Far Beyond The Stars: Rojar

Posted on 06 Mar 2013 @ 1:19am by Crewman Athlen & Crewman Jaeih

2,677 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: LTjg Liyar's Office
Timeline: MD4 0700-0800

MOUSE OVER Vulcan for translations!

ON:

Until his eyes were white wasn't an acceptable parameter. As soon as Maenad got up to attend her duty station, and about an hour and a half of rest later, Liyar shook himself awake. Blinked. He could not hear Maenad anywhere. Gingerly he stood, realizing he'd twisted in the blankets and, he cringed to himself. He had slept in another woman's bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, legs dangling over the side. His uniform jacket was strewn about the bed, as were his shoes and socks. Deep breaths. Maybe it had been the last half day. Kestra's mindspace must have done something to him, he supposed. He had still felt its effects. Even tried to hurt Zaren. Fortunately he hadn't been nearly composed enough to do any damage. Tired and drained. That about summed it up. He flexed his arms and fingers and toes as though trying to determine if they were still there. Yep. Working order.

"Athlen to Liyar."

Liyar started, blinking and fishing through the blankets to find the abandoned jacket with his commbadge.

"Liyar? Lieutenant Liyar, are you-"

"Yes, Crewman. I am here. What do you require?" Liyar said evenly, with no indication that he was shrugging on his clothes and smoothing out his hair in a foreign woman's bed. To Terrans, that might be perfectly normal. To Vulcans, and unbonded Vulcans at that, it was practically obscene. What had he been thinking? He gripped his fists until the nails dug into his palm. Not thinking. Exhaustion.

"You've got company. A Crewman Jaeih."

A Romulan name. Interesting. "Jaeih what?" Liyar asked, walking to the replicator with his jacket half-slung over his shoulder. He typed in the code for a healthily strong dose of raktajino and a hypospray of Lexorin. They materialized and he downed the coffee, zipped up and straightened up.

"i-Fethraie t'Salar. No clan on Vulcan listed. Clan-sister Plaear, clan-brother S'Jenes. Still not sure. Half-Vulcan. Raised on Romulus. Relocated to Vulcan."

"Why do I have her," Liyar said brusquely, slamming his empty mug on the table impatiently and injecting his hypo.

"She's your new protege." Liyar could hear the smirk on the other end of the comm.

Liyar cracked his knuckles. "Protege. On Galileo. I thought that I was too busy putting the little tiny pieces on the end of the probes."

"You're getting better at that sarcasm thing," Athlen laughed. "No, I'm serious. They've sent her here. From the Venture. To work with you."

The Vulcan paused, eyebrows knitted slightly. "Then they are allowing me to continue my work."

"As your priority," Athlen nodded.

Liyar's tone didn't change much, but still, he was less caustic as he shut down the link. "Send me her file. Send her to my office. Liyar out." He hit the comm and deposited the glass and empty hypo into the reclamator. A Romulan. Raised on Romulus. Half-Vulcan. Liyar grabbed a PADD and stylus. Thank you. For the orange juice. I am grateful for your assistance. ~Lt. Liyar

With that, he made sure he was properly dressed and in order before he headed out to his office to meet this new 'protege' of his.

---

Liyar had no idea what to expect when he came into his office, and so he had simply expected the unexpected. What he got however, was a crewman. Wearing diplomatic colors. Standing to greet him. He was drawn up to full height, confident and self-assured as he usually was. He wasn't going to relapse into complete nonsense. Not when there was work to do. He bowed his head forward and introduced himself succinctly. "I am Liyar maat'Niram. You are Jaeih t'Salar, correct."

"Jaeih ko'T'Ekkhae," she corrected him. "Of House RIyosh, Clans Evekh-sen-deen and Ansa-ken-deen." She'd enlisted with her Vulcan lineage. How he'd come by her Romulan name, she was unclear, but it was less than reassuring. She'd have told him, of course, but she'd have liked to couch the details in context. "I know who you are."

"Crewman Athlen must have gained the information from Faevren tr'Kilar. I apologize if this has disconcerted you. I am aware of you as well," Liyar said, rubbing his wrists unconsciously. They were bare. He made a minute expression, shifting neutrality, and moved beyond her, to his desk in the drawer where his spare monitor set was. He snapped them on. "Nuhira t'Salar, she is a doctor at the Miran refugee camp. Do you possess your transfer records," Liyar asked, remaining standing over his desk. He gestured to the chair in front of it.

Strong. His mind was strong. Skills stronger. Jaeih remained completely still except for the hand that extended with the PADD in its grasp.

Liyar took the PADD and read. He flicked the pages idly with his finger. He lingered in some areas and barely perused others. What he thought of her, couldn't be said. His expression was stern, Vulcan. There were shutters over his eyes, concealing his thoughts in obsidian blankness. When he was done, he set it on his desk deliberately, turning it over to rest a finger on it. "Sit down." He flicked his gaze over to the chair uncompromisingly.

Steady, with only the barest of slow blinks, Jaeih lowered herself to the edge of the chair and continued watching him.

Liyar folded his hands in a pyramid in front of him, regarding her placidly before lowering into his own chair. "You were on the Venture," Liyar started. "Now you are here. Explain."

"I used the transporter on deck thirteen of the Venture," Jaeih held her hands primly in her lap, her spine and shoulders straight and perpendicular. "From there I was dematerialized, transferred, and reassembled in the usual fashion."

Liyar leaned forward on his desk, elbows straight, resting his chin on his fingertips. His gaze didn't falter. He scrutinized her for a little while, and then pulled out a slim, clear PADD of his own. V'Shar grade. He slid it forward on the desk. Ka'veya. 2387. Jaeih ko'T'Ekkhae. House Riyosh, maat-Evekh-sen-deen, maat-Ansa-ken-deen. The rest was a file annotation detailing her stay. "Speak plainly. Or get out." I have bolts to secure onto their tiny little screws in their tiny little homes on their miserable probes, he finished the thought sourly.

"I can leave this office," she murmured, watching him with curiously unblinking eyes. "But I will not leave this ship. My transfer request has already been accepted and the work will be done, whether I elect to speak plainly or no." Slowly, the still mask receded, muscle group by muscle group, until her lips curled in an eerie approximation of a smile. "I promise you, parlor tricks with data pads are not nearly as intimidating as you might think." She withdrew an isolinear rod from the inside pocket of her uniform jacket and balanced it between her fingers. "Or is it your wish to have a conversation about time spent in Ka'veya."

Liyar would later blame the eleven hour long coma for the brief twitch of his lips upward, the only break yet in his expression other than apparent ire. "You discovered this information." He glanced at her isolinear rod. "Our," he arched an eyebrow, "Mutual point of interest. Discovered me." The eyebrow lowered. He picked up another spare PADD. "And now you are here." He rose his spare hand palm-upward in a deliberate shrug.

"Considering your speeches and published research, and your activities regarding the settlement in your... father's province," she lingered. "I do not believe you should be remotely surprised to find one of my particular breed seeking you out."

"And you seek me. Not Severen. I am honored." Liyar gave a slow blink, one that indicated sarcasm in Vulcan body language, and stood again to attend to the replicator. Another raktajino with extra sarish peppers. Excellent. He inhaled the spicy aroma and took a long scalding drink, cupping his hands around the mug. "Anything?" he gestured at the unit.

She blinked one eye then the other in a cascading blink of negation. "You elect to imbibe the beverages of barbarians?"

"Everybody has to get something right," Liyar threw back with a tilt of his head, gesturing one hand out to the side. He returned to his chair, unapologetically taking another drink. He looked to the swirling patterns of white and red, swimming across their dark ocean. "And so you have sought me out." He cast his mind back to the meeting with Coleman the previous day and traced his finger down the edge of the glass. He did not know what to do with the information he had. He did not want blame. He wanted justice, to the truly responsible party. The problem was twofold. Worse than that, it had been an error. An error. They had made a mistake. Which was, perhaps, even worse than the plan itself. Because the survivors then, would have had a chance. At least. But he needed proof. And before proof, the evidence was damning. Against his people. He could feel it still at the edge of his mind, the clawing hole, where billions of people used to be. It was impossible. But what was the word of a telepath, to a nation of practical psi-nulls? Just telepathic enough to suffer. He returned his chin to its customary spot on his fingers, deep in thought. He sat up after a long moment of silence and coffee. Collected some files.

"Crewman Jaeih. You work in the diplomatic detachment of the Galileo. That is headed by me. Therefore, you work for me. If you have an issue with this arrangement, then you will find yourself back where you came from." He slid forward the files. "Nevertheless," he gestured, "I comprehend the real reason why you are here. And it is acceptable to me. But I do not play games. And I will not be manipulated." He rested his hands around his wrists unconsciously. He rather wondered if it was even possible. But he didn't want this woman to take her chances, because he had no idea what he was capable of. These... were paper. Shredded. He could feel her now, peering, poking, edging in, angling. It reminded him of Faevren. "Take these. They are the categorized deposits of the Rojar system which have been made so far available to us. It will be your task to divide them into the proper priority recipient files and to calculate the impact degree of the Triangle. That is Klingons, Cardassians and Ferengi. Denote a file for resource requests as well." He was sure they would be pouring in from all hands of the Federation and non-aligned alike. "Once the survey begins in detail your work will be multiplied."

Liyar handed her another PADD. "Take this to Crewman Athlen. He is in the multipurpose laboratory." Colonization requests, terraforming requests, already. They hadn't been here a day and the requests were piling up on his desk. Which worlds were surveyed. What were the results. Which research team wanted what. He'd give them to Athlen, for now. He had his own stack placed off to the side. He then slid over a final PADD and isolinear rod. "These are the current reports which delineate trafficking activity, both civilian transport and mercenary parties. Several Romulan scout ships have been spotted. The security teams here are focused on Klingons, Cardassians and for some reason I cannot fathom, the Borg." He resisted an eyeroll. Barely. He drank some coffee. "Monitor them. Decrypt any messages that are sent through subspace. Identify cloaking patterns. Do not be spotted, do not be seen. I want an account of their location and activity. Do not disturb them unless they disturb us." He was the most worried about those ships. Stragglers. Barely surviving, barely enough food and water. Hangovers from MS1. They had nothing to lose. That meant they were the most dangerous. "Is this understood."

"In it's entirety," she assured him, muscles in her face ticking back into a carefully engineered remoteness as she retrieved the PADDs and isolinear rod. The rod was pocketed. The PADDs arranged neatly under her arm. She waited. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

Liyar watched her for a moment longer, as though determining something of his own, but he spoke nothing of it. Instead, he gave her a slight jerk of his chin to the right. "Negative. Do you have any particular concerns at this moment which require addressing."

"None, but your questionable palate, sir."

Liyar looked upward and rose his glass, blinking to the side in amusement. "Eik-veshtaya to'ovau kau, lu veshtaya ri glazhau goh na'kastorilaya t'kashan."

Jaeih idly straightened her jacket, her eyes glinting with wry pleasure, "Zahv-tor veshtaya vaikau-tor vi'le-eshan kashan." she answered. "Wi nash-veh dva-tor kashan savlaya lau-fitor fna'mon-tor os-shidik mon."

"Ri la'nam-tor ish oyut. One will find that seeking out new experiences, including those of taste, is beneficial to better understanding of our environment. Here, one is expected to embrace novelty. That is the nature of Starfleet, and Terrans especially." The logic of Klingon coffee was an ancient one. "Consider yourself fortunate if you do not find yourself expected to consume Ferengi gree-worms," he said dryly. Liyar pursed his lips slightly. Their cook was certainly an interesting fellow.

"I do not fail to comprehend the usefulness of appearing to embrace new tastes and experiences for the benefit of cultivating diplomatic relations with other species," she explained. "I simply do not see the reason why one would feel the need to expose themselves needlessly in private."

"Perhaps only to make you ask that very question," Liyar responded in turn with his peculiar brand of enigmatic sarcasm.

She hesitated, not in word or action, but with a slight shift of her eyes downward and to the side. "On that subject, sir. I have found that another aspect of the nature of Starfleet is a certain... distrust... of my lineage. One that is not entirely misplaced," she added, perfectly willing to stand with the decisions of the Romulans in most actions against the Federation over time. There had been no reason previous to behave otherwise. "Still, it would make my work for you more complicated were that to become more common knowledge."

"Yes. I expect so," Liyar agreed. Truthfully, he was surprised that Starfleet had even permitted her to enter, but it could have been the fractured diplomatic relations which prompted her quick entry. Nevertheless, he could understand her motives, even sympathize with them. If he had to choose between his own people or the Federation, the choice was clear. And one only needed to look at the drafts for Miran's secession from the High Council to see how heavily he undertook such decisions once made. "If your heritage becomes common knowledge, it will not be me who has disclosed it," he finally assured. "I will insist that Crewman Athlen observe similar discretion."

"Your discretion is appreciated." She dipped her chin in a mild gesture of respect. "I'll take the PADDs to Crewman Athlen now, with your leave."

Liyar inclined his head. "Affirmative. Dismissed, Crewman."

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, VDF/SDD
USS Galileo

Crewman Athlen
Sociologist, SSC
USS Galileo

Crewman Jaeih
Diplomatic Officer, DDT/SDD
USS Galileo

 

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