The Shepard and the Centurion (Part 1 of 2)
Posted on 11 Aug 2024 @ 9:31pm by Commander Morgan Tarin & Lieutenant JG Hovar Kov
3,199 words; about a 16 minute read
Mission:
Episode 20 - Reconstruction
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 2, Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: MD 02, 1728 hrs
[ON]
Three short hours had passed aboard USS Galileo-A following the commencement of its robust resupply and personnel transfer evolutions. Three hours which were more akin to 30 minutes for some members of the crew who'd been besieged by administrative processing and other assorted flavors of 'paperwork'...and there was no one more responsible for managing and overseeing such tasks than the vessel's commanding officer, Commander Morgan Tarin. From where she presently sat in her ready room observing ship-wide workflows behind her desk on its small LCARS monitor, it was becoming patently clear that this entire process would last well into the evening hours and past midnight. Yet such responsibilities were standard within Starfleet and expected from every captain. The mundane and routine were often overlooked in favor of the extraordinary, but one was impossible to achieve without the other.
A pair of her long and slender fingers reached up to her gold and silver commbadge then lightly tapped it, eliciting a soft chirp. "Commander Tarin to Lieutenant Hovar. Report to my ready room. Deck 2." Her inflection was flat, and her tonality authoritatively dry and devoid of amicable presence.
When Chaplain Hovar heard the call, he was in the middle of arranging his quarters. He felt like he was rushed like cattle, as was everyone else, getting everyone onboard and oriented. There were a few conclusions that Hovar had already understood the second he was teleported onboard. First, the crew was indeed small, only 60 people if he remembered correctly. Second, the ship itself was small, which would mean that if anything happened anywhere, they would be in big trouble. Hovar prayed that he would not be asked to help fix the ship, but rather to tend to the casualties or provide more of a support role like bringing aid and comfort to those hard at work.
The last conclusion came when he entered his quarters, and the door shut behind him. Room 01-2102. He shared the same deck with the Bridge and the Captain and First Officer's quarters. The Counselor's Office, which he shared with the Chief Counselor, was three decks below him. Being summoned by the Captain one deck below him really made him think about a lot of things, but those would have to wait, as he tapped his own communicator.
"On my way, Captain."
Hovar left his quarters, went one deck down on the turbo lift, and he made his way to the Captain's ready room. Taking a deep breath and whispering a soft prayer, he tapped on the chime button to alert the Captain of his presence.
A short delay ensued before a reply came through the door's comm channel. "Enter."
When the door opened for him, he stood before the Captain. As he looked at her, one of the questions in the back of his mind was what kind of person would take ownership of the rather...distant voice. By distant, he didn't mean that she was soft spoken or that there was a lot on her mind or a faint flutter of a voice that would give him any indication that she was about to fall asleep. It was very different. Stand at Attention, Hovar introduced himself.
"Chaplain Hovar Kor, reporting as ordered, ma'am."
Tarin's hazel eyes trained themselves on the new, large Klingon man donned in a black-collared uniform who now stood in front of her. She rose to her full height from her chair, a respectable single inch short of 6 feet and possessing a lean athletic frame. Her loosely-curled dark brown hair hung freely down to the tops of her shoulders and cascaded across the sides of her lightly-freckled cheeks. "At ease, lieutenant," she curtly acknowledged before gesturing to one of two vacant chairs in front of her desk. "Take a seat. I hope your transit was comfortable. And stimulating." Her own long ferry journey to this location several years prior certainly hadn't been. And six months was a long time to stay idle in space anticipating a new assignment.
As Hovar sat down, he pondered her question for a moment. It wasn't out of suspicion of her true intentions, rather, it was because of his curiosity. The nature of the skipper, as with every member of the crew, was at the peak of his curiosity. The Klingon had no idea how, but his mission was to understand everyone on board from the inner most perspective. All he had to do, God willing, was to convey that he was there for them.
"They have kept me busy. They figured that I would do some good to provide some instruction to the enlisted. I also assisted in close combat training, often as the punching bag to be honest. Nothing I could not handle."
That sounded painfully boring to the captain but she, more so than most, could appreciate the cerebral benefits of routine exercise. "Good. You'll find that all forms of expertise atrophy quickly out here without continuous reinforcement. The cognitive toll a deep space deployment like this takes on the mind can be significant. I've seen more than enough officers, civilians, NCOs and junior enlisted lose their composure and have to be sent back to the nearest starbase for advanced psychological assessments and treatment. Staying busy is how we'll get through the next several years in this region of space," she matter-of-factly stated.
Hovar nodded, silently pondering her words. Yes, it is true that keeping busy and having a "continuous reinforcement" of training and continuing education.
However, like every Chaplain before him, it was not what they say, but how they say it. The rather blunt statement of keeping busy was curious to him. He had heard that if a Chaplain wants to learn about someone, look at the outcome and infer the motivation. For the moment, he would let that pass by as she was the Captain, it was her crew. All Hovar could do was to provide counsel when asked.
With that said Hovar nodded again glanced down at the desk real quick before looking back at her eyes as he recalled a verse in Ecclesiastes,
"It is my mission to be able to have a ministry of presence and to provide any assistance as I can to them. By slothfulness a building shall be brought down."
Hovar then told her his number one concern.
"I will also keep an eye out just in case I spot signs of acute mental stress; for through the weakness of hands, the house shall drop through."
The manner in which the man intermixed ancient Earth scripture within his conversation was unorthodox to Tarin. Not that it was overly difficult for Tarin to comprehend (well, perhaps slightly), but rather because she'd never truly spent any significant time in her Starfleet career around members of the Chaplain Corps. In fact, having one be assigned to her starship had come as a surprise...as did the visual and cultural perception of a Klingon who not only wore the Starfleet uniform but also seemingly engaged with Earth-based biblical wisdom. It was a stark reminder of the Vulcan philosophical belief known as 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations' - the union of the like and the unlike.
"That would be appreciated," she remarked to his affirmation of crew mental stress observation before querying a blunt and upfront question. "Tell me, lieutenant: why are you here? Aboard Galileo and not a different starship? Did you request this assignment?"
The straight forward question came with an answer that included a shrug and a thoughtful expression.
"With all humility, I am fascinated with you humans. Your culture, your history, your behaviors, your interactions, everything. Our cultures are as similar to so many others as they are dissimilar. That fascination eventually led me to Catholicism, which led me to being Father Hovar Kor, a Chaplain in Star Fleet."
Hovar then waved off that part of his life.
"The circumstances of my ordination is not the point. My parents, being diplomats, had me exposed to so many different cultures as a child: the Betazoids, the Rigelins, the Vulcans, and so on. If I was not a Chaplain, I would have been a Sociologist. I asked my superiors if there was a ship that could learn about new cultures while being a Chaplain. I was told that the Galileo is such a ship, and she needed a Chaplain, and I volunteered."
Tarin silently listened and watched the Klingon man while he spoke. Evaluating. Judging. Observing. She took several barely-perceptible breaths through her nose before speaking again. A portion of this new officer's presence felt surreal - as if her administrative talents were secretly being tested by Starfleet Command. Perhaps they were. "Am I to understand you, a chaplain, specifically requested assignment here...to a planetary survey starship? One predominantly populated by scientists whose jobs are to perform fact-based, non-political and non-ideological research? One of the most secular working assignments you could possibly find within the entire Federation...?" He would once again be so very far from home here, she suspected.
Hovar paused for a moment as he was very, very far from home. He also felt like this was an interrogation with how matter-of-fact Tarin spoke. Then again, he just met the CO, so he withheld any judgment concerning her. After all, deep space explorations were a very dangerous, lonely assignment. The success, or failure, of a mission rested on her shoulders alone.
"Imagine two forces within everyone, a positive and negative force, and they are fighting for dominance not just within your mind, but with your very being. On the one hand is the virtues such as humility, forgiveness, charity; on the other hand are the sins such as of pride, cruelty, selfishness. My job is to help remind of what living a virtuous life looks like, and how detrimental it is to not only themselves, but to their shipmates and their Captain, not to live a virtuous life. It is a war within themselves, one that cannot be solved by the scientific method or Star Fleet regulation."
Hovar nodded as he came up with the conclusion.
"It is my solemn duty to this help them win that war, and to help lead them out of it."
The captain contemplated his position's unique prerogative. "The yin and the yang; the Lord and the Devil; Kahless and Fek'lhr; the Prophets and the Pah-wraiths...complementary yet opposing forces. Yes, I'm familiar with the various interpretations of spiritual duality. Though I'm sure you're much more well-versed than I in these matters," she lightly gestured to him before taking an intellectual breath and exhaling through her nose. Tarin discreetly crossed one of her long legs over the other beneath her desk then leaned back in her chair. "Brief me: how does one determine the correct 'force' with which to associate?"
Hovar contemplated the question.
"If your question is concerning what is virtuous or otherwise, consider your position. You are the commanding officer of this vessel. We live, and die, in your shadow. You are the judge, jury, and executioner of all that goes on with this ship. You told me that you want your crew to remain busy out of fear that our skills will atrophy. Therefore, we have to maintain a level of competence that is to your standard. Anything less is unacceptable. Therefore, being competent is a virtue that we as your crew must aim for.
Now, say we are a competent crew, as well as a tough crew because to maintain our competency, we have to be tough. We become so good at our jobs that you begin to look down on us like ants in a colony, like spokes on a wheel. You then declare yourself that it is up to you to judge the world and strike down the sinner. You then place yourself on a high pedestal, maybe fancying yourself as the vanguard and champion of Star Fleet, damning anything that does not cater to your worldview. You betray friend and rank, placing yourself, and only yourself, as God as it were. Therefore, there would be nothing stopping you from letting your thunderbolt fall, happily, with the accuracy of the Devil."
Hovar took a breath, realizing that he was preaching again.
"In short, if your ego is the center of your actions, you would be no different from the Romulans or the Dominion. If a higher mission, a higher purpose, is the center of your actions, then no temptation could ever sway your actions. My role, as Chaplain, concerning my pastoral relationship to you as Captain, is to make sure that your compass stays true, and to provide warning when you stray."
Tarin followed his line of reasoning and the examples he brought forth. He certainly appeared to be an articulate man capable of expressing thought through allegory; and she didn't disagree with his mindset. "I'd like to assume every Starfleet crew member serves the Federation for a higher purpose," she commented. "Is that not our mission, to explore the galaxy and improve ourselves through the constant pursuit of knowledge?" she philosophized. Her sharp hazel eyes subtly narrowed at him before she continued to speak. "Let me ask you a more difficult question concerning virtue: where does your duty lay as a Starfleet officer aboard my ship? Is it to me, the captain? To Galileo and its crew? Or to the mission?" she tested, once more watching and observing. Judging.
Hovar recalled that when it comes to superior officers, especially the CO's, the position of the Chaplain is an unorthodox position, perhaps as unknown as an Intelligence Officer coming on board. Who were they there for? The ship? The crew? The mission? That was a question that not even Hovar knew the correct answer. After a pause, he gave the best answer he could think of at the moment.
"Consider this question in return. Who do you go to when you relieve yourself of your uniform, your rank, your accomplishments and your failures, your family and your friends, your colleagues and your superiors?"
Hovar paused as he thought about everyone on board.
"As a Chaplain, I do not minister to Commander Morgan Tarin, Captain of the Galileo. I minister to Morgan Tarin. I am here for your best of times and the worst of times, to be the lightening rod of hate. Some how, God willing, I have to not only do that for you, but I have to do that for everyone aboard this ship, all near 60 of us.
As a Star Fleet officer, I am no different from you or anyone else aboard this ship. We take care of each other. We shepherd each each other to accomplish a common goal. Anyone who gets in the way of that mission, God help them."
Her eyes continued to study him and now shook her head while a perplexed smirk pulled on one corner of her slim lips. "You've answered a question with another question. And in doing so, avoided a direct answer." She then pointed to the single large transparent aluminum window within the ready room. "Look out there, Mister Kov. To the stars and beyond any personal convictions or philosophy. Tell me what you see." Bright and colorful stars dotted the far cosmic landscape with a large Class A and several Class B nebulae currently visible. The surrounding Pleiades Cluster was a large an expansive region of space as well as a robust stellar nursery; one of the Alpha Quadrant's greatest undiscovered treasures.
Hovar looked out into the stars, deep into the great expanse of space. He was asked to not bring any personal convictions or philosophy into the answer. The Klingon blinked a few times as he took look at the nebulae that was visible. He saw the clusters and the stellar nursery that was also in sight. Again, Hovar could not rely on his philosophy. Instead, he went point blank for what it was, the scientific answer.
"A meaningless, dying universe."
The Klingon pointed to the group of nursery stars.
"According to the scientific theories, the entire universe will enter a heat-death. At some point, all the light in the universe will flicker and die. The, leaving the universe a cold, dark place. The atomic structures will break apart. Our ancestors, on Earth and on Qo'noS, would have long since been vaporized when our respective stars encounter their deaths. The Federation will fall alongside the Romulans, the Klingons, the Dominion, everyone. Even if someone survives, our names will be lost to history. Nothing we do, or say, in the end will matter."
Hovar then demonstrated why he is who he is.
"You will hear all kinds of minds saying that this is the most bleak kind of thought. But they would fail your test of not incorporating philosophy or personal convictions. This is the harsh reality that no scientist wants to think about. If all we do is look to the stars through the eyes of a scientist, they would be intellectually dishonest to not see its natural conclusion."
A chuckle then came from a Klingon, who looked to his commanding officer with a sense of curiosity. He knew that this might get him butchered, but the founder of his religion was butchered and damned by the leaders of the temple.
"I ask you Captain, what value do you wish me to preach to the crew?"
The man's initial nihilistic reply was pure and somber, and correct in one sense of galactic understanding. Their present knowledge of the cosmos - as primitive as it might be - understood that all which existed would ultimately come to an end. Every planet, star system and civilization had its own expiration date. How significant was it if neither she nor he would be alive to witness it? What responsibilities did they have to the present which would eventually become the future?
"A harsh truth and an honest objective observation of our reality," Tarin softly spoke while prefacing the answer to his important question. Her gaze remained on him. "I don't claim to be a member of any faith; I was never raised in such an upbringing. When Earth was attacked during the Dominion War while my entire class was entering our final year at the Academy, there wasn't a higher power or authority which assisted us. Hundreds of thousands died. We continued that war and were victorious because of our own personal fortitude and defense of Federation ideals. That's why we all wear this uniform...for each other and our shared vision of the future."
A short pause followed along with a silent sigh. "What value do I prioritize and what message? Duty. Honor," she gestured to the Klingon officer, "veracity, and service to the Federation and its fundamental ideals. I don't believe in fate or predestination - our futures are ours to create. We accomplish that by affecting the present. The here and now."
To Be Continued...
[OFF]
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CMDR Morgan Tarin
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo-A
Chap (LTJG) Hovar Kor
Chaplain
USS Galileo-A