Six Steps to Recompense
Posted on March 16th, 2021 by Scott Ammora

 

Step One: Re-Acquaintance

“To Emilaina…”

Terrible. Too casual.

“Hello Emily…”

Even worse. Do you really think you know her that well to use that? Do you think she’d respond with “Hey Scooter”?

“Dearest…”

Just stop. Are you listening to yourself? You are so cold you’re freezing. Get it together.

“To Lieutenant Emilaina Acacia, Medical Department.”

Now you’ve pulled your head out. Fourth time is a charm?

 

Step Two: Reasoning

“We met under the worst of circumstances. When one experiences trial by fire there are bound to be some elements of collateral damage. The collateral damage during our last encounter in Sickbay wasn’t how I foresaw my introduction to your department going.”

Good.

“My advanced training at the Academy in tactical and medical situations…”

Careful.

“…led me down a path of making broad assumptions of how treatment should go. I made a grave error in questioning your know-how, your expertise, and, finally, your authority.”

Nice.

“I want you to know that my intentions were pure, my assessment genuine from my experience, and the care of the person on the biobed was of my utmost concern. I appreciate your care for the patient as it related to the situation before you. I’m happy that I could be present to assist in whatever way possible. But…”

So close. Delete the ‘but’.

“However, I have to understand that there are limits to my knowledge. And I hope you know there are limits to yours.”

Really, Scott? Deleted again.

“However, when a colleague presents an alternative solution…”

You suck at this. Edit.

“However, I have to understand that there are limits to my knowledge. Life and death happens every day in my line of work, in your line of work, and working together is the only way to ensure a positive outcome. Common knowledge, differences of perspective, and alternative ideologies should never be treated as a bad thing. They should be treated as a way to grow and learn. I learned that the hard way that sometimes my opinion isn’t wanted or needed, or even called for.”

Not bad.

 

Step Three: Resolve

“What I hope you learn from this…”

For the love of everything holy… think.

“What I hope I learn from this…”

There you go.

“…is that my abilities in certain areas may sometimes surpass yours.”

What the hell? They don’t. They sure as shit don’t; that’s what got you into this mess. Backspace, backspace, backspace.

“…is that my abilities have a ceiling. My knowledge isn’t all-encompassing. The way I treated you in Sickbay was uncalled for, out of line, and so far beyond the respect of mutual colleagues that I should be ashamed of myself. And I am. As I continue to grow in my position in security and as a member of this crew, I realize that I must work WITH my shipmates, not against them.”

Rolling, rolling, rolling…

“And I can only hope that, in the future, my shipmates will do the same.”

Ehhh…? What’s that supposed to mean?

“And I can only hope that, in the future, I can grow with my teammates to be a better officer for Starfleet. I want this note to be a sign of an apology, of a want to do better, and a way to mend the fences of my flagrant disregard for your abilities.”

Work it.

 

Step Four: Resolution

“I look forward to a conversation with you in the future regarding your side of the story so that you might…”

No. Sit there in your wrongness and be wrong.

“I look forward to working with you in the future on projects that benefit my development and the health of our crew, the safety of the Atlantis, and our mutual respect for indiscretions that breed understanding. I want you to know that I’m deeply sorry for the disrespect I showed you, for the problems I’ve caused, and the effect it has had in the smooth operations of our two departments working together.”

Atta boy, Scott, you’re getting it.

 

Step Five: Reflection

Scott looked through the content, at every line and every paragraph, and balked. It was fragmented, all over the place, and didn’t actually speak to what he was feeling. The words weren’t Scott. They were your typical remorseful prose that didn’t carry any weight to his actual feelings. They kind of did, but he wasn’t certain what he was feeling. He scrolled back through all the edits and laughed. Who was this guy? He was definitely trying too hard. Or, maybe not hard enough. Or maybe it was perfect.

He paced around his quarters, wearing down the carpet, reading and re-reading what he’d wrote. It was short, concise, and… completely not Scott. Less is more, he thought. But was it really?

Reading it again, he reflected on all the changes he made and the things he wanted to say. There were too many. Too many moments where his true intentions were mired by etiquette and protocol. Sometimes that etiquette and protocol didn’t serve the greater good. Sometimes collaboration, when one-sided, ended up in a worse situation than before. Whether or not that is what happened in this situation, he couldn’t be sure, but setting a bad precedent was not what he wanted to do. Nor would he apologize for speaking his mind, resting on his abilities, and calling out what he thought was wrong.

But if he had been wrong, and his gut told him he was, how do you go about treading the middle ground?

 

Step Six: Recycle

Ultimately this letter wasn’t him. It was normal. It was too easy. And it left him feeling a little gutted that he still wasn’t afforded some contrition to what his intentions were. The wording was fine, the inflection was sound, but it wasn’t Scott. It just wasn’t him. And he knew, from many times in his past dealing with situations where conversations like this had to be had, a message like this wasn’t going to serve the purpose he was aiming to achieve. It wasn’t going to go the distance in building a relationship with a colleague. It wasn’t going to do what he wanted it to do, or what it should do, or what needed to be done.

But, who was he kidding? He had never done this. THIS. His assumptions were moot. His experience in this type of situation was less than sub-par. New territory was laid out before him and he had no idea how to navigate the terrain. Truth be told, he was guessing.

Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time, Scott tossed the PADD onto the replicator pad and hit the ‘recycle’ function. The PADD, and his message, disappeared in a swirl of molecules and a beep from the computer that the job was complete. That wasn’t the conduit that he needed for this type of conversation. There was more to it. A more… personal touch.

He hoped he knew what he was doing. It was either going to end well, or very poorly. And he really couldn’t afford the latter.