Inch by Inch

Posted on Thu Jul 17th, 2025 @ 8:36am by Lieutenant JG Constance 'Connie' Montoya & Sergeant Jace Morven
Edited on on Mon Aug 4th, 2025 @ 11:46am

1,853 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: USS Guinevere
Timeline: 2388

Connie Montoya wrapped her hands around her cup. Slowly, taking her time to just enjoy the scent of it. Tea with a dash of milk. Assam. Real, not replicated. The difference wasn’t in taste…not much, anyway. It was in presence. The ritual. The knowledge that a leaf had once touched rain. She had lived in places where replicated was what you got. But while she had choice and a supply, she treasured this cup above everything. Her eyes went to the time, clocking it, considering it. Still time. Her monthly check in with Sergeant Morven.

Last time had been the counselling equivalent of dipping a toe into the pool and making sure there weren’t any jellyfish in the depths. She had kept an eye out. Seen him around. Alone in the mess, sitting by himself. He didn’t seem to socialise. She had asked Corporal Trelan, the new Betazoid transfer to Jace’s squad. Not outright. She had just asked if the squad had settled in properly yet under their new Sergeant.

”He’s quiet, but knows his stuff,” Trelan had said and then hesitated for a moment. The next had been a whisper: ”can’t get a read on him, he’s erratic. Not cold. Just…there’s a fog.”

Connie hadn’t asked for more detail. Just given a nod and a small, encouraging smile to the other woman. And left it at that.

She wasn’t surprised. With access to his entire psychological backlog of noted sessions, even recordings, she had seen patterns. A part of her felt guilty. Others needed her attention just as much, it was her professional interest that made her dip into his file on occasion, to read over it again. It always left her feeling like she had opened her sister’s diary and not liked what she had read about herself. A mirror held up.

So she had decided to stop. So far, she had kept that promise to herself. She had stopped. She’d meet him where he was today, no more, no less.

Her hand went to her ear, touching the non-regulation earrings there. She removed them and hid them under a PADD. Not that she thought he’d object but she didn’t want to distract from this. Today, there was more time. Today, she would offer him a drink.

Right on the dot the chime rang, and he walked in. Stillness and a straight back, eyes flicking over the neutral walls, the soft-glow lighting, the distance to the door. He clocked the layout like someone scanning for cover, not comfort. No surprises. Nothing new. His shoulders didn’t drop, but they didn’t rise either. Clocking the book she had, the pencil, all resting on a spare chair in the corner. She stood, giving him a nod. “Sergeant Morven…please take a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

He sat down. Not elegantly, just soundless. She watched how he moved, recognising something in it. Not anything bad. The silence of it had to be a plus, especially for a man of his height and built. Good for recon. Maybe even good for hunting. Reminded her of how her father walked whenever he was in their holosuite, re-creating some ancient hunting ritual of her mother’s ancestry.

He hesitated. And then shook his head. “No, Lieutenant.”

She nodded at the words and retook her seat. “Perhaps for this, you could call me Montoya rather than Lieutenant or counsellor,” she said and took her tea. She lifted it, took a sip. Watched him through half-lidded eyes.

His eyes followed the movement. The tea. She put it down and made a decision. Got up, moved to the teapot. Tested the side of it with her hand and took a cup and saucer. She poured the tea. A splash of milk. Then, after a moment, half a teaspoon sugar. Stirred it. And carried it over, putting it in front of him. An offering. He didn’t respond…she didn’t need him to.

She had offered. If he took it or not, that was on him.

She retook her seat and gave a small nod. “Last time, I told you I would ask you about your squad. So. How are you settling in as their Sergeant?” she made the distinction a line on the desk. He had led a squad before, but never as their Sergeant. Now he was one. And she wanted to know where it sat with him.

He stayed silent for a moment. His eyes flickered to the tea, and then her again. He didn’t reach for it. But he didn’t tense up either at the question. “They’re green,” he finally said. “But they’re willing to learn.” It sounded like an assessment, flat and neutral, a fact.

She nodded, considering the words as she watched him. He was curious about the tea, in his own way. Perhaps not for today though…she suspected that it would take some time before he tried it.

“That’s something at least,” she said, her voice thoughtful for a moment. “Are you nervous?”

That made something in his jaw tighten. She watched. It eased. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She considered her words for a moment. No. Wrong wording, that. Nervousness was something others had, wasn’t it. Sweaty palms, racing heart.

“Or more…do you have to recalculate your approach with them, given that they are green yet…eager to learn?” she tried instead.

A nod. Not a verbal answer. Just a small nod of the head. She took it as an answer. Didn’t ask him more on it, didn’t push. It was still early days.

She lifted her cup and felt the warmth from the porcelain on her hands. Let the words sit there for a little bit, didn’t think about it. Didn’t tell her about her opinion of his squad, even if she had assessed all of them. Instead: “Did you go to the holodeck?”

He glanced at her. Blue eyes met hers, held them for a moment. A connection, a split second. And then they shifted, lost that focus. “Yes.” A pause. A beat. “Ran over time.”

She hadn’t expected him to embellish on it. But he had. She wondered if it was something he had learned from Echo, the counsellor there. That it had maintained a balance that he had been comfortable with. “I can extend it,” she said, giving a nod. “Longer slot, to avoid that happening again.”

He stayed still. And then a small shake of the head. “No necessary.”

“Alright,” she gave a small smile, a nod. Set her cup down and shifted back in her seat a little. Her uniform collar tugged a little. She didn’t adjust it, kept her body relaxed. “However, sometimes…things can be nice, even if they’re not necessary.”

He didn’t reply. But he did move his hand, a little. She couldn’t see what he was doing from this angle. Could be a grounding movement, a tic. Could be he had an itch. She didn’t speculate. And he didn’t respond.

“Did anything happen when you ran over?” she asked, her mind going back to what he had said. And it opened possibilities. Had he encountered anyone, or had there been no consequence of it. And if he had, what then?

Silence. And then, finally: “Someone walked in. Stopped. Talked to me. Didn’t tell me to end it.”

She didn’t react outwardly. But there was a spark inside of her, a quiet hope. She gave a nod. “Not everyone’s after ending things,” she finally said. Quietly. Thoughtfully, more to herself than Jace.

He looked at her and she lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Her name’s Elen,” he finally said.

Connie’s heart gave the smallest thud…not loud, not telling. Just the body’s answer to something unexpected: the sound of a name from someone who didn’t speak them easily.

She gave a small nod in acceptance. Her mind rushing through the crew manifest. Elen Rell. Engineering. ADHD. Yes…she wouldn’t have told him to exit the programme. She wouldn’t have kicked him out. “I know of her,” she said, her voice soft. She didn’t volunteer more.

And he didn’t ask.

She let the silence sit. Not uncomfortable, not for her. She had experienced it before. She let him sit in his own words, in the little…bit of information he had shared. She finished her tea. Didn’t get up, just waited. There was a part of her that wanted to fill the silence…say something light, offer him more time. But she bit it back. Let the quiet be his, not hers.

Nothing else came.

So she decided. “Next session…I want to talk to you about Sergeant Garin Vel,” she said. There was no physical reaction she could read in him as she said the name. No shudder, no closed eyes with pain. Just stillness…except, maybe, for the barest twitch in his left hand. Gone before she could study it. “Not about his death. About him. I also want to hear about your squad…how their training is going.”

That made him look at her again. A nod. Acceptance, maybe, of the words.

Structure, she realised, was the key with him. It would take a lot longer to get anywhere, to brush past the walls he had around him. Maybe that was the point. Maybe sometimes you needed to put the hours in, because some walls didn’t fall…they eroded. Inch by inch, under steady weather. He wouldn’t object to anything she said, she realised that now. But if she warned him, she would be in a better place to know.

Time was up.

He stood before she had even looked at the time as if the countdown had been ticking in his head the entire time, precise to the second. His body moved without hesitation, not abrupt, just…executed. Like finishing a drill. And she wondered if he kept it running in his head. An ever-persistent count of seconds and minutes ticking down.

She stood as well, gave him a nod. “Dismissed,” she said, a word that still felt foreign to her. But she knew it was a language he understood, so she’d swallow that down.

He turned and left, silent as a shadow, his footsteps soundless, like someone who never wanted to be heard again. The doors closed behind him and she reached for the untouched cup and saucer, picking them up.

Next time. Maybe she’d ask about Elen in a few months. See if there was a reason he remembered her name.

Or maybe, she’d let him have that to himself. A secret, still intact.

Not everything needed unwrapping.


---

Sergeant Jace Morven
Platoon Sergeant
Alpha Squad, 1st Battallion
Federation Ground Forces Detachment
USS Guinevere

&

Lt. JG Connie Montoya
Counselor
USS Guinevere

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