but only with what they had available. And that hadn’t been much. 

“A plasma conduent burst, the corridor was filled with fire. I heard it and jumped back. My fellow Ensign – Velix, Bolian… he was slower. He got caught in the fire. Hit his head against the bulkhead, got burned alive.” the security officer’s voice was stuttered, as if he was actively processing as he spoke.

Rowan’s mind wandered to their Ensign Velix, pondering how the young Trill was doing until he realized that his mind wandered to the mundane to avoid the visceral aspects of Jackson’s tale. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“There isn’t really a good way to put it, so I’ll just say it – that sounds horrible. And it’s… well, I can understand why you want to talk to someone.” 

Jackson nodded slowly. “It’s just… it’s weird.  I did well on the mission and that’s good, but at the same time it sucks. I mean I’m not upset that I did well, but…” He just trailed off, his eyes focused on the wall.

He sighed. He was going to do something every textbook told him not to do, but he had the distinct feeling that this would be the only time he opened up about any of this. A follow-up session, even if he recommended it, was highly unlikely. 

“It seems unfair, doesn’t it? That you made it out, and he didn’t.”

“It does!” the security officer said a little faster and more emotionally that he was comfortable with.  He took in a breath and continued on.  “I was just a little bit faster. Not fast enough or close enough to save him, just fast enough to jump out of the way and save myself. That’s just so… hooray?  My reflexes were better?  I was lucky?  He’s dead… God.  I can still smell the burning flesh.”

As Jackson said the last words, his voice lowered into a softer tone and his face went pale, and a little greenish. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear the memory.

“Yeah…” Rowan sighed. He could relate – not the singed flesh, but the screaming. The hopelessness. And he hated to think about it, so he thought about Jackson instead. “But you made it out. So did your ship.”

Smith shook his head, thinking. “Through it all the mission was successful. And I want to be proud of that… like I want to be happy. I want to focus on the good, but… I’ll be in the sonic shower and I’ll see that charred body, and the dead civilians on the station and smell the burnt flesh and… it just makes me sick.”

Rowan nodded. “I doubt you’re the only one feeling that way. Even if you didn’t want to talk to a counselor – did you at least talk to someone?”

“It’s somehow worse talking to people on the Calistoga who are focusing on the positive, who are happy that we were successful, that we had a minimum of casualties.  I mean academically that’s great but…” Jackson trailed off again, his mind trying to crunch the conflicting feelings and facts.

“Do you think they are?” Rowan asked flatly. Caireann Station was the same. People were grateful that the refugees returned to help defend the station, and generally pleased to have made it out alive. 

No one mentioned the people who hadn’t. 

Jackson froze for a moment before he furrowed his brow and frowned. “I guess… I don’t know?  I was taking them at face value.” He paused and turned towards the counselor. “What do you make of it?”

“It’s a coping strategy. That you’re not there yet doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. People like to focus on the positive because what happened… it sucks. Everything about that invasion sucked. However good the outcome – given the circumstances – that any of it happened is still miserable. But it did happen.”

A nod from the security officer. “And we can’t change it. I just wish… it made more sense.”

“I wish I could tell you that there’s some higher meaning in all of this. That you made it out and the other guy didn’t for some sort of reason. But the galaxy is weird, and it’s random. Which… also sucks, at times. And it’s okay to not be over it yet.”

Not over it yet. Not over it… when did it stop?  Jackson sighed, looking towards Rowan. “It does suck.” Slowly his gaze grew curious, finding he was tired of dwelling on his own thoughts. He ventured a question to the other man. “How was it here? Was it as bad?”

“Yeah.” Rowan said without thinking about it. “I mean, it wasn’t great. But hardly like what you’re saying.”

Which wasn’t entirely accurate. They had been sure that they wouldn’t make it out alive, and that Starfleet – who seemed so far away when you were cut off from everything and out here on your own – wouldn’t help. 

And they hadn’t. It had been the refugees that had turned the tide in battle, and surely they could all have lived happily ever after if they hadn’t chosen revenge, and followed the Vaadwaur through the subspace tunnel. 

Never to be seen again.