New Ship, Same Problems

Posted on Tue Mar 17th, 2015 @ 12:07am by Lieutenant Alana Tovan

Mission: Pandemic [Incomplete]
Location: Security Check-in, USS Carthage

Lieutenant Tovan couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. Not by anyone in particular, just everyone. In the back of her mind were those same nagging thoughts that she had never quite been able to shake. They know what you are. They know what he did. They're never going to accept you. Those same thoughts had been haunting her for the last twenty years. Everywhere she went, no matter what she did, she felt like everyone was staring at her, silently judging her. It was a bit of a blessing, in a way. The self loathing inspired her, drove her to become more than the sum of her parts. Or as Alana saw it, the difference of her parts. But it was naturally also a curse. The young officer felt like she would never escape her destiny, never outgrown her father's legacy.

For the past twenty years, she had been running from her demons, trying to fade away, become a ghost. Sometimes the thought of the latter, becoming a ghost, was stronger than any other desire. But she resisted taking the easy way out. If it wasn't for her mother, who was just as downtrodden as Alana, she might have ended it all.

It wasn't until ten years ago that she felt like she had an escape. Starfleet had been nothing but a pipe dream, something that a runt, a half-breed like her, could never achieve. But it became her goal, her raison d'etre. She wanted to be greater than her father could ever have hoped to be. The journey was not without hardship. Even in the Academy, she still faced ridicule and distrust. But she survived, and was starting to make a name for herself. Somehow she had been able to impress someone enough to make her chief engineer on a starship. Never mind that it was a garrison ship, wouldn't be on many deep space assignments. And forget it that it was in the middle of nowhere, on a backwater station that no one seemed to want to be assigned to. Maybe such assignment was just what she needed.

But even the pride of her new assignment couldn't help her fight off the feeling that everyone was staring at her. In actuality, no one had even been paying any attention to her. They were just going about their business. But that insecurity was still there, gripping at her fragile ego. Alana reached up to the side of her face, reaching for her long raven hair. Instinctively she pulled her locks forward, hiding part of her face, but most importantly, at least to Tovan, hiding her ears.

Despite her fears, she made it to her assignment with confrontations. No one jumped out at her and called her names. No one pinned her against a bulkhead and assaulted her, despite the high density of people. She was almost ready to let out a sigh of relief when she reached the airlock to her new ship. Almost. That's when she saw him checking security clearances for those coming aboard the Carthage. Alana was immediately overcome with dread. Of all the ships in all of the Federation, why did she have to walk into the one that he was serving on.

The ridges that ran along his shaved head swept back line finned blades, folding into each other. His nostrils, flared and wide, were besieged by sharp creases, and his nose had the appearance of one that had been broken at least once in his lifetime. His eyes were a vibrant blue, so blue they were white, contrasting against his skin, which was dark and brooding. The massive Klingon towered over those around him. Officers seemed almost timid as they presented the appropriate documentation to him, and he scowled as he reviewed it. "Move on," he would growl, jutting his heavy head, which sat on a thickly muscled neck. Despite being only a Lieutenant, the Klingon spoke this way to everyone, regardless of their rank. No one seemed to mind, or, perhaps more likely, no one dared to.

He paused for a moment, and sniffed. He sniffed the air, lifting his head up, his nostrils flaring impossibly wide. His eyes met hers, and his lips turned a sour direction. "Ghargh," he spat, the Klingon words coming out thick and gutteral. Worm. He shoved past the few that stood in front of her, shoving several aside as he came towards her, towering over her tiny frame. "Nuq Davang naDev?" Again the words were thick, violent. What are you doing here? "jIHvaD quvHa' SoH pong naDev." He exhaled sharply through his nostrils. Your presence dishonors me. He switched to the more common speech. "Why are you here?" he asked.

Alana didn't mince words with the massive Klingon. He had been this way towards her since the day she met him, and she doubted that it would change anytime soon. She took the PADD in her hand and thrust it towards his face. "I work here," she replied bluntly. For all her insecurities, she was always a bit different around Mord'Vig. With everyone else she came into contact with, she was worried about what they would think, if they would secretly accuse her of being a spy like her old man. But with him, it was different. He flat out hated her with a passion, but at least his feelings were known. She didn't feel like there was any reason to hide around him. "I'm the new chief engineer. My information is all there. Why are you here?"

He snatched the PADD from her hand, his blue eyes scanning the text. The red flush of his skin flared as he did. He shoved it into her, the bulk of his hand forcing her back a step. "I have been assigned as the new Chief of Security," he said.

Alana struggled to keep her balance from the force of Mord'Vig shoving the PADD back at her, but she managed to stay upright. "Congratulations," she replied dryly. The statement carried so little emotion, she probably could have passed for a Vulcan. "Now can I be on my way? I'd like to get settled in before I start taking the engines apart."

The Klingon seemed to hesitate, mentally going over the possible barbs he could throw at her. He never got a chance to.

"Is there a problem here?" Mord'Vig looked away from Tovan and found himself staring down at another female; this one was far taller than Tovan, but still dwarfed in comparison to the burly Security Chief. Her hair, which was a dark blonde, was worn up, and the bangs dropped around like a mane, framing her sharply angular face. Her cheekbones, high and distinct, terminated at thick, ruby-red lips. Her eyes, yellow and blue, were almost catlike in a certain light. She wore the teal of Medical and science, and the Lieutenant Commander pips at her throat made him tense. He immediately hated her, but his code of honor prevented him from doing anything else.

The Commander looked at the small woman and smiled. "Didn't you say you had somewhere to be, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Alana nodded at the Commander. "Yes, Ma'am. I did." She was tempted to say more, but it was clear to here what that question was really trying to say, move along.

The Commander hovered for a moment, staring the Klingon down. There was something oddly threatening about her, but Mord'Vig struggled to understand. "Mind your manners in the future," she said, "Lieutenant." She moved away from him, following Tovan onto the ship.

As she vanished inside Mord cursed. He had felt rooted in place, unable to speak or move. It wasn't until after she was long gone that he realized he had never verified her clearance.

--

"Lieutenant Tovan," the Commander said. "Alana Tovan, right?" She caught up with the young girl effortlessly, smiling to her as she did.

Alana turned quickly, surprised to see the Lieutenant Commander from the security checkpoint. "That's right, Commander. Thanks for the help back there. I've met that Klingon before. He doesn't exactly like me though." She shifted the bag on her shoulder and extended her hand. "I don't believe that we've actually met."

She smiled. "We have not," she said. "I'm Commander Brand. You can call me Isolde. I'm stationed on the Montreal; since the Chief Medical Officer hasn't been assigned yet, I offered to pick up the slack and conduct the intake physicals." She glanced back over her shoulder. "He seems like a nasty sort. Sometimes I think they'll let anyone wear the uniform these days."

Tovan's hands instinctively went up to her hair, making sure the raven locks where still in place. "Tell me about it," she muttered, mostly under her breath. "It's nice to meet you, Commander, uh, Isolde." Getting the intake physicals out of the way was something she always dreaded, but she knew that it was an inevitability. She knew she couldn't avoid it forever.

Brand tilted her head slightly, her eyes catching the thoughtless movement of Tovan's hand. She started walking down the corridor with Tovan, holding a PADD against her chest. "So you and the Security Chief..." She looked at the younger girl, "spurned lover?"

"No," Alana replied, her eyes suddenly wide. "No, no, no, no, no." She wasn't sure if she would be able to stress the negative enough. "We met before on an earlier assignment, and he's hated me pretty much since we met. I think it's because he's a Klingon, and I'm, well, me."

Brand lifted a thin brow. "And what is that?"

Alana was once told that there were four people that you should never lie to: your mother, your priest, your doctor, and your bartender. Brand just happened to fall into that list. Alana didn't say anything, but she did reach up and pull her hair back on the side facing Brand, revealing her very pointed ear.

Brand didn't seem all that phased. In truth, she already knew. In the heat of emotional moments it was easy to miss things, like a stranger walking up and already knowing your name before you told them what it was. She had read Tovan's file, along with a host of others, including Mord'Vig's. The file had certain indicators that suggested that the young engineer struggled with that part of her heritage though. Nothing specific, but concerns were noted. It made the Doctor curious how she would react, if she were put on the spot. "Some people struggle with old hatred," she started. "Whether it is hatred for another for who they are... Or for ourselves, often for the same reason. Lieutenant Mord'Vig is a traditionalist, despite his surroundings. I think if he had it his way he'd be back on a Warbird, roaming the galaxy with his brothers, fighting for honor and glory." She reached out and tugged Alana's hair back over her ear.

It was a relief to Tovan that Brand had so little reaction to her heritage. Even the simple act of putting her hair back in place was a significant comfort to Alana. She had known too many people in her life that judged her before ever giving her a chance. It was the price she paid for being a child of two worlds; one that didn't want her, and one that she didn't want. "I'm sure if he had his way, he would be out hunting for people like me." She had a sudden thought that she debated asking, but considering that Isolde was a medical professional, maybe she would have an answer. "Just out of curiosity, can Klingons really smell blood well enough to know if it's copper or iron based?"

Brand laughed. "I doubt it. They have peculiar senses that are certainly more acute than most. I once read that a Klingon could sense whether or not someone had murderous intent, just by looking them in the eyes. But the blood? Maybe if he cut you open. I find it more likely that as a Security officer he spent far too much time reading files he shouldn't have been."

Alana almost smiled. "I'll keep that in mind if he ever mentions it again. I knew Klingon senses were keen, but I've never known anyone to be able to smell the copper in someone's blood."

"Maybe a Caitian," Brand said, almost jokingly. "A sense of smell that powerful would be a curse," she mused. "Imagine all of the other things you would have to be able to smell, to be able to smell what kind of blood someone had? The nasal... fortitude, would be immense."

The lieutenant was well versed enough in biology to have really considered that, but the doctor made a good point. "I suppose that's true. Still, it does make for a great way to be intimidating. I'm not really worried about Mord'Vig though. As long as he stays out of my way, I'll stay out of his."

Brand seemed to agree. "He's just bitter," she said. "There aren't very many Klingons in Starfleet, and most of the ones that are aren't because they want to be. He's about as warrior as they come, Lieutenant Tovan. Like a wild dog with a diamond collar. No matter how much you try to clean him up, he'll never be a housepet."

Alana wasn't really sure how she should react to the housepet analogy, so she mused that it was probably best that she didn't. As far as she was concerned, she was pretty much the runt of the litter too, even if she was an only child. "Perhaps. I don't know enough psychology to say. In my experience, machines and engines are easy, people are hard."

"I suppose," she said. "But you spend your life working with engines; my life is people. I think it's all a matter of perspective." She smiled, gently squeezing the smaller woman on the shoulder. "Pain is pain," she said, suddenly serious. "What I was trying to say is that we all react to it differently; you hide yours, or try to. He lashes out. Thankfully you have at least a few decks between you. And if he gives you too much trouble? Let me know. Nothing worse than being stuck in quarantine due to possible exposure to something nasty."

Alana couldn't help but laugh at the image of Mord'Vig stuck in quarantine. She could plainly picture him beating against forcefields because no one would let him out. It was a wishful thought, but still enjoyable. "Thank you, Doctor. Hopefully it doesn't come to something quite that drastic, but I'll keep it in mind."

"You do that," the Doctor said, turning. As she did she paused, looking back. "Oh, and Lieutenant?"

The engineer had started on her way before the Isolde stopped her. She turned back around. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I will see you at 1600 for your intake physical," the Doctor said, smiling as she turned down a separate corridor.

Alana turned back and sighed. It turns out that she won't get to avoid that physical after all. At least she would have time to get settled in first, and most importantly, explore main engineering. With the thought lifting her spirits, she went on her way.

---

Lieutenant Alana Tovan [P: Von]
Chief Engineer
USS Carthage

Lieutenant Mord'Vig [P: Vendenje]
Chief Tactical/Security Officer
USS Carthage

Lt. Commander Isolde Brand [P: Vendenje]
Acting Chief Medical Officer
USS Carthage