Home Sweet Home
Posted on Mon Jun 8th, 2026 @ 2:02pm by Lieutenant JG Jade Petracca
665 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
Friends and Traitors
Location: USS Thunderbird, Jade's Quarters
Timeline: Mission Day 1, 2130 Hours
The doors of Jade's quarters opened and she nearly fell to the floor. She was exhausted. Emotionally, physically and intellectually. This room was sterile, devoid of any personal touch. It was what she needed. It was hers!
She passed the workstation, the small seating area, and the piece de resistance, a double bed. She grinned to herself and tossed herself backward, landing on the plush surface, her blue medical coat pooling around her. The mattress hugged her body, softly embracing her with its warmth, and the tension within her, measured in megawatts or megatons, seemed to evaporate enough to make it all tolerable.
Eyes closed, sleep didn't come. The marathon therapy session with Daltom Vesper had left her with nowhere to hide; safe but vulnerable and more awake to herself than she'd been in a long time. She stood back up and threw off her coat, draping it across a nearby chair. She instead went to the replicator.
"Chamomile tea. Hot." She ordered. The replicator beeped and glowed, producing the steaming beverage. She took it into her hands, warming them as she sat down on the couch. She hadn't intended to try every surface in the room, in fact, she intended only to sleep. Now, there was only time to reflect.
The evening's accident had mirrored last year's disaster. Seeing those broken bodies had ripped her open when she thought she'd become immune. How blame seemed to rest in every corner, questions had been overheard about who might've been responsible. These damned Maquis, whoever they were, seemed to be on top of the list.
Blame, it always had to find someone. She drifted back to Caldik Prime. The blame that fell to the pilots who'd been killed. The blame that eventually fell to the survivor who was responsible. His recklessness, his lack of control, she had been made a victim twice over by him. She'd tried and failed to save his colleagues. Then, outside the hospital on that night, he promised to save her with soft words.
His touch was as warm as her chamomile tea, soothing and gentle. She trusted him. And yet, when security came to her quarters in the morning and ripped that pilot from her bed, she knew she'd made a mistake. She wouldn't forget the betrayal, nor would she forget the judgmental, accusatory look given to her by the outpost's security chief.
At least this time she wasn't questioning her integrity or her future. Last time, she knew she should've been elsewhere, maybe on some Bajoran colony, healing child victims of the Cardassian's ongoing brutality. However, this time she knew she was exactly where she needed to be. Dara lived because of her, and she could hold her head high on that fact.
So too, could she boast to have been part of little Kilara's journey. While waiting for the quartermaster to assign her quarters, she'd reread the FNS article about how that once-tiny child had grown and been accepted to Starfleet Academy. A scientist, no less. A Starfleet scientist! That little girl who could hardly take a breath without the assistance of a respirator and a cocktail of drugs, would now be strapping on a uniform to defend those who, like herself years before, had no way of defending themselves.
That was her impact. That was Jade Petracca.
The Doctor unzipped her uniform jacket and sat at her workstation. She retrieved her PADD, the image of Kilara, now a young woman in a blue cadet uniform, flashing upon the screen. She smiled.
"Computer, begin recording a letter for Cadet Kilara Paraxo, Starfleet Academy."
The computer beeped. The recording had begun.
"Hey, Kilara, it's Jade... I don't know if you remember me but I saw the article about you on the FNS. A cadet huh?" She laughed. "I guess you'll have to start calling me 'ma'am! Anyway, I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you..."
Lieutenant JG Jade Petracca
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Thunderbird
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