A Different Set of Ears [Arch/Reyaen]

[Main Shuttle Bay]

A security officer stepped out of the hatch of the runabout USS Anacostia. In his left hand was a case large case and his right near his hip, fingers on the grip of his phaser. Behind him came a rather calm Vorta. If it appeared as though she had done this routine a hundred times, it was we because she had done it nearly a thousand in the last four years.

It was always the same. Work at one location, complete the project, and move on. The war was still going on when she first began helping the Federation. Little changed in that time. She still had the same guard behind her with the phaser pointed at her back as she moved to the center of the shuttle bay.

The clamps around her wrists were growing heavy, but she could not help to look around. Take in all the faces. There was one entering the hangar that caught her attention. She had four pips on her collar. Captain T'Koris, surely. The guard with her case was to the right of her now, but the second one still behind her as if at any moment she might try to escape. Though the three knew better. There was a silent agreement among them that this was more for the peace of mind for those at the destination as one Vorta was hardly a threat to anyone's well-being. Aside from perhaps patience...

Archangel was irritated.

No, scratch that, she was nearly livid. What was it with Starfleet Command assigning her all the weird cases and personnel that no other captain in their right mind would take on? Fair enough, it made sense to let the few Romulan Starfleet officers serve together under someone as well respected as she was in the Star Empire, but it seemed that she also attracted every other misfit in service.

And now, here was the icing on the cake. A Vorta. A Vorta! Of all things!

Striding over to where the little delivery party was waiting in the shuttle bay, the Romulan captain cast a dark eye over her newest crewmember and didn't appear to be particularly impressed by what she saw.

While most captains may have addressed the cadet first, Archangel actually turned to the guard standing behind the Vorta and snapped out her orders:

"Put that damned thing away and get those cuffs off her. No one in uniform should ever be seen cuffed unless they're facing courtmartial!"

After a moment of hesitation, the second guard holstered his phaser and stepped around the Vorta. He unceremoniously released the clamps and stood at ease while the other handed over the case containing her personal items. A single pair of clothing. Her virtual display device. Two canisters of plant seeds: one for rippleberries and the other for kava nuts. The D'k tahg that was used to murder the original of the line of clones and what the current one used to end the life of her Jem'Hadar First. The plasma pistol she used to kill the other 41 of her Jem'Hadar. Mementos from a different time.

The Vorta looked to both of the guards one more time, making sure to memorize their faces. Neither one particularly enthused by making eye contact and both looked away from her. It was a strange power she had over them. Over most. Some days she wondered if the only reason she had been allowed to keep her weapons was to use on herself since her termination chip has been removed. Fashioned into the bit of jewelry that hung from her neck.

"Thank you for your hospitality, gentlemen."

Turning her attention to the woman in front of her, there was no doubt in her mind about how unpleasant this particular assignment could end up. She had studied the dossiers of every member of the crew she could get her hands on. Oddly enough, all former enemies. She was confident however, that all save a handful had never seen a Vorta before, but word can travel swiftly on a starship.

"Cadet Reyaen, reporting, ma'am. My usual accommodations have been in the brig of wherever I'm assigned. I trust the one on board is not occupied?"

"That's captain or sir, Cadet," Archangel snapped at the Vorta. She had never cared to be called 'ma'am', not when she had been Chief Engineer back on the Discovery and certainly not now.

She took a moment to observe the creature in front of her, eyes narrowed slightly. How did she deal with this one? Oh, she had her fair share of... 'undesirable' races. The Romulans served well under her, the Cardassians had slipped in quietly, generally minded their own business and tried not to cause trouble. No one really knew about the Augment, just thought that she was a strange human. But a Vorta? No amount of cosmetic alteration was going to help the rumours that had already started and she wasn't willing to try to slip a Vorta past her crew in disguise. It would raise more problems than it solved in the long run.

"We've placed additional security measures around one of our crew quarters. Your replicator access has been restricted to food and drink. You will not leave this ship, you will not be given a side arm, and I expect you to turn over any weapons you have brought with you."

The quarters were new. What to do with the space, she had no idea. From what she had seen, many such housings were larger than even the bridge of her fighter during the war. An obscene waste of space in her mind. She had long felt, many in the Dominion felt, that the bulk of the Federation fleet was too ill-equipped for combat. Much of a Federation ship's volume was empty air, while that of their opponents were crammed full of all the things that made systems extremely redundant and the ships themselves quite hardy. Only the Defiant-class was truly comparable in design method and function.

Then came the issue of the weapons. Her eyesight made her a poor shot at a distance. Long had she had Jem'Hadar do that for her. Self-defense was her sole reason for having the device, though it had not been fired in years. It felt almost alien in her hands when she packed it, yet still quite familiar. Any sense of home remained with that device attached to her belt and her clothing that lay in the case. Without a replicator to use, she would have to find a different means to deal with her hobbies. Reading would probably have to be the only one for a long time. As it stood, she was still a prisoner it felt.

"I have one plasma pistol that has a dead charge pack and a Klingon blade for decoration purposes, but I will gladly relinquish them if there is an assurance of their safe keeping, Captain. If it relieves any concerns of your own, however, no former colleague or superior over the last four years who has spoken ill of my work, sir."

"They will be held in the security office," Archangel replied to the Vorta's question, taking a PADD from one of the accompanying officers. A quick glance told her that it was the transfer orders from Starfleet Command, effectively placing this... Reyaen 3 under her command. "I have already read the reports from your previous commanders, and they are the only reason that you are still standing here in front of me and not back on that shuttlecraft with a letter to Command telling them that I won't accept you on my crew."

She sighed to herself, still scrutinising the Vorta. "I'll tell you this frankly. I don't want you on this ship or serving under me, but those are my orders. Toe the line like any other officer, and we shouldn't have a problem."

There already was a problem. Reyaen had dealt with it most everywhere she went. No one was privy to how many kills she had earned during the war save a few flag officers, but that would only make matters worse considering how poorly she seemed to do in social gatherings just because of the ears.

"May I ask, Captain, to clear up any misconceptions, why do you not want me here?"

The war was over. She had spent almost half of it in Federation custody. Though behind a force field most of the time, the Vorta provided the information asked of her. Happily, even. Some how, the resentments never went away. She could not understand the logic of any of it. Frustration perhaps? So much damage had been done by the Dominion and the victory by the "good guys" so bitter, the only justification Reyaen could come up with was the catharsis for all the ways she ways treated compared to other species in uniform.

Perhaps she reminded the Captain of her father who was also a defector. An unpleasant thing to be constantly reminded of now. Only time would tell.

Why did she not want the Vorta on her ship? Well, that was a question and a half, if she was honest with herself. She didn't want to have to have the face of a species who had all too recently been on the other side of a war standing on her bridge.

It's because you don't trust her not to turn around and plant that Klingon knife in your back.

Instead of answering the Vorta directly, Archangel turned the question back on her. "What do you know of the Romulan people?"

"From what reports I was issued by Weyoun and other ambassadors, Romulans are..."

Reyaen paused. Treacherous would have been the first word and it would have resulted in a sudden departure into a much less pleasant conversation. If one at all. Until today, she had meet met one face to face. She spent most of her time in the Neutral Zone trying to run from them while still attacking what ships she could find. Routine raids became quite hazardous after the nonaggression pact was dissolved.

"...Much different in person. I knew what they looked like, but the moment anyone said the word Romulan, an image of an angered D'deridex-class would appear in my head. These monolithic machines of war that could hide in plain sight. I've heard some call your people fickle, but I'm more certain that it's because no one really knows what you're after. There's a great deal of security in keeping others from being able to make decisions or act due to lack of information. What others might confuse for xenophobia, am I right, Captain?"

"Quite an accurate description, Cadet," Archangel agreed. "However, you missed two important points. Romulans are known for being both passionate and paranoid, loyal to a fault to the state." She narrowed her eyes slightly at the Vorta. "You have a lot to do to earn both my trust and that of your serving officers. That won't come easily. Many of us are veterans of the war, many of us lost friends and even family to it. Whether or not you were directly responsible for any of those deaths, your presence is still a reminder of it."

"Perhaps that would be something to forge a dialogue with, sir. I keep those weapons as a reminder of what I had to lose to get here. They were good soldiers, my Jem'Hadar. I miss the wisdom of my First, especially..."

Reyaen's eyes had drifted away from the Captains and towards her left as she floated into a rather somber reminiscence. Lugere'Rex always knew to look beyond individual fights. There was a bigger goal, return alive to the service of the Founders. A longer life meant more victories in their name. A luxury perhaps only afforded to those away the savagery of fleet combat.

After a moment she snapped out of it and returned her attention to T'Koris. There was a somewhat sheepish, embarrassed grin as she shook her head and looked toward the deck beneath their feet.

"...Apologies, Captain. Are you to show me around where I will be living and working?"

Archangel did her best to ignore the comment about the Jem'Hadar, feeling that if she didn't, her eye might start to twitch. What were Command thinking by accepting a Vorta into the Academy? she thought to herself.

Probably the same as they were thinking putting Zero through it.

Oh...

"No, I'm afraid I have to get back to the bridge. I'll take you past sickbay for your physical and one of the officers there will be able to show you to your quarters," she replied, stepping to the side and gesturing for Reyaen to walk in front. She was already paranoid enough. There was no way she was going to turn her back to this Vorta.

The two guards wasted no time in departing and boarding the Anacostia. There was a discouraged look over her shoulder as Reyaen walked toward the large amber doors. The runabout already had its engines coming to life with a low hum. The cold truth was her work made her valuable, but her life was not. The moment some wunderkind came along and solved all the mysteries of Dominion technology, the Vorta would be obsolete.

Stepping out into the corridor, the Vorta glanced to the list of directions to various points of interest on this level of the ship. She was on Deck 4 currently and recalled form the layout she would need to get to Deck 12. Simple enough. Not making eye contact with anyone, much more difficult. She managed though, but there were no short amounts of double takes and long stares that suddenly departed when the Captain was noticed.

Arriving at Sickbay left a somewhat uncomfortable knot in her stomach. She had been through a great deal of blood screenings and various, at times invasive, procedures to understand her physiology. Such a facility was hardly ever needed on a Jem'Hadar ship. One was expected to die for the Founders or die trying.

"Thank you, Captain. I apologize for any inconvenience."

The trip to sickbay was a quiet one, but thankfully a short one. Most of the crew who may have started a fight or called on the Vorta she was escorting quickly dropped those ideas when they realised that the Captain was the one with her. The Romulan's reputation was well known on the ship and, while she was generally easy to approach, it was generally wise not to get on the bad side of a captain known to lose her temper in quite a significant manner.

Arriving in sickbay, Archangel scanned the medics there, seemingly seeking out a particular one. Apparently spotting the one she wanted, she lead her newest crewmember over to a station where a strange looking human was working.

"Alpha, this is our new cadet, Reyaen. I want you to to look after her. You might find that you have a lot in common." Archangel nodded briefly to the two officers. "I'm afraid I need to get back to the bridge. I look forward to seeing you on duty, Cadet."

Without another word, the Romulan turned and left sickbay, eager to leave its all-too-familiar confines behind.

As the captain approached her, Zero looked up from her study of a particularly interesting case she had been attributed and immediately raised an eyebrow at the cadet accompanying her. Particularly intriguing. A Vorta. What she wouldn't give to get her hands on that genome and take it apart to explore all its little secrets.

She watched the captain's rapid exit, then turned her attention back to the Vorta. Reyaen, the captain had said.

"My name is Zero Alpha. It would seem that you require a medical."

"It would appear so."

Hefting her case to an open biobed away from the patients in the room, Reyaen sat it down onto the floor. She herself sat on the soft padding and kept her eyes to the ceiling, looking at the various support beams and light fixtures. Architecture was a strange thing to her. She wondered if the current shape was the most efficient, most sturdy. She was not quite sure. How would such a place deal with large requirements for large numbers of badly injured crew? At least for the Romulans, most died on the trip to the hospital than on the front lines.

For now she would have to do what she observed Starfleet personnel did rather frequently. Engage in small talk.

"Does a medical person such as yourself have any... little persons? Umm... Children! I couldn't remember the word."

Zero quickly gathered together the tools she needed to perform a routine physical and made her way over to the biobed her patient had selected. It was away from the other patient in the sickbay, which suited the Augment just fine. It was, however, interesting to note the choice given her studies of humanoid behaviour.

Picking up her tricorder, she started to scan the Vorta, gathering the data she needed to determine whether she was healthy enough to serve. Hearing the question, she paused, looking up at the odd alien. Small talk? That was a rather odd thing to be engaging in, surely?

"Affirmative. I have one daughter."

"When did you... acquire? Is that the proper word? How long have you had a... Daughter means female, correct?"

Life was simple for a Vorta. Born from a cloning facility, serve the founders, die, be reborn. The Dominion's flock of phoenixes. No family troubles, no distracting urges to reproduce and no patience for wasting time. Feddies, as this Vorta referred to them, seemed to have an abundance of things simple getting in the way. No wonder, she thought, they needed a divine intervention to win the war.

"A daughter indicates that a child is indeed female, at least in those societies with such considerations," Zero replied, her expression turning curious as she observed the Vorta, her head tilted slightly to one side. "The appropriate term is 'born', the moment at which the offspring emerged from the maternal unit. Another manner to inquire after the same information is to ask the age of the offspring."

The more the young Augment thought about it, the more she found herself amused by the fact that she of all people was instructing another on how to interact with people.

"I apologize, I was never really meant to be a diplomat unlike some of my colleagues. The ways of life for most cultures have been a mystery to me. I suppose your... husband, is that right? Does he also serve on this ship?"

Reyaen returned an equally quizzical look to Zero. Something seemed amiss about her and her features. She had thought Humans to have much darker hair, certainly more color to their skin. Perhaps it was a side effect of a life on board a star ship filled with artificial light and gravity.

"My fiancée, to be exact. Relationships between the same sex are not uncommon in the Federation," Zero replied. "But yes, she does serve on this ship, in the flight department."

For a moment, she observed the Vorta observing her, then offered her a faint smile. "Learning the colloquialisms and appropriate behaviours necessary to integrate into Federation society is quite challenging. I sympathise with your efforts. I find it quite difficult to know what is demanded of many situations and the rules often change. I hope your adaptation is not a lengthy one."

"Well, up until now I've been basically isolated from the rest of the crew. You don't learn much from behind a force field. I still have my replicator access restricted. A bit of a bother really, but I suppose I will have to find a way to acquire an authentic chess set. Do you play it or any games?"

The Vorta returned to an upright, forward-facing proper posture. Hopefully it would make the scans go quicker. Odd though, to hear about a same-sex relationship and one that bore a child. Humans suddenly became a lot more interesting. From the crew registry there was no short supply of different species on board with their own unique quirks. Perhaps she would eventually fit right in.

"You will find that Captain T'Koris will not allow you to remain isolated from the crew. She prefers that her officers 'jump in' as it were," Zero replied, continuing her scans. So far, she hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, but that didn't mean much since she didn't actually know what 'ordinary' was for this species. Starfleet had been slow in transmitting any of the information that it was supposed to upon the transfer of a new crewmember, including Reyaen's medical files. They would come through soon enough, but it meant that she had no frame of reference.

The question about playing chess brought a raised eyebrow from the young Augment. "I formerly played chess. My regular opponent transferred off several months ago and finding an adequate mind to challenge me is proving a challenge in itself."

She frowned slightly as her tricorder gave a little blip and lifted a hand to probe the back of the Vorta's neck. "I am reading a foreign body embedded here. Do you have any knowledge of such?"

There was a wave of uncomfortable soreness, but not entirely intolerable. She tried to shift away from the doctor. Her hand went over her shoulder to push away Zero's.

"That's where the stuck the most recent tracking device. Your painkillers aren't too effective on Vorta. Our bodies resist or are outright immune to any foreign substance that would inhibit their systems. Useful for negotiations when parties like to poison instead of cooperate or when the only available food on a planet is toxic. I sometimes would wish the ketracel-white would work on Vorta too, but the Founders had other plans..."

Having felt nothing in her brief probing, Zero let Reyaen push her hand away, more interested in what the Vorta had just said. A tracking device? Interesting. At least yours was placed in a location easy to access, she thought to herself, one hand drifting up to her heart and rubbing it slightly.

"I sympathise. My metabolism runs far too rapidly for many of the substances we use to last more than a few seconds to a minute. It makes treatment of injuries rather difficult." She tilted her head to one side again as she looked at the Vorta. "I have attempted to study the genomes of both your species and the Jem'Hadar, but accessing such information is not simple."