Meeting new people

Posted on Fri Sep 25th, 2026 @ 5:00am by Lieutenant Commander Savin & Lieutenant Seira t'Reiza

4,312 words; about a 22 minute read

Mission: Chapter IX: Shady Business
Location: Bridge, Ourainavassa
Timeline: 2387-10-20

Flying at warp could be, often, relatively boring: Other than the occasional adjustments, you were mostly depending on the course you had plotted and set beforehand, because if you were forced to fly fully manually at warp, something had gone very, very wrong.

The current trip had rather more of these adjustments, much more continually and significantly, than average though and from a flight ops perspective was not 'boring' in the slightest: Star charts of space in and around the neutral zone were incomplete at best and nonexistent at worst, which limited the ability to lean on the computer to execute a pre-planned course and required a fair bit more effort from a ship's pilot and navigator alike as the sensors constantly flagged new issues. In this case, given the limited crew, Seira was actually doing both jobs, and the most recent area had them dropping out of warp entirely for the last twenty minutes or so, navigating between a bunch of asteroids and a variety of other stellar phenomena that, according to the charts, weren't there, aware this was costing them vital time.

Savin has stood observing the young woman for a few minutes, having ventured to the bridge to have a look around. Even when serving Starfleet he had so rarely visited a bridge and this time he just wanted the interaction with others rather than wait for people to maybe come to him. Slowly, he stepped forward, making sure she either heard or saw him before he got close. "You seem to be performing the tasks of at least three different people," he observed. "How do you keep up?"

"By knowing the others don't exist." Seira shrugged her eyebrows up-and-down somewhat more nonchalantly than most people might when an error in any of those tasks could turn everyone into space dust; the confidence in her voice now a definite contrast to the rather more uncertain tone more often heard from her in briefings and such. "This whole area of space is kind of a blank page a lot of the time, records and charts wise, since for the most part the sort of people who were in the Neutral Zone on a regular basis until recently were mostly pirates and the like, who'd just each have their own personally-created set they didn't share with anyone."

Unfortunately any tone of voice was lost on the counselor. He did observe her with interest, however. "So we get to draw our own map and use fragments of whatever we can obtain to complement it?" He asked, trying to understand what she was saying. He drew a little closer but still remained just outside immediate reach. "Or do we just paint our own canvas?"

"It's more of a 'have to' than a 'get to'; because without it we are basically one step short of flying blind - every time the sensors pick up something else of any significance flight path wise as it comes into range, we have to adjust our course, or our speed, or a bunch of other stuff. I can see why pirates liked this area of space to operate in - even if anyone was willing to risk chasing them into the Neutral Zone, the pirates probably had a better idea of where they were going than any ship pursuing them from either the Empire or the Federation would have, which would not only give them better odds of evading, it would give them better speed, too. We could probably make this trip to the start of the search area somewhat faster if we'd been able to plot the most efficient course up front without having to make adjustments." Seira cleared the last of the unexpected asteroids in the huge field, glanced at the sensor read in range now, and took the ship back up to warp. "Of course, those incomplete charts are also helping us keep the colony off the maps for now, so it isn't all bad."

"Every disadvantage also has an advantage," Savin supplied knowingly. "But how do you anticipate dropping out of warp, to get through that kind of debris? Why not trust a deflector dish?"

"For most of those, the smaller ones? Sure. By the time you get stuff the size of a small planet though, like a few of those were, not so much. If you could trust a deflector to handle a planet or a moon - or something around the size of them - it would be a lot less problematic to ever crash into a planet." Despite the serious words, there was a grin on the young woman's face, like she relished the challenge. "When you have a larger flight crew it isn't quite as disruptive even when the charts suck, though; because yeah as you noted earlier, one person could be reading sensors in advance and feeding them to someone else who can program a new course and then someone else actually flies it." She considered the source of the comment - and the pilots he might have ever interacted with previously - and came to the conclusion there might be an additional quirk in play, as well. "Though in an overall practices sense, it's possible Federation pilots may trust theirs a bit more by reflex, too - if you've been trained to fly a ship under cloak, you're taught to be cautious about the sort of ways that too much stuff hitting your deflector can give away your position."

"That makes sense," Savin agreed as he continued to observe. "Starfleet vessels in general do not have a cloaking device though there are if course, exceptions. Barring my brief exchange on the Kholr, I have never served on a vessel with a cloak before. How does a ship under cloak navigate, does it not utilise deflector technology? Or do objects simply pass through?" He shook his head at his own query because that made no sense. After all, ships under cloak could still be the target to weapons fire, and sustain damage.

“Oh, ships with a cloak have deflectors, definitely. You’re not out of phase with matter or anything - honestly it would be simpler for the pilot if you were, though. Because it’s not that deflectors under cloak don’t work - though if you hit something the size of a few of those, they don’t work well on any ship, cloak or not - it’s that even the stuff small enough to bounce off it…” Seira considered how to explain it best “…if you bounce enough stuff off your deflector, someone can use that displacement to track your approximate position, or even just to notice that something is there, because something must be, to displace things. Same problem with a transponder signal, or a comms signal, or even a warp engine or sensor signature if you aren’t very careful about it. There’s a whole art to managing a ship under cloak when it comes to anything with a potential electronic or electromagnetic emission or anything with a potential physical presence even as an echo of one, basically.”

"So even a scanner in sickbay could give us away?" That seemed far fetched but on the other hand a tricorder was electronic and it did emit on a certain frequency.

"No; too small and weak a signal to bleed through, and any larger medical equipment on board is checked to make sure it won't do that, either. But something the size of the ship scanners, if they aren't properly tuned just like the engines? Yes. Or basically any outgoings comms activity, and some incoming, too - it's not uncommon for a ship under cloak to sometimes maintain comms silence for months at a time, depending on the mission." Seira gave an inquisitive smile, though she kept at least one eye on the controls and scans at all times. "Though I doubt that was why you came to the bridge, for a lesson on operating under cloak. My apologies for delaying you, doctor."

"That was an added bonus," Savin smiled in return, "since I am new to this vessel, I was simply exploring. And learning things is never wrong. I do not believe I am delayed in any form or fashion, as I am doing what I am supposed to do. Observe the crew and engage in conversation, it is the only way to get to know someone."

"Oh." Seira considered what she knew about the doctor, which was mostly just from whatever she had heard from the local gossip on the colony and the topics and details on the new arrivals that had been discussed at the town hall Kaiae had held, which did all still leave some rather significant gaps. "So how long were you on the Kholr for, and when?"

"Over seven years ago, and unfortunately only for a few weeks. But it was long enough for me to discover that I was born Romulan and not Vulcan. A more in-depth scan from a trainee doctor uncovered my genetics, though it is still beyond me why Starfleet never did before then. It was very unsettling at the time. I took some leave to find myself again, and it caused an irreparable rift between my brother and me. Since I chose to embrace my heritage and identify as Romulan I have lost all contact with him." A moment of sadness washed over the counselor's expression as he recalled that moment, but he forced himself to smile. "I am here now," he continued, "and I hope to learn as much as I can."

“I’m only 24 so I’m not sure I have much to teach you.” Seira joked. “And I’m not a scientist, but as to why no one figured it out until then…they were as I understand it looking for something really subtle - less actual genetic differences than environmental differences in epigenetic expression and such, really.” Seira considered the whispers of stories of Romulans and Vulcans crossing back and forth to one another in the few thousands of years since the Sundering, and the difficulty in detecting them in either direction and why. “Not surprised no one figured it out before then, really. Am surprised the folks on Kholr detected it, honestly. Kudos to whoever did; that’s some really detailed scanning and some pretty nuanced interpretation alike. So that’s what you brought you to the colony then - wanting to learn more about your people?”

"Not exactly no," Savin admitted, "though the given opportunity is a bonus. No, Starfleet sent me here to look after the mental well-being of the colony and this crew. Under no circumstance will I be reporting any of my observations to them, however. My experience is my own, and what people choose to confide to me, remains between said person and me."

One eyebrow went way up on Seira's face, as she considered that in that case the 'bonus' would probably be the only thing he accomplished. "Yeah, that's...not really a 'Thing', to quote a term I've heard a few of the younger humans use. So I wouldn't really expect you'll have that many...customers."

"I am not looking for customers," Saving smiled, "and I have no doubt people will talk to me eventually."

“People are talking to you now.” Both Seira’s natural and artificial hands played across her controls making yet another adjustment, this one luckily fairly minor. “But that sort of specific sort that it sounds like happens on Federation ships and planets really just isn’t done. Though if you would like to contribute to the…wellbeing, as you put it…of the crew in a culturally appropriate manner, I’d suggest offering to spar with folks.” She shrugged her eyebrows. “Typical outlet for burning off energy or anything from boredom to stress, really.”

"Exactly." The counselor's smile widened, "and there is much to be learned through a simple conversation, especially when they happen more often. And as trust is earned I also trust people will confide in me as necessary. My oaths have not changed, I am still bound to them. As for sparring, I shall keep that in mind as it is a good means for exercise as well. What do you do, when you are not piloting the ship?"

“Mostly things that aren’t really possible at moment. I like racing hover cars, hang gliding and orbital skydiving, that sort of thing. Those are kind of off the table for now though given the situation on the colony and lack of, well, any of that. I used to do acrobatic competitions as a kid, though; still like to do a bit of that in the gym aboard when I get the chance. The junior officers also get together for games or such sometimes; we’ve been teaching one another various stuff from one another’s cultures - lately we’ve been learning some human game called ‘poker’, which appears to basically be about whoever is the most convincing liar.”

Seira laughed, then tilted her head slightly considering there was another piece of information that might be useful for the doctor in terms of what to expect aboard. “On a typical warbird, more senior officers dine nightly with the commander; I am not certain if Captain Mannerheim and Subcommander Kaiae intend to do such; but if so, we will both be expected to attend such.” Seira hoped she was managing to keep the continuing shock of placing herself as in such a group off her face, but she doubted it.

"That is useful information and as far as poker is concerned that is actually an excellent way of describing that game. During my academy years, I was introduced to baseball and by the time I graduated I have developed a preference for pitching. Aside from that I practice Vulcan martial arts and I wield a sword. In my last assignment, I took up archery and as I think about it, my right arm still feels bruised." He smiled sheepishly as he shared some personal information. "I also brought a feline, you may have seen her about the colony. Here, she does not leave my quarters, which makes her a little cranky." To demonstrate, he pulled up his sleeve to show four parallel angry green lines.

Seira mostly saw the scratches from the same sort of peripheral-vision glance she'd been giving most things so far, main visual focus still on the sensor readouts and controls, but they didn't look like anything especially concerning to her eye. "Looks like the sort of thing my niece might've done when when was angry back when she a toddler. Though we tried to keep her nails too short for that back then."

"I cannot and will not keep her claws short as they are a means of defense," the counselor countered, somewhat horrified at the idea, "to do so would be cruel to her." He pulled his sleeve down to its original position. "I will speak with the captain about letting her roam the ship, or at least a single deck. How old is your niece now?"

“Fourteen. So she’s had much more effective, much sharper means of defense herself than nails for seven years now.” Seira grinned. “Though built in claws would be amazing to have; kinda makes me a bit jealous of felinoid species.”

"You could file your nails into sharp points," Savin suggested innocently, "I have seen women do it, and I would not wish to be on the receiving end of them at that. File and paint them to make a statement?" He chuckled to himself at a rather funny memory. "On my last assignment, the captain accompanied a few crew members to a nail salon. The men were the gossip of the ship at the time as they came back with brightly coloured nails."

"Unless they were retractable like feline ones, probably best for a pilot to have short nails." Seira flexed the fingers on her natural left hand for a moment, showcasing perfectly-maintained but definitely quite short nails she kept for a better grip on and interface with flight controls. "Though..." she looked thoughtful for a moment, this time flexing the silvery/pearl-white fingers of the prosthetic that now served as her right arm. "...perhaps in the longer term I could look into getting this modified to include some sort of hidden 'retractable claws' of sorts..."

"Indeed you could," Savin agreed, "though I would assume that already packs quite a punch? If I may enquire, and see if you wish to share of course...how did that happen? You are not required to answer if you do not wish to answer."

"It only packs a punch if I aim at someone, same as the other side." She chuckled for a moment at her own joke, adjusting their course again based on the upcoming sensor readouts while she did so. "As to the 'how', about a year and a half ago, when the fleet containing the ship I served on before the Ourainavassa - along with Dr. Gable, in fact - was attacked; we were the sole ship to escape from it. I was not on bridge duty at the time it happened and so went to lead a damage control team, we ended up in a section of the ship at the wrong time when it took a pretty direct hit."

"I have noticed some crew members customise their artificial limbs," Savin observed, "what keeps you from customising yours to what you wish to?"

"I did, sorta. I have some tattoos of sorts Mila did for me further up it. As to more extensive stuff like adding features, well, for starters - " a rather dry humor crept into Seira's voice, though it dawned on her suddenly that the doctor probably would miss it, reading her lips, so she tried to put a bit of the expression of it onto her face, too " - the fact that I haven't been paid in almost two years. Most people stopped getting paid when they fled the nova - or probably, for some, whenever the Empire decided they were committing treason. I stopped getting paid earlier than that, when the Empire assumed the ship I was on was destroyed along with the others with it, and therefore that I was dead. That, and it hasn't exactly been a priority compared to saving my family." She shrugged her eyebrows again. "It still isn't a priority for me, really; I can't afford to be out of commission at the moment for the time it would take to readjust to any significant changes. Someday."

"Then we should work to remedy that," he suggested, never having realised that actually being paid was something that still existed. In a Federation where most things were simply replicated, the concept of being paid was an alien one.

"We are working to remedy that, somewhat. At the least the 'we all need money and/or resources' part." She frowned at her controls for a moment and made yet another course adjustment to avoid a planet that wasn't supposed to be there, but at least with the exception of the one time, they hadn't had to drop out of warp for any of them. "Assuming we can find this ship we all got hired to find, that is."

"Is it expected to be cloaked?" He asked, leaning closer to look at her controls but in no way able to interpret the readings. "Is there anything I could do to help?"

"Specs in the data we got it indicates no cloak, luckily. And no, unfortunately I do not think there is. Other than perhaps make whatever preparations Doctor Gable may wish your department to make before we arrive to begin the search."

"I am not certain I have preparations to make," Savin answered, "I also am the only counselor aboard and I have duties in the medical bay when I am needed. Aside from a psychiatrist I am also a qualified medical doctor. I also have no idea what to expect on this endeavour, it is very different than serving a Starfleet vessel."

"When one has little idea what expect to happen, it's best to prepare for whatever you can consider reasonably might." Seira fought hard the urge to blink in surprise; she wasn't used to running into people her own age, let alone a bit older, who didn't grasp instinctively by this point in life to start most every endeavor by assembling plans for every letter of the alphabet if possible. "Given I spent a lot of time there after I was wounded and had a lot of time to observe the place, my guess is that since we have no idea what we could run into the Neutral Zone, Doctor Gable is preparing things in case things go wrong somehow. She might be able to use help with doing so."

"If she requires my assistance then I will give it," Savin promised, "but she is likely to draw on NVeid's assistance and experience first. He is far more qualified and experienced than I am." Which was the truth because in all of his career, Savin's experience in a medical bay was fairly recent despite his qualifications. He was first and foremost a doctor of the mind.

"I would suggest at least going down to familiarize yourself in advance with the location of everything and how she intends to run things in a combat situation or other emergency, if you have not already." It felt weird to Seira to be suggesting things this often to an officer with 12 years on her age, and downright borderline dangerous to be doing so to someone who theoretically outranked her; but it was probably, she reasoned, the sort of thing one had to do often with an exchange officer regardless.

Again, Savin nodded at her logic. Fortunately for her, despite all his experience, his current situation was an utterly new one for him and it was a learning curve at the same time. Meaning, he was open to all the suggestions he would get. "I intend to," he answered with a pleasant smile, "but I am in no hurry unless we arrive in a faster time than anticipated? Right now I am utilising the time that I have to get to know the crew."

Seira wondered if this was how getting to know fellow officers worked on a Federation ship; wandering around having entire conversations with people on bridge duty or in the middle of engineering or such, rather than while dining, working out, or training and the like. If so, the ships of the Federation Starfleet must be a strange place. "Whom have you met so far?"

"Doctor Gable, Hatham, Perez, though I already met them back at the colony. Here, Lieutenant Zirda and Lieutenant Commander Lynn." It was obvious he was used to using last names when applicable though he didn't with the only Romulan in the list."and now you. I obviously already know NVeid and Jerant."

"Captain Mannerheim and Subcommander Kaiae, as well? Or not?" It was a relief to Seira at the moment that the doctor, at least, couldn't actually hear how badly she was mangling the captain's name, she was finding it one of the harder human names to pronounce correctly, still.

"Yes if course. Subcommander Kaiae provided me with a dagger to train with for situations where my sword might be too conspicuous or cumbersome. Captain Mannerheim I met with to give her my transfer orders." Unlike her, he has no issue with the Human name.

"Do you think you will stay, then?" One of Seira's fingers scrolled through upcoming sensor data as she talked. "I am not overly familiar with how an exchange officer generally works; save for generally being a time-limited situation." She was nearly having to bite her own tongue to avoid the rather forward observation, however, that this did not seem to be a 'typical' situation given the discoveries he had made about his heritage; and perhaps, he might in the longer term be happier amongst his own.

"Unless Starfleet seems it necessary to transfer me, I have no intention of going anywhere for the foreseeable future," Savin answered, "Starfleet made it clear my services may be needed here, so this is where I intend to make my home and make myself useful. I am not overly familiar with exchange protocols either, having experienced it only once before and that time had been cut short due to personal circumstances."

“Do you not find it…complicated…to serve them still while also the colony? Most would find it delicate at best to attempt to serve two masters or causes simultaneously.” At least that is, Seira thought, if one has the intentions of being faithful to both oaths…

There was no hesitation and no doubt when he answered. "I serve the colony and the ship and their needs," he answered without pause. "For as long as I am needed here, my service is here. For as long as it is necessary, or simply put, for as long as feel is needed. This is my home now, and this is where I serve." He indicated his uniform, which made him stand out like a sore thumb. "This, I may yet exchange for something more suitable. Yes I am a Starfleet officer, but I was sent here, so until I am recalled, my loyalty belongs to this ship and the colony. And there will be no questions about it."

:::TBC:::

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