Breaking Down Walls (Part 1)

Posted on Fri Jul 24th, 2026 @ 7:35pm by Lieutenant JG Caitlyn MacRae & Lieutenant Daltom Vesper

1,811 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Friends and Traitors
Location: Counselor’s Office
Timeline: MD4, 1300 hours

Offering a friendly hello to the few crew members who passed by, Lieutenant MacRae was distracted. When she had accepted the offer to stay on board the Thunderbird, the former Intelligence Officer had known she would face a steep learning curve. Not quite a whole new world but close.

Just an hour ago she had been - with some reluctance - trawling through manuals setting out the rules and regulations for Enlisted personnel. As Second Officer, the Captain had decided that disciplinary matters related to the enlisted crew would fall at her door, which was ironic, given how she was always falling into the bad graces of one admiral or another for her often creative interpretation of the rules when undercover. She wondered if Admiral Schofield missed threatening to throw her in the Brig every chance he got ….

Rounding the corner she reached the office of the ship’s counselor, Lieutenant Vesper. Pressing the door chime to let him know she had arrived she stepped back and prepared to wait. She was a few minutes early and there was a chance the lieutenant would be with another patient. Perhaps, she wondered with a slight glimmer of hope, he had forgotten. Which seemed unlikely.

Daltom had not yet made any appointments with anyone other than Caitlyn. He had been busying himself with creating his office and trying to read everything associated with the last mission. He also was most interested in the various chiefs and assistant chiefs. While a dossier did not tell much, it did leave clues. So, when the chime rang, he knew who was there.

He warmly greeted her. "Come in, Caitlyn."

With a friendly smile she abandoned her waiting game and stepped inside. “Thanks,” she offered, her gaze sweeping the room. Of course she had been here before, under entirely false pretenses when Trynn had been a potential suspect. The room certainly seemed different.

At a glance, Daltom's office was calm, orderly, and understated—exactly what Starfleet would expect. He selected a pale blue coloring for the wall and the office has warm diffused light. Towards the back of the office is a sturdy chair that is behind a solid dark walnut colored desk. However, before the desk are two more chairs that are offset from one another. One of them has a cushion, whereas the other does not. Against one wall is a couch with two end tables that have coasters on them. Across from the couch, but slightly offset on the other wall is a walnut shelving unit. In it appeared to be several books, mostly of a psychological nature. However, one who carefully looked might find a book or two of poetry stashed in there, as well. On another shelf are some wood carved figures and some puzzle boxes.

Not a thing was out of place. It was almost too pristine.

He then asked Caitlyn, "Would you like to sit on the couch or the chair?" He gestured towards the more comfortable chair, knowing he made that one for patients to allow them to be more open.

Decisions, decisions...

Without deliberating too long she opted for the chair without the cushions, for the simple fact nothing would make her comfortable with her back to an unlocked door. No, that would not work. While perhaps less comfortable, the chair she had chosen allowed her full view of the room and a clear line of sight to an escape route.

“You’ve been busy decorating,” she noted. “I take it you are not a fan of Starfleet decor?”

"I don't think that sort of decor is comforting to people who want to confide their inner thoughts and secrets, do you? It is sort of like 'Big Brother' watching over you and makes someone who might want to criticize a higher ranking officer, for instance, uncomfortable. That does not seem wise in my profession. I'm here to help."

He then watched as Caitlyn took his chair. It seemed that they had a lot in common. Rather than evict her from the chair, he said, "Computer, please materialize another chair identical to the one that Lieutenant MacRae is sitting in. Temporarily replace the cushioned chair with the identical chair."

The computer answered, "Acknowledged," and an instant later, the cushioned chair was replaced with the identical chair that Caitlyn was in. Daltom sat down in the chair that was slightly offset from hers. "Interesting selection of chair, Caitlyn," he told her with a knowing grin.

“We could have just swapped them around,” she pointed out, “and saved the resources.”

In response to his observation, which she suspected was akin to him messing with her, she added, “I’m not averse to cushions, I just like to be aware of what’s happening around me. Or maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do… but it was mostly the fact that this one faces the door.”

"With all that investigative and spy work, I bet you would," Daltom replied with a sly smile. "But your selection told me a great deal about you, unless it didn't," he teased her.

“Glad to help,” she offered with a slight nod. “So, now that I’m here… what’s next?”

"Now what?" Daltom asked. "Well, much of that is up to you. Just how uncomfortable are you on a scale of 1 to 10?"

“Assuming one being the least uncomfortable… a solid five bordering on a six,” she decided. If she lied and went too high he would immediately be suspicious. “You got some bonus points for effort on the redecoration.”

"So, really an 8 or 9, then?" he replied with a chuckle. "Though, I am glad that you appreciate the redecoration." He put his hands on each of his thighs and told her comfortingly, "Look, Caitlyn, there is no rush on this. Trust is not something that comes naturally to either of us." Why did I say that? It is true but why tell her? "Why don't we start with something simple and fun? Hm? What is your favorite color? Also, tell me what you like so much about this redecoration."

She arched an eyebrow at his recalculation but said nothing. “Trust is earned,” she agreed. Which was why her particular circle of trust was a small one.

“Black,” she informed him without hesitation. It was true and something anyone would be able to guess from a cursory glance through her off duty wardrobe. Sure she occasionally added in a little dash of colour but black was a constant. “As for what I like…. You made an effort to make the place your own. Not many counselors I’ve come across go to this much trouble.”

“Black can be the absence of light,” Daltom observed. “I suppose that I should not be surprised.” He gave Caitlyn an amused smile. This place was not his own. It was a place particularly calculated to give that impression. However, the moment that work was done, he left it without a second thought. “I wonder how many counselors you have come across and in what capacity.”

“My fair share. It’s mandatory after any undercover assignment and if there were complications- usually tick box exercises,” Caitlyn informed him. “A few were actually helpful.”

"Tell me about those," Daltom encouraged. It was bound to be safe for her.

Caitlyn sat back, considering. “There isn’t much to tell. Or that I can tell you. Let me think….

As you would expect, our division had a number of counselors with a high enough security clearance which allowed us to talk freely. But high clearance did not equal good counselors. Attendance was mandatory but usually a standard series of tests and assessments to be sure we were ready to go back out, that we were able to complete whatever the next assignment was.

Doctor Mitchell was different. He had endless patience, had been in Intel, so knew how it was to do what I did. And when I first met him I was pretty badly injured and maybe, just maybe, not in a good place. So maybe I was more receptive in the moment to have help?”

"Perhaps," Daltom answered simply. "Why did you go into intelligence in the first place?"

“Honestly? It wasn’t where I imagined being, when I joined Starfleet,” Caitlyn confided. “Maybe something in engineering or ops. But one of my instructors suggested it and some additional training…. It went from there. I graduated from the academy straight into more intensive training and stayed in Intel ever since.

I’m not really a desk job person so being undercover suited me. I could adopt different personas, sometimes for a week, sometimes for months … I had to quickly learn to adapt and deal with whatever may happen to complete the mission. Usually you were on your own, far from the Federation and any backup.”

Daltom nodded understandingly. "And black is your favorite color, which is an absence of light and disguises. It makes a lot of sense from a psychological perspective." He shrugged and asked, "Are you tired of being used? Tired of being others? Tired of not being seen? It must be exhausting not being able to be you."

There was a subtle tensing of her muscles, and a brief hesitation before she responded with just a single word. A question of her own. “Used?”

"Did I choose an inappropriate word?" he asked Caitlyn, as he watched her reaction. "Would you choose something different for what you have told me thus far?"

“If I was used, then so is every person who serves in Starfleet following orders,” she countered. “I was assigned where I was needed and - even if at times the assignment didn’t go as planned - I was very good at it.”

Didn’t go as planned…. There was an understatement. “As to the other points,” she added, “yes, I was. I’m 34 years old, my career is one big classified stamp and when I stop to reflect, yes. I suppose tired is as good a word as any. After my assignment here I was slated for another undercover assignment, potentially for at least a year and I just… couldn’t. I was prepared to resign if needed but the Captain offered an alternative.”

Daltom favored Caitlyn with an understanding smile. “You fence well with words,” he told her. “But I appreciate you letting your guard down a little. If the Captain had not offered you this and you decided to resign instead, what would you have done?”

“Gone home for a little while, consider next steps and get some time with family, mend some fences with them,” she rhymed off. “Then a few weeks somewhere like Risa with just sunshine and beautiful scenery to just recharge.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

Lieutenant Daltom Vesper
Chief Counselor
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Caitlyn MacRae
Second Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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