Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 13 May 2004 15:45:23 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: gojirob@aol.comendspam (Rob Morris) Title : Telling Author : Rob Morris Contact : gojirob@aol.comendspam Archive : www.southroad.com/brightfame Series : DS9 Type : Follow-up to the events of the S6 DS9 episode, ‘The Valiant' Characters : Jake, Nog, DS9 Late S6 Cast, ‘Valiant' guests in flashback Part : 2/5 Rating : PG13, for rough tides in a friendship and in Starfleet Summary : The fault line between Jake Sisko and Ensign Nog has always been unnoted. Nog finds he is not in the position he thought he held on this subject; Jake finds out that being right is no comfort when it may mean losing his friend forever. Note : I apologize for the missing Starbase number in 1/5. I had meant to fill that in, but could not find that info on any ep guide sites. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Telling by Rob Morris O'Brien nodded at the younger officer, who stood in an anxious pose reminiscent of his father, and perhaps even classically Ferengi. "Ok, Nog, I've read it again. I just don't see what has you so upset. I mean, you come off rather well." "But Chief, what about Red Squad?" "Them, they don't come off so well." Miles saw the ensign make a full turn, as though gathering energy with which to power his argument. "Don't you see? This is a cleverly disguised anti-Starfleet diatribe. Jake walked into it with an agenda, because he resented the restrictions Captain Watters placed upon him." O'Brien now was certain he had made a mistake getting involved in this. Memories of himself, Julian Bashir, and a possible cure for the Jem'Hadar's addiction to Ketrecel White all ending in a messy clash came back at Miles, along with the realization that the memories weren't all that old. "Nog, he addresses all that, and seems to understand his own role in running afoul of the power structure that *Cadet* Watters had built up. In fact, I was reminded of his article on his dealings with Weyoun during the Dominion takeover. Ehh, he flagellates himself a bit much, and the style switches a bit abruptly between his personal opinion and what's known beyond dispute, but not so much you can't tell which is which. If it is a disguised anti-Starfleet piece, then its a damned clever disguise." The young man spoke with the fervor of a Bajoran Mass Cleric trying to persuade a group of Pagh Wraith cultists back to the path of The Prophets. It was getting on O'Brien's nerves. "But that is how he draws you in. He hides his contempt for how Starfleet is run by way of a few, vague patriotic-sounding statements. He slams Starfleet with his left fist while stroking it with his right palm." For some reason, O'Brien found this image more puzzling than disturbing. The motion mechanics of it wouldn't play in his engineer's mind. "Nog, just how did you arrive at this conclusion?" "Simple, Chief. Red Squad was composed of Starfleet Academy's very best. Well, to so harshly criticize Starfleet's best is to thumb one's nose at all of Starfleet, his other words aside. I am so disappointed in Jake." Miles decided to use a small lie as an opening to break away from his sometime-protege's dark night of the ledger. "Well, I guess I am, too. After all, he failed to use certain information I gave him in the article. Well, we'll speak to him about it later. Right now, I have to..." Nog stopped him, as Miles was half-sure he would, but prayed he would not. "Chief, what information didn't he use? It could be useful in showing how very biased the article really was." O'Brien frowned. If he couldn't be gentle in ditching Nog, then any method would have to do. "Nog, the truth is, he didn't use my information because it couldn't be verified. It failed to meet journalistic standards of proof. I was a little annoyed because I felt my expertise should have been enough, but Jake explained how a personal account should not be mixed with even an expert's opinion. My information would not have made Red Squad look one tiny bit better. In fact, it would do very much the opposite." Nog stood there, very much uncomprehending. "Chief?" O'Brien painfully realized that his own experience contained no smooth and neat analog to what Nog was now putting himself through. "Did you ever even once, during or since the Valiant, ask yourself why the Jem'Hadar were attacking at or near a Federation Starbase a fair distance within our territory?" "We--we're at war." It all seems so simple to the young, thought O'Brien. "Well, yes. And while their attacks have grown bolder and deeper, they are also always marked by a hideous level of coordination. No improvisation. No Kirk-like bending of the rules. Just Schwarzkopf's Law Of Overwhelming Force, combined with a willingness to fight on up to 90% losses in some cases. Now, we've turned that around on them, and even forced them to get tricky and trickier still. Yet they still tend not to maraud, and like Jake said in the article, they almost don't believe in targets of opportunity. Your pod escaping the Valiant points to that. So why a relatively small craft attacking a hardened target of limited military or psychological value? Ferenginar would hardly change sides if the Starbase nearest them were to be destroyed." Nog nodded. "One of the Lesser Ninety Rules Of Acquisition states that 'A Partner Who Knows Occasional Losses Is A Partner Doing Business'. You don't just run off when a shipment or two goes bad, or a warehouse burns down." "Okay. So why was this Dominion ship attacking either your runabout, the Starbase, or both?" Miles took his silence as an answer. "Nog, I firmly believe that the target in question was Valiant itself. Maybe they thought this Starbase was where Valiant docked. Maybe they thought your runabout was a supply ship. But I'd lay down real money that the enemy craft was hunting the mystery ship that was pounding their patrols. It may very well be, Ensign, that the people who rescued you are the ones who..." "STOP!!!" A glare like that from the resin of a quantum torpedo drop shot off of O'Brien's face. "Did you just raise your voice to me, Ensign?" Nog was breathing hard, and was only technically backing down. "Yes, sir--I did, sir. Wouldn't you be upset if a commanding officer that you deeply respected was being called a maverick and a renegade with possible mental problems?" Miles had no smooth analog. But he had a rough one. "He was. And that's because he was a maverick and a renegade with possible war trauma. Captain Maxwell Of The Rutledge. I visit him twice a year at Tantalus, and he still cries his out, fearful that his actions helped inspire the founding of The Maquis. And Nog? He was one HELL of a lot more correct in his actions than your Cadet Watters. And I repeat--Cadet Watters. Not Captain. Cadet." Miles felt instant regret for his words, and for the harshness of his tone. But in the week since Jake's article had been published, Nog had been completely impossible. Polite words had failed to persuade him to agree to disagree with the majority of those he spoke with. O'Brien decided he would apologize to Rom, if he asked for an apology. But Nog would have to wait a while for anything of that sort. As the Ferengi ensign sat alone, he was visited briefly by his uncle. Quark held to his usual balance of disguised affection for his family and a hostility to the paths Nog and his father had taken. "Regarding Jake Sisko? Teljuq's work on the Uncoded Rules Of Acquisition clearly states that, while it is sometimes neccesary to bite the hand that feeds you, biting it off is always poor form." Nog wasn't taking this. His uncle could only scold him. He couldn't reprimand him. "What makes you say that I bit off Jake's hand?" "All I know, nephew, is that if it were me you allowed to be taken off to the brig by some snot-nosed narcaddict with delusions of grandeur, I'd have you cleaning Holosuite Fourteen with a toothbrush. Number Fourteen is Morn's favorite, by the way." "Uncle, just what are you getting at?" "Simply put, your life-ledger is in the red, as regards your friend. Oh, I warned you against these hu-mons. On the other hand, if you are going to indulge in their tricky gifts of acceptance and free friendship, it might be a good idea to only take these gifts from those hu-mons not convinced of their own emerging divinity. Although, since Jake is part Prophet, I guess he could actually get away with that. This Watters, though? He reminded me of Brunt." Nog was feeling ever more alone. "Captain Watters wasn't convinced of his godhood. Jake's article just makes him sound that way." Quark topped off his nephew's root beer before walking off. "Actually, I formed that opinion about Watters from your personal account of what happened aboard the Valiant. Your father and your Moogie are good storytellers, but I always have to read between the lines with you." Nog next attempted to gain support for his position from what he thought he would be an obvious source. Problem was, these things were not so obvious to the source in question. "Children should not play at war." Nog seemed stunned by Worf's simple declaration. "But, sir. I've heard you say on many occasions that a Klingon boy is counted as a man from the day he can fully lift a bat'leth." Worf downed his prune juice before responding. "That is true. However, those are Klingon boys--and girls. Humans keep their children back, feeling a prolonged preparation period is in order. I am told that until a certain age, Ferengi regard their children as having certain properties of a traded commodity." Nog seemed to shake at those words. But he said nothing, presuming for the moment that Worf didn't know Rom's marriage history. "Which way do you think is better, sir?" Nog felt certain of Worf's answer, and would rebuild his argument from there. He thought. "Master Kor once told me his opinion of such things. He said that Feklehr and Molor and all the beasts of Grethor held less terror for the Klingons of his age than did a callow Iowan farmboy who never saw deep space until he was past two decades old. He reasoned from this that Humans failing to be conquered by the Empire was therefore no accident." Nog moved quickly to recover. "There you are! I mean, Kirk survived Tarsus Four, and Governor Kodos, when he was not even fifteen." Worf looked at the ensign, and it was easy to see that he was not as patient as O'Brien. "That is because he was not a native of that world, and therefore not on any list of the doomed. He ran, because this was all a boy could do. Even a Klingon youth would be forced to do the same. He survived, and became a legal witness to the nightmare when it was done. In short, Ensign Nog, the youngest Captain in Starfleet history for that era--at age thirty-one, not nineteen--lived to become a hero to some and a nightmare to others, because he wished to live and return home. You seem to think your Cadet Watters and his clique were like Kirk. I only wish they had been. For as a cadet, he would have returned home. As Captain Picard and Captain Sisko would have done. Consider the female Captain thought lost in the Badlands, until recently. Why is she spoken of? Because her goal is to return home with all her crew. A glorious life is lived because it is our choice, and a glorious death is died when we have no choice. Inbetween, we live as long as we can, and let fate tell us when glory is to be had, one way or the other." Nog stood up, but wisely did not raise his voice. "But wasn't the final destruction of the Dominion ship an opportunity presented by fate? Wouldn't many Klingons sneer at the Valiant's crew, had they only returned with mere scans and information?" Worf walked away, but turned back one last time. "Fate also uses these opportunities to fool us. As for the sneering? Master Kor also said that in a war, all sides have heroes, and all sides have fools. Your goal is not to die for your people. It is to make the enemy combatant die for theirs." "Did Kor say that?" Worf shook his head. "No. That last part was Patton. But Kor would have said it." Nog got out of his uncle's bar. There was no point talking to his father. Every time Valiant was brought up, Rom simply started crying and held his son. Surely, someone, somewhere, had to see his point of view. But Doctor Bashir was no help in this. "Nog, I will be brutally frank. Cadet Collins told me the types and levels of stimulants Cadet Watters was taking in. Apparently, he read that, when facing the 'Space Amoeba' that destroyed the Constitution-Class Intrepid, that Doctor McCoy had given such things to the Enterprise crew.There's logic for you. In any event, if I myself was taking the cocktail Dorian told me of, I would greatly fear for my life and my sanity. And yes, that is even with the 'extras' my parents placed upon me. Stimulants are for rare or emergency use. They are not available so that a young man may sit in a wrongful chair, assuming he is about to join the ranks of the great ones." If Nog thought he would gain help from Kira, he was just as wrong as he was with Worf. "Yes. Yes, I was fighting the Cardassians when I was younger than you. But Nog? It was never our desire to fight, and certainly it was never our desire for our children to fight. And die. Let's not forget that children who fight are children who die. I've prayed to the Prophets to watch over the souls of your friends aboard Valiant. I almost admire what they did, and what they tried to do. But I've buried too many friends to see the glory in what they did anymore. And it wasn't like it was even neccesary. That Dominion ship wasn't their first superweapon, and it won't be their last. They can produce more ships, more Jem'Hadar, and more Vorta. But where do the families of the Valiant's crew go to make more of them? Besides, didn't you yourself say that Watters rode you all over a cliff or something?" "He was a great man who made one great and tragic mistake. That doesn't diminish him." Kira looked at Nog with realization and then pity. "Blessed Prophets. You think his only failure was in not taking out the Dominion ship?" Nog winced under her gaze. "He could have planned it better, sure. But in the end---" "In the end, Nog, a Defiant-Class ship, one of those that my people depend on to keep the Cardassian flag from again flying over the Vedek Council Chambers, was lost to a group of children playing dress-up. Our Emissary built that ship. It is almost an Orb in the eyes of some. So the Valiant's loss wasn't merely Starfleet's. Don't you dare think that, or compare my youth, spent with the blood of too damned many on my hands, face and hair, to Watters and his crusade." "But what about the article, Major? Jake tries to grab credit for Defiant? Isn't that like blasphemy?" Kira directed him out of Ops into the lift. "He claimed credit for its shape, Nog. Being a writer, he seems to know effective imagery." Nog shot off one more as the lift took him away. "And how to manipulate it." Garak merely commented that placing headstrong children in charge of such a ship was a scheme worthy of his Obsidian Order days. Morn went on a tear, and as always, talked just about forever, til Nog feared his lobes falling off. Nog later spied Jake waiting by an entry ramp as passengers debarked. He considered ending this, but decided to wait til Siisko had met whoever he was waiting for. Who he was waiting for made Nog's eyes go wide. "Jake?" "Hi, Dorian." It was Cadet Collins, looking somewhat slimmer and many times less haggard. To Nog's shock, she actually lightly embraced him. "Its still hard to believe we survived all that." Jake chuckled. "My spine still hasn't forgiven me for that trip in the escape pod. You look good." "Well, mental and physical rehab for eight weeks will do that. I never told you, but I was taking 'help' of my own during the voyage." "You did seem to be in withdrawal in the pod, but I thought it was just cramped space and exhaustion." Nog emerged from his remove, fuming and nearly foaming. "Dorian--how can you stand there and hug him like that? Didn't you read his article?" Collins nodded. "Yes. Before he sent it to his editor. I approved it, to the extent that matters." Nog rolled his eyes. "Didn't you read what he said? He said none of Red Squad belonged in Starfleet!" Collins bit down, then spoke. "Nog, I spent that mission feeding candy to a drug addict who didn't even respect me. The person I was under Tim Watters command didn't belong in Starfleet. Any more than---never mind. I'm not supposed to talk to you, anyway." "Why not?" Jake tried to speak. "Nog, you better go and talk---" The Ferengi turned on him and yelled. "Shut Up! When I want to hear more distortions, half-truths, and outright lies, then I'll make an offering to you, Mister One-Fourth Deity!" A number of Bajoran heads turned at these words. Before things could escalate further, Jadzia Dax appeared. "Ensign Nog. I am to escort you to see Captain Sisko. Now." Her look, partly borrowed from her husband, left no doubt that she meant every word. On the way to Captain Sisko's office, he spoke. "I suppose I don't have to ask your opinion of the article." Dax shook her head. "Well, Jake's style still needs polishing. But I'd prefer not to hear him called a liar. And Nog? I am hereby ordering you to appear at the next Bajoran Mass and apologize for that low-class, ignorant comment. Got me?" "Aye, sir." "Also, to answer your question, I've had lots of children, and I hope to have more with Worf. I've sent them off to battle. But only when they showed they were ready. Not one damned minute before. Further, consider this. We know of all kinds of alternate realities. Worf has seen quite a few, and we all know about the Mirror World. Now, just for a moment, imagine a reality where strong, knowing children heroically take up the slack for lazy, ignorant adults. Maybe one or two of them even emerge to save the whole cosmos from an unimaginable evil. Do you see it?" Nog closed his eyes and smiled just outside of Sisko's office. "Yes, I can see it, like it was really there." "Good. Now, Nog, think of one more thing about that alternate universe." "Yes, Lieutenant?" She had him open his eyes and look at her. "This isn't that place. Now go see Ben." The other world popped like a balloon, and Nog still felt like the one he inhabited was deflating. Sisko gestured for him to sit down. "Ensign, the Valiant Tribunal will be held here, on DS9. We're going to hash all this out, once and for all." "Yes, sir. I saw Cadet Collins coming on board, and presumed as much." "You presumed a lot, Nog. But I won't go into that here. Our informal meeting on Valiant is in the past, and the tribunal lies just ahead. I really wish you hadn't been talking to all those officers, about the article." Nog puzzled. "Why not, sir? Aren't I allowed?" Sisko seemed less angry than concerned for Nog. "You are allowed. But now, all those people can be called to testify, as to what you said." "Tes-Test--Testify--sir?" Sisko now almost looked ill. "Ensign. I am relieving you of duty and confining you to the guest room in your father's quarters. You are not to speak to Jake or anyone in Starfleet except me, and your counsel." "Counsel!?" "Against my wishes, one of the matters that Starfleet will decide at this tribunal is whether or not you should be charged with dereliction of duty, for not taking command of the Valiant away from Cadet Watters. I'm sorry, Nog. Jadzia will walk you there, and again, you must speak to no one except me, your counsel, and your parents." "Sir, did the article---?" "This was in the pipeline long before that hit, Nog. Now go and rest up. It begins in three days." Sisko watched him go, not resuming his work for a full ten minutes. As Jadzia led him to Rom's quarters, Nog was indeed silent and he looked like he'd been hit with a club on heavy stun. At the quarters, Leeta greeted Dax and her stepson. When the door closed, Nog blankly walked over to the wall and set sound dampeners to their maximum, a level well above most such devices, thanks to Rom's skill. Nog then sat down on the couch, and began to cry his eyes out while Leeta held him, telling him something he could no longer make out above his own sobs. -------------------------------------------- "Your would-be attackers don't like you. Your would-be rescuers don't like you. Harry, *most* people don't like you." - Peter Kirk to Harry Mudd, 'Lawful Warrant' -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Awards Tech Support http://www.trekiverse.us/ASCAwards/commenting/ No Tribbles were harmed in the running of these Awards ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. 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