Tally 3: Mocking Death

Posted on Sun Dec 15th, 2024 @ 10:07pm by Lieutenant Adrianna Baciami

1,292 words; about a 6 minute read

The testing chamber was a sterile, unyielding space of polished steel and harsh lights. Adrianna Baciami stood at its centre, her posture straight, her expression calm. Above her, in the observation room, the air bristled with tension. Commander Thal’var stood rigidly by the control panel, his antennae twitching with anticipation. Beside him, Lieutenant Commander Maren Whitlock, Assistant Head of Starfleet Intelligence, regarded him with sharp, sceptical eyes.

“This one won’t break,” Thal’var said quietly, more to himself than to her.

Whitlock’s lips curled in a faint, humourless smile. “You said the same about Jal Arven,” she replied, her voice edged with cold precision. “And he crumbled the first time he faced real pressure in the field.”

Thal’var stiffened at the reminder. Jal Arven had been his greatest disappointment. The Betazoid cadet had excelled in every simulation, endured every gruelling test Thal’var had thrown at him. On paper, Jal had been perfect. But when sent on a high-stakes mission, he had faltered, choosing self-preservation over duty. His betrayal had cost lives and sensitive Starfleet intelligence. It had also cost Thal’var his reputation.

“Jal wasn’t ready,” Thal’var said through gritted teeth. “I see that now.”

“No, you pushed him past the point where he could distinguish between survival and failure,” Whitlock snapped. “And he dragged half a dozen operatives down with him.”

“This isn’t about Jal,” Thal’var shot back, his voice cold. “Baciami is different.”

Whitlock’s gaze flicked to the cadet below. “She’s human, Thal’var. That pain inducer wasn’t designed for humans, not at maximum intensity.”

“She volunteered,” Thal’var replied curtly. “She knows the stakes.”

“She knows what you told her,” Whitlock countered, her tone razor-sharp. “But if you push her too far, you won’t just destroy another cadet. You’ll destroy your career.”

Thal’var didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned into the microphone, his voice reverberating through the chamber. “Cadet Baciami, this is your final test. You may terminate it at any time, but remember: leadership is earned by those who endure what others cannot.”

Adrianna gave a single, deliberate nod.

With a flick of his wrist, Thal’var activated the neural pain inducer. A low hum filled the room as the first wave of simulated pain coursed through her nervous system. Adrianna didn’t flinch.

“Level 3,” Thal’var announced. “Equivalent to a minor fracture.”

Still, Adrianna stood firm, her breathing steady, her dark eyes fixed ahead.

Thal’var glanced at Whitlock, as if daring her to comment. She said nothing, her face unreadable, though her fingers drummed against her crossed arms.

“Level 5,” Thal’var said, turning the dial. “Severe burns.”

A bead of sweat trickled down Adrianna’s temple, but she remained motionless.

“She’s suppressing,” Whitlock murmured.

“She’s stronger than Jal ever was,” Thal’var retorted, his hand moving toward the dial again.

“Jal didn’t break in here,” Whitlock snapped, her voice rising. “He broke out there, in the field, because you pushed him so far in training that he couldn’t tell the difference between pain and fear. If you’re trying to prove you can train another perfect cadet, this isn’t the way.”

“She’s different,” Thal’var insisted. “You’ll see.”

“Different?” Whitlock’s eyes narrowed. “She’s human, Thal’var. Humans have limits.”

Thal’var ignored her, his focus locked on Adrianna.

“Level 7,” he announced. “Multiple compound fractures.”

Adrianna’s breathing grew heavier, her body trembling slightly under the strain. But she didn’t yield.

“End it,” Whitlock demanded, her tone brooking no argument. “This is enough.”

“She can go further,” Thal’var muttered, his fingers inching toward the dial. “She’s close. She’ll surpass him.”

“She’s not him!” Whitlock barked, stepping closer. “And if you push her to maximum, you’ll break her, just like you broke Jal.”

Thal’var hesitated, his hand wavering over the controls. Below, Adrianna took a slow, steadying breath, her eyes flicking briefly toward the exit.

“Level 9,” he said, almost to himself, as he turned the dial.

“No!” Whitlock lunged for the console, but it was too late.

The hum of the machine intensified, the strain on Adrianna’s body reaching its peak. She took one faltering step toward the door, her vision blurred, her muscles trembling violently. Then she collapsed.

Alarms blared, cutting through the tense silence.

“She’s not breathing!” Whitlock shouted, shoving Thal’var aside and slamming the emergency override.

Medics rushed into the chamber as Whitlock descended, their fingers searching for a pulse. As one medic desperately started compressions, the other prepared the defib.

“Clear—”

“Come on, Baciami,” Thal’var muttered under his breath. “Don’t you dare let this be how it ends. Prove everyone wrong.”

But there was no response. No breath. No heartbeat.

“---Clear–”

Above, Thal’var stared down at the scene, his expression a mask of shock and denial. For the first time, the weight of his actions seemed to register. Perhaps he had been wrong. Was pushing a cadet really how far he was willing to go to regain his reputation?

“She’s different,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “She was different.”

“---Clear—”

Whitlock shot him a look of pure venom as the medics worked frantically. “You’ve done enough, Thal’var. Get out.”

“--Clear–”

Another jolt from the defib. This time, a weak gasp escaped Adrianna’s lips.

“Wait! She’s back,” The medics breathed, their hands still poised over Adrianna’s chest. Relief flooded their features as they watched the shallow rise and fall of Adrianna’s breathing.

Adrianna’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. “Merde! The defib– that hurt worse than the neuro thing, Thal’var,” she whispered hoarsely, a soft chuckled adding, as if laughing at death.

Thal’var let out a shaky laugh, “You bloody idiot. Gawd, kid, Whitlock was about to have me fired for killing her next undercover protege.”

As the medics carried Adrianna out, Whitlock turned to Thal’var, her voice low but lethal. “She’s… she's laughing about death?” She asked in disbelief as she watched the cadet being taken away.

Thal’var nodded, “believe it or not– there is nothing in her past or family life that would suggest she would be broken enough to deal with this. However– she's the youngest and only girl in a large family. She's learned to stand up for herself and she has bloody determination to out-do them all. I trained her eldest brother– before he switched to tactical: they keep tallies as tattoos of their near death experiences. That girl's on 2, 3 now I suppose. The Baciami family– They mock death.”

“Think you can have her ready to ship out in a month?”

“Soon as she's out of medical, ma'am,” he nodded, “what are you thinking?”

“Drifting Gallivant– the only way to get deep enough to infiltrate is to work amongst the outer circle. Make a name for herself. It'll be dangerous– her base will be Freecloud. If she laughs at death, she can handle the mercenaries and gangs out there. Once she’s got the reputation, she can join the guy already on the inside. He's starting to crumble– he needs a break, or back up,” Whitlock then paused and shot him a look, “either way: this wasn’t a test– it was recklessness. You nearly killed her for the sake of your pride.”

Thal’var’s antennae drooped slightly, his face stiff, “She proved she’s capable.”

“She proved she’s more than capable,” Whitlock snapped, “And if you dare pull a stunt like that again, I'll ensure that you never work again. Am I clear?”

Thal’var nodded, “believe me next time I recommend someone?”

“Oh gawd– Without hesitation.”

 

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