What Fools We Mortals Be

Posted on Mon 24th Mar, 2025 @ 11:58pm by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Commander Entaaro Nasz
Edited on on Wed 26th Mar, 2025 @ 12:55pm

1,360 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: The Phoenix Gamble
Location: Damion Ildaran's Quarters

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" --William Shakespeare, from A Midsummer Night's Dream

Damion returned to his quarters after his visit to Ops and flung himself onto his sofa. What in hell did I just do?

The Klingon had made him out; he was certain of it--something having to do with Damion being unable to access the locked workstation. As far as he knew, no one outside of IT staff could access a locked Starfleet computer. IT staff worked globally, providing updates to all computers used by Starfleet personnel on the station; they had to be able to access them whether locked or not to apply patches and to push upgrades or add software. Ordinary Operations personnel didn't have that authority--not as far as Damion knew. He had always had to be granted access--a practice he approved of. Commander Nasz, though, had seemed suspicious that he hadn't been able to access the communications computer when it was locked.

Well, if I was made, I was made. I signed off on the work order with my real name, so I take the demerits and the discipline as I deserve. At least I wasn't murdered and my body subjected to transport dispersion.

Damion winced to himself. Spies had nasty ways of killing each other if caught and of eliminating evidence.

He sighed, got up off the sofa, and went into his bathroom to wash out the hair dye and skin coloring. The coveralls, foot orthotic, and oral inserts went into the recycler; his work boots went into his closet. He'd have to visit the hair 'salon' in Intel to grow his hair back out to normal length before he reported for duty in the morning. A hot shower straightened all of the loathsome curls. It was a relief to look like himself again.

Clad in pajama bottoms, Damion brewed himself a pot of tea and then took a mug of it into the living area of his quarters. He sank down on the sofa again and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Why did I do that? What did I think I was doing?

He tried to play back his decision-making process in his mind. Commander Rex and I were talking in my office. She started saying how, as the Infiltration Specialist, I should come up to Ops more, and then I just--I thought, I want to see if I can do that. and then I thought about Elizabeth not being here anymore, and how I would never do such a thing if she were here, so why not?

Damion frowned at himself. That's pretty pathetic thinking. What, am I going to blame all my stupid decisions on Elizabeth now? Because there's no excuse for that.

He sipped at his tea and thought some more. No, Elizabeth is irrelevant to this. Back when I was CIO of the Hermes I'd have read my infiltration specialist the riot act if she'd tried a stunt like the one I just pulled. Suppose I had been discovered? Rex and Francis could have been disciplined for the security breach. If Nasz reports me, they could be disciplined for it. If I report me, they could be disciplined for it. I am a bloody thoughtless idiot!

Damion frowned. Why was this obvious consideration completely absent from my thinking? I'm normally a responsible guy. I don't take stupid risks--and I certainly don't take stupid risks with other people's careers! Why did I do that tonight?

He put his tea mug on the coffee table and buried his face in his palms. Maybe this grieving thing is affecting me more than I realized. It's been several months, though; I should be past the worst of it by now. And Commander Rex's 'challenge'--that was just a convenient excuse I took to do something risky because I already wanted to take a wild risk; I just didn't realize it. She gave me an excuse to do something completely out of character for myself, and I realized I didn't have to be answerable to Elizabeth for my actions, so I went for it.

Okay, Elizabeth, I guess you aren't irrelevant to this. I'm sorry, beloved. I'm unattached now. I met a smoking-hot woman, and for the first time since you died, I was attracted to a woman and wanted to impress her--

Damion's eyes went wide, and he froze on the sofa. Wait a minute--I WHAT?!

Oh, that's just BRILLIANT, Ildaran! You pulled a stupid stunt that could ruin her career--or yours--because you thought she'd be IMPRESSED with you? Yeah, she'd be impressed, all right--not favorably. Oh, my God....

He let out a long whuff of breath and collapsed against the sofa cushions. So what do I do, now? He sighed. I have to report myself to Severide and take whatever discipline she hands out. This can't stand. I can't make any more stupid decisions for stupid reasons. I have to do better than this.

From outside the quarters, Entaaro decided after much consternation, to hit the door chime.

He had poured over facial recognition software and spent hours combing the database to come to this location. This man, Damion, matched in many ways, but also had an alibi for the time of the infiltration. There was no other way to discern the truth than to look it in the eye, but if he took this to security and it was just his imagination, nobody would take his hunches seriously. This was a fellow officer, but his suspicions had to be satisfied. He had the markings of a career intelligence agent, something Entaaro aspired to greatly.

Damion blinked in surprise at the sound of knocking at his door. He took a moment to compose himself, ducked into his bedroom to pull on a black t-shirt and then pressed the button to greet his visitor.

He found himself staring at a guy's chest. Damion tilted his head backward, already knowing who it was.

"Commander Nasz," he said, "It's good to see you again. Please come in."

He stood in the doorway unmoving, "I do not wish to disturb you, I just needed to see you with my own eyes. I have seen you now, so I will leave you in peace.... Tell Commander Severide I say hello, will you... crewman?"

It wasn't a threat, but it was a challenge, and he took delight in over enunicating 'crewman'. Entaaro smiled like one who has done very well. He only just realized that poking the bear like this could backfire spectacularly, if Damion chose to make this a problem Entaaro wasn't sure he was up to the challenge.

"I had a feeling you'd figured it out, sir," Damion said. "I'll be talking to Commander Severide about it in the morning."

The low chuckle was a victory lap, and he spoke quickly to stop him. "Not on my account. I have also had Commander Severide set challenges for me. And truthfully I had just a wild guess until I saw you now."

"You're sure you don't want to come in?" Damion asked, "I promise I don't have any gooey cheese."

Entaaro replayed events in his mind, connecting to the first social gathering he had attended on the station. Tetra Ball, Buffalo wings... Queso....

The faces of everyone there flashed in an instant and he remembered, with a whoop and astonishment he remembered Damion was there! His face twisted into a smile, "You were there, I remember you took the bowl of queso after I dumped it on the Broot. HA! You are very talented I barely noted your presence."

He paused before adding, "Perhaps I could come in, but are we... at odds?"

Damion chuckled. "No, sir, we are not at odds. As long as there isn't anything in the handbook advising you to not fraternize with a lieutenant, I'd like to get to know you better."

 

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