Settling In

Dinner and a Show
Mess Hall, USS Portland
First day on the Portland
Authors: Lt.(JR) Amata Zan, Lt.(JR)Thoval sh'Kor

The mess hall, when Thoval finally made her way there, was nearly abandoned. She hovered in the doorway, uncertain, but then, the shuttle from DS9 had arrived rather late. A glance at her PADD confirmed it was the middle of the night, ship's time, and even those on shift had no reason to be in the mess at this time. The Andorian sighed. She should have known that a ship run by primarily by humans and bajorans would hardly be teeming with people at this hour; her last posting, rife with those who required as little sleep as Thoval, had spoiled her.

She felt the frustration with her posting returning before a smooth head caught her eye: Lieutenant Amata. Drop the heat, he had told her before the shuttle ride. Clearly the lieutenant had some familiarity with Andorians. Perhaps he wouldn't protest her intrusion; they had gotten along well-enough on the journey.

Sitting alone at a table in the corner, a single PADD in front of him, Amata drained his cup of katheka before going back to his work. It was only a few hours before his first duty shift and he wanted to be informed and prepared. On the PADD, spread throughout several tabs, was everything he needed to know about Grel’s department; patrols schedules, incident reports, crew evaluations. It all looked good at a glance, but with an experienced and well trained eye, it was easy to see that something was off, and Amata, now that he’d noticed it, could not rest until he’d determined what it was.

Not knowing his current dilemma, Thoval made her way over to Amata.

"Lieutenant. May I sit?" The Andorian loomed over the table pleasantly enough, dwarfing a mug of human coffee. Her eyebrows raised when she caught a whiff of Amata's empty glass. "They have katheka?" she asked, surprised. Her nose wrinkled as she looked at her own beverage. "I should not have assumed."

Looking up at the towering figure that had blocked his light, Amata smiled at the familiar face. He had spent several days in the cramped runabout with the Andorian and several young humans, and in the mood he was in, he was happy that it was the new Tactical Officer, Amata wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any youthful dramatics at the moment. In a tired but inviting voice, or at least in what he hoped was one, Amata waved for the antennae-ed female to join him, “You come from a founding planet, if they have Bajoran, they will have Andorian.”

Thoval shrugged, folding herself into the seat Amata had indicated. "The captain and many of her officers are Bajoran," she said carefully. "I did not know if the presence of their cuisine was due to their influence or Starfleet's." The woman frowned as she stared at her coffee, but it was clearly because of the beverage itself, not her words. "The last ship I served on had several Andorians, but the replicators couldn't even manage srjula, let alone katheka." Thoval shook her head ruefully before smiling. She nodded towards Amata's cup.

"If they have Bajoran beverages, why choose katheka?" She tilted her head curiously, expression still pleasant, though the wrinkles in her nose had reappeared. "For your sake, I hope it isn't because you've spent time on Andor."

Amata placed the PADD back on the table and spoke as flatly as possible, “I was stationed at the Federation Embassy there for four year, besides the occasional knife fight, it was pleasant enough.”

"Four years?" Thoval's shock was plain to read. "You survived four years on Andor?" The lieutenant laughed and ran a hand through her hair, avoiding her antennae deftly, as well as distracting from their sudden stiffening. "An impressive feat. I doubt I could last that long, after having been away so long." She hid the thinning of her lips behind a sip of the abysmal coffee; Thoval had come to the mess hall to avoid thinking of her home world, not to enter into an open discourse about it.

"What are you working on so soon after our arrival?" she asked, as obvious a gambit to change the subject as there could be somewhere How about that weather? wasn't an option "Surely your first shift isn't until the morning."

“Lt. Grel assigned me to Gamma shift,” no fight in his voice, “I need to assimilate this data to avoid looking like an ass come zero hour.” He didn’t mention that he was looking for something, not before he knew what it was, or until he could prove it, “Have you met the command staff yet?”

Thoval relaxed visibly at the change of subject. "I have not, but I am eager to do so. This vessel contains a number of experimental technologies I still need to be briefed on." Her sigh was part wistfulness, part exasperation. "There are no marines or fighters. I cannot imagine what could take their place, but then, my time in the military may have made me biased." She snorted suddenly. "It most certainly has. But I look forward to be proven wrong--and if I am not, kaiidth, as the Vulcans say. It is what it is." Thoval nodded at the PADD again. "How is Grel? The Major left me a… head's up, I believe she called it, that he…" She cleared her throat. "The phrasing escapes me, but the implication was that he seems… argumentative and xenophobic."

Not looking surprised, or convinced for that matter, Amata glanced down at his PADD momentary, “Chief Specialist Coren gave me a similar warning about him, though she mentioned nothing about the lieutenant having any prejudices.” Meeting Thoval’s antennae, the Bajoran considered whether it was proper or not to continue to discuss the head of Security with the Chief Tactical Officer. Besides the questions of whether it was professional or polite, Amata also had to consider whether he could trust Thoval to hold his confidence. He decided to take a gamble, “Tellarites’ arguments are typically little more than friendly games to them, and the extremes in their personalities and emotions a result of cultural and biological influences, but Grel, well Grel seemed to become emotionally unstable when I challenged him.”

"You challenged your chief? Already" Thoval grinned, and her antennae twitched with laughter while the Bajoran watched. "I envy you, Amata. Aboard for less than a terran day and already you've established yourself as one not to be trifled with." She leaned forward, lacing her hands together and resting her chin on them. "Still, that is unfortunate to hear. We all have our cultures, but Starfleet demands compromise and respect, or it would not function. A senior officer should be able to moderate his reactions, regardless of species. To drop the heat when required." Thoval's antennae twitched again, orienting themselves closer to Amata. "What will you do?"

“Unless they endangers someone or the ship itself, Grel’s personal issues are none of my business,” Amata tapped the PADD, “But there are several issues I was made aware of before my meeting with him broke down, and I believe there may be more. Sadly I’m not a liberty to share my concerns with someone outside of my chain of command. I believe I need to have another talk with the ship’s Master-at-Arms,” he looked at his empty mug, “At shift change tomorrow morning.”

Thoval leaned back, but her antennae stayed as they were, projecting interested to anyone who understood Andorians--and Amata clearly did. "I amend my earlier statement," she said, smile fading to something more serious. "I respect you, Lieutenant." Thoval followed his gaze to the empty mug, then looked back at the Bajoran. "You require sleep. I won't keep you. But--" The Andorian hesitated. "As Chief Tactical Officer, I expect to be apprised of anyone who might pose a danger to this ship." Her voice softened. "And as someone who spent three days flying a shuttle with you, I require very little sleep. Should you find yourself in need of someone to listen, I am available."

“Understood, Lieutenant, and my thanks,” he massaged the back of his neck as he paused, “But as I said, I need to finish reviewing these files before my shift,” he smiled before grabbing his mug and standing up from his chair, “Besides, I have had far worse nights than the one ahead of me. Can I get you a katheka?”

Thoval's cheeks purpled a bit at her mistake, but she didn't try to hide it. Her years lent her a certain aura of impenetrability that allowed the woman to match Amata's smile. "That would be much appreciated." She watched him fetch their drinks, gaze fixed a little south of the neutral zone. "You developed a taste for katheka on Andor--did you have the chance to sample saf during your assignment?" Thoval's expression was carefully innocent, but her antennae twitched with mischief. The beverage was illegal off of Andor, and restricted on-planet, but anyone who truly thought the drink was restricted to ceremonial purposes was a fool and a bore.

Amata gave a single laugh in response, “It was overhyped but enjoyable,” he changed his tone to something close to mockingly serious, though most people would not have noticed, “In a purely medicinal sense.”

It was only her species' superior aural sensitivity that allowed her to hear the sarcasm in Amata's voice; Thoval's lips peeled back in a wide smile. "Of course," she agreed, voice gravelly despite her expression. "Saf is dangerous when used improperly." The Andorian weighed the pros and cons of mentioning her contraband to the man who had called out the Chief Security officer in their first meeting. But he had confided in her, had he not? Thoval turned her eyes towards the ceiling and modulated her voice to be as bland as Amata's had been.

"Prescriptions are difficult for off-worlders to receive, but not impossible," she said carefully. "And, even if the saf is not being used as an aid in consummation, is best enjoyed in company." Her gaze flickered back to Amata, who was treated with calmly raised eyebrows. "However overhyped it may be."

Not entirely sure as to what Thoval’s intentions were, as he had never met such an old neuter (which was a fact far more than it was a judgement), Amata decided to go with it, “I’ll have to join you then, but only after we aren’t sharing an orbit with Cardassians and are safe in Federation space.” Returning with two cups of stimulants, the Bajoran sat back down, “And remind me to recommend some legal alternatives, I’m suppose to be the one enforcing the rules here.”

The Andorian's smile returned at Amata's gentle reprimand. "I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about," she said mildly. Her hands dipped into her uniform for a moment before returning with a PADD. "Would you forward me Major Rouse's report of the shuttle crash? I sent Engineering a message, but have yet to receive a response. I would rather review her summary of events now, rather than when we share a room." It was a clear indication that Thoval was content to sit in work in silence, as Amata's work required--after all, she had something much more palatable than the coffee to sip, and company much more preferable than the ghosts of her past.

With a quick panicked search, Amata found the file Thoval was talking about. Having been completely unaware of the incident, the report being dated several days back, Amata added it to his own reading list before transferring it to the Andorian’s PADD and bringing his free hand up to squeeze the cartilage of his nose, “Kosst, I thought that woman was supposed to be a fighter pilot.”

Thoval snorted into her katheka. "Even if she is, I don't fault her. This ship's shuttles are…" There was no diplomatic way to voice Thoval's opinion, so she let the sentence hang. "Thank you for the drink, Lieutenant. And the view."