The Admiral and the Activist#WritingContestThe force field between them seems to stretch a thousand light years. They have traversed more than that since they last spoke. A starched uniform faces off a utilitarian jumpsuit, each seeing the brig as their stage, their moment of defiance.
"I hear your code name is now White Knight," the Admiral observes with a wry sigh, "you always were one for such pretentious savior nonsense. What's the next one going to be, Angel Gabriel?"
"Says the woman who sums up her life achievements in a series of pips," the Activist retorts, relaxing into a smug swagger. "How much did that latest one cost you?- No wait, let me rephrase. How many lives did it cost?"
"I serve the Federation. Do you serve anyone but yourself?"
"Evasive as ever."
"Look in the mirror."
In the corner, the guard barely conceals a judging look at the direction of the interrogation.
The Admiral tuggs her collar up and ponders a change of tack. "You should start to cooperate before the trial," she begins "They may go easy on you."
"Me?" the Activist scoffs. "You think this will end in any other way than you hauled before the Supreme Court for, how many constitutional violations?"
"Everything I've done is sanctioned by the Starfleet Charter and the Federation Council. Times of war can require extreme measures."
"Such as mass slaughter of civilian populations?"
"Let's talk about that, shall we? What were you doing on the planet surface?"
"Saving lives. What were you doing in orbit?"
"I'm asking the questions."
The activist scoffs. "Okay, Admiral. I'll play your game."
"Did you, or did you not, leak classified battle plans to the enemy?"
"If by that, did I warn a colony of farmers to get out the way of your armada of death, then yes."
"So you admit aiding the enemy in wartime, leading to the deaths of countless numbers of your own troops?"
"They're not my enemy. Not our enemy. And you led those troops into battle on lies and jingoism. Those people would have stood no chance against your bombardment. They're peaceful."
"Using civilians as shields is an age old tactic. We won't win this war by playing nice."
"Playing nice? You make murder sound like a faux pas."
"And you make war sound like a game of cricket. There's no scones in the pavilion tea room after the match. This is about survival."
"And what about the survival of our principles?"
"You can't let principles come before protecting your children."
"Yes. You do. If your principles don't come first, they're not principles. They're just empty rhetoric to inflate your own ego; to relieve your guilt when times are good. Your generation drilled those Federation ideals into us throughout our life. Told us that they defined who we were; how we were different from those you called our enemies. Is it so surprising that we would take them to heart? That we would challenge you to live up to them when you fail to pass their muster??"
The Activist left an uncomfortable vacuum with her sudden silence, the Admiral unsure now how to fill it. The two broke off from their dog fight, avoiding eye contact as they paced in circles attempting to figure out who they're break through to the other.
"Do you remember," the Admiral began, still focused on her hands, "when we spoke at your graduation. I was so proud that you had chosen to serve in Starfleet. You said you were inspired by me, that you wanted to protect the Federation like I did. I don't understand why you turned your back on it all. Why you betrayed the Federation, betrayed your oath... betrayed me."
"I left to defend the Federation," the Activist replied, weary of this familiar ground. "I left to fulfill my oath. As for you, you are not the woman I thought you were. That became obvious after you ordered us to execute the prisoners."
"We didn't have the room. It's what they prefer in their culture."
"It's not what we do in ours. My mistake was to take you at your word. To see you as my mentor. Even, my hero. It blinded me to your dark side."
"Don't be so hyperbolic. Dark side indeed..."
"It was always there, I just chose not to see it. I was used to seeing you as compassionate and caring. I ignored the way you treated your crew. I ignore the way you stampeded over strangers for simple convenience. I ignore the way you treated my brother."
"He wasn't cut out for Starfleet, not like-"
"Like me? And look where we are now. How does that feel, Admiral? My turn for questions." The Admiral gave a mildly assenting huff. "What was the strategic goal of your assault?"
"To win the war. To drive back the enemy from our space."
"This planet was never Federation space."
"It would have been, if they weren't spreading like wildfire before we got this far out. It's a perfect world for us and a key strategic location."
"What enemy installations did you identify? Shipyards? Supply depots?"
"They were here, what more did I need."
"There are countless worlds you could have targeted. What made this one special?"
"Proximity to..." the Admiral wavered, a small crack in her poker face appeared, then faded. "It's provides key food supplies to the front line. Removing it from the board slows the enemy's advance."
"Ah... wheat. Despite the fact that front line supplies are routed two sectors away as this world doesn't produce enough for export yet. I did notice something unique about this world though. It has a similar population, topography, demographics and industry to Talion IX. What happened to Talion IX three days ago, Admiral?"
"There was a battle."
"Care to rephrase?"
"A massacre. The enemy slaughtered us."
"Did you know anyone there?"
"You know full well-"
"Did you know anyone there? Because I'm not so sure considering you didn't show up at his funeral."
"I was busy. There's a war on."
"Busy on a revenge spree I understand. They killed our own, and you wanted to kill their own."
"You wouldn't understand."
"How do I not understand. He was my brother."
"Blood for blood. That's the language they understand and we have to respond in kind! They have to know that we will be as ruthless as they are. Then, and only then, will they respect us."
"What's the value of their respect, when we can no longer respect ourselves. Admiral?"
"I suppose you intend to use that admission against me. I know they'll understand though. Will they understand your choice though? How many siblings and children were lost because you sold them out?"
"And how many were saved?"
"We both know that our own are of far more value. You traded lives, theirs for ours. You're coming down."
"Not without you I'm not." The Activist turns away, wanting to bury herself in the bulkhead behind her. The Admiral reaches out, her fingers hovering above the forcefield. The electricity tingles across her skin. She withdraws her hand in shame as the Activist turns back to her; her face possessed by a stern visage. "We both know how this will go. This," the Activist gestures to their reunion, "was a mistake."
"It doesn't have to end this way."
"Perhaps not." The silence haunts the silence between them.
If only she'd just say it, they think.
If only she'd show me it's okay. Eventually, the Activist gives up waiting. "I'll see you at the trial."
"It's not like I have a choice."
The Activist gives a brief nod to the guard before leaving her prisoner to be picked up by Starfleet Security.
"Emma!" the Admiral calls out. The Activist turns on the utterance of her name. She waits in the doorway for the admission; the compromise; the end of that damned facade. But the Admiral simply stutters; her face sinks and she retreats back into her cell.
"Goodbye, mom." The door closes.
