Clear Consciousnesses
Posted on Sat Feb 21st, 2026 @ 11:39am by Captain Marc Kidd & Commander Mariko Tao
Edited on on Sat Feb 21st, 2026 @ 12:09pm
2,436 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Episode 3 - The One Who Got Away
Location: Ready Room - Deck 3 - USS Artemis
Timeline: MD001 0800 hrs
The Ready Room was quieter than it had been in days.
Mariko set the tea down carefully, the cup placed where it could be reached without ceremony. Steam curled faintly upward, carrying the familiar, earthy scent she preferred when her thoughts needed settling rather than sharpening. She kept her own cup in her hands, fingers warming against the porcelain.
For a moment, she said nothing.
The verdict had passed. The arguments were done. Whatever came next would belong to others soon enough. Bajor, the Federation, history. All of them would take their turns.
“This feels like the first honest pause we’ve had since we took him aboard,” Mariko said at last, her tone even, conversational rather than formal. Not a briefing. Not a report. Just an observation spoken into the quiet.
She took a small sip of her tea before continuing.
“I don’t think anyone walks away from a case like that satisfied. Only… finished. For now.” Her gaze drifted briefly towards the viewport before returning to the cup in her hands. “If nothing else, I’m glad the noise has stopped long enough for us to think.”
Mariko let the silence settle again, unhurried, unforced. This wasn’t command time yet. This was the space between decisions — the kind that mattered just as much.
Marc sat and watched as he XO set out the tea. A nice cup of tea was actually welcoming after what they had gone through. "It does. Since Vamcet came aboard the ship there has been nothing but controlled chaos. Now, he was on Bajor for good or ilk. And yet... A small part of me is actually going to miss him. Miss his presence. Here we are simply moving on to the next case. We are going to have to figure out how to deal with this. The ending I mean. This in between time."
Mariko listened without interrupting, her thumb resting against the rim of her cup as Marc spoke. She didn’t rush to fill the space when he finished. Some thoughts needed a moment to settle before they were worth saying aloud.
“Bajor is… complicated ground for someone like him,” she said eventually. Not guarded, but careful. “Legally, it’s appropriate. Culturally, it was always going to hurt — no matter how it ended.”
She glanced down at her tea, then back up, meeting his gaze briefly.
“As a lawyer, I understand the need for process. As a diplomat, I understand why process is rarely enough. Bajor carries its history very close to the surface. Justice there isn’t abstract — it’s personal. Sometimes public. Sometimes raw.” A small pause. “That doesn’t make it wrong. Just… volatile.”
She shifted slightly in her seat, the formality easing out of her posture.
“I don’t know if it’s good or bad that he’s there now. I suspect it’s both. For the Bajorans, it may feel like something has finally been returned to them. For the Federation, it will never be clean. And for him…” She exhaled softly. “I’m not convinced there was ever an outcome that wouldn’t haunt someone.”
Mariko’s gaze drifted toward the viewport again, not really looking at anything specific.
“The part that stays with me,” she added more quietly, “is that we did what we were supposed to do. That doesn’t mean it resolved anything. It just means we reached the point where responsibility changes hands.”
She looked back to him then, a faint, tired smile touching her mouth.
“That in-between you mentioned? I think that’s the cost of this kind of work. You don’t get closure. You get a pause, a breath… and then you learn how to carry the weight forward without letting it calcify.”
Her fingers tightened briefly around the cup, then relaxed.
“We’ll work out how to live with that. Or at least how to recognise it when it catches up to us.”
Marc allowed the weight of everything that she had said hang in the air. As if it needed to be absorbed and pondered on before anything could proceed. He sipped the tea and closed his eyes. The warmth filled his mouth and trailed down his throat. It was welcoming, and in a way felt like home. After another beat he spoke. "There is one thing that I should like closure about, although I doubt we are going to get it. Was everything done for the right reasons? I mean Vamcet is ill, and is it his illness that brought him to where he is today or is it true remorse? That is the thought that has plagued me since we departed Bajor."
Marc knew that he should perhaps address these thoughts to Adalyn and seek counseling. However, it has been a tried and true method that a Captain and XO counsel each other. One that Marc intended to follow through with.
Mariko didn’t answer straight away.
She set her cup down this time, fingers lingering against the porcelain as if anchoring herself there. When she spoke, it was quieter than before, not because the thought was fragile, but because it didn’t need force.
“I’ve asked myself the same question,” she admitted. “More than once.”
She looked at him then, properly, her expression open in a way she rarely allowed herself in command spaces.
“But I don’t think the answer changes what mattered.”
She drew in a slow breath.
“Whether the tumour gave him a conscience or simply loosened something that was already there… it doesn’t undo what he chose to do. Remorse explains behaviour. It doesn’t erase it.” A pause. “If it did, no legal system would survive.”
Mariko leaned back slightly, her shoulders easing.
“My father used to say something when I was studying law,” she said. “It wasn’t poetic. Just… blunt.”
She gave a small, almost fond exhale before continuing.
「理由は道を照らすが、責任は道を終わらせる。」- "Reasons may light the path, but responsibility is what brings it to an end."
“He meant that understanding why someone acted can guide how we respond — but it never removes the obligation to answer for the harm caused.”
Her gaze drifted briefly to the viewport, then returned.
“Vamcet being ill doesn’t make his crimes hypothetical. It doesn’t soften what was done to Bajor. What it does is complicate how we feel about the end of it.” She tilted her head slightly. “That’s human. Especially for someone in your chair.”
She hesitated, then added gently, “But justice isn’t invalidated because it’s uncomfortable.”
Mariko reached for her cup again, not drinking, just holding it.
“He was brought to account. Lawfully. Deliberately. Without vengeance. That matters — even if it doesn’t feel satisfying.” A faint, tired smile touched her mouth. “Especially then.”
She met his eyes again.
“You’re not wrong to wonder if it was remorse or illness. You’d be wrong if you let that doubt convince you we failed.” A beat. “We didn’t. We did the right thing in a situation that offered no clean answers.”
Her voice softened at the end.
“And if that question stays with you… that doesn’t mean you made the wrong call. It means you understood the weight of it.”
She let the silence settle again, not as something awkward to fill, but as space that was earned.
“Some cases don’t give closure,” she said quietly. “They give us proof we can still choose restraint when it would be easier not to. That’s a kind of victory — even if it never feels like one.”
"You are definitely wise beyond your years." Marc began with a chuckle. "When Admiral Ford offered me this command I thought it would be a relatively simple mission overall. The law is the law and justice will prevail. Therefore all I have to do is go get the bad guy and let the court do the rest. But, this like so many other things is not so black and white. This first case out of the gate is neither black nor white. But..." His voice trailed off as he gathered his thoughts once more. "...all things considered I agree with you. We did the best we could with what we had and justice seems to be done. For all save the Cardassian government who is not happy that Vamcet will meet his end on Bajor. I will commend the Bajoran government for simply allowing him to live his days out until the illness kills him."
Mariko’s mouth curved faintly at the compliment, though she shook her head almost at once.
“I wouldn’t call it wisdom, Captain,” she said gently. “Experience, perhaps. And a childhood that didn’t allow for much emotional improvisation.”
There was the smallest hint of dry humour there.
“In my family, justice wasn’t an abstract principle. It was something discussed at dinner. Inherited. Examined. My grandfather believed that discipline of thought was a form of respect — for the law, for the people affected by it, and for oneself.” She lifted one shoulder slightly. “Diplomacy only refined that habit. You learn quickly that very little is black and white. Most outcomes are negotiated in shades of grey.”
Her expression sobered at the mention of Bajor.
“They have shown restraint,” she agreed. “Allowing him to live out his illness rather than executing him immediately — that is not a small mercy, given what was done to them.”
A pause.
“But mercy offered by a government does not guarantee mercy from individuals.”
Her voice didn’t harden; it simply steadied.
“There will be Bajorans who believe he deserves swifter justice. There will be Cardassians who believe his continued existence is an embarrassment. Both perspectives create risk.” She folded her hands loosely in her lap. “Political restraint is one thing. Personal grief is another entirely.”
She held his gaze calmly.
“The Bajoran government has acted with dignity. That does not mean everyone beneath it will do the same.”
A small breath.
“If someone attempts to take his life outside the bounds of law, it will not invalidate what was done. It will only prove how fragile restraint can be when wounds are still open.”
Her expression softened again.
“What matters is that we upheld the process. Whatever comes next on Bajor’s soil belongs to Bajor. But we did not hand them vengeance. We handed them accountability.”
She gave him a quiet nod.
“That distinction will matter in time — even if it doesn’t feel like it today.”
"Well, my friend no matter what happens we can take solace in the fact that we did the right thing. What helps me to sleep at night is that Vamcet wanted to make amends. I don't think he wanted to go to prison, but he wanted to do something. There was something in his eyes when I spoke to him, something like a conscience. Something that a lot of Cardassians of the old regime do not have. He wanted to show that no one is above the law. No matter how much time has passed. Although now the question is what happens when those who make the law place themselves above it. Now, that is something that I should never want to find out." Marc lapsed philosophical as he spoke and then caught himself and stopped just as quick as he started.
Mariko was quiet for a moment after he finished.
“I’m not sure he knew what he wanted,” she said at last.
There was no dismissal in it. Just honesty.
“With a tumour like that… we can’t really separate conscience from chemistry. Regret from confusion. It may have felt real to him. That doesn’t mean it was clear.”
She glanced down briefly before meeting his eyes again.
“I don’t know that he was trying to prove no one is above the law. Cardassians of his generation were raised to believe they were the law. That they were right.” A faint exhale. “Admitting guilt doesn’t undo that culture. It just… complicates it.”
Her tone stayed measured, but not absolute.
“Maybe he wanted to make amends. Maybe he wanted control over how it ended. Maybe the illness changed him in ways he didn’t understand himself.” She gave a small tilt of her head. “I don’t think we’ll ever untangle that completely.”
A brief pause.
“But I don’t think we need to.”
She leaned back slightly, shoulders easing.
“He committed the crimes. He answered for them. Whatever was driving him in the end… that doesn’t erase what happened before.”
Her expression softened just a fraction.
“It’s human to want there to be a lesson in it. Or redemption.” A faint, tired smile touched her mouth. “Sometimes there just isn’t one.”
She reached for her tea again and this time finished it, setting the empty cup down with quiet finality.
The room felt steadier now. Not lighter — just settled.
Mariko rose smoothly to her feet, smoothing her uniform almost unconsciously.
“We have a new case waiting for us,” she said gently. “And a crew who will be watching how we carry this one.”
A small nod — respectful, collegial.
“We did what we could, Captain. That has to be enough for today.”
She moved toward the door without haste, pausing briefly at the threshold.
“Try to get some rest,” she added, softer now. “Tomorrow will not wait for us to feel finished.”
Waiting, she realised Marc hadn't yet dismissed her or if that their relationship had moved to not needing that to be said.
Marc sat in quiet contemplation. All she had said settled into his mind and he had not even noticed that she waited for him to dismiss her. All at once he knew two things. One was that he was damn glad that Ford gave him this command. The other was that Mariko was here to go through this all with him. After a time he raised his tea cup and took the last sip. The cup settled on the saucer with an equal finality to hers. As if to say well that is done, time to move on. He raised his head and looked at her with a soft smile. "Thanks Mariko."
A Joint Post By
Commander Mariko Tao
Executive Officer, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
Captain Marc Kidd
Commanding Officer, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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