From: Katrina L. Browne (kbrowne_at_wellesley.edu)
Date: Wed Jul 18 2007 - 16:48:31 PDT
-=(^)=- “Voids” Con’t From: “Remodeling” -=(^)=- Location: GS-2 Stardate: 2.70717.2235 Scene: Corridor -> Eishnala’s Quarters The new Chief of Security’s steps rang slightly against the floor of the hallway, carpeted to prevent such an occurrence. They fell in orderly succession to a rhythm unheard. It was an unconscious habit Eishnala had picked up after going through two organizations’ military styled training. Starfleet prided itself on being more than Federation’s military. Yet, at the heart of its most prestigious educational institute, a naval spirit remained. New cadets not only went to classes focusing on advanced scientific and engineering techniques, they also honed skills passed down through centuries of history from hundreds of different martial philosophies. Arts of war, from personal combat to formulating tactical campaigns fought by empires, remained a focus of study from more than just the students who would one day wear a yellow-accented uniform. The Andorian Military Institute, on the other hand, did not parse words concerning its purpose. Not only did its name fully acknowledge its purpose, but the institution’s terminology further expressed a martial zeal with cadets known as thras’chaaki, which roughly translated into Federation Standard means “they who seek knowledge of the processes of war.” While the translation is linguistically rough, it was nonetheless a fitting description for what Eishnala and hundreds of others had been when they “broke into” the institute, the Andorian concept for gaining successful admission to the college considering the low numbers of enrollees it accepts. While Lieutenant Kor may once “broken into the role of thras’chaaki Kor, it was the institute who had in some ways broken her and reshaped the pieces into what it felt was befitting an Andorian soldier. Her martially rhyt hmic steps, in time to the regular beat of the ADF’s anthem, demonstrated as much. Coming to a sudden halt, Lieutenant Kor looked at the door to the quarters that had been requisitioned for her a mere three days prior. **And seven days ago a gateway to the Alpha and Beta Quadrants was there,** Eishnala thought to herself before pushing the door release. The wormhole had hung like some sort of spatial hell mouth, constantly devouring ships from Dominion and Federation worlds, visible from her sitting room’s large bank of windows. But unlike a mythical maw from the nightmares of a thousand worlds’ religions, the wormhole allowed all who entered to leave. That was…until six days ago… when the seemingly sleeping Prophets decided to demonstrate the powers of gods, to what purpose it was not known. The Andorian security officer keyed the combination to release the door. But she did it slower than she would normally have done. The last few days had been hectic and she had spent little time in these rooms, partially by need and partially by design. Eishnala had arrived on the station and within hours seen some of the criminal element of her new *permanent* home, followed by the arrest of a top ranking Federation official, and the abandonment of the Station’s key Gamma Quadrant ally. It seemed that every day left them more alone, left her more isolated. The door slid gently open with a hiss, a hiss that should not have been there on this model of door, an indication that something in the matrix was out of alignment. Its opening revealed a darkened room with a window looking out on the blackness of space…space that was too black. The rooms were empty, lacking personal touches. Instead, there stood standard furniture in standard locations with standard blank walls. The rooms were also big, bigger than anyone really needed, but commensurate to her rank. Too private as well, at least as far as she was concerned. On the U.S.S. Edenton, her room has been small and much more communal. The Edenton was Defiant-class. In other words, it was a warship designed to fight the Federation’s aggressors. The vessel was small and armored to the teeth. Such destroyers carried far more phaser and torpedo banks than their stature would normally have permitted. But that extra fire power came at a price, a price which the crew paid in greatly reduced creature comforts. Among those was a lack of the now traditional ‘stateroom’ found on almost all ships larger than her or with a different focus than her. Yet Eishnala had found sharing quarters with others anything but a disconcerting experience. At the Academy, she had roommates like all other cadets. And on Andoria, space was traditionally limited by the world’s harsh environment, a reality technology still found impossible to completely change. Centuries in which not sharing the small pockets of geothermal heat and shelter had meant committing a grievously selfish act akin to murder produced a culture where privacy defined via personal and open space were largely absent. Several generations of family slept in large one room lodges. As time had passed, the lodges grew with more specialized rooms, but the sleeping areas remained large and communal. And it was in this empty, too large space that Eishnala felt the weight of newly created loneliness. The Andorian woman had run as far away as the Gamma Quadrant to loose herself of familial obligation, an obligation that she felt wrongly weighed upon her. However, in the back of her mind, the Keth Kor keep as well as the councilor suites in Laikan had always been her homes. And they had always been homes that she planned to return to when her people came to understand the need to balance tradition with personal aspiration, and not allow the former to domineer the latter. Lieutenant Kor had made herself an exile for that cause, but she had never believed that a final ostracat had been cast when she pressed her thumb against the line accepting her new transfer orders. Her grandfather was a stubborn and powerful man who could not respect Eishnala’s choices. Yet, he was her grandfather and she had been closer to him than any of the other children when she was young. He had taken her on her first hunt, and while she had only caught a beshi, a large, slow moving furball, it had been the beshi that they shared that night for dinner around a campfire lit from sod on the cold planes of ice that extended beyond what the eye could see. It was that closeness that lead him to request that she join him in Laikan to finish her schooling. And it was also that fealty that kept both of them from seeking the ultimate form of resolution to the conflict that had developed between them. They had not yet stepped onto a field of linen with weapons to draw first blood. Keth Kor had disembraced members who had failed to live up to its ways in the past, and yet her Grandfather still had not disowned her for breaking one of her people’s oldest traditions. Divorce was almost unheard of on Andoria and it was certainly unheard of among those who bore the name Kor. Yet, Eishnala had committed an act worse than divorce by participating in the first of the marital joining ceremonies but not the others. Her abandonment had plunged her would be bond-mates into a perpetual state of un-marriage and marriage, a limbo in which single-hood and legal divorce were both impossible. It had been a taboo act never completed before since most fertile Andorians acknowledged their duties to their people, of which the vast majority were infertile, or refused from the beginning to be drawn into such relationships. Eishnala sighed before entering the room, devoid except for a stack of personal trunks that sat in a corner opposite the door. With purpose, Lieutenant Kor walked over to the neat arrangement and picked up the container labeled bedroom. She had tried to prepare herself for her new found space when she had accepted her transfer orders. The curly haired woman had even tried to pack in accordance with the what she intellectually knew would be her new arrangements. But intellectual exercises had left her unprepared to face…emptiness…on such a large scale. Her roommate on the U.S.S. Edenton had been excited when she heard about Eishnala’s new promotion and transfer. The junior grade Lieutenant from New Jersey had even helped Lieutenant Kor pack as she bubbled on about how exciting life in the Gamma Quadrant wa s going to be. Lieutenant (j.g.) Erin Fillion had even admitted to being jealous of what were sure to be “gorgeous quarters that you’ll get all to yourself. No more having to contend with roommates.” The container was light, most things Eishnala had figured she would pick up when she reached the station. The woman, with skin the hue of spring afternoon sky, set the box on a bed that was designed to sleep more than one person, a fact that caused her to prickle further as she entered the combination that had protected her belongs along their voyage from the first fleet to what was geographically the Federation’s most distant outpost. A distance that had grown farther in mere moments. Laying near the top of the trunk was a set of silver hair pieces bound together by a thong of braided silk that was smooth enough to prevent their delicate facades from being marred by scratches that a heavier materially would have left on the their carefully polished surfaces. They were Aenar in design, given to her by an elder aunt from her birth mother’s line. Ishnelis had always been a little “different” among members of their bloodline. The older Andorian woman championed an end to honor duels, a political position held by only a small number of her world’s people. It was certainly an unpopular position among Keth Kor, who had championed a return to the old method of selecting Atlolla over a hundreds years prior, a cause they had won in the Council of 300. And yet, Ishnelis had been one of Eishnala’s most outspoken supporters when she joined the Andorian Defense Forces and Starfleet in violation of the clans stated position. The stunningly craf ted hair ornaments that shined brighter than Tarkellian diamonds had been Ishnelis’ gift to a newly minted Ensign Kor. It had been the only gift she had received in commemoration of her graduation from Starfleet Academy. Eishnala picked them and the silk rectangle they sat upon up and carried them to the bureau, where she sat them perfectly arranged for a time deserving of their beauty. But Ishnelis’ gift sat there as a dull reminder of a family now perpetually lost, of a group she would never share a floor around a hot fire with again. Lieutenant Kor looked at them on more time before addressing the Station nervous system, “Computer, who in counseling specializes on issues related to adjusting to new environments?” “Lieutenant Nurunyon.” “Thanks,” Eishnala said absentmindedly as she pressed her commbadge, “Lieutenant Kor to Counseling.” [[This is the Counseling Department. How may I help you Lieutenant?]] A friendly disembodied female voice spoke out. “I was wondering if I could schedule an appointment with Counselor Nurunyon. You can note that its regarding adjustment to the station,” the azure woman said as she frowned a little to herself in the mirror. She always hated commbadges. It was like talking to one’s own self. [[Let me check the Counselor’s available appointment times. It will just take one moment…It actually looks like we had a cancellation for the next appointment. Do you have time in…twenty minutes, Lieutenant Kor?]] -=(^)=- Scene: Counselor Nurunyon’s Office Lieutenant Kor sat down tentatively in the oddly designed furniture. Mowree swiped a paw/hand down the back of his head as the Caitan curled in the opposite chair. “So, what can I do for you Eishnala? You don’t mind if I call you by your personal name? I find it makes this a more relaxing setting.” The Andorian woman stiffened a little, but decided the reasoning was justified. “Eishnala it is Counselor. Your Caitan aren’t you?” Mowree cocked his head a little at the strange question, “Yes, I am. Does that fact bother you in some way?” “No. No,” Lieutenant Kor immediately reiterated, before explaining herself. “I was just curious. Your people live communally, don’t you?” “Often. And always when we are young,” the Caitan counselor said, still trying to figure out what the officer sitting astride from him was getting at. Eishnala nodded, “My people are too. Its just the quarters I’ve been assigned are…” “Too private?” Lieutenant Nurunyon said, finally beginning to understand what the woman had been stabbing at. Eishnala nodded again, this time slightly in relief at being understood: “How do you deal with it? They’re so…big…so alone.” Mowree mirrored her movement before answering, “You get used to it and adjust. Going from a room with one roommate to none is not much harder than going from sleeping where dozens of others sleep to where only two sleep.” Lieutenant Kor listened, but crossed her arms over her chest. “It speaks of a bit of an unnatural separation, don’t you think? I mean is there really any need for *one* person to have this much space? Its just seems antisocial.” The Caitan wiggled his whiskers for a moment before addressing that charge, “Many humanoid species seem to think a bit of personal, private space help *keep* them social. Our species define privacy internally. The engineers who designed the quarters came from races that largely define the concept externally.” “It’s just so…selfish.” Mowree smiled, his tail growing slightly fuzzier, a sign of amusement among many felines. He than said, “Sometimes being a little selfish allows people to give more of themselves in other areas of their work…But if this really bothers you. I think we can find a solution. I had an Andorian patient who had similar adjustment issues. I did some research and discovered that Starfleet often houses Andorians together, in groups of four or twelve, for mixed crews. Most of those currently serving on the station are enlisted so this hasn’t been much of an issue…but I could see if we might be able to set up a lodge away from lodge for you and the others?” Eishnala’s antennae drooped to the sides. “Thank you for the suggestion…but that situation is untenable.” “How do you mean?” “I am as good as an outcast. They most likely would not have me,” Lieutenant Kor said quietly. Mowree, not one to be so easily turned aside, persisted hopefully, “You don’t know that for sure. There is no harm in asking around about these things.” The Andorian woman’s frame stiffened before she curtly answered, “They *would not* have me. And there is much harm in acknowledging a weakness like this. I will not be seen as desperate by simple-minded beshi.” Mowree frowned and thought for a quietly for a moment “Perhaps there is another solution. I don't have one of the ends of my whiskers, but one will come." -=(^)=- NRPG: Character development mostly. I hope I didn’t butcher Mowree too badly. -=(^)=- Katrina Browne kbrowne_at_wellesley.edu Lieutenant Eishnala Kor Chief of Security GATEWAY STATION-2 From HyperNews_at_youth.net
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