Catching Up...

Posted on Wed Jul 29th, 2020 @ 9:22am by Lieutenant Commander P’rel M.D & Commander Taeler Santu M.D.

Mission: The Shadow of Arachne
Location: XO's Office
Timeline: MD1 # Prior to P’rel’s conversation with Capt. Bennet.
3059 words - 6.1 OF Standard Post Measure

P'rel skulked down the corridor, practically stomping as she went and drawing curious looks from those colleagues she passed. Seeing Vulcans display emotion was, in many cases, disconcerting to most people at the best of times - let alone seeing one almost stropping through the halls of a Starship. She'd been pulled from her posting at Starfleet Command, a thoroughly enjoyable assignment with little stress which allowed her to revel in her first love, anthropology. No longer however; Kane had seen fit to pull her onto Athena as if it were some kind of favour, impressed with her actions on Parata IV; not that Taeler - 'Commander Clueless' - had helped matters at all. Now to top it all off, she'd been summoned to the Commander's office. P'rel really had very little time for the Bajoran woman, and didn't imagine this meeting was going to be pleasant now that they were in the same chain of command. If she'd known how much trouble getting involved with the away team on Parata IV would have caused, she might just have left them there. "Well, maybe not quite..." she muttered to herself, holding a finger down on the door chime at Taeler's office.

There was a moment of hesitance, Santu wasn't really sure she wanted to talk to the Intelligence Officer, but if she had to work together with her on the ship then they'd have to clear some things from the time they had spent on Paratus. Now was as good a time as any, hopefully being able to make a fresh start, "Come in." She called, allowing the doors to open to the approaching Vulcan. She got up from behind the desk and gave a Vulcan salute before walking over to the replicator in the corner of her office, "I see the Doctor has been able to restore your natural look," She wondered if someone that changed their appearance with such frequency really thought of something as their natural look, "can I get you anything?"

Stepping into the office, P’rel heard the doors slide closed behind her. She hoped that the surprise was sufficiently hidden from her expression, Commander Taeler was being intriguingly pleasant, not at all what the Vulcan had expected. She returned the Vulcan salute, genuinely appreciating the gesture from her new superior officer; “I am uncertain of a customary Bajoran greeting Ma’am” she said truthfully. Something to do with grabbing ears she believed, although it was - to the best of her recollection - a gesture initiated by a Bajoran, not an alien. The cynic in P’rel began to creep inwardly, why was Taeler being so civil? This was surely an attempt to disarm and wrongfoot P’rel, and she would have to proceed as such. The Commander, to P’rel’s mind, couldn’t have entered command on the basis of operational skill, which meant it would have been on the basis of personnel management - and P’rel hated the disingenuous nature of being ‘people managed’. She awaited the Bajoran’s lead interest.

"It's fine," Santu didn't really care much for Bajoran customs herself anyway, "So nothing to drink then?" She ordered herself a cup of tea and took it back with her to her desk, "please have a seat." she motioned for the empty seat across the desk and took her own as she waited for the Vulcan to sit down. A long thoughtful sip of her tea followed. "I have written up a debriefing of the operation on Paratus," she looked down at the PADD, not that she needed to read it again to remind herself of the blatant breach of the rules of engagement nor the insubordination of the woman across from her, "I wanted to give you an opportunity to explain yourself in regards to the instances where you disregarded a direct order from a superior officer."

P'rel sat in the offered chair, her back as rigid as Cardassian neutronium. The Vulcan could think of a handful of times during the rescue where she'd disregarded orders, but chose to give no ground here; "Ma'am?" she enquired with a faux innocence.

"I've written up a report on the events that transpired on the surface of Paratus, including your involvement in the extraction of the away team," Santu took her tea and took another careful sip, still standing next to her desk, "I will file this report with Starfleet HQ, and wanted to give you an opportunity to clarify your motivations in regards to some of the decision you've made in regards to some of the direct orders you were issued during the events."

P'rel's eyes narrowed, weighing up the commander; she had evidently been correct and Santu, Taeler -whatever way around it was for Bajorans - had tried ineffectively to disarm her with kindness. "I feel no need to clarify anything Commander" she said bluntly. The opinion of 'Commander calamity' carried little weight with the Vulcan officer directly, and she knew from inside knowledge that Command really had very little interest in the 'hows, whats and whys' of operatives who successfully extracted teams of fleet officers. If this Bajoran thought she was onto making some kind of a point with P'rel she was mistaken; the apparent attempt to assert her authority over P'rel left little with the latter but amusement at how little the former understood how Command read reports. "Do you?" she asked pointedly, thinking back on what P'rel viewed as terrible field decisions.

"As we'll be working together I think it's important to be able to have these conversations," Santu took a moment before finally stepping around the desk and taking the seat across from the Vulcan intelligence officer, "I'm not one to stand on ceremony, nor am I blind to the realities of decisions that need to be made when operating in a conflict zone." She didn't quite know how to approach this without triggering P'rel to close down even more than she already had, "I've been on both sides of this, and it's difficult to see the line when both sides are already crossing it back and forth." She shook her head a bit, "But we are Starfleet Officers, we are held to a higher standard, and I expect everyone on this ship to hold themselves to that higher standard." She took a moment to lean forward and lock eyes with P'rel, "you did not meet that standard."

P’rel stifled a flickering smirk; her composure was not what it normally was, when around Santu. “If we are standing on ceremony Commander...” the Vulcan began, meeting Santu’s purposeful stare head on “...Starfleet command officers are supposed to have an even higher standard still, and you did not meet that standard.” Her flat voice belied the frustration, beleaguerment and frankly the somewhat conceited amusement she felt towards the Bajoran Officer. A brief second of pause gave her chance to momentarily reflect, could her time with Cardassians after the war have prejudiced her towards a Bajoran? Two species desperately keen to cleave the other from their own identities, yet they remained somehow intertwined. Perhaps she had taken an instant dislike, or at least a heightened dislike, toward Santu for illegitimate reasons. Possible, she mused. Nonetheless, Santu was in P’rel’s opinion so far, a relatively useless field commander and that was alone sufficient justified reason to take issue with her.

"Well, my conduct is not under review at this time, Lieutenant, so you would do well to keep any personal annotations to yourself,"

Santu wasn't quite sure how to approach this woman and get to a stable and conducive working relationship now that they were going to be on the same ship together for the foreseeable future. She left that moment hang in the air, decided to take another sip of the tea. "So. Allow me to summarise," she tapped the PADD in front of her, "I'm not a fan of your work, and I don't like your attitude one bit," she bit her lower lip as she pondered her next words, "From your comment, I'm getting the sensation that I've not made an amazing first impression on you either." She leaned back in her seat and looked at the Vulcan woman, "So, where do we go from here?"

Were she not Vulcan, and possessing of considerable mental discipline, P’rel would have rolled her eyes. Her respect for Santu was already low, and this meeting wasn’t doing any favour to that respect. P’rel considered the question for a moment; certainly there was no logic nor professionalism to open conflict but on the other hand she wasn’t about to belie her lack of faith in the Commander with a false representation of respect either. “Perhaps, I can leave, you can file your report, I can file my report, and we’ll just leave it at that, hm?”

"Unacceptable." Santu replied matter of factly. If the ship was to rely on the service of this woman than they needed to be able to work in a team, "So, any other constructive suggestions as to how you will integrate with the ship and crew?" She emphasised constructive in that sentence. She was getting tired of this woman's attitude, and frankly wanted nothing more than for her to leave, but she also knew that she had a duty towards the Commander, towards the ship, and Starfleet as a whole.

P'rel weighed up the balance of things, on one hand she had zero time for this Commander, on the other she was still going to be her superior officer - at least until Bennett could get her out at least. Opting for an old human adage, 'least said soonest mended', she settled on a simple "No. You?", said curtly whilst steepling her fingers and sitting back a little.

"Well my plan is to not allow you to leave until you come up with something," It felt wrong to be this strict, almost as if she was talking to a child. Perhaps that was the closest metaphor though, this woman was clearly never taught to play nice, "I know you're a lone wolf, that you pride yourself in your strong independence, that you don't need any of us to achieve whatever goals you might want to set for yourself," She leaned forward in her chair and leaned her elbows on the table, "what I need you to realise is that we're all on the same boat here, and that there's only about 2 meters of bulkhead between us and certain death, and we have to trust on everyone that works here to keep the oxygen in here and the vacuum of space out there." she motioned between the two of them, "We don't have to like each other, we don't have to sit around and talk about your first pet rodent, or my first pet feline." She shook her head, "We need to be able to trust each other. What I need is to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that when an order is given in the heat of battle, that you will follow that order. Because I need you to trust that when I give those orders I have everyone's best interests in mind. That this is the best course of action, all things considered. And trust me when I say that all things will have been considered." She sat back again and shook her head, "Since in his infinite wisdom the Commander has requested you to take up a more permanent position on this vessel, you need to start to get along with the rest of the people here. You need to build this trust. So, I will ask you again, what will you do to integrate yourself with the crew?"

P'rel sat for a moment and contemplated the words between them. The Vulcan very much didn't want to be disingenuous, and she would not concede to trusting the Commander because she certainly didn't. Considering the position as a whole, however, she did have to concede that Santu had a point - though it may lead them to their untimely deaths there was a purpose in the chain of command. At the very least, Kane seemed to know what he was doing and he'd be there to overrule anything the Commander did which was ill advised. Choosing her words with extreme precision, she replied simply "I will follow orders, Commander". She hoped there was sufficient assurance for the XO, but also sufficient ambiguity to have not compromised her own thoughts and belief.

"Trust is not built on the utterances of empty platitudes, Lieutenant," Santu was still leaning back and took a moment to take in that tiny little victory. She knew it wouldn't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things, but there was something about being able to get through, if only for a nano-second, "Now tell me, what will you do to integrate with the crew? To get to know them? To get to a good working relationship? To get to a place where you can trust them to do their jobs, so that you can fully focus on your own job, and so that we can trust you in return?"

P'rel had really had enough; it seemed to her that the Bajoran was doing her best to lord it over her, to rub in her superior position by painfully dragging out this ridiculous meeting. It was infuriating, and P'rel's Vulcan composure was beginning to ebb; "No Commander, trust is earned by the ongoing symbiosis of shared experiences which evolves over time. Not when you've called into - a human expression, if I may, the headmaster's office." Pausing a moment, she added "The Legate's office, you might say instead". Rising abruptly, she took a second to realise that the movement may have come across more adversarial or aggressive than intended, softening a little P'rel arched her brow - "if there's nothing else Commander."

"You're right, trust is built on shared experiences, and there's a lot one can do to create those shared experiences," Santu was not about to dismiss the Lieutenant without getting them to commit to some sort of team-building activities, "So what kind of shared experiences will you commit in your time on the Athena?" She grabbed a PADD from her side and pushed it in the direction of P'rel, "I think there's a Kal'toh club, a holodeck survival squad, book club, maybe there's something in there that would sufficiently interest you. Pick one. Commit to one." She wanted to avoid having a spook on board, fully separated from the rest of the crew, doing their own thing in a shadowy corner of the ship, and she was really rather sure that P'rel was someone that would be inclined to that sort of behaviour.

The two women locked eyes, each fiercely determined to not give ground to the other. Taeler couldn’t order her to spend her free time in any particular way, so far as the Vulcan knew, unless starfleet had indeed gone completely mad since she was last aboard a ship. “If I think of a club, I’ll start one and let you know”. She’d had enough now, P’rel wheeled around on her foot and made for the doors, which thankfully opened and hadn’t been disabled, not that she’d put it past the XO.

"Lieutenant," Santu called to get the attention of the intelligence officer, it was clear that there was no intention to ingratiate herself with the XO or any of the other crew for that matter. As much as she hated it she knew it would probably be in the best interest of everyone for her to attend some counselling sessions. Something she'd considered before this meeting had started anyway, "before you depart so abruptly, I think it'll be prudent for you to attend some sessions with the counsellor," she took a split second to have that sink in, "I'll make it an order if I have to."

Stopping dead on the door threshold P’rel spun around, muttering a swear word in native Cardassian as she did so. Taeler couldn’t order her to join a club, but she could certainly order her into therapy. Such a notation on her service record would not bode well for getting back to Earth. Starfleet Command operatives had to be spotless, for obvious reasons, and Bennett was going to have a hard time moving her off Athena as it stood anyway, without her giving him any more headaches. She would have to hail him very soon, before she got busy with anything else. “It would appear Commander” began the Vulcan, glaring at Taeler, “that logic dictates I accede to your request.” She remained in the doorway, waiting for the Bajoran to either ramble on some more about being a big happy family, or to dismiss her.

While Santu's hearing wasn't as good as many a Trill she still recognised Cardassian swears when she heard one. Though it was difficult to make out exactly what the Intell officer was saying it was clear to her that she had done so in a language that would hurt her most. She felt her heart jump to her throat, despite herself, she choked back the shock at the woman's blatant disregard of her personal feelings, "Dismissed." She snapped at the Vulcan, coldly and without any further context. When the doors closed behind the woman Santu's head sank down until it hit the table. She fought the urge to cry, the urge to empty a bottle of spring wine. She swallowed the lump in her throat and hoped that nobody would need her for the next few minutes.

P’rel’s glare was interrupted only by the closing doors as she stepped fully across the threshold. She was furious, the incompetent Bajoran Commander was indeed people-managing P’rel into what the XO thought she should be. This was an intolerable situation, and before doing anything with a Counsellor she marched straight for her assigned quarters to hail Tim Bennett, her mentor at Command. Thinking over the meeting as she skulked through Athena, she decided “that could have gone better” reluctantly, finding that she had absent mindedly verbalised the thought. “Much better indeed...”.