From: Katrina L. Browne (kbrowne_at_wellesley.edu)
Date: Fri Jan 04 2008 - 14:43:33 PST
-=(^)=- “Before the Storm” Con’t From: “Subspace Conversations” -=(^)=- Location: GS-2 Stardate: 2.80102.5544 Scene: XO’s office Time Index: Prior to the reappearance of the Dominion fleet. Lieutenant Eishnala sh’Kor leaned her head against the back of the sofa that dominated a corner of her new office. Surprisingly, it was smaller than her last one, but this office had an unparalleled view. In Security, her domain had consisted of a gray room that guarded the portal to rooms filled with cells. While the occasional amusing drunk, brought in on a disturbing the peace violation, provided a bit of comedy, Eishnala was happy to trade. ANDARA hung bellow her, its serene blues, greens, and whites belying its true nature. Despite its politics, it remained as lovely as ever. The Andorian woman had stepped foot on that world. In fact, she had been some of the last members of the Federation to do so before a coup that resulted in the GATEWAY being left friendless in this region of space. A soft breeze had blown through the High Fane wafting the smell of a collection of alien flowers. Ariel Mason, her assistant at that time, had entered a sneezing fit, but Eishnala thought it was rather a lovely place. Unseasonably warm, but lovely nonetheless. Its mild climate belied the realities of the political situation. Forces, even before the closure of the only way into and out of this quadrant, were aligning against them. Forces that lay suspended around the pacific world like a dark necklace. These same vessels made the view significantly less palatable today. **I might have preferred the drunks. We all have occasion to drink today,** the blue woman thought somewhat bitterly as she reached for a warm mug of Bajoran tea. A glass of Andorian ale would have made her day significantly better, but there were no bottles to be found on the station anymore. **And replicated…** She grimaced just at the thought of it. **Shrin would kill me anyways. That moderately improved synthahol has really put a crimp in his profits.** Eishnala looked down on at the P.A.D.D. she had been working on. Her duty shift had ended, but with the disappearance of the CO, her work had drastically expanded some for the last few days. Though Maverick had decided that he wouldn’t beam her off the station if he found her on it, so that meant that Lieutenant Kor might get a little bit of a break. The device outlined the traffic coming through and exiting the newly rendered link between the Gamma quadrant and the Federation. There had been a theme to most of the reports she had read over the last week or two. Over and over, people were requesting to pack up and leave. Or, in the case of an extremely offensive and controversial dictate, ordered to leave. The warrior in Eishnala had bristled when she had heard about the Marine commander’s evacuation orders. Many cultures prided the fighting prowess of their women, her culture among them. On average, an Andorian woman was taller and often stronger than her male counterparts. Those were two dimensions that traditionally defined which gender would dominate the warrior classes. The plot line predicted a hegemony of women fighters. While this had not exactly happened on Andor (the Andorian male was well known for starting most of the fights), there was a mutual respect that both male and female Andorian soldiers shared for each other. The idea that the leader of ground forces in this battle did not share that respect frustrated the woman. Maverick was hard enough to deal with on personal terms, but then throw in eons of differing social prejudices in to the mix and one had a volatile mix. That volatility might have been part of the reason Eishnala had retreated to her office. -=(^)=- Scene: Operations Time Index: Before Daisy can come back to the station, before the wormhole opens, and before Xana’s visit. Colonel Bret Maverick scowled at the woman who had come to bother him for what must have been the tenth time. **Does it make me a bad person if I want to vent that blue she-wolf into space?** he thought to himself, before asking with feigned generosity, “What can I do for you now, Lieutenant Kor?” The cerulean woman carried a data P.A.D.D. by her side and raised it near her head. “What exactly is the meaning of this?” Mav glanced at the few lines of orange text that had scrolled across the device’s screen. “It’s an evacuation order to get as much of the civilian population off the station as we are able. Unfortunately, there isn’t much of a place to put them so I prioritized women and children,” he said, trying to remain nonchalant. “You see, when I read this edict that crossed my desk a few moments ago, I thought there must be some sort of mistake. I thought to my self ‘This order makes sense of we’re on 19th century earth,’ but it doesn’t really work if that’s not the case. Now last I checked, this isn’t the 19th century and this isn’t Earth,” Eishnala said dryly. “How do you mean?” “Why exactly don’t you consider an average civilian woman competent to defend her own home? Just because your branch of service has a very off ratio of men to women doesn’t mean you are entitled to export your outmoded notions of gender and sexuality onto the rest of us,” Lieutenant Kor said though she managed to mute some of the intended sting from the words. “Lieutenant, this is crisis time and unfortunately averages indicate that women are less able to engage in military operations,” Bret said flatly. “Those averages are widely acknowledged to be skewed by the traditional ‘strenghts’ the military looks in its soldiers. Some are devalued while priority is placed on certain skills that one gender succeeds at more than another. That doesn’t mean that the devalued skill wouldn’t be just as good an asset as the valued strength in combat. It’s pure sexism and Starfleet and the Federation has long acknowledged this. There is parity among the sexes in almost every Starfleet discipline. Even in security, the ratio of men to women is quite close. There simply is no justification for shipping of the Station’s women,” the Andorian woman said. “Someone has to go with the children,” the Colonel said, somewhat exasperatedly. Almost without hearing his point, Eishnala continued. She was already on a role and was not about to stop now, “Not to mention it’s a touch ethnocentric.” The blue woman’s hands subtlety drifted towards her hips as she spoke. “Only one of my brothers joined the Andorian security forces or Starfleet as a member of the Marines or Security. Three of my sisters did. Just because your women don’t have a strong tradition of being fighters doesn’t mean all women on this station don’t. Plus, I know for a fact that two of this Station’s former commanding officers were known for their fiery tempers and they had the skills to match them.” “Someone has to go with the children,” the Colonel repeated, this time a lot more firmly before adding, “And this discussion of gender relations is over, *Lieutenant*.” Mav’s patients had grown too thin to continue listening to the Andorian woman debate issues of race and gender with him. -=(^)=- Scene: XO’s Office However, Eishnala did see a certain wisdom in removing the children from the GATE. Many societies held a concept of innocence that was directly correlated with age. Yet, what that age was changed drastically. -=(^)=- Scene: Operations Time Index: As before “Fine, lets talk about the children. You want to send away everyone under the age of 18?1?” Eishnala asked incredulously. “I heard your son got involved in defending his home a lot younger than that and now he’s a marine.” “That was different. We were on an advanced deployment in uncharted regions of the Beta quadrant,” Mav said curtly. He than gestured towards a miniscule piece of cloth sown in amongst other colorful, tiny pieces of cloth. “See this?” Bret asked, but the statement had more the ring of a demand than a question. “This represents the Calnarians. Now I know they were before your time, but I’m certain you’re familiar with them. Are you actually going to claim you wouldn’t have put a young and able man to work under those circumstances? If you say you wouldn’t, you’re a fracking liar.” “I would have put him in a fight and that’s my point. Some of the people were sending away are young, but that doesn’t mean their willing and able. Demanding that everyone under the age of 18 leaves doesn’t give them the opportunity,” Eishnala argued. Maverick nodded, “I agree, but right now I’m a lot less concerned about our total numbers. The more civies I could get of this hulk the happier I’d be. They have very little training and are more likely than not going to make the job of my Marines significantly more dangerous.” “We can run some rudimentary drills. At least teach them how to defend their homes and business…and give a little hell to the Jem’hadar if they stage a boarding,” Lieutenant Kor noted. “Yeah,” Mav said a note of sarcasm laced his deep voice. “And they’ll die in the sort of numbers that will make us look irresponsible. The thing is, though, we won’t just look it; we’ll be it. It’s the duty of the military to protect those who aren’t trained to protect themselves. We’re not allowed to place them in undo harm to slow down an enemy we should be fighting in the first place.” Eishnala shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. Their voices had elevated a touch, causing sideways glances from a crewman or two to go their way. Most of the more trained and experienced officers kept their gazes averted. “The duty of the military is to have specialized training in the protection of a society’s resources. That doesn’t imply that civilians do not have a less specialized duty to protect their own spheres within that domain. If a civilian isn’t able, that’s one thing. But we can give them the rudimentary knowledge they should have anyways.” “This isn’t Andoria, Lieutenant. Not everyone learns to fight with a multi-edged razor from the age of two,” Bret said, frustration bleeding into his words. “It’s not at the age of two and not everyone learns how to do it, but most do,” Eishnala defensively remarked. “You’re using hyperbole.” “That may be, but my point stands. The Starfleet Command agreed many on a set of combat norms and that involves us bending over backwards to protect civilians. It’s a good thing I’m flexible,” Mav noted. Eishnala’s brow furrowed, her antennae had snapped backwards. The woman vaguely felt the desire to know the man down, but thought better of it. Mav continued, “Plus, even if the civies do fight well in this conflict, we’re setting an awful precedent within the laws of war.” “The Dominion has *never* respected any laws of war,” Eishnala said harshly. “New Bajor proved that. The silence of our colonies just confirms it.” “The Dominion may not, but some of our other opponents have. If we use civilians to fight our battles that just increases the likeliness that our enemies will deliberately target them in warfare. We need to maintain the sanctity of that civilian status as a protected class within civilized notions of warfare.” One of the marines that often stood guard in Ops due to the heightened risk of attack from infiltrators leaned over to his peer. “Who knew the colonel was philosophical?” The other man, a Vulcan, whispered back, “He’s not usually. I guess fighting with and for your kid gives you a few insights. Or he’s just full of surprises. Maybe someone gave him a copy of T’Pen’s ‘Right Warfare’?” “I think Vulcan war manuals might be a little dry for the Colonel’s tastes.” “T’Pen is actually a brilliant lyricist. Writings from her era are characterized by an attempt to capture the nature of the lute within words,” the Vulcan said, stiffening a little. “ ‘To capture the nature of the lute within words,’” the human man mirrored back. “I didn’t know you were so into literature.” “I studied the great works for many years, but my kind often have more than one carrier. Conference papers were intriguing, but as I reached my 125th birthday, I realized I need a change of pace that Academia just did not provide me.” “What ever you say, ‘Professor’,” the human said. “Professor?” “It’s a nickname.” “Right,” the Vulcan said a little rigidly. “My children had also reached the age where they no longer needed constant care. It was a convenient and logical time to move on.” “Children?” the nineteen year old private asked, a little shocked. Maverick’s voice cut in. “Fine, I’ll give the older youths a choice, but their parent has to agree before they are allowed to stay. I won’t allow some teenager with a rebellious streak and a hero complex to kill himself without his parent’s say so. But absolutely no one under the age of 16 will be allowed to remain here.” Lieutenant Kor nodded. At least it was a partial victory. She was about to leave when the Colonel spoke up again, “I want your support in this. The taskforce and the station’s leadership need to present a unified position to the public or bedlam will result on the station. Don’t circumvent this.” Eishnala listened for a moment before shrugging, “I may not agree with all of the orders given to the civilians, but I would never contravene them. Consider the matter at rest.” -=(^)=- Scene: XO’s Office Eishnala’s scanned the names of those who had left the station today. Most she did not recognize, some surprised her, and others seemed perfectly logical. Xana was in the latter category, but Kat Gorman… **She was a fighter, even when as round as a hunting hut.** Their presence would be sorely missed when the firefights started, that much, the Andorian woman could be certain of. Lieutenant Kor closed her eyes for a moment. With the wormhole open, she could leave too. She could return to Andoria and to her family. It would be an easy thing to do. All she’d have to do would be hand in her commission and not look back. She’d likely be welcomed with open arms by her clan if she agreed to remain with her Qavni. Her grandfather had made it painfully clear on many an occasion that if she returned to her family and finished her marriage, then all would be forgiven and forgotten. Well, maybe not mentioned, forgotten was likely to large a leap to make. Her case had even been brought to the Andorian court system as they tried to rein her back into the marriage the members of her Qavni felt she was obligated to complete. Kolorn might even continue the suit in hopes of ensuring that Eishnala could never leave her Qavni duties again. Not to mention there was an issue of precedent in Andorian law at issue in the case. In the recorded histories, a Qavni had never been forcefully dissolved by the actions of one of its members. Andorians were known for their loyalty and sense of duty. That combination ensured that they would likely remain together regardless of each of the individual member’s desires and separate aspirations. Qavnis had fallen apart, but that was always a mutual decision of all bonded members or the result of a death. The technicalities of the case were also important. Bonding mates required two separate rituals. After they had been completed, separation was legally permissible if agreed upon by either the courts or the four members of the marriage. But neither divorce nor moving on from the Qavni group could occur if the two rituals had not been fully realized. Eishnala had skipped out after the first, but before the second. That decision had placed her entire martial group in a legal limbo unseen in Andorian law. Her bondmates could not find a fourth member because Eishnala could not officially be cast from the marriage. Eishnala sighed. **The GATEWAY is my home,** she thought to herself, putting aside the issue for the moment. The actions of turning in a resignation might be simple, but it was, perhaps paradoxically, not a simple thing to do. Traffic coming into the gamma quadrant through the wormhole seemed to consist of a fair number of new and correspondence that would need to be delivered. Lieutenant Kor could easily have set the computer to automatically distribute the mail that had arrived, but thought better of it. While the skeptical blue woman still had a misgiving or two about the new CO, giving out some of these letters might help the woman integrate into the life of the new community she was charged with leading. Daisy could hand off a letter and talk a little with the recipient. It was the sort of job one hired a morale officer to handle. However, with an imminent conflict looming over the Starfleet officers of the GATE, Daisy could both boost morale and try to instill a little confidence about their struggle. It was true; the odds had changed somewhat with the arrival of the taskforce and then again with the opening of the portal in the space. But considering the GATEWAY was all but stationary, even with the support of the fleets held at the disposal of the Federation, the odds were not good for the Station. They would be at the forefront of a conflict that would constantly be at their door step. If the Dominion managed to make almost any territorial headway (and they had made a considerable amount the last time they had waged war against the Federation) than the GATE would have fallen. It was a little bleak to look at one’s home as likely being in the absolute middle of a tug of war that could easily go the wrong way (even for the shortest of periods) and spell disaster for the fledgling civilization that Bonviva, Kane, and a host of others had tried to shape and protect. **I could use a little pep talk,** Eishnala thought, the contradictory sentiment laced with dourness and amusement. **But I’m probably expected to give more than a few.** That thought was probably more amusing than anything she had come across that day. She had received her fair share of them. Though Captain Kane had not been known for being a particular open CO, he had given more than a speech or two behind closed doors to the senior staff concerning the conflict that lay bare before the GATE. Those speeches had always been delivered with a sense of ease, an ease that now surprised Eishnala. **I wonder what Captain Kane felt when he tried to persuade the senior staff of the necessity of secession. At the time, it seemed so logical. Did he think that as well? Or did he have these feelings of insecurities?** Eishnala stood up and stretched, looking at an interdicted world and walked over to her personal terminal. Rhythmic tapping filled the space of the small office. **Daisy’s got killers looking for her and I’m in no mood to play the morale officer,** she thought as a series of messages went out to the members of the GATE’s crew. -=(^)=- NRPG: Sorry for the character centric nature of this post (and the overdose of emo child). Taylor: I hope borrowing Mav for a vent isn’t too much of an imposition. All: If you fell like writing an epic space battle isn’t really for you right now, feel free to write about correspondence from friends or family. That GATE has been out of touch for a while and I’m certain there are a lot of missed relations that have things they’re just dying to get off their chest. Also, seeing as this is a war zone, “war letters” (incidentally, the likely title of my next post) are probably also circulating around both the GATE and PATRIOT crews. Sarah: Didn’t mention it before, but I loved your post. -=(^)=- Katrina Browne Lieutenant Eishnala sh'Kor Executive Officer GS-2 From HyperNews_at_youth.net
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.1.5 : Sat Oct 11 2008 - 03:10:18 PDT