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"The Bottom of the Barrel", indeed

Posted on Tue Apr 10th, 2018 @ 6:33am by Lieutenant Clarissa Williams

Mission: The Junk Heap
Location: D.S. 5 bar

Clarissa sat, quietly, at a bar.

A bar was a proper place for her to sit, she had decided.

The J.A.G. ruling had informed her that her actions were a disservice to her record, as a Security Officer. The ruling was based on her actions, and witness testimony, and she accepted the ruling, because it was hard to argue it, with anything except emotion, which the judge did not take in to account, in spite of her J.A.G. advocate's best attempts.

That was not why a bar was an appropriate place for her to be, after being demoted.

Her romantic partner had not only testified against her, at her hearing, she had also used Clarissa's actions, specifically choosing to save T'vash's life, over the lives of several others, because she was "Emotionally involved" with T'vash, to terminate said emotional involvement.

One away mission. One life for Nineteen.

One J.A.G. ruling.

Her entire 6 year relationship, and her life's work, to be good enough, were gone. Just like that. So. She sat. And she drank.

She hadn't even bothered to read what she had been demoted to. Where she was being assigned. At this specific moment, she was entirely too emotionally wrecked to care. The only thing that seemed to matter was alcohol.

She stared in to the glass of scotch, and thought, fondly, of the times, growing up, when she would call her sister, when she was depressed, and she would warmly reassure her.

Her sister wasn't there for her, anymore. She was lost, in Starfleet Security, somewhere, but even then, she wasn't Talia Williams. She was some robot wearing her face. Clarissa had met her once. Just once. She regretted it.

Somewhere, along the line, in her attempts to be good enough, Clarissa Williams had left herself without anyone to rely upon, in moments like this, where her life was in ruin.

No one, that was, except alcohol. Alcohol was semi-dependable. Except she couldn't drink it, while on duty.

The worst part, wasn't that T'vash left. It wasn't even that she got demoted. The worst part, was that T'vash's last words cut Clarissa's soul in half. T'vash knew exactly what to say, and how to say it, in such a way as to leave Clarissa devastated. T'vash was rarely one for putting others' emotional needs, over her own tact, but she had never so directly, and apparently spitefully, done so, to anyone, let alone her.

She picked up her PADD, and squinted at it, trying to read it, through bloodshot eyes, and a foggy head.

U.S.S. Century. Seemed like a nice sounding ship. She couldn't seem to focus on what she was doing on it, but at this precise moment in her life, she was pretty much glad she wasn't scrubbing decks, or mining borite, like T'vash seemed to imply she deserved. Then, she saw something distressing; Her shuttle was due to depart at 2200 hours.

It was 2130.

She coughed, and hastily paid her bill, before rushing to pack her bags, and stumbling several times.

2159. She made it to the shuttle at 2159.

Internally, she hoped that the trip to the Century would be a long enough flight for her to nap, and sober up enough to read precisely who she was going to be on this ship, and what her job was.

She laid down on a stretch of floor, on the transport, out of everyone's way, using her clothing bag as a pillow, and closed her eyes, hoping that this new assignment would be infinitely better than what she was expecting it to be.

Internally, though, she didn't think she deserved it to be.

She closed her eyes, and attempted to sleep.

Sleep came with nightmares, but at least it came.

That didn't mean Clarissa was happy about it.


Lieutenant Clarissa Williams
Chief Security and Tactical Officer
U.S.S. Century


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