Power Games

Posted on 03 Mar 2015 @ 11:28pm by Seleya Qellar Ph.D. & Commander Norvi Stace

1,928 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 4, Chief Science Officer's Office
Timeline: MD -02 - 18:03 hrs

[ ON ]

Seleya was incensed, and she had every intention of letting the Chief Science Officer know about it. From the moment she signed her contract with Starfleet it had been one incompetent screw-up after another, the sort of bureaucratic nonsense one never experienced in the Romulan Star Empire. And, where such obstacles were found, they were quickly cleared up with a political knife in the back. It was bad enough she was treated like she'd just retired from Tal Shiar, bad enough that everyone scrutinized her, bad enough that she was forced to live inside what passed as a storage closet on a Romulan ship with a man that was a half-step away from insufferable. But this? This was the absolute last straw, and she had no intention of suffering these indignities any longer.

Uninvited, she passed through the doors of Lieutenant Commander Norvi Stace's office like a raging storm. She skillfully tossed a data PADD at the woman's desk so that it slid across the surface to stop in front of the Trill and then crossed her arms in front of her chest. Furious impatience was written all over her face; she felt she had been pushed to the limit such that her usually placid exterior simply would not do. Clearly subtlety and diplomatic niceties didn't work on this ship, so it was time she visited her wrath upon someone in the fullness of its glory.

"If you believe that I will continue working on this vessel under these conditions, then you are quite mistaken, Lieutenant Commander. The fact that this ship passes for a science vessel makes it seem as if someone at Starfleet Command has gone out of their way to visit a cruel joke upon the scientific community. It is little more than a glorified sensor array operated by the side show of a three-ring circus composed of the strange, the obscene, and the absurd."

Stace's eyes raised up from the padd that she was studying with a flare as the unsightly woman careered into her office. It was rare that she was disturbed so abruptly in her own sanctuary and as such seemed to blink ferociously as the turn of events began to unfold before her. She cleared her throat, gently put down the padd and broke into a false smile so disingenuous that, for a moment, her face screwed up to the brink of it cracking.

Without saying a word, Stace then powered up the console to her left, downloaded the transit and trade routes and then met with the Romulan's steely gaze again. "That's not a problem, Professor Qellar. I can arrange for a cargo vessel to escort you back from our rendezvous coordinates at the NIMBUS event in..." she tapped the console again and then returned to her, "eighteen hours. It's a waste disposal vessel heading to the Narendra system. I imagine that that should give you enough time to get your shit together and out of my labs. In fact," she added, arching both brows in a flutter, "I would deem it rather an apt sort of escort for you what with your current display of an atrocious and disrespectful attitude. To me. In my office. And in the department of which I am ultimately responsible for. A responsibility with which you uncategorically feel I am failing in." Stace then interlaced her fingers and then subtly leant forward. "Would you like me to help you pack? Or should I just arrange for someone to throw your shit out of the airlock for you?"

"I feel the end result would likely be the same given your managerial performance up to this point, so I haven't a preference either way," Seleya snapped. She pointedly ignored the cargo ship offer and comment on her own behavior and pressed on into the heart of her commentary with all the self-importance of a person who believed she should be the only person in the room speaking in the first place.

"I daresay your so-called 'planetary development lab' is the most sparsely equipped scientific facility of its kind. I've found better equipment on backwater colonies! Your particle bombardment equipment is so antiquated as to be completely unsuitable for modern gene insertion techniques, assuming one can even access it in the first place. I have been unable to conduct experimentation or active research on no less than three separate occasions during my duty shift due to other people, scientists I suppose you could call them if you were being extremely generous, occupying equipment or stations that I needed for my work. This laissez-faire system of...cooperation...is simply appalling and deeply inefficient. I demand to be provided with my own equipment and my own laboratory space at once."

"Argh!" Stace squirmed, blowing the air through her cheeks in an emphatically pronounced way. She cocked her head to the side and then clicked her teeth. Sucking the air back in, she continued. "Now, you see, Professor, I have the means and the authorisation to grant you these menial requests. It wouldn't be so difficult for me to isolate, say, the multi-purpose lab on deck seven and roster the crew to the others on decks three and four." She now placed both hands on the desk in front of her and then scrunched up her nose. "But, I'm now concerned with rewarding your deplorable behaviour with a positive, and reinforcing the notion you undoubtedly hold that, if you spit at someone hard enough, you get what you want."

She broke eye contact and then checked her nails, flicking the bed of her middle finger with the pad of her thumb. Returning her attention back to the Romulan, she added, "This is a very small ship, Professor. We all get under each other's feet at one time or another. If you wanted less cramped conditions, you should have perhaps researched our facilities a little more thoroughly. Doesn't quite lend itself to the scientific curiosity someone of your academic prowess should uphold. Hmm? I'm - uh - I'm simply at a loss of how to proceed with this. You've put me in a very difficult situation."

Seleya rolled her eyes. "Surely neither one of us believes I'm susceptible to something as basic as operant/instrumental modification. And if you're resisting to save face then rest assured I have little interest in playing politics, so your reputation won't be diminished by petty gossiping. More to the point, I'm not in the habit of asking for things that I don't need, so if you feel it's going to embolden me by granting my requests then you misunderstand me in the first place.

"I'm not a petulant and spoiled child throwing a tantrum; I'm a respected and well-regarded researcher demanding my rightful place aboard this ship. I assure you I did my due diligence before applying for this program, and, for whatever misguided reasons, went out of my way to request this posting specifically. Imagine my surprise, then, to arrive aboard a ship where I'm not given the space, much less the equipment, that my work demands. Now, I would suggest you proceed by allotting dedicated research space for me and instructing the quartermaster to allow me to use the industrial replicator to fashion the equipment I need. I'm sure the Bureau of Colonial Affairs would be immensely grateful for your cooperation, and I can stay out from under your feet, as you say."

The Romulan scientist raised her chin slightly so that she could look down her nose at the seated Trill. She had fought and fought hard for the things she needed all her life, raging against systems and institutions designed to keep her in her "place" in one regard or another, and she certainly wasn't about to back down in the face of some chain-of-command nonsense and the established order of things.

"Your 'rightful place' on this vessel is not in question, Professor," Norvi replied evenly if a little condescending. "What is in question, however, is your conduct. I assume, by now, that you are aware of our size; a large department shoe-horned into a tin can the size of which a sardine fish wouldn't be envious of. And, unfortunately for you, I am ultimately responsible for the smooth running of everything. That is," she then added, holding up her hand to prevent an interjection, "if I can make myself crystal clear to you: All military and civilian operations on board this vessel. I don't have time for your self-righteous attitude, Professor. And I won't entertain it. Am I understood?"

Whereas initially, when Doctor Killer had first crossed paths with the Trill, there was an element of delight; of intellectual jostling, between the two that Norvi was, for lack of a better word, looking forward to exploring, she had quickly come to realise that the Romulan, to her mind, was simply a bully. She may have had to fought to get to her elevated status, but some attitudes stuck far past their necessity. It wasn't the Trill's place to chop her down at the knees, injecting a lack-luster impotency to her aggressive and overbearing behaviour, but it was her goal. But then she conceded.

"Listen, Professor. This isn't about whacking your dick on the table to see who has the biggest academic accolades. And how big a clout your cock can swing. This is about emotional behaviour and your complete and utter lack of regard for anyone else. You, in your entirety," Stace made a circular gesture, caressing, almost, the Romulan's aura, "make me not want to help you. At all. And that's as simple as it gets. I'd love to be the bigger person, turn the other cheek and just hand you what you're bellowing for. But I won't. I'm too long in the tooth to make room for your shit. Am I clear? 'Now, I would suggest you proceed' by taking a good, long hard look at yourself, how you interact with those with a smidge of authority over the arena for which you require help, and address it."

She paused and then picked up her padd casually. Not looking at her she added, "Now if there's nothing further, you're dismissed."

Seleya almost slipped in her training; for a fraction of a second she forgot how much power you surrendered to another person when you allowed them to make you angry. She was accustomed to getting what she wanted and to be denied by this...this...woman with a parasite lodged in her abdomen was infuriating, to say the least.

But it was a slight that would have to be avenged another time. She'd gotten as far as she would get in one day, denied her request but learning a great deal about the lieutenant commander, her personality and her limits. Much like Norvi, she'd felt an evolution in their relationship that took them a step away from intellectual curiosity toward outright adversary. In a very Romulan sort of way, it was something of a victory, actually, a strategic withdrawal that was just another part of the long game.

Without dignifying the Trill's crude assessment with comment, Seleya turned on her heel and left. One enemy down, only ninety-nine more to go...

OFF:

Lieutenant Commander Norvi Stace
Chief Science Officer & Second Officer
USS Galileo

Seleya Qellar, Ph.D.
Biotechnologist
USS Galileo
[ PNPC - Mott ]

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