Horns

Posted on Wed Apr 29th, 2020 @ 9:16am by Commander Rita Paris & Ensign Tanaak Sado & Jaeih Dox-t'Aan
Edited on on Wed Apr 29th, 2020 @ 1:56pm

Mission: Return to the Core
Location: USS Hera, various locales across the ship
Timeline: 2397

Another day in Starfleet, another onboarding crew member.

With the advent of the schools and nursery facilities added to he starship, the Medical department's resources were being spread thin. Thus the first officer had put in to Starfleet Command for more Starfleet Intelligence-cleared medical personnel, whose clearances would allow them to serve. The fresh graduate of the Academy apparently lacked said clearance, so today Commander Rita Paris would be making that determination during the onboarding interview.

In her day, a new officer was greeted by the First Officer at the point of entry to the starship. This taught the officer if the onboarding personnel understood fleet protocol for coming aboard, as well as giving them a walk from that point to speak with the new crewman, feel them out and get a feel for how they would fit in on the starship.

That was back in Rita's day, which had been long since relegated to the history books. But Rita Paris, while herself a minor footnote in history, was not relegated to a museum exhibit somewhere, but living, breathing and still carrying on the old-fashioned traditions of her day, here in what she considered the far-flung future at the close of the 24th century, as the 25th century approached. The sexist minidress uniform of her era, in what was considered back then to be command gold, still marked her as an anachronism, quite deliberately so. While she did not dislike the modern uniforms, as they had returned more toward their colorful origins, Paris wore the old uniform as a visual cue to others, as well as she herself.

A gentle reminder that she was not of this time nor place, but instead, a living piece of history. A time capsule of old-fashioned pioneer spirit that had driven the Federation's trek through the stars, seeking out new life, and new civilizations. Some understood it, some it merely confused, and some just tried to overlook it. That mattered less to Rita Paris than it helped her remember her identity, and who she was, then and now.

The old short-skirted long-sleeved minidress was a comfort to her, which was why the Captain allowed it- so long as she kept the three gold pips on the black low V-necked collar of the uniform. After all, very few enlisted or officers of modern Starfleet recognized the ancient delta of command on her breast, a three-dimensional version which served as her customized comm badge. Less likely was their ability to recognize the two wound golden braids woven around the cuffs of the uniform, which indicated rank... back in 2268. Thus the three gold pips were a kindness to the rest of Starfleet who were not historians.

Today's onboarding was not an historian, but a combat medic of considerable mass. This promised to be a potentially interesting officer coming aboard, and Rita planned to get to know them rather well.

Because of course, Rita Paris had a plan. Subject to alteration depending on the individual she was now making her way to meet in Transporter Room 2 on Deck 6.

Which was not making her nervous. At all. Don't get close to the pad, stay behind the control panel so you can see what's happening with the readings, let them step off the pad and invite them over, it looks like a power play to make them come to you but it is you exerting control over the situation, and just be The Commander.

As the first officer entered Transporter Room 2, Transporter Specialist 2nd Class Bol'urgh swallowed a gulp of anxiety of his own. The legends on the USS Hera about the Commander and transporters made the operators uneasy whenever she was even in the room. Bootleg copies of one of her transports still made the rounds as a ship's legend, and all of the transporter techs knew the most steady technology known to the Federation just didn't behave around the anachronistic officer. Discretely dabbing at his leaky gills, the Bolian nodded respectfully to the buxom bombshell, who nodded back.

"Are we ready, Mister Bol'urgh?" she asked in a steady voice, coming to attention there beside and behind him at the transporter control panel.

"Aye ma'am, getting the handshake now.... energize?" he asked. technically since she was in the room it was her order to give, although he would have just done it upon receipt of the beam request from the USS Sargasso. It wasn't lost on him that she paused for a second before replying.

"Energize," Rita Paris said with an authority she didn't feel.

A slow shimmer lit up the transporter pad, growing tall and wide until it faded into the form of Ensign Tanaak Sado. He was held perfectly motionless for a moment as he materialized, allowing an early glimpse of the new crew member. Tanaak was an Oriasi, seven feet tall, with bluish-purple skin and striking ram-like horns; ridged, curled, and black. They seemed to sprout from the top of his dark, almost rocky forehead. His steely-gray hair looked coarse, like a horse’s mane, and only grew in a long strip between his horns. This natural mohawk he had done his best to tame by trimming it to a professional length. He was clean-shaven, and his uniform fit him well. His high nose with its steeply slanted nostrils gave his face a beastly quality, and for that moment he was frozen, his eyes seemed wild as well.

As soon as he was present in himself and in the room, the wild expression turned to one of wonder. It was obvious he wasn’t used to traveling by transporter beam, and his lips parted slightly as his jaw dropped. He scanned the room and quickly closed his mouth when he saw the Bolian at the transporter controls. He started to smile, then registered the commanding officer standing in front of him and adopted an alert, stoic expression instead. She was impossible to miss, and the words ‘beauty’ and ‘intimidating’ ran through his head. He stood a little taller, cleared his throat, and suddenly wished his mouth wasn’t so dry.

“Ensign Tanaak Sado reporting for duty,” he said, offering a salute. His voice was deep, but not loud. It had a softness to it that might let it blend in with the warm shadows if he lowered it any more. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he tried to control an excited smile. “Permission to come aboard.”

Returning the salute in kind, the blonde Human with the tomboy haircut snapped the hand up then away with military precision. "Permission granted, Mister Sado. Welcome aboard the USS Here... I'm Rita Paris, the first officer." With that said, the curvaceous commander extended her hand for a handshake, not budging from where she was behind the control panel. The observant medic noticed her face was slightly flush and there was a fine bead of perspiration on her brow.

Tanaak stepped down from the platform and took a few long strides across the room. "It's a pleasure, Commander Paris," he said with quiet enthusiasm and took her hand to shake it. His grip was firm and warm, but not crushing. Close up, his eyes were not solid violet as they had appeared from afar, but blue in the center with a red ring around the iris. As he let go of the commander's hand, he decided not to mention what he had noticed about her physical state--yet. She wouldn't have been the first human he'd met to have a physiological reaction to meeting an Oriasi, but he doubted that was the issue. She didn't seem the type to lose her composure so easily, especially for someone who faced new species and dangers on a regular basis.

No, he suspected something else was going on, but if she considered herself fit enough for duty, he wasn't about to start his first conversation with her by suggesting otherwise. He'd keep an eye out for worsening symptoms, but kept these thoughts to himself for now. "It's quite an honor to be invited to serve on such a ship," Tanaak said, folding his hands behind his back. It was evident that he had practiced this line, but the smile in his voice conveyed his sincerity. He truly did feel honored and privileged to be here.

"Well, she's a beauty, alright," the officer on deck said from a full 30 centimeters beneath him. A smile lit up her face, one that broadcast it's genuine glee. "The Hera is indeed a very special starship... but you're pretty special yourself, aren't you Ensign?"

Moving toward the door, the Commander apparently expected him to fall in step with her as she didn't bother looking back, and continued speaking as she moved. "First Oriasi in Starfleet, although apparently there are a few others at the Academy now. Graduated Starfleet Combat Medical training, which I understand to be a reasonably intense experience, also with honors. I understand you even saved an instructor during a training accident, and received a meritorious commendation. By all accounts you are open-minded, curious of other cultures and as even-tempered as a security officer. A gentle giant, although I suspect you've heard that one so often you're likely a little tired of hearing it from we less gifted humanoids."

"Hardly," Tanaak said with a frown. He mentally kicked himself, then shook his head. "I mean hardly less gifted," he corrected quickly. He could boom about racial equality all day with his family, but it was still painfully awkward when it came up with other species. He felt something like shame that his experience was one of relative privilege. He wanted to say something else, something to assure the Commander that he didn't believe anyone was born more or less gifted, but he didn't want to sound patronizing.

"Actually, I admire humans for coming so far from the violence of Earth's past to the tolerance of today. That's something my people could still learn from." His mouth twisted to the side, trying to make itself smaller, trying to shrink and take back the words 'actually' and 'my people'. He took a deep breath. No point second-guessing himself now.

He remembered the incident the Commander had mentioned with one of his instructors, a man Tanaak had at first believed to dislike him. During a zero-g exercise with defibrillation equipment, a team of students managed to start a fire by following instructions out of order. Without gravity, the flames sparked into dull blue orbs that pulsed like jellyfish rather than bright orange tongues.

The fireballs would have extinguished themselves without gravity if the instructor hadn't been using an oxygen mask.

Tanaak remembered seeing the flames crawl toward their instructor's face and how he had a split second to decide between tearing the mask away and turning the oxygen off at the tank. If he hadn't done the latter, the tank strapped to the instructor's back would have exploded. Afterwards, sitting in the instructor's office, listening to him thank Tanaak for sparing his wife a second tragedy, Tanaak realized that the instructor's apparent disdain for him was actually distraction and grief, and had nothing at all to do with him. The quiet moment of realization that Tanaak wasn't responsible for his instructor's unhappiness was a lesson he valued every bit as much as the commendation he had received afterwards.

Tanaak brought himself out of the memory and followed the Commander through a doorway. As wide as he was, he couldn't stay by her side as she crossed the threshold, but he caught up easily with his long strides. "I, ah, thank you for such a positive appraisal. I hope to live up to it."

"By gifted I was referring to your size, Mr. Sado, attempting to draw the obvious inference without being too on the nose. But I see it fell a bit short- I'll remember subtlety isn't your strong suit." Paris wagged her finger at her shoulder as they walked. The woman maintained a martial pace, just as did cadets at Starfleet, so it was easy for him to fall in at the same pace beside her.

"Starfleet is a lot of things to a lot of people, Mr. Sado. Not the least of those is to give people a chance to go out there and see the galaxy, then tell the folks back home about it, to encourage them to step onto a greater galactic scale." Looking up at the hulking healer, the comely commander smiled wryly. "Given the classified nature of our vessel and missions, this experience isn't going to be all that good for that sort of thing, I'm afraid. But you will find some of the other promises of Starfleet are still alive and well out here in space."

Stopping at the turbolift doors, Commander Paris turned to face the Oriasi officer. "So why are you out here, Mr. Sado?""

The giant's ears were still wine-dark from his mistake, but otherwise he seemed composed and thoughtful. "I suppose you hear a lot about the dream," Tanaak said with a faraway smile. "I grew up on a broken world." He could see through the Commander to revolts and rallies in the streets of his city. "The Federation gave us hope. It tipped the scale in favor of a more civilized way of life, but it wasn't enough. An alliance with the Federation brought freedom to the oppressed, but not equality. Not justice. Ever since I got a glimpse of that hope, I've wanted to chase it. I've wanted to immerse myself in it. Someday I want to take it back." He thought of his brother.

"Someday I will take it back." Tanaak's younger brother had accused him of running away, and maybe he was right. Maybe the horned giant was running from the political turmoil that choked their world, and he felt a pang of guilt when he thought about the accusing look in his brother's eyes as he left. Maybe he was running.

Tanaak focused on the Commander once again, meeting her bright gaze. He realized he'd let a shroud of seriousness settle over him, and he shook it off with a smile. "I had thought about going into education, but the Academy introduced me to my interest in alien biology. One thing led to another and I found myself in Starfleet Combat Medical training." Fully back in he present, memories of home stashed somewhere he could find them later as he was trying to fall asleep, he nodded slightly. "Now I'm here."

"An idealist, looking to better his people by experiencing what a culture of acceptance can do? Ohhh, Mr. Sado, I like you already," Paris grinned up at him- a genuine expression, he realized. The woman smiled often, it was clear, and when she said such a thing, there was no sarcasm, nor was there insincerity. It was as if she believed him and genuinely respected the man for his beliefs, and was expressing so in quite the straightforward manner.

That smile eased the anxious, excited energy in Tanaak's chest. He sensed in her the kind of warmth that put him an ease, and the kind of honesty that sparked excitement and curiosity. He had met plenty of people who laughed at how seriously he took his wish for a better world, but now he felt that he would be among friends. He wondered if the Commander would have been the kind of person to believe in the Spirits, and suspected that she would at least be the kind of person to respect them.

The Oriasi are not necessarily religious--they don't believe in mystical entities with supernatural control--but they do have a belief system. Tanaak had been raised to believe that things like Compassion, Justice, and Valor (among others) were real things existing in themselves. The Oriasi call these Spirits, and while they don't preach that the Spirits are conscious or divine, they do believe in their inherent goodness. Tanaak sensed the Spirits of Hope, Duty, and Honor reflected in the Commander, and it gladdened his heart.

"Well, I look forward to serving," the massive medic said with a wide grin, "And I very much look forward to meeting more of the crew."

"That's good to hear. We're a diverse bunch- Captain Telvan is a Trill, Lieutenant Commander Dox is a Romulan, Lieutenant Commander Sonak is a Vulcan, and Lieutenant Commander Thex is an Andorian. I believe our Doctor Mah is an El-Aurian. I myself am an old-fashioned Earth girl, in mint condition for my time." At that somewhat private yet not so private joke, the cheerful commander grinned, then gestured about as they passed through the infectious disease ward.

"You will meet the crew, Ensign, have no fear of that. But first we walk through this little interview, you see. Because you and I both know it's an interview. As we've been strolling through Sickbay, through the various medical specialization centers and stations, I see you orienting yourself. You are listening and paying attention, but you are also taking in everything around you, comparing it to the deck plans you studied as soon as you got the assignment- at least what you could find for a standard Nebula class. Because the Hera's deck plans are off-limits to non-personnel."

Handing over one of the flat tablets in her hand to the larger officer, the mod minidressed first officer- as she had expressly introduced herself as such, not the executive officer or the more traditional shortening of 'X-O'- pointed to the tablet. "Thumbprint here to unlock to your biosignature, Hera's already got insanely detailed bioscans of you from the moment you walked onboard. That will unlock your 'welcome wagon' package, including your quarters assignment on deck 10, maps of the Hera, limited computer access and some appointments to keep."

"You need to check into the command in order to have full access, so that means a meeting with the first officer, a meeting with the captain, a physical and an assessment. Once everyone signs off, you'll be checked into the command, and be granted full access for active duty. Any questions in that regard?" It was clear by now, with the ground they had covered, she was literally walking him through the hub of medical, which occupied the entirety of Deck 12. Why was not entirely clear, but it was the nickel tour she was offering as she chattered on.

Tanaak had to turn sideways more than once to clear some narrow passages, but he kept up easily. His brow furrowed and his lower lip jutted out slightly in concentration as he listened. "I've no questions about that," he said thoughtfully, "But I am curious how many doctors share this space for their work."

While he'd mostly been trained with mobile equipment, still Tanaak was familiar enough with many of the machines they'd passed. He was impressed by the clean display of such a high concentration of tech, and his imagination was running wild with thoughts of the diverse crew in immaculate uniforms and stern expressions at the various stations they'd passed. He could envision them calling out orders while the lights changed to indicate an emergency.

"Who will I be working with primarily? And how often will I be part of a land--" He waved a hand as if to dismiss his own thought. "Pardon me. I'm getting ahead of myself."

"An inquisitive mind is a positive thing, Mr. Sado. If I walked you through all of this for you not to question where you'll fit in, that would be disheartening to me. You'll cross-train on all of the rotations, just like all of the Sickbay staff." The new crewman couldn't help but notice the Commander had a rather old-fashioned way of referring to Medical. Apparently, the uniform wasn't the only thing that was old-fashioned about her. "But you and I have business on Deck 11."

"Let's introduce you to what you signed on for, Ensign Tanaak Sado."