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In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments; there are consequences. - Robert Green Ingersoll
She pushed through the crowd, jostling past the slew of ensigns and lieutenants leaving the transporter pads in subdued clusters of five and six. The main transporter room at Starfleet Command was more packed than usual as the crew of the Venture disembarked, but oddly quiet, the events of the past two days obviously weighing heavily on everyone’s minds. Katrina had to squeeze her small frame between people to gain any ground.
“Lieutenant Commander!” Katrina called, spotting a dark head in front of her. But no one turned around, and soon the head disappeared back into the sea of people. “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath.
Once she was past the first entryway, the crowd finally began to thin and she saw her again. “Philippa!” The head still didn't look up, but she caught a glimpse of Philippa’s face as she pushed through the second entryway, her eyes set firmly downward, and there was no doubt in Katrina’s mind that she was being deliberately ignored.
She made one last, futile attempt. “Come on, Pippa, we need to talk!” But the other woman was through the doorway before she could finish, and by the time Katrina had made her own way through, she'd lost her completely in a sea of blue uniforms.
Commander Katrina Cornwell was a woman not easily deterred. But she also wasn’t stupid. So she gave Philippa some time before she went home and hoped that giving her space now would mean she’d be willing to talk later.
Katrina arrived at the door of their small apartment several hours later after getting some dinner and stopping by her office to start making arrangements for grief counseling for the crew. But she was surprised to find the special security lock engaged from the inside. She pressed the chime and waited. “Come on, Pippa. Let me in. You can't ignore me forever.” Part of her was afraid that Philippa wouldn’t answer, and for a moment, she thought her fears had been realized. Then she heard the soft click of the locking mechanism disengaging. Katrina rolled her eyes, then composed herself and pushed the door open.
Philippa was reclined on the sofa, soft music filling the small apartment.
“Jazz?”
Philippa’s eyes were glued to the ceiling. “Sometimes it helps me think.”
“Is it working?”
“No,” she sighed. “Not really.”
Katrina moved towards the sofa and Philippa pulled up her legs to make room. After she sat down, she laid a hand on her girlfriend’s bent knee. “You’ve been through alot this week, Pippa.” It was the sort of thing all officers prepared for, but hoped would never be necessary. “It’s normal to struggle after something like this.”
Philippa let out a long sigh, eyes finally dropping from the ceiling to gaze at Katrina suspiciously, one eyebrow raised. “Are you saying that as my partner? Or as my counselor?”
Katrina frowned and tilted her head at Philippa. “Can’t it be both?”
Philippa didn’t say anything and went back to staring at the ceiling.
“They are probably going to give you a commendation, you know. For saving the ship.” Philippa didn't move so she continued. “Look, I’m worried about you, Pippa. Me. Someone who cares about you. But… as the ship’s counselor, I can tell you that after something like this? You are going to have to be cleared by Starfleet Medical before you can return to duty.”
Philippa’s jaw tightened for a moment, then she nodded. “So… what does that mean? I need to talk to a counselor?”
Katrina gave her an encouraging smile. “Yes. Eventually. But how about you start by just talking to me?”
There was a crackle as the music stopped and they both looked up to watch the turntable in the corner. The tonearm lifted and swung slowly to the side while the record spun slower and slower until it came to a stop. Philippa sat up but didn’t move to flip the record. She took a breath. “I don’t know what there is to say.”
Katrina could imagine a lot of things to say.
The ship had been under a relentless barrage of fire for a good half an hour, neither side gaining an edge, when the photon torpedos jammed. A security team was dispatched to fix the problem.
Shields had held so far, but they were weakening, and couldn’t take much more. Time was of the essence. Then a direct hit sent the ship reeling. Captain Li had been thrown hard into the deck, knocking him out cold. Katrina had felt the moment the mood on the bridge turned dark.
Philippa had taken over immediately, arranging for the captain to be taken to sickbay and asking for an update from the security team. “We don’t have a lot of time, Lieutenant.”
“We are going to have to send someone into the tube to realign--”
“Get it done,” she cut off tersely.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Philippa sat down in the captain’s chair and scanned over the bridge crew. “Helm, evasive maneuvers. I need you to buy us as much time as you can.”
Then another hit rocked the ship. “Captain, we’ve lost shields!” Katrina knew it was the first time Philippa had ever been called ‘captain.’ She imagined this wasn’t what the other woman had had in mind for the occasion.
All eyes went to the viewscreen, where the Breen ship was curving around for another run at the Venture.
“We are out of time, Lieutenant,” Philippa told the security team on the other end of the comm line. “You better have good news for me.”
“Everything is realigned and ready to be fired. But we still have someone in the torpedo tube, it won’t be safe until we can--”
His voice was drowned out by the officer at tactical. “Captain, if they land a direct hit without shields, we’re done for.”
“We just need one more minute--” came the tinny voice of the officer from security.
But they didn't have a minute. The ship was bearing down on them. Time was up.
“Fire.”
The comm line to the torpedo bay was still broadcasting, and the whole bridge heard the choked off scream of the doomed security officer inside the tube. No one on the bridge so much as breathed as they watched the torpedo sail through space.
There was a collective sigh of relief when the torpedo struck, obliterating the alien ship, but no celebration.
Philippa finally broke the silence. “Helm. Get us out of here.”
She hadn’t even known who it was that had met his unfortunate and untimely end until later, an ensign named Michael Taylor. He was just twenty-three. The Venture was his first posting.
“Don’t pressure yourself,” she told Philippa. “Just start talking. It will come out.”
Philippa looked at her suddenly and Katrina was surprised by the intensity of her gaze. “What will come out? What do you want me to tell you? That I feel terrible about what happened? That the guilt is killing me?!”
Katrina flinched under the sudden assault, but she composed herself quickly. “Only if that’s how you really feel.”
Philippa stood up and put herself in front of Katrina. “You want to know how I feel?” she asked, pointing at her chest. “I feel fine. I don’t regret it for a second. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” She paused and her finger trembled. “And that terrifies me.”
“Oh, Pippa… “ Katrina stood up and pulled Philippa into her arms. Philippa sagged against her, fingers twisting in her jacket.
“What does that say about me, Kat?” Philippa murmured into her neck.
Katrina pulled back and took Philippa by the shoulders. “It means that you can make the hard decisions. It means that one day, you will be a really good captain.”
Philippa made a pained face. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”
“Unfortunately, it’s a package deal,” Katrina told her with a half-smile. “Starfleet officers have got to take the good with the bad, and the difficult with the even more difficult.” Philippa snorted softly and Katrina took her hand. “I know it might take some time to come to terms with what happened, and with your role in it. But you can do this, Pippa.”
Philippa didn’t say anything, but she nodded and leaned back in, holding Katrina tightly. When she finally pulled back, she gave a weak smile. “So, are you going to sign off on me?”
“Nuh uh,” Katrina replied, shaking her head. “You aren’t getting off that easy. You need to actually sit down with someone. I can’t clear you for duty.”
Philippa took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand. But can that wait until tomorrow, at least?”
Katrina smiled. “Of course.”
An hour later, Philippa was laying on the sofa again, but this time her head was in Katrina’s lap and a serene smile was on her face. An empty bottle of wine lay discarded by her feet and Katrina sipped wine and ran her fingers through Philippa’s hair.
When the record ended, Philippa rose up, hips swaying to the jazz still in her head as she looked for another record to listen to. Finally satisfied, she plucked another vinyl recording from its place on the shelf.
When the first note hit her ears, Philippa smiled and reached a hand out to Katrina. “Dance with me?”
Katrina hesitated, but the music picked up and it was the sort of thing that you couldn’t help but move to. She gave Philippa a playful glare, then drained her glass and stood. Philippa grinned and took her by the hand, leading her into the middle of the room.
Philippa’s enthusiasm was infectious, as always, and they danced together, bodies moving to the music, giggling as they twirled each other around the room. After two songs, they had both discarded their jackets, tossing them carelessly over chairs. Katrina smiled at Philippa, who was flushed with wine and exertion, and found herself pulled in close, hip to hip, fingers entwined. The music slowed and Philippa pressed her cheek to Katrina’s collarbone, swaying gently.
“I couldn't let anything happen to the crew,” Philippa whispered. “To you.”
“You did the right thing,” Katrina murmured into her hair. She kept moving and they fell silent again, hips swaying back and forth, her hand gently stroking along Philippa’s spine until the music was over.
They didn’t stop immediately, bodies moving slower and slower. When they were finally still, Philippa tipped her head up and Katrina’s eyes fluttered closed as soft lips brushed hers.
Everything else disappeared until there was only the here and now. The Venture was gone, along with the heavy responsibilities that came with it. Even Ensign Taylor was but a fuzzy memory. In that moment, there was only Philippa’s hands on her arms, her nose pressed into Kat’s cheek, her lips hovering so close they were sharing breath.
“Pippa...” Katrina whispered, fingers curling into long, dark hair. She pressed her mouth hard against Philippa’s, and Philippa clung to her tightly in return. Philippa pulled away first and pressed their foreheads together. “Kat?” She whispered.
“Hmm?”
“How can I be here like this? Like nothing happened? I must be a monster.”
Katrina hugged Philippa’s body to hers. “You aren’t a monster, Pippa.”
Philippa buried her head in Katina’s neck. “I’m not so sure,” she whispered.
“I know. As time passes, you'll figure out how to live with this responsibility.” Philippa nodded, and Katrina took her by the hand and the hip, slowly swaying in the silence until Philippa relaxed and laid her head on Katrina’s chest. “Did you ever hear him sing?”
“Ensign Taylor?” Philippa asked. “Why? Did he have a nice voice?”
“No, it was terrible,” Katrina told her, eliciting a chuckle. “But he loved to do it anyway.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Not really.” She paused. “But he seemed like a good man.”
Philippa sighed. “I wish I'd known him better. I… I think I want to speak at the funeral. I owe him that much.”
“You don't have to do that, Pippa. The captain--”
“Is injured. Li is still at Starfleet Medical and probably will be for a while.”
Katrina nodded. “Okay.” She rested her cheek on Philippa’s head. And they kept dancing.