-= Main Shuttlebay, USS Lone Star =-
Plenty of captains, upon captaincy, had an unfortunate tendency of
meddling with parts of their vessel that had, in their previous career,
been under their purview. Much to the distress of Petty Officer
Lilipago, first class, Felix de l’Isle was one of them. Said captains
tended to have the knack of optimising, fixing or disembowelling
equipment that did not require it, applying their outdated knowledge to –
in this case – fresh-off-the-line, otherwise flightworthy craft.
Lil watched from the shuttlebay’s mezzanine gallery, its background a
room-sized screen speckled with spacial objects from the local area. The
Araucana, one of the compact flight wing’s recon birds, had launched
without warning, which meant an interloper, the captain or the chief
helm. With the latter position unfilled, to her knowledge, the shuttle’s
return and the appearance of an unusual face, simultaneously, divided
her attention. She hadn’t seen a Cardassian since – well, for a while.
“Can – can I help you, sir?” she quizzed, the Araucana coming in hot, even by the skipper’s standards.
Harun had arrived on the Lone Star half an hour prior and was surprised
to have no meeting party. After all, wouldn't everyone want to get a
good gawk at the big-bad Cardassian that was joining the crew? He found
that he was pleased by it because it meant that he could drop off his
things at his quarters before he began looking for his commanding
officer. Everyone was so helpful, Starfleet as Starfleet could be, in
giving him directions to his quarters and then to where the Captain
might be found.
He met the Petty Officer's eyes as he approached her, noting the slight
bit of discomfort in her expression. Ah, now here was the reaction he
was used to. He smiled at her in a way that seemed both menacing and
pleasant. "I'm looking for Captain de l'Isle, I was told he could be
found here." He turned his head now to the vessel making their approach
and noted the angle and speed. Interesting, was the pilot practicing for
combat? He folded his arms across his chest and just watched.
Lil matched his smile warily, jogged her head nonchalantly, and joined
the direction of his gaze. The Araucana might have entered the bay like
she was being chased but ended up square on her station. A crew sprung
into action around her as the side hissed open. The captain emerged,
grinned, slapped the shank of the vehicle and moved up to the control
area.
Which contained a Cardassian: a meeting Felix had been expecting for
three days, since his orders had come through. Given that both he and
his XO were former pilots, the boots this man had to fill were sizeable.
Adjusting his swagger to introductory mode, he stepped up to the
mezzanine. A sideways glance was enough to dismiss Lilipago, who
scuttled across to the Araucana to inspect it for the captain’s
prerogative.
The air of confidence, or rather arrogance, that the Captain displayed
as he strutted out of the vessel was not lost on Harun. Having been
groomed to be a pilot since he had shown aptitude for it at the tender
age of five Harun had spent a lot of time around pilots of every flavor
and all of them, regardless of species or service, had a certain amount
of imperiousness that seemed to radiate from them like an aura. Harun's
oldest sister Seiji claimed he also displayed the same swagger at home,
he supposed he did but when one was naturally gifted it couldn't be
helped.
If Captain de I'lsle had been just a fellow pilot and not his commanding
officer Harun would have made some complimentary but sarcastic remark,
maybe even suggested he take a turn in the vessel to show the man how it
was done. However, since de I'lsle was the captain and he was
representing his government he had to mind his, as Kenji termed it, p's
and q's. So he dropped his arms from his chest and held them to his
sides at attention, clicking his heels together as he straightened and
lifted his chin, the paragon of Cardassian military formality.
"Captain de I'Isle," he said by way of greeting, his voice a warm
baritone though flattened by the rough edge of formal address, "Glinn
Touvoy reporting."
“At ease.” Felix bypassed the rank for now. “That’s got to be a first: a
Cardassian in the union’s uniform saluting a Starfleet captain.” He
allowed the quip to float, but only for a moment. The captain scanned
his new charge, reminding himself that his new helmsman likely thought
very little of him. “And my new conn officer, no less.”
No open-ended questions; not just yet. Touvoy had a few inches over him,
but Felix’s human imperiousness held its ground for the test of respect
that was, inevitably, in progress.
Harun relaxed but barely and the eyes that originally faced forward to
graze on the top of de I'Isle's head now slid to the man's face. The
Cardassian's expression remained passive giving no hint to if he had
been offended by the quip though a slight twitch of his brow ridge
suggested it hadn't gone unnoticed. "You are my commanding officer," he
said flatly, "Is it not Starfleet custom to render proper courtesies
when one comes aboard?"
It was a rhetorical question. Both of them knew that it was. Just as it
was custom to render those courtesies on the bridge rather than having
to go hunting for one's commanding officer in a shuttle bay. Harun
decided de I'Isle was one of those humans who was informal until it was
personally convenient to flex the chain of command, Harun had no desire
to be lulled into a false sense of security only to be ambushed and
shamed later. Harun would stick to the formality.
Proper courtesy. While the young Glinn had passed his Starfleet
acclimation training, the reality of humanity and its emotional
flexibility had clearly not been a part of the course.
“The Lone Star isn’t a ship where everything happens by the book, Glinn.
And every ship’s captain has the privilege and imperative to assert or
discard formalities as they please.” Felix finally unlocked his gaze,
returning it to the working floor of the main shuttlebay. “As a former
pilot myself, I figured I’d chuck some of that courtesy out of the
porthole and give you a tour of relevant facilities myself. Main
shuttlebay, astrometrics, your departmental offices, and the bridge.
Pretty rude of me, I suppose.”
While the Cardassian didn’t roll his eyes in frustration there was this
sense that he wanted to, badly. He saw very clearly what Felix was
trying to do and had already decided he wasn’t going to play the game.
The last thing he needed was to let down his guard and have a result
like San Francisco all over again. Inwardly, Harun sighed, it was going
to be a very long three years.
“Your prerogative, Captain,” he said in that same tone though he let his
gaze drift from Felix to the shuttlebay. He had taken the time to read
and memorize the schematics of the Lone Star so in theory he would be
able to find all those areas himself but he supposed he could indulge
the human.
There were several reason that the problem cases came to the Lone Star:
de l'Isle reminded himself that he was, allegedly, one of them. Over his
ten years at the tiller no Cardassians had alighted onto his manifest
amongst the myriad misfits, megalomaniacs and maddening geniuses. If
he'd acclimatised a megalomaniac Tholian to Starfleet culture, a
jumped-up Cardassian wouldn't be much of an issue.
"On board a starship it usually is," Felix said, his voice thinner of patience. "Come."
The CO changed pace rapidly, springing up the ladder into the
observation gallery. "You'll have read and memorised the specifications
of the Lone Star and her shuttlecraft. Petty Officer Liliipago runs the
main shuttlebay and by extension all other launches, which she likes to
come back in one piece. Your simulation scores were excellent on
standard craft," Felix noted. "Slipstream is a different matter. With
me."
Harun seemed almost to relax at the sudden shift in gears and he fell
easily in step with Felix's pace. The truth was the Cardassian didn't
trust it when people attempted to be overly friendly with him; two years
of sideways glances and murmured racial slurs had led Harun to believe
that when a member of Starfleet was being pleasant it meant they were
being false. The one exception was his roommate at the Academy, Kenji
Sato, but that was because the young engineer had been equal parts
brutally honest and endlessly patient.
He stood just a step behind and to the left of Felix when they came up
on the observation gallery, his hands clasped neutrally behind his back
as his gaze slid from Felix to the shuttlebay. There wasn't a moments
hesitation of complaint when Felix decided to move again, "I have read
what was allowed to me about the slipstream at the Academy but they have
not implemented any simulations in the curriculum yet. Apparently I was
three years too early."
"Or three years ahead, depending on which way you look at it." The
captain provided no destination as they marched along, but Touvoy would
expect their next stop to be astrometrics. "Slipstream was removed from
general training on stardate 2412, just before the launch of the
second-generation drive. Our CEO, Commander Freelove, can talk you
through the technical specifics. I've freed up holosuite six for your
exclusive use from now until we get the go order from Admiral Stanton.
Use it."
Anything the Cardassian might have said in reply died when they entered
the astrometrics lab. Once he got over the initial dazzle of lights and
technology, however, Harun observed that its layout was very... human.
He had been in labs similar to this one both on Cardassia and on Vulcan,
enough to give him the sense that every species had their own
preference in terms of placement of equipment and flow. The Vulcan flow
was logical, the Cardassian flow was efficient, the human flow seemed to
be all about aesthetics.
He had shared his observation about space once with Kenji and the young
Japanese man had laughed, telling him that he might have been a feng
shui master in a past life. Harun had appreciated the ancient earth
thought process of ordering the room even if the idea of it harmonizing
the individuals within it as superstitious pseudo-science. He looked
back at Felix, "I intend to, Captain. Though, I doubt it will substitute
for the real thing."
Dry as a fucking stone, de l'Isle mused, although having an
improviser at the conn was only useful in some situations. The man was
in the finest known ship-board astrometrics lab in Starfleet, possibly
the quadrant – better even than the Enterprise's. Not only that, he
appeared completely unappeasable. He hadn't had the chance to practise
at the Academy; now he was to be given unlimited opportunity, all he
could do is complain. With no small amount of experience in tricky
personalities, Felix understood rather suddenly why Harun Touvoy had
been sent to the Lone Star, and how, precisely, he would create
conflict.
"It won't. Slipstream has a unique feel to it. You'll need to log a
significant number of hours over the coming week to handle the opening
and closing shifts, and to master the mathematics, which constitute much
of the accuracy of the leaps. Most of the middle of the journey will be
left to engineering until you're deemed fully competent." By me, the captain resisted adding.
It hadn’t been said but Harun had picked up on it readily enough, his
eyes slid to his commanding officer in a sideways glance. de I’Isle
really expected it to take him that long to get a handle on the
slipstream? It was on the tip of his tongue to inform the human that he
had been groomed to pilot starships since he was four but Harun
remembered himself.
“Of course,” he said evenly while his gaze went back to one of the displays, “I would expect it no other way, Captain.”
Felix's eyes gleamed. He had the handle of him now. A decade ago he'd
been a fraction as arrogant. One hundred percent, even, one hundred and
ten. And yet benign compared with a Cardassian whose birthright was to
be the best: particularly, to be better than every other species. To
dominate them in talent, strength and every other career. Despite the
war and the magnanimity of the Federation, officers he knew felt deep
injury from the Dominion War. Felix didn't remember it; friends, like
Grey McArnh, did. His older friend's generation had lost their parents,
their aunts, their extended family; colonies had been decimated and,
when Cardassian colonies were decimated by the Dominion, that generation
had rebuilt the quadrant. For a Cardassian to wear his own uniform at
the conn of a Starfleet vessel – an experimental one at that – was no
small earning.
Harun would have to learn; but he would have to learn by his own hand.
Only that hand could not compromise the safety of the ship. As easy as
the accomplished Glinn seemed to think it would be, it nevertheless took
an exceptional pilot.
Later – down the corridor, passing crewmen familiar with Felix who
nodded an 'aye, Captain', and in the turbolift – the human turned to the
Cardassian.
"Which will it be? Glinn Touvoy?" His pronunciation was amateur and Felix knew it. "Or Lieutenant Touvoy?"
There were four seconds left until the doors would open to the bridge.
"I'll need to know," Felix emphasised.
Harun met the human's eyes with a slight narrowing of his own. Was this
some sort of test? The only conclusion the Cardassian could draw as that
Captain de I’Isle wanted to see if he would integrate with the crew or
insist on remaining true to his origins. In the end Harun merely lifted
his large, leather-clad shoulders in a shrug. “I will respond to either
Captain, though I’ve noticed it makes others more comfortable if they
use the Starfleet rank. Perhaps it makes the fact that they have a Cardy on board less intimidating.”
The slur slid off his tongue as if ice wouldn’t melt in his mouth. With
the Dominion War still in recent memory Harun was perfectly aware that
by virtue of his species he would be looked upon with hatred and
suspicion. He had decided before he had even set foot in Starfleet that
he wouldn’t let it bother him. In the old Earth vernacular, haters were
going to hate.
The doors slapped open with the efficiency of a starship that had just had a refit.
"I won't have that term used on my ship," said Felix, with the hiss of the mechanics.
The Cardassian stared at Felix a moment, the ridge of his right eye
raised as if he didn’t quite believe the Captain’s words. Not used? Was
Captain de I’Isle really that naïve or had he slept through the part in
his history lessons about the Dominion War? Or the Cardassian War for
that matter. After what seemed like a longer moment than it actually was
Harun nodded, “Of course, Captain.”
It was a shorter moment. Chief Monkfish was nothing if not prompt.
"Captain on the bridge," she asserted, her first word dovetailing with
Harun's last. Felix bounced to the command centre's central platform,
addressing his company with a nod. As quick as he'd arrived he turned to
face his newest officer, then gestured to the seat he'd occupied as a
helmsman.
"Take your station, Mister Touvey."
The captain's emphasis was deliberate: an invitation to one conclusion, or another.
-=-
by Captain Felix de l'Isle and Glinn [Lieutenant] Touvey