The toma’a plant was one of the most fragile plants known to exist. Once in the ground and established, unprotected it was in danger of breaking apart if a rogue breeze blew across it the wrong way; but whilst an unplanted seedling, even an errant mote of dust could shatter the baby plant into a million shimmering dead pieces.
Even in the protective white suit, even with the antigravs assisting her hands so they didn’t shake as she gradually drew the plant from the ‘ponics bath, this was an intricate task that had so many chances for disaster. Planting the toma’a was one of the most difficult things a botanist could do.
However she persevered, because she loved this plant; she’d nurtured it and the parent plants since she had been a teenager on Deneva, having grown these plants from seeds. It had become a tradition for her to bring one seedling to any new assignment, this plant then becoming something of an oracle. If the toma’a grew, then she would be happy there. If it didn’t, it was a bad sign, and it was going to be a terrible assignment. She now transferred from these ill-omened ones as soon as she could, knowing that the toma’a hadn’t yet been wrong.
The toma’a was a kind of grounding point; the one constant in an ever changing life in Starfleet, and in a way it was her best friend. Once it was growing, she could get on with her job without the usual processes of adapting to new environments reassignment usually brought for officers, it was that much a part of her existence.
So, without taking a breath but with a tender smile on her face, she brought the intricate little plant down to the ready-prepared hole, to place it where it would take root and grow. Then, she would love it and tend to it, talk to it through the window of the lab and watch it grow safe and well here in the confines of the arboretum’s research facility.
Getting it into the ground was the hardest of all. One shattered root spelt a painful and lingering death for the toma’a, so she had to be especially careful. Lovingly she cradled the crystalline root system in her right hand as she sprinkled the rich brown loam over them, filling the hole at an infinitesimal rate.
"Doctor Willbanks to Lieutenant Quellon."
The chirrup from her communicator and the hail were one and unexpected. The American accent cut into the silence, ripped through the intensity - and caused the absorbed gardener’s hands to tense up dangerously. Thankfully she hadn’t dropped the toma’a, but had she cracked its roots?
Feverishly she inspected them.
"Willbanks to Quellon! Carmen, are you there?" the voice insisted, concerned.
"Not now, Doctor!" she hissed in return, hating the regulation which meant all Fleet personnel on duty had to wear communicators at all times. "I’ll get back to you in a minute!"
"Understood."
No cracks, she noted with relief, forcing the sigh down. Then she resumed her careful sprinkling of the artificial dirt.
A full ten minutes later she finished heaping the soil around her plant and, setting the rapid growth- and force-fields, she got up off her knees and dusted off her hands. She felt happy. She felt fulfilled. She felt… like she’d forgotten something. What was it? Fertilizer? Setting the irrigation systems of Forest level? No; she’d fertilized the toma’a as she’d planted it, and she’d assigned Pakkel to oversee Forest level’s irrigation. Maybe it was the cross-pollination series? No; she’d decided to wait until that shipment from Yellowstone arrived to start that. Hmmm… What was it?
Pulling off her helmet, she continued to think as she drifted into the lab, pitching the removed article over onto the bench. The toma’a was planted, supported…
Then it hit her, so she touched the communicator buried beneath the white enviro suit.
"Quellon to Willbanks. I’m free now, Juliana; what did you want?"
"Don’t call me that." came the flat warning. "Especially over the comm. and you don’t know if I’m alone or not." Then the tone lightened. "I need those botanical skills of yours in regards to a patient."
"A patient?" Carmen snorted as she shouldered her way out of the suit, leaving it dangling weirdly from her waist. "Not in some kind of vegetative state, are they?" She chuckled to herself as the irked tone issued from her pin.
"No. I’ll tell you when you get here."
"Well," She glanced dubiously along the rows of seedlings she still had to plant, knowing that they really should be done today, as well as getting in touch with Yellowstone to hurry them along… "How long’s this going to take?"
"I don’t know. Just come, please? I need your opinion..."
"All science department heads report to Science Administration." The deep voice making the ship-wide announcement had an Australian twang to it, but otherwise was unfamiliar to the botanist.
"Sorry, I’ve just been called on by a higher power." Carmen apologized as she shimmied out of the rest of her suit and booted it to one side.
"I heard. Thank goodness my errand isn’t that important, huh?"
"I’ll come to Sickbay when this meeting’s over then, alright?" Charging for the exit, she added, "But this’d better not be for a dead office plant, Juliana!"One hand rested along the back of the soft couch as she considered her words.
A Captain must project poise, an air of authority and must be an example of Starfleet’s finest at all times. They are the role models for the entire crew and are the first representatives of the Federation many races will see. They must remain distant, aloof to maintain the edge that enables them to command…
How many times had she heard those words or similar in Command School? Yet it wasn’t in her nature to be so far removed from her people, and that was going to be impossible now that Ian was serving on the same ship, anyway; leaving him behind was no longer an option. Once they had managed to keep their ‘subspace relationship’ alive, but now, with children involved, Susan would never have allowed it. Besides she was too used to being with him now; and sometimes she pondered on the idea that he’d been transferred to the Fairburn solely to force her to sign on as Captain, Starfleet - and her ‘friend’ Kaarin Grainger - knowing that she’d never permit them to be parted again. The timing of those transfer orders had always seemed too good…
" ’A captain must remain apart from her crew’." she quoted slowly, her eyes on but not seeing the painting before her. The Klingon behind her listened patiently. "But I’ve never believed that, even when I was C.O. of the Somne. And I’m glad I didn’t, because I would have missed out on friendships with some of the best people I’ve ever met."
She turned now, the image of the solar system on the wall being replaced with that of the comparatively barren Ready Room, the pale blue of its walls reflecting on the curving desk before her.
The tall Counsellor stood, her expression neutral as she waited for the Captain to continue.
"I doubt I could distance myself from this crew." Susan continued as she walked to the desk and sat behind it, inviting K’Teira to sit with a hand. "Not with my family aboard. I have to play two roles here as both Captain and Mother, and I have to be able to interact as an equal with the civilians for Jason and Lily’s sakes. I’ve been a mother a lot longer than I was a Captain, and I’m not going to jeopardize the relationship I have with my kids because Starfleet says I have to be some kind of icon."
K’Teira nodded thoughtfully.
"I know you weren’t a mother the last time you were a Captain, sir." she said quietly. "I’d assume you’re anticipating a few problems coping with that."
Susan sighed, focusing upon some distant point.
"You don’t have children, do you, K’Teira?" she asked.
"No sir, but I’d like to someday. That’s why I’ve tried to learn all I can about them." A slight pause. "But the main thing I’ve realized was that a good parent sets down some basic ground rules, but then plays the rest by ear."
"That’s about right!" Susan approved. "But do you think the crew will understand my split responsibility?"
"If they don’t they soon will." K’Teira replied warmly. "Once we’ve been here a while, the newness will fade and everything will fall into place. And it’s my job to help make the transition smoother, so I’ll be helping it along.
"But I do have to ask," The light tone modulated into one a little more serious, and K’Teira regarded her Captain with concern. "If you do set out making friends amongst the crew, will you be able to order them into danger? Will you be able to order this ship into battle? And could you live with yourself if the worst should happen?"
Some Counsellor! Susan thought irritably as an iron ring gripped her stomach. Could I do that again? And this time knowing Ian and the kids are aboard?
K’Teira watched impassively as she saw the darkness settle over her Captain, hoping in a corner of her mind that she hadn’t misjudged Randall’s strength and resolution.
"Personally I like the idea of captains being closer to their people." she continued, noting every nuance of body language Susan exhibited. "but I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I didn’t remind you that this may have serious repercussions on your command abilities in future."
She will have thought this through. was K’Teira’s premise. She’s having doubts now, but if I force her to remind herself - by telling me her motives and preparations - she may not like me, but it will get her back to readying herself for this command, and that’s my job, too.
The Captain’s face was tight and determined now - seemingly her self-questioning was over.
"I have lived with the consequences of living close to those I might have to order away into their deaths." she began firmly. "I still live with them." The memory of a time of pain so long ago it should have faded rose unbidden to her mind. With an effort she forced it from her thoughts. "But I want to know the people here, not just exist amongst them! I have a family here, and I know that the time’s going to come when I’m going to have to order Ian away from me, too, but that’s a matter of me trusting his abilities as a Starfleet officer. And if the worst happens," Her jaw muscles twitched. "I go on. But I’m not going to stay alone and friendless amongst those I work with because of fears of what might be."
Conviction echoed in the Captain’s voice, and though K’Teira didn’t change her stony expression nor said a word, she was pleased. Her gambit had paid off; the Captain had assumed the role and addressed the problems as challenges instead of insurmountable worries as she had been. Susan had reminded herself of her overall goal - to command - and seemed, through straightened shoulders and almost indignant gaze, to have left her major worries behind her for now.
Yes, K’Teira was pleased.
Susan sat back in her chair, chin raised as she looked commandingly at K’Teira.
"And that’s where you’ll come in, Counsellor." she added, steepling her fingers before her. "Though I shouldn’t need to remind you of your duties there. I haven’t been a Captain for a long time, and I’m going to be relying on you and my First Officer to help get me through the first few weeks. I know I’ve made it tough on myself in certain ways," The gaze flickered away for a second, but long enough for the ever aware K’Teira to notice it. A faint resignation ghosted the Klingon’s features in return. "but I know we can get through this." She paused and her expression changed gradually, becoming softer.
"I have to tell you," She gave a small, involuntary chuckle. "And I’m going to be saying similar things to others over the next couple of days, so don’t feel alone; I can’t stand leaving things unsaid if they shouldn’t be. I was quite leery of taking you on as Counsellor when I found out you were the first in line for assignment here."
"Permission to speak freely, Captain?" K’Teira replied respectfully.
"Certainly."
"I was surprised when I was told I got the transfer!" she said with a barely restrained laugh. "I almost thought I was going to be stuck on that station for the rest of my life, using my training only as a hobby!"
"That ‘hobby’ kept the peace on that station longer than any other Starfleet base in the Klingon sector." Susan commented, the soft praise evident in her tone. "That’s why I agreed to the interview in the first place, and in turn, that’s why you’re here now. You’re a good officer, from what I’ve seen, and there’s nothing in your record that says otherwise. Why should I judge you by your race?"
"Because we are aggressive, warlike and easily insulted, sir." K’Teira replied, her eyes sparkling, showing her amusement. "We aren’t known for our sensitivity, nor our intelligence, and we’d rather hit someone than listen to them - not exactly qualities one would want in a Counsellor."
"Thanks for the list." Susan said dryly.
"There’s more." K’Teira brightly returned, "but that’s enough to show you that I’m fully aware of our shortcomings. Those I haven’t thought of others have supplied to me in previous conversations. But in my favour, we are also duty-bound, loyal and tenacious, not to mention single minded."
"I’ve gathered that." The Captain shifted forward in her chair to peer curiously at her. "You were telling me before that you’ve made ‘certain arrangements’ if you should ever become a problem?"
"Yes, sir." Susan didn’t see where she pulled it from - that dress uniform looked as though if didn’t have pockets - but the Klingon was suddenly holding a yellow isolinear optical chip out to her. Susan took it as K’Teira explained, "The full details are on the chip, but depending on the degree of my incapacity…"
‘Incapacity.’ I like that description! Susan thought.
"…I should either be taken to my office or a holodeck and the emergency program on that chip activated; taken to the brig until I calm down enough to be taken to my office, or sedated. Both you and the C.M.O. when he arrives will have copies of the program, and though it’s not permanently installed in the holodecks, it is in my office in the K’Teira subfile under the name ‘Emergency Level Five’."
"You’re making me nervous, Counsellor. Should I have let someone so potentially dangerous aboard my ship?" Serious words, but this time, her tone was leaning towards the jocular.
K’Teira smiled.
"Worst case scenario, sir. I have never known myself to get into such a state, but I had to make provisions for it in case it happened sometime.
"On a daily basis I practice the Mok’bara disciplines in the morning and at night; I engage in rather vigorous exercise routines, and about once a month or when I need it I go on a ritual hunt on the holodeck. If these don’t work, I have a number of other relaxation techniques." She pointed to the inactive monitor. "You will see from my records that I am not known for my anger, so it seems to have been working so far."
She has a fine grip of what she is and the damage she might do. Susan thought, shame creeping in as she remembered her doubts. She seems remarkably disciplined and reserved, and she knows what she’s doing. If she can impress the crew as well as she has me, then I see no problems here.
Kaarin, you were wrong about this one. A Klingon can be a Counsellor. If I wasn’t convinced before, I am now.
Perhaps K’Teira was reading her - she’d be a fool not to realise that even a Klingon counsellor would be trained in body language and knew what Susan was thinking just as soon as she did herself - and was learning exactly how to pitch her actions to endear herself to the Captain. Then again, that might just be how she always conducted herself. Either way, Susan concluded that she was falling for it. Normally she would resent being manipulated, particularly by a stranger, but oddly enough, she didn’t. She got the feeling that K’Teira was someone worthy of respect at the very least.
"Yes, it does." she replied now, her mind moving on to her next topic; one which made her voice lower and brought a touch of vulnerability to her demeanor. "K’Teira," She paused.
"Yes, sir." the Counsellor encouraged, and leaned forward slightly, having recognized the change in atmosphere.
"This is to go no further." she instructed, her clear blue eyes sharp with warning. "Although Starfleet has seen fit to give me this ship to command, I can’t see that I’m fully prepared for this." She spread her hands. "I’ve tried to keep up on Starfleet policy, and I worked for Admiral Grainger, but I’m not convinced that these things and a bridging course at the Academy have really prepared me enough. What I need you to do is watch out for me over the next week to evaluate my performance. I will be asking Commander Grieg to do the same."
"Sir - " came the dubious reply, "I can’t second-guess my Captain…"
"No, I don’t mean countermanding my orders!" She snorted at the thought, indigence colouring the tone. "I can handle them - I would just like to know that I’m not being silly about this. Look at it as a kind of therapy." Or a sop to the ego! Oh, Sue, you’re a twit sometimes! "Just let me know if there are problems in my dealings with the crew; if I’m acting on outdated rules, for example. Of course, if you notice anything major, I want to know about it immediately, but otherwise I expect your report at the end of the week."
"Yes sir." Slow agreement. "But if I may…?"
"Yes?"
"From what I’ve seen, it isn’t going to be necessary."
Susan’s lips quirked.
"Humour me." she said.
"Yes sir, I’ll be happy to do that for you."
What? Humour me or do the report? With K’Teira’s inscrutable bearing, it was impossible to tell, but she didn’t voice her thoughts.
"Will that be all, sir?" K’Teira asked.
"For now, yes." Susan nodded.
The Klingon lithely got to her feet, the movement not in keeping with her large frame.
"Perhaps we should continue the tour now. It’s a big ship, and I would like to give you some time to yourself before the reception. I know that Chianeé in particular is nearly bursting out of her skin to meet you. I know - I have to pick up the tufts of fur."
"I…" The careful reply to the suggestion got washed away in a guffaw borne of Klingon dry wit. "You have to what?"
"You’ll see when you meet Chianeé." K’Teira was giving nothing away. "Shall we go, sir?"
"Actually, I was thinking of finishing the tour on my own." Though she still looked puzzled about Chianeé, she managed to attain her decorum when she began speaking. "Not that I don’t appreciate your giving your time to me in this way, but it might be better if I made this a little less formal. I’m going to have to find my way around by myself eventually anyway."
"I understand." K’Teira nodded. "But if you get lost, touch one of the black wall panels and tell it where you want to go. The computer will direct you."
"Smart ship." The Captain got to her feet and held out a hand, which K’Teira took. "Thank-you for your help this afternoon. You’ve made my first hours here a little easier. Now go on back to your quarters and get out of that torturer’s dream!" She laughed. "I remember far too well what the dress uniform is like to wear, and I’m dreading the thought of having to wear one again."
"Respectfully, Captain, they’re worse now that they’ve changed the design." She tugged on the bottom of it in emphasis. "The old ones used to nearly strangle you, but at least they didn’t crumple up around your midriff while they did it!"
"Well, you’re dismissed. Go and take it off for a while."
"Yes, Captain."
With an inclination of the head, K’Teira turned and left. As the Captain watched her go, she wondered if she’d just heard the impossible; a Klingon expressing relief over a uniform?
