Neutral Ground: Part 1/2

Posted on Wed Mar 18th, 2026 @ 3:48pm by Lieutenant JG Electra Drake & Sergeant Jace Morven

3,069 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Counselling Office
Timeline: Early 2389

Sergeant Jace Morven walked down the corridor with the pace of a man who wasn't rushing or dragging his feet. He knew what he was going towards. His former counsellor, Montoya, had been very good at telling him what she wanted from him in the next session. The mental preparation of knowing what he was walking into had made it a space he had a battle plan for.

The tea was always untouched but there for him, she would always listen and give him questions. He didn't like what she did, the way she expected him to reflect. He wasn't good at it. Looking inside never really changed the situation, so he found it more productive to push it aside. Apparently that wasn't healthy.

He had seen her for over a year. But the last months, he had noticed something. Not impatience. Not indifference. But she looked at him and he knew she knew what he would say, or do. He had become predictable. So had she, to him. And that is when the stalemate had happened.

She had explained to him, sitting across from him, that she knew what he was doing. And that he now knew her enough to know what she was doing. And that gave them choices. She had asked him. And expected an answer. He wasn't sure why he said he'd try a new counsellor, if she thought it was worth a go. Maybe because it had been over a year. Maybe because one thing he knew was she hadn't lied to him.

So...here he was. To see his new counsellor. He knew her name, because Montoya had told him about her. Electra Drake. He liked the way the name sounded, the strength in it. It sounded...impressive. It sounded like phaser fire, a shot well taken. He stopped outside the office and rang the chime, dead on time for his appointment. He was always on time. He didn't know how not to be.

"Come in," Electra called out, pushing herself to stand. She had opted not to wear a uniform in the end, although she wasn't sure if it was the right decision. She just had a hunch from reading his record...she didn't want this to be just another duty, just another tick box in his routine. She wanted him to know that he was showing up, and sit with the responsibility of that. She wore a navy three piece suit...wide legged trousers, a fitted waistcoat over a white blouse, but she had discarded the jacket and hung it over the back of her office chair. Her long, dark red hair had been braided over one shoulder, but with a few loose strands that showed she had done it herself without much fuss. "Jace Morvan? I'm Counsellor Electra Drake, can I get you anything?"

He walked in, wearing his uniform, eyes scanning the room without really turning his head or even looking like he was doing it. A security sweep with eyes only before his eyes went to her. To her clothes, which...looked different. The red hair which made him swallow at a memory of similar red hair. He looked at her face, eyes focusing on the bridge of her nose...to make it look like he was looking into her eyes. "No," he said, his voice quiet. "Don't need anything."

"But do you want anything?" she asked lightly, as if the difference was a casual thing, making her way to the sofa.

He tilted his head as he watched her, remaining where he was. Considering the question, looking at it for a trap. "No," he finally said. He wasn't hungry or thirsty. But her words had made him think and examine if he wanted anything.

"Good, come and join me then," she motioned him to the sofa area, but not to a specific seat. He could choose to sit next to her on the sofa, or the chair. She already had sparkling water on the table for herself, with a single slice of lime in it. "I understand you've been working with Counsellor Connie Montoya for some time now?"

He moved to the sofa area, stilling for a moment as he assessed the situation. The sofa had a view of the door. The chair didn't. But the sofa was close to her. A twitch in his jaw and a tightening of the eyes before he took a seat in the chair. "Yes. Just over a year," he finally said before he shifted. Hands on his thighs. Relaxed, palm down, feet planted, back straight but not stiff.

"How does it feel to have a new counsellor?" she asked bluntly as she reached for the paper notebook, setting it on her knee before taking the lid off of a fountain pen.

His eyes followed what she was doing, lips parting at seeing the pen. The sharpness of it, but...he knew what it was. "It isn't the first time," he said, after a moment. "Montoya's reasoning seems sound."

Lex nodded lightly, noting his gaze on her pen. "I...prefer to write real notes, it helps me remember the details. This isn't for your records, just for me," she assured softly. "I'm glad you agree with the reasoning, but...how does it make you feel?"

He looked at her face, taking a slow breath. "It...just is what it is. There's no...feelings tied to it," he admitted, and his hand moved slightly for a moment. Just a twitch, or conscious movement, and only for a second.

She nodded lightly, not pushing it for the moment at least. "Why don't you start by telling me about yourself, Jace. Whatever you think matters...wherever you want to start."

"I'm a Sergeant in the Ground Forces," he said, voice flat, a little...not cold, but certainly not warm. There was a slight pull between his eyebrows as he moved the words in his head...looking for the trap. For the place he could misstep. "I'm useful, in my position." He looked past her, to the stars, the silence stretching. "I've never been as long in one place as I have been on this ship."

"And how do you feel about that?" she asked quietly, not wanting to make assumptions. It was interesting though. Most people started somewhere in the past when asked about themselves, or with vital statistics. He was very much in the here and now, and how he was of use.

"It's...new," he admitted as he considered it, his head tilting a little to the side. He thought about what he had here. Names and faces outside the squad, outside the Ground Forces. "There's routines and the time to build them."

"And what are your routines?" she asked with a small smile, reaching for her drink.

He didn't relax, exactly, but this was something that he did not need to think about. "Get up. Water the mint. Shower. Get dressed. Check on the troopers. Eat. Training. Whatever duties are assigned for the shift..." he considered, stopping talking when he came to the part that was after his shift, after training and duty. "Sometimes I engrave. Or I go to the holodeck. Or gym."

"What about the lounge? Or the bar?" she asked lightly as she noted down his routine. It was pretty much what she had expected.

"Bar...sometimes," he said, eyes snapping to her for a moment before he unfocused his eyes a little. Less scrutiny to be under if you couldn't see straight. "Twice. So far."

Lex nodded with encouragement, looking back to him with a small smile. He was talking...but it was like he was offering a status report. "How do you like it in there?"

"It's..." he stopped, lips parting as he considered it. As he thought about it. "I don't know. It's...different." It was the only way he could describe it. It was Rook's territory. It felt...it wasn't relaxing. But no space was relaxing. But he...did he enjoy talking to Rook? He went silent, pressing his lips together. He didn't have an answer for the counsellor.

Lex watched with interest for a long moment. It was okay to not have an answer...but she could see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He had thoughts about it, but he wasn't saying them out loud. Or couldn't. "Different from...?" she prompted.

"Other spaces," he said, meeting her eyes briefly before he looked away, his jaw tightening a little. "It's Rook's territory."

"Ah.." she nodded gently at the reply that made a lot of sense. Territory. It was important to the sergeant...and the man who had grown up in a gang culture. "And what's the concern with that?" she asked softly. She wouldn't usually push quite so fast with someone she'd just started working with...but she knew he'd already done a good year of work with Connie.

"Nothing," he finally said as he shifted a little where he sat. "It's...unusual to know who owns the territory in Starfleet. But someone always does."

"And...does that seem like a good or bad thing?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Because it wasn't necessarily bad...in fact, if a man that was brought up in territory disputes felt like he was in a place where it was hard to figure out who owned the territory, there could be something reassuring about it.

"Depends on who is there," he admitted quietly before he met her eyes. His jaw tightened again, a brief tensing of muscles. "You usually respond to rank. An officer tells you something, you do it. Difficult on neutral ground, when you don't have...identifiers. When you can't tell. Then you got to read the body and movement."

"Or you could ask," Lex suggested lightly, setting her glass down before sitting back, crossing her legs.

"Or not," he said, bluntly, looking at her before he let out a slow breath. "It's better with some distance."

Electra nodded with understanding...the response was an answer in its own right. She decided to ease off a little though, changing lane to give him some of that space. "What brought you to Starfleet?"

"Starfleet Enlisted Preparation Programme," he said, his voice slightly...flat, not devoid of emotions as much as just giving a briefing. "I was placed there to...learn."

Placed there. It suggested a complete lack of agency or desire for the situation. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked softly, trying to steer him a little from the factual outline.

His lips parted and he almost looked like he was going to object. And then he closed his mouth, looking away. "I learned a lot. About...what was expected in the Federation."

"It must have been a sharp learning curve," she observed casually....casually enough for him to take it as an open question, or just a statement.

For a moment, he sat there... left hand curling slightly, not a fist, just...no longer pressed down on his thigh. He wasn't looking at her, but through her, eyes unfocused enough to blur her features, but he still saw that red hair. "I learnt what I was good for."

"And what's that, Jace," she asked calmly, seeing the changes, but letting him visit it in the safe place he was in.

His eyes focused on her at that. At his name. He didn't exhale, there was no shaky breath or confusion or bad feeling behind it. Just fact. "Fighting. Being pointed at whatever the Federation needed taking down." And there it was, just a flicker, as he remembered another voice who had disagreed back then. His eyes went down to the floor, just for a moment, before they went back to her. "I got sent to the place of the Federation that bites. Because I wasn't suited to be with explorers and healers."

Lex quirked a single eyebrow at the statement. Because she believed anyone could be suited to whatever they put their mind to, so long as they wanted it and were willing to do the work. So the real question was...had he believed the limitation that had been set on him...or was he actually content to be in that box. Which was very valid in its own right. "So...you became a part of the ground forces because you're good at fighting?" she asked instead, to get a clear picture of what he was telling her...but also just testing the idea of how he saw it, rather than how someone else had seen it years ago.

He gave a single nod. His eyes went to his own hands, briefly, before he let out a breath. It was small, silent...but there was an exhale. "I was good at fighting and not good at...this. Talking. Relating to others. SEPP recommended I joined the Ground Forces. I'd be...less likely to fall behind." He still remembered those words. Not the report itself that recommended that, he hadn't been able to read it even if it had been in his hands afterwards. But he remembered what the evaluators had said at the end of his year there. When he had passed, somehow, by scoring high in things that didn't involve talking.

"Talking is just a skill like any other...it can be practiced, improved..." Lex replied quietly, sitting back as she watched him with calm blue eyes. "Is that of interest to you?"

He blinked as he considered it. And then gave a small shake of his head. "Words are one thing. It's the other stuff...the unspoken bits. The things others seem to just know how to get." He held her eyes, his body slightly tense. "It's a language I've never learned."

"What if I told you that a lot of people struggle with that stuff?" she assured softly, a small smile coming to her with it. "More than you'd think. They just hide it well."

He looked at her, considering the words. He never really considered it in that many words, not from that perspective. He knew people who seemed too-sensitive to that language. The word hide...he knew that. Elen said she didn't need to hide herself from him...no. She hadn't used that word. She had a specific word. "Masking," he said, his eyes meeting hers for a split second before they found a spot behind her instead. "Hiding by pretending to be like others."

"That's one way, yes," Lex nodded with a small smile, curious as to where he'd heard that term, but not questioning it yet. "What is it that concerns you about not fully understanding the unspoken bits?"

"Doesn't...concern," he said, finding that he wasn't sure what to do with the word. It wasn't a word he attributed to himself, or what was around him. He looked at her pen, eyes on it as he spoke. "But if I don't understand it, I don't see things coming. I only see it once it's happened. It could be too late by then."

"What could be too late in a conversation?" she asked, an open and honest question. "I...understand in combat, for example, why that could be problematic. But in a conversation, why does it matter if you don't see something coming?"

He was silent for a moment, a pull between his eyebrows. He couldn't explain it. He had experienced it, the unspoken thing suddenly becoming something that could hurt. Something dangerous. Not just others. Him. "Things get set up," he finally said. "And if I don't see it coming, I can't...prepare. Or I can react...wrong." He looked away, his shoulders tensing with it, his jaw tightening.

"Wrong," Electra repeated the word he had chosen, nodding gently as she rolled the pen between her fingers for a moment in thought. "That sounds like you might be worried about the consequences of that for either the other person, or for you?"

His eyes remained on the pen, considering it for a moment. And he had no answer. It wasn't worry he felt, not really. Unease maybe. "Depends on the situation, I suppose."

Lex nodded gently, because that was fair. She also sensed she'd pushed him enough so decided to ease off a little. "And how do you feel about the Ground Forces now? You've had some time to become accustomed to the life..."

"It's what I am," he said, his voice quiet as he shifted. Straight back, hand on his thigh...pressing down a little. "I serve a purpose there and I am not sure what I would be if I wasn't." Or if he would even be alive.

"Ah, but that is an interesting question," she smiled at that, her head tilting with it as she leant on her notebook to him. "Out of sheer speculation, what do you think you could be if you weren't?"

"Dead," he said, without thinking, the word escaping him. He looked at her, a slight frown settling on his face. And a memory. Korrin watching him, watching him work on the practical things. "Or maybe a mechanic."

"Why do you think you'd be dead?" she asked just as bluntly, holding his eyes. "Would it have been Turkana that killed you, or this new life?"

He looked at her, clearly thinking for a moment. "I wouldn't have been useful," he said, his voice quiet...not quite flat, not quite cold. "If you're not useful, you're dead."

"Not in the Federation," she replied softly, wanting to be quite clear on that. She didn't want him to think he was stuck where he was. "You can do and be whatever you want to be here. That may well be what you're doing right now, but I want you to know that."

"I know," he said, not quietly, but thoughtfully. Because he knew, in a way. He just also knew that there was nowhere else he'd fit now. Not...as a person. And back when there had been a choice, he had truly believed that being abandoned was a death sentence...so he had joined. Twenty years was a long time to have lived as one thing.

Lex nodded gently, accepting the response. She wasn't sure that he really knew it, but there was time.

To Be Continued...

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Sergeant Jace Morven
Platoon Sergeant
Federation Ground Forces
USS Guinevere

Lieutenant JG Electra 'Lex' Drake
Counsellor
USS Guinevere

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