(Outsiders is another short piece written for an Ad Astra weekly challenge)
“I’m worried about you,” Kaavi said, sitting next to her roommate on the bunk. “You’re acting weird.”
“Weird?” Mira said absently, her focus momentarily internalized.
“Quiet, I suppose,” Kaavi explained. Though Mira had never been a big talker, she was more quiet than usual. Kaavi wiggled a bit on the bunk, which wasn’t nearly as soft as she would prefer. She’d hoped that Impetuous would have more comfortable accommodations, but they were ensigns after all. She supposed that on a ship so small she should be glad they hadn’t tried to pack four ensigns in a room.
“We have spent the day unpacking. Shall I endeavor to extoll the virtues of such pursuits?” Mira shifted slightly as well, though her response was to Kaavi’s proximity and not to comfort. She’d slept on much worse; in fact, Starfleet’s focus on comfort was something that was still rather alien to her.
“No,” Kaavi said, debating how best to respond. Mira had a certain manner of speaking-- a tone and word choice that was more formal than the circumstances required-- that she used when she was uncomfortable about a situation. Though Kaavi had no way to confirm, she assumed these vocal mannerisms and the accompanying kinesthetics were Mira relapsing into habits she’d learned on her homeworld. “But I know you, this isn’t how you act when you’re bored, it’s more like you’re uncomfortable
Mira bristled, although not at Kaavi’s words. She’d studied at length how to control her façade, her speech, her actions. On Cardassia there was already pressure to control oneself, and when one was the frequent victim of the sort of torment that only teenagers could dispense, the ability to act unperturbed was necessary. Being around Starfleet officers all the time was making her lose her edge. Perhaps a trip home is in order. After a weighty pause, she finally answered. “Have you had your physical yet?”
“No, I was going to go with you,” Kaavi said.
“Are you not required to report immediately upon boarding a new vessel?” Mira asked, an attempt to turn the conversation back onto her friend.
“I am, but-”
“But?”
Kaavi sighed, “I dunno, I just don’t like it. It’s like they don’t trust me.”
“It is a common military procedure to report for medical examination when assigned to a new vessel,” Mira explained.
“Yes, before you report for duty, which I haven’t.” Kaavi frowned, her viridian-hued fingers finding a fringed edge on the blanket. “I hate having to report directly there.”
“Failure to obey is not going to cause Starfleet Command to be more inclined to acquiesce to your desires.” Were she anyone else, she’d feel bad for knowingly turning the topic of discussion to a matter was uncomfortable to Kaavi in order to distract her. And, Mira noted with some satisfaction, she seemed to have succeeded for the moment.
“You don’t understand,” Kaavi blurted out, then realized that Mira was likely one of the few people that ever could understand. “Well, no, you could. It’s discrimination.”
“I do not believe that Starfleet consciously decides to discriminate. By very nature of it’s willingness to allow non-member species into its military organization, it displays a mentality of acceptance that is otherwise unheard of.” Both Mira and Kaavi had to be sponsored in order to join Starfleet, but the process had been straightforward and unbiased.
“Yeah, but just because I’m an Orion I have to go straight to Sickbay to check in?” Kaavi said, scowling.
“There are not enough Orions in Starfleet to start a precedent of how well your people can manage their pheromones.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I’ve never had issues-”
“You have been on the pheromone regulators ever since you joined Starfleet, have you not?” Mira said.
“Of course, that’s the policy.”
“They have no way to know what you are capable of, then.”
“They didn’t even give me a chance, Mira.” Kaavi’s legs curled up under her reflexively, a gesture that Mira interpreted as withdrawal.
Reminding herself that Kaavi was her friend, Mira exhaled slowly, trying to think of what the proper compassionate response would be. “I’m sure it is not about control. They just cannot take the risk that something outside of your control would happen, like a rare illness or some sort of telepathic control.” It was a shame most species didn’t have the mental control Cardassians did…
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Let’s go to sickbay and get it over with,” Kaavi said, a weak smile appearing on her angular features.
Well, that had certainly backfired. “I do not think we need to go right now. I mean, you have already delayed enough,” Mira said, her tone even and controlled.
Kaavi was smarter than to fall for that, even if Mira’s poker face was unparalleled. “Wait. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re upset because you need to go see a doctor before you report for duty?”
She’d hit the nail on the head, but Mira wasn’t giving it up that easily. She kept her expression carefully neutral. “That is ridiculous.”
“You’re normally the first one to force me to go and do things like that. You’re always about protocol and such. I don’t get it, why didn’t you mention something?” Kaavi pressed on, certain there was a reason for Mira’s hesitation.
“I was excited about our new posting,” Mira lied. “We can go now, though.”
“Ok…” Kaavi said, deciding it best not to press the matter.
---
Growing up on Cardassia gave one extremely high situational awareness and Kalen Varayk hadn’t neglected his lessons solely because he was on a Starfleet vessel. Although his back was turned, he heard two people enter. The louder of the two was small, and her light footfalls were barely enough to register. The second moved even more silently, and Kalen wasn’t even certain how he knew she was there… he just did. Whoever she was, she’d been trained on how to obscure her presence, and in the brief pause it took Varayk to turn about, he ran through the crew manifest. It wasn’t that impressive of a feat, given there were only 40 assigned to the Impetuous, but it was still a way to keep his mind busy.
Thus, when he turned, he’d already decided that the second person was Mira Trevol… or as she’d been named on their homeworld, Amora Jerek. “Ensigns,” he said, nodding to each of them. “I’m Doctor Kalen Varayk. What can I assist you with?”
Upon realizing who-- or more specifically what-- the Chief Medical Officer was, Kaavi’s mouth opened slightly. She wisely managed to avoid pointing out that she now understood Mira’s hesitations, but her countenance conveyed it rather well. Mira, for her part, managed to maintain a neutral expression, though her eyes were clearly sizing up the doctor. His name didn’t ring any bells with her, which meant that he was likely someone of lesser stature in Cardassian society.
“I’m Ensign Kaavi, this is Ensign Trevol Mira. We’re here for our pre-duty physicals,” Kaavi said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence that was beginning to take hold.
“Of course,” Varayk said, his tone warm. Mira analyzed him, curious if the smile on his face was genuine. It crinkled the ridges about his eyes ever so slightly, which satisfied Mira’s suspicion of his genuineness. “Which of you would like to go first?”
“I will,” Kaavi said. Hopefully, that would give Mira a bit more time to relax.
“You can have a seat over there,” Varayk said to Mira, gesturing to a seat near the entrance of the sickbay. As Mira took the requested seat, Varayk lead Kaavi over to a biobed, and erected a privacy screen. He pulled up Kaavi's record, skimming it quickly to refresh his memory. The chart was rather sparse, and he frowned slightly, digging deeper into the file for the information that should have been there. Instead, he found questions. Unknown parents. Unknown origin. Everything about her life before she’d joined Starfleet was either missing, or inaccessible to Kalen’s security level.
“Do you mind if I do a quick scan?” he asked, pulling out his tricorder. Meanwhile, his brain was a flurry of activity, little of which related to Kaavi’s present examination. Mysteries, secrets, lies… they called to his mind like a dying man called for water.
“No,” Kaavi said simply. The sickbay was warm; warmer than anywhere else in the ship, and certainly warmer than any other sickbay she’d ever visited.
“Does anything feel out of the ordinary to you?” he asked politely, his eyes on the readouts. Vitals normal, DNA pattern matched, no structural defects, he thought with part of his mind, as the rest puzzled over the woman in front of him.
“Not at all,” Kaavi said, watching curiously as he passed the wand of his tricorder slowly over her body.
His brain shifted gears, and once his scans were complete, he checked the records from her last sickbay visit, back at the Academy. “It looks like you get your shot bimonthly?”
She nodded, “I’m nearly due.”
“I can get that out of the way so you don’t need to come back for a while,” he said. Walking to the replicator, he ordered the necessary vial, before loading it into a hypospray. As he pressed it to her neck, he said, “I just want to check one more thing, and then you’ll be free to go.”
---
Where many people would be fidgeting, Mira sat still as a statue. Her mind, however, was hardly as calm. Her rational half was valiantly trying to convince her that Varayk was Starfleet, and would have none of the biases of their people. She knew better. She knew how hard it was to cast aside mentalities that were indoctrinated in every fiber of one’s being since birth. Starfleet meant nothing. Giving up xenophobia and embracing others was one thing, casting aside beliefs that called for the purity of one’s bloodline above all others was a completely different matter.
And he’s got me at a disadvantage, she thought. It wasn’t just a single advantage either. She couldn’t assume her post without his approval, for one. But there were less obvious reasons, like his access to her personnel record, his ability to see all that was known about her by Federation doctors. She could only hope that confidentiality meant that doctors couldn’t see the reports made by counselors.
Still, her mind was a blur, running through everything she could think of to compensate for her lesser state. He didn’t look very old, but he was a doctor, so barring exceptional genius and a considerably amount of influence, he was at least 27. Doctors graduated as lieutenants JG, and his second pip wasn’t hollow, meaning he probably had at least a few more years atop that. Conservatively, she wagered him at 30. At 30, he would have went into Starfleet in 2377, two years after the end of the Dominion War.
If all her assumptions were close to correct-- which was a given due to her superior brainpower and education-- he was nearly an adult during the fall of the Cardassian Union. His Cardassian beliefs were likely strong, having been forged through the entirety of his developmental years. Why, then, was he in Starfleet? Hedging his bets on the winning team? That didn’t seem likely, particularly not as a doctor. To learn the best way to torture Federation species? That was a chilling thought, and not a particularly unexpected one. Still, much as she and Kaavi had done, he would have needed to convince someone of reasonable importance in Starfleet that his intentions were genuine.
He was either a brilliant actor, or genuine… and Mira wasn’t certain which of those scared her more.
“Ensign Trevol, I’m ready for you now,” Varayk said, distracting Mira from her thoughts. Kaavi shot her a sympathetic look as she walked over to take a seat.
Alright, now… how do I play this? Do I act relaxed as I do when I am around humans to make them less anxious? Or will he judge that as weakness? These were the situations that lead Kaavi to give her the oh-so-trite advice of “be yourself.” Such one dimensional thinking was unheard of where she came from. If you were only one thing, one person... you failed. Those who thrived were those who met each challenge by analyzing it and adapting accordingly to present the most ideal set of characteristics.
She decided to walk the line between a Cardassian sense of formality, and a Starfleet sense of the same. If nothing else, it honored the respect his rank deserved, and it prevented any sort of admonishment. Standing up, she altered her carriage to emulate the subtle affectations of Cardassian posture, which Varayk unconsciously duplicated as he approached.
Mira’s back was ramrod straight with her eyes unwavering on Varayk’s face, and her neck ever-so-slightly retracted so that it wasn’t at full length. The latter was a gesture of subordination, though one near imperceptible to others. Varayk, by comparison, had extended his own neck to the fullest extent, his chin angled up despite Mira being nearly a head shorter. He waited until she was beside him to turn, and they walked side-by-side over to the biobed, their strides matching step unconsciously so as to prevent either showing their back to the other.
Another contrast of their bearings was the position of hands; Varayk’s clasped behind his back, and Mira’s forming a diamond shape over her navel as she pressed her thumbs together atop, and the remainder of her fingers together below. Superiors had earned the right to concealment. Subordinates had not.
Kaavi watched this exchange with some curiosity, as though she was blind to the nuance and meaning of the movements, she could tell the change in both individual’s postures. She fidgeted anxiously as they both disappeared inside the privacy screen, and hoped that things would go well for her friend.
“Ensign, what is your preferred form of address?” he asked, gesturing with one hand to the biobed.
Mira’s heart thudded in her chest, as she mulled over the simple question. “You may call me Amora,” she said after a brief pause. It was the name she’d gone by for over 18 years, until an Academy advisor had suggested her time in Starfleet might progress easier with a less-Cardassian sounding name. Even a decade after the Dominion War, hatred still flourished.
“Amora,” he echoed, and gathered his tricorder once more.
Mira took a seat on the biobed, and waited while Varayk scanned her with the tricorder. He hadn’t needed to revisit her chart any, for it was interesting enough for him to have looked the moment he’d been granted access. Cardassian-Bajoran hybrids weren’t uncommon so to speak, but they were the sort of anomalies that tended to be shuttled off to a backwater planet somewhere, where their existence couldn’t have been held against the prominent male who had fathered them.
It was always prominent men. While lesser men during the Occupation could rape the women of Bajor, the relations rarely resulted in a child. Either the women were too malnourished for the pregnancy to take hold, the child was lost later from a combination of beatings and starvation, or the child was aborted. When that failed, the fathers of said children-- knowing their peers would report back on such indiscretions to buoy their own careers-- had the children killed and the bodies destroyed.
By comparison, prominent Cardassians had the leks and the connections to procure comfort women, who were granted additional food and other such resources to serve their master’s whims. When children were conceived, cockiness made these men believe they could hide their dirty little secrets from anyone who might use it against them.
They certainly didn’t take those children back to Cardassia Prime, which was where Mira’s records indicated she was from. Then again, Mira’s circumstances were a little bit different, for it wasn’t her father that had partaken in some extracurricular pleasure with a Bajoran… but a Bajoran who had acted in a way that likely caused creative, excruciating torture and ultimately death.
By raping a Cardassian woman.
In his mind, there was no guesswork behind why Mira was allowed to be born, and to grow up on Cardassia Prime. By the time she was born, the Occupation had become extremely unpopular on the homeworld, with civilians unable to grasp how such backwater people could cause so much trouble. Cardassians were dying. The personnel resources to keep the Occupation going were in short supply. They needed to villainize the Bajoran people, and what better way than to show the animalistic nature of their men. For on the surface, Cardassia was all about family, regardless of what was widely known to transpire behind closed doors.
Most people would have taken the doctor’s silence with anxiety, and attempted to alleviate that with inane chatter. Mira knew, though, that the sort of “bedside conversation” that was the hallmark of a good human doctor was looked down upon amongst many Cardassians. And as she expected, Varayk did not speak again until he’d completed his scans. “Are you unwell?”
“I am not,” she replied. She bit down on her lower lip, though, to fight back words that demanded to be spoken. He, more than anyone else, would understand how hard it was to be in Starfleet. How people were judgemental, or afraid, or hostile. But doctors didn’t befriend patients where they came from.
Particularly, those who were considered second-class citizens.
Her expression was one of genuine shock when it was Varayk who broke the rhetoric. “If you ever need to talk to someone who understands, please let me know.”
“I’m worried about you,” Kaavi said, sitting next to her roommate on the bunk. “You’re acting weird.”
“Weird?” Mira said absently, her focus momentarily internalized.
“Quiet, I suppose,” Kaavi explained. Though Mira had never been a big talker, she was more quiet than usual. Kaavi wiggled a bit on the bunk, which wasn’t nearly as soft as she would prefer. She’d hoped that Impetuous would have more comfortable accommodations, but they were ensigns after all. She supposed that on a ship so small she should be glad they hadn’t tried to pack four ensigns in a room.
“We have spent the day unpacking. Shall I endeavor to extoll the virtues of such pursuits?” Mira shifted slightly as well, though her response was to Kaavi’s proximity and not to comfort. She’d slept on much worse; in fact, Starfleet’s focus on comfort was something that was still rather alien to her.
“No,” Kaavi said, debating how best to respond. Mira had a certain manner of speaking-- a tone and word choice that was more formal than the circumstances required-- that she used when she was uncomfortable about a situation. Though Kaavi had no way to confirm, she assumed these vocal mannerisms and the accompanying kinesthetics were Mira relapsing into habits she’d learned on her homeworld. “But I know you, this isn’t how you act when you’re bored, it’s more like you’re uncomfortable
Mira bristled, although not at Kaavi’s words. She’d studied at length how to control her façade, her speech, her actions. On Cardassia there was already pressure to control oneself, and when one was the frequent victim of the sort of torment that only teenagers could dispense, the ability to act unperturbed was necessary. Being around Starfleet officers all the time was making her lose her edge. Perhaps a trip home is in order. After a weighty pause, she finally answered. “Have you had your physical yet?”
“No, I was going to go with you,” Kaavi said.
“Are you not required to report immediately upon boarding a new vessel?” Mira asked, an attempt to turn the conversation back onto her friend.
“I am, but-”
“But?”
Kaavi sighed, “I dunno, I just don’t like it. It’s like they don’t trust me.”
“It is a common military procedure to report for medical examination when assigned to a new vessel,” Mira explained.
“Yes, before you report for duty, which I haven’t.” Kaavi frowned, her viridian-hued fingers finding a fringed edge on the blanket. “I hate having to report directly there.”
“Failure to obey is not going to cause Starfleet Command to be more inclined to acquiesce to your desires.” Were she anyone else, she’d feel bad for knowingly turning the topic of discussion to a matter was uncomfortable to Kaavi in order to distract her. And, Mira noted with some satisfaction, she seemed to have succeeded for the moment.
“You don’t understand,” Kaavi blurted out, then realized that Mira was likely one of the few people that ever could understand. “Well, no, you could. It’s discrimination.”
“I do not believe that Starfleet consciously decides to discriminate. By very nature of it’s willingness to allow non-member species into its military organization, it displays a mentality of acceptance that is otherwise unheard of.” Both Mira and Kaavi had to be sponsored in order to join Starfleet, but the process had been straightforward and unbiased.
“Yeah, but just because I’m an Orion I have to go straight to Sickbay to check in?” Kaavi said, scowling.
“There are not enough Orions in Starfleet to start a precedent of how well your people can manage their pheromones.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I’ve never had issues-”
“You have been on the pheromone regulators ever since you joined Starfleet, have you not?” Mira said.
“Of course, that’s the policy.”
“They have no way to know what you are capable of, then.”
“They didn’t even give me a chance, Mira.” Kaavi’s legs curled up under her reflexively, a gesture that Mira interpreted as withdrawal.
Reminding herself that Kaavi was her friend, Mira exhaled slowly, trying to think of what the proper compassionate response would be. “I’m sure it is not about control. They just cannot take the risk that something outside of your control would happen, like a rare illness or some sort of telepathic control.” It was a shame most species didn’t have the mental control Cardassians did…
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Let’s go to sickbay and get it over with,” Kaavi said, a weak smile appearing on her angular features.
Well, that had certainly backfired. “I do not think we need to go right now. I mean, you have already delayed enough,” Mira said, her tone even and controlled.
Kaavi was smarter than to fall for that, even if Mira’s poker face was unparalleled. “Wait. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re upset because you need to go see a doctor before you report for duty?”
She’d hit the nail on the head, but Mira wasn’t giving it up that easily. She kept her expression carefully neutral. “That is ridiculous.”
“You’re normally the first one to force me to go and do things like that. You’re always about protocol and such. I don’t get it, why didn’t you mention something?” Kaavi pressed on, certain there was a reason for Mira’s hesitation.
“I was excited about our new posting,” Mira lied. “We can go now, though.”
“Ok…” Kaavi said, deciding it best not to press the matter.
---
Growing up on Cardassia gave one extremely high situational awareness and Kalen Varayk hadn’t neglected his lessons solely because he was on a Starfleet vessel. Although his back was turned, he heard two people enter. The louder of the two was small, and her light footfalls were barely enough to register. The second moved even more silently, and Kalen wasn’t even certain how he knew she was there… he just did. Whoever she was, she’d been trained on how to obscure her presence, and in the brief pause it took Varayk to turn about, he ran through the crew manifest. It wasn’t that impressive of a feat, given there were only 40 assigned to the Impetuous, but it was still a way to keep his mind busy.
Thus, when he turned, he’d already decided that the second person was Mira Trevol… or as she’d been named on their homeworld, Amora Jerek. “Ensigns,” he said, nodding to each of them. “I’m Doctor Kalen Varayk. What can I assist you with?”
Upon realizing who-- or more specifically what-- the Chief Medical Officer was, Kaavi’s mouth opened slightly. She wisely managed to avoid pointing out that she now understood Mira’s hesitations, but her countenance conveyed it rather well. Mira, for her part, managed to maintain a neutral expression, though her eyes were clearly sizing up the doctor. His name didn’t ring any bells with her, which meant that he was likely someone of lesser stature in Cardassian society.
“I’m Ensign Kaavi, this is Ensign Trevol Mira. We’re here for our pre-duty physicals,” Kaavi said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence that was beginning to take hold.
“Of course,” Varayk said, his tone warm. Mira analyzed him, curious if the smile on his face was genuine. It crinkled the ridges about his eyes ever so slightly, which satisfied Mira’s suspicion of his genuineness. “Which of you would like to go first?”
“I will,” Kaavi said. Hopefully, that would give Mira a bit more time to relax.
“You can have a seat over there,” Varayk said to Mira, gesturing to a seat near the entrance of the sickbay. As Mira took the requested seat, Varayk lead Kaavi over to a biobed, and erected a privacy screen. He pulled up Kaavi's record, skimming it quickly to refresh his memory. The chart was rather sparse, and he frowned slightly, digging deeper into the file for the information that should have been there. Instead, he found questions. Unknown parents. Unknown origin. Everything about her life before she’d joined Starfleet was either missing, or inaccessible to Kalen’s security level.
“Do you mind if I do a quick scan?” he asked, pulling out his tricorder. Meanwhile, his brain was a flurry of activity, little of which related to Kaavi’s present examination. Mysteries, secrets, lies… they called to his mind like a dying man called for water.
“No,” Kaavi said simply. The sickbay was warm; warmer than anywhere else in the ship, and certainly warmer than any other sickbay she’d ever visited.
“Does anything feel out of the ordinary to you?” he asked politely, his eyes on the readouts. Vitals normal, DNA pattern matched, no structural defects, he thought with part of his mind, as the rest puzzled over the woman in front of him.
“Not at all,” Kaavi said, watching curiously as he passed the wand of his tricorder slowly over her body.
His brain shifted gears, and once his scans were complete, he checked the records from her last sickbay visit, back at the Academy. “It looks like you get your shot bimonthly?”
She nodded, “I’m nearly due.”
“I can get that out of the way so you don’t need to come back for a while,” he said. Walking to the replicator, he ordered the necessary vial, before loading it into a hypospray. As he pressed it to her neck, he said, “I just want to check one more thing, and then you’ll be free to go.”
---
Where many people would be fidgeting, Mira sat still as a statue. Her mind, however, was hardly as calm. Her rational half was valiantly trying to convince her that Varayk was Starfleet, and would have none of the biases of their people. She knew better. She knew how hard it was to cast aside mentalities that were indoctrinated in every fiber of one’s being since birth. Starfleet meant nothing. Giving up xenophobia and embracing others was one thing, casting aside beliefs that called for the purity of one’s bloodline above all others was a completely different matter.
And he’s got me at a disadvantage, she thought. It wasn’t just a single advantage either. She couldn’t assume her post without his approval, for one. But there were less obvious reasons, like his access to her personnel record, his ability to see all that was known about her by Federation doctors. She could only hope that confidentiality meant that doctors couldn’t see the reports made by counselors.
Still, her mind was a blur, running through everything she could think of to compensate for her lesser state. He didn’t look very old, but he was a doctor, so barring exceptional genius and a considerably amount of influence, he was at least 27. Doctors graduated as lieutenants JG, and his second pip wasn’t hollow, meaning he probably had at least a few more years atop that. Conservatively, she wagered him at 30. At 30, he would have went into Starfleet in 2377, two years after the end of the Dominion War.
If all her assumptions were close to correct-- which was a given due to her superior brainpower and education-- he was nearly an adult during the fall of the Cardassian Union. His Cardassian beliefs were likely strong, having been forged through the entirety of his developmental years. Why, then, was he in Starfleet? Hedging his bets on the winning team? That didn’t seem likely, particularly not as a doctor. To learn the best way to torture Federation species? That was a chilling thought, and not a particularly unexpected one. Still, much as she and Kaavi had done, he would have needed to convince someone of reasonable importance in Starfleet that his intentions were genuine.
He was either a brilliant actor, or genuine… and Mira wasn’t certain which of those scared her more.
“Ensign Trevol, I’m ready for you now,” Varayk said, distracting Mira from her thoughts. Kaavi shot her a sympathetic look as she walked over to take a seat.
Alright, now… how do I play this? Do I act relaxed as I do when I am around humans to make them less anxious? Or will he judge that as weakness? These were the situations that lead Kaavi to give her the oh-so-trite advice of “be yourself.” Such one dimensional thinking was unheard of where she came from. If you were only one thing, one person... you failed. Those who thrived were those who met each challenge by analyzing it and adapting accordingly to present the most ideal set of characteristics.
She decided to walk the line between a Cardassian sense of formality, and a Starfleet sense of the same. If nothing else, it honored the respect his rank deserved, and it prevented any sort of admonishment. Standing up, she altered her carriage to emulate the subtle affectations of Cardassian posture, which Varayk unconsciously duplicated as he approached.
Mira’s back was ramrod straight with her eyes unwavering on Varayk’s face, and her neck ever-so-slightly retracted so that it wasn’t at full length. The latter was a gesture of subordination, though one near imperceptible to others. Varayk, by comparison, had extended his own neck to the fullest extent, his chin angled up despite Mira being nearly a head shorter. He waited until she was beside him to turn, and they walked side-by-side over to the biobed, their strides matching step unconsciously so as to prevent either showing their back to the other.
Another contrast of their bearings was the position of hands; Varayk’s clasped behind his back, and Mira’s forming a diamond shape over her navel as she pressed her thumbs together atop, and the remainder of her fingers together below. Superiors had earned the right to concealment. Subordinates had not.
Kaavi watched this exchange with some curiosity, as though she was blind to the nuance and meaning of the movements, she could tell the change in both individual’s postures. She fidgeted anxiously as they both disappeared inside the privacy screen, and hoped that things would go well for her friend.
“Ensign, what is your preferred form of address?” he asked, gesturing with one hand to the biobed.
Mira’s heart thudded in her chest, as she mulled over the simple question. “You may call me Amora,” she said after a brief pause. It was the name she’d gone by for over 18 years, until an Academy advisor had suggested her time in Starfleet might progress easier with a less-Cardassian sounding name. Even a decade after the Dominion War, hatred still flourished.
“Amora,” he echoed, and gathered his tricorder once more.
Mira took a seat on the biobed, and waited while Varayk scanned her with the tricorder. He hadn’t needed to revisit her chart any, for it was interesting enough for him to have looked the moment he’d been granted access. Cardassian-Bajoran hybrids weren’t uncommon so to speak, but they were the sort of anomalies that tended to be shuttled off to a backwater planet somewhere, where their existence couldn’t have been held against the prominent male who had fathered them.
It was always prominent men. While lesser men during the Occupation could rape the women of Bajor, the relations rarely resulted in a child. Either the women were too malnourished for the pregnancy to take hold, the child was lost later from a combination of beatings and starvation, or the child was aborted. When that failed, the fathers of said children-- knowing their peers would report back on such indiscretions to buoy their own careers-- had the children killed and the bodies destroyed.
By comparison, prominent Cardassians had the leks and the connections to procure comfort women, who were granted additional food and other such resources to serve their master’s whims. When children were conceived, cockiness made these men believe they could hide their dirty little secrets from anyone who might use it against them.
They certainly didn’t take those children back to Cardassia Prime, which was where Mira’s records indicated she was from. Then again, Mira’s circumstances were a little bit different, for it wasn’t her father that had partaken in some extracurricular pleasure with a Bajoran… but a Bajoran who had acted in a way that likely caused creative, excruciating torture and ultimately death.
By raping a Cardassian woman.
In his mind, there was no guesswork behind why Mira was allowed to be born, and to grow up on Cardassia Prime. By the time she was born, the Occupation had become extremely unpopular on the homeworld, with civilians unable to grasp how such backwater people could cause so much trouble. Cardassians were dying. The personnel resources to keep the Occupation going were in short supply. They needed to villainize the Bajoran people, and what better way than to show the animalistic nature of their men. For on the surface, Cardassia was all about family, regardless of what was widely known to transpire behind closed doors.
Most people would have taken the doctor’s silence with anxiety, and attempted to alleviate that with inane chatter. Mira knew, though, that the sort of “bedside conversation” that was the hallmark of a good human doctor was looked down upon amongst many Cardassians. And as she expected, Varayk did not speak again until he’d completed his scans. “Are you unwell?”
“I am not,” she replied. She bit down on her lower lip, though, to fight back words that demanded to be spoken. He, more than anyone else, would understand how hard it was to be in Starfleet. How people were judgemental, or afraid, or hostile. But doctors didn’t befriend patients where they came from.
Particularly, those who were considered second-class citizens.
Her expression was one of genuine shock when it was Varayk who broke the rhetoric. “If you ever need to talk to someone who understands, please let me know.”
