Great Expectations

Posted on 26 Feb 2024 @ 10:16pm by Chief Petty Officer Katja Becker & Master Chief Petty Officer Toren Vral

2,671 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 19 - Tomorrow's Galileo
Location: USS Galileo-A Deck 1 - Conference Room
Timeline: MD02 - 1000hrs

[ON]

Toren stood before the panoramic windows of the conference room, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out into the vast expanse of space that the USS Galileo drifted within. The stars, usually a source of contemplation and solace, seemed to blur as his mind churned with the weight of their current situation. The ship, now flung far from its original timeline, bore the responsibility of an unimaginable mission – to alter the course of history itself. Amidst this monumental task, Toren found himself grappling with the more immediate challenge of integrating a new crew member under extraordinary circumstances.

The room was prepared meticulously for the meeting – PADDs neatly aligned on the table, each containing volumes of information and protocols that would seem alien to anyone from their original time. However, the seat across from Toren remained empty, the silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the ship's operations. Chief Becker, the latest addition to his crew and someone about whom he knew surprisingly little, was late. In the normal course of events, Toren would have reached out to his network, gathering whispers and tidbits that painted a picture of a person beyond the dry facts of a personnel file. This time, however, the usual streams of information were dammed by their displacement in time.

Katja Becker – a name on a record, framed by the briefest outlines of a life spent in service, and yet a mystery. Toren knew the basics: her birth aboard the SS Ticonderoga, her service as a combat medic during the Dominion War, and her various postings that followed. The stark facts spoke of a capable officer, but they were silent on the nuances of her character, the trials she'd faced, and the scars she bore, both visible and otherwise. It was these unseen aspects of her being that concerned Toren the most. Every officer had their shadows, but in their current predicament, the weight of those shadows could tip the scales in unforeseen ways.

He turned from the window as the door chimed its notice of someone's arrival. The moment had come to meet the Chief face to face, to gauge the measure of her spirit, and to begin the delicate task of weaving her into the fabric of the crew. The door slid open with a hiss, and Toren's gaze settled on the figure stepping into the room. Katja's appearance was striking – the visible tattoos, the platinum blonde hair with its shaved sides, and the geometric lines encircling her neck – all spoke of a life and culture far removed from the standard Starfleet mold. Her blue eyes, carrying depths untold, met his, and he gave a small nod.

"Chief Becker," Toren began, his tone weaving the warmth of welcome with his seasoned timbre. "Glad you could make it, though I reckon our notion of time might be a bit skewed these days." He offered a half-smile, an olive branch of sorts. "Let's not stand on ceremony here. Take a seat, and let's chart the course ahead. We've got a sea of stars to navigate, and from what I gather, you're no stranger to rough waters."

Katja's eyebrows slowly rose as the COB waxed poetic about time and waters and stars or something. Something obviously was lost in translation. "Ah...sure. I just received notice of this meeting...well. Maybe 10 minutes ago? I was out on the hull imitating a...uh...whatsit called? Staubsauger..." Becker halted and snapped her fingers a couple of times while she thought furiously for the translation. "Hoover? Vacuum? Ach. My delivery was terrible."

"I'm usually not..." Katja sighed. Klingon blood wine. Nothing good ever came from Klingon blood wine. She frowned at herself, but took his offer to have a seat. One did not look a gift chair in the mouth.

"Vacuum hm?" Toren half smiled then nodded, his antennae bouncing slightly, "Cleaning up messes. What are we here for but tryin' to clean up the vast mess the universe throws our way."

He glanced out of the window, taking in the chaos of the Pleiades before continuing, "Chief Becker you might be wanting to keep a diary whilst on board this ship. Timing may have become a tad... abstract of late, but the Captain is something of a stickler and I have pledged to ensure this ship is kept the very tightest regardless of the century we inhabit."

He paused and looked back to Katja, his gravelly tone taking on a more serious note, "You are my most senior officer in Medical. If you are like to miss a meeting then I expect to be informed. If you are like to not be on station when you should be then I had better be informed." He narrowed his eyes a little, then eased his voice, "If I know then I can accommodate. If I don't then the dominoes begin to fall. Consider yerself informed."

Katja said nothing but blinked unevenly at the COB. Her expression didn't change one bit...but one eye closed slightly slower than the other one. For any who knew Becker, it was a sign of intense emotion.

"I don't do diaries. I don't want to remember anymore than what I have to...or what my brain won't let me forget." Her tone was cool, but the words were from the heart.

She put her head in her hands and scrubbed her face, running fingers back through the unruly waves as she considered what to say next.

"and...I am so informed." It was enough to let the lingering headache get another foothold, and steadily increasing throbbing pain pulsed in time with her heart. Delightful.

"You respect timeliness, Chief; and you have my apologies. I respect timeliness too - and this is not the first impression I wanted. However, is there anything further you would like to discuss? I have just been lent to engineering...and from what I've been hearing over the comm channels they are trying to beg, borrow, and steal time."

Toren's gaze softened slightly, a tacit acknowledgment of the raw honesty she'd just shared. He understood the weight of memories all too well, the kind that clawed at you in the quiet moments, the ones you'd give anything to forget but were doomed to carry. His posture relaxed as he considered her response, recognising the sign of someone who'd been through the wringer and come out the other side, not unscathed but resilient.

"Diaries aren't for everyone, as you say. If you want to carry on with an eye fixed on the horizon then I shan't get in your way." He paused, tapping the table idly, "Other's might though. The brass collars can get quite fixated on the whens and wheres."

He locked eyes with her, his antennae swaying a little, "As Chief of the Boat I'm here to ensure you are protected and able to be effective, as much as anythin' else. The whys of you bein' here and this conversation are as important as anything else I'd say."

He tapped the PADD in front of him, "No need for most of these formalities," his finger scrolled through some of the more irrelevant parts of the procedure, "Others can wait till we have a bit more time."

He allowed the text on the PADD to scroll and once again looked to the window, "You know, Chief," he began, "there's an old saying among those of us who've spent more time in the belly of a starship than on solid ground. It goes something like, 'Officers command a starship, but the crew are the ones who truly keep her soaring.'

He chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to rumble up from deep within him. "Officers, bless them, they come to us fresh from the Academy, filled with theories and ideals, eager to make their mark. They're the visionaries, the dreamers, often bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and brimming with the best of intentions." Toren's eyes twinkled with a mix of fondness and amusement at the thought. "And that's all well and good. We need that, the drive, the ambition. But," he said, his tone becoming more serious, "it's the NCOs who translate those dreams into reality. We're the ones who understand the heart and soul of a ship, who know our crew's strengths and weaknesses, who keep things running smoothly day in and day out."

He shifted his gaze directly to Katja, ensuring he had her full attention. "You, Chief Becker, are now one of the linchpins in this finely tuned machine we call the USS Galileo. You're not just responsible for patching us up and sending us on our way; you're tasked with leading, with guiding the less experienced, and yes, with keeping those well-meaning officers grounded in the reality of navigating through the universe."

Toren paused, allowing his words to sink in. "There's only a handful of us in the senior NCO ranks aboard this vessel," he continued. "Myself, you, and Chief Naime. That's it. That means the weight on your shoulders is significant. Regardless of any inclinations you might have towards solitude or staying out of the limelight, the crew will look to you for leadership, for assurance, for direction."

He leaned back, carefully watching her expression, "I expect you to rise to this obligation."

"Most the of the leaders I've worked with do. I aim to meet that expectation, Chief." It might have been slightly saucy, but it was far more positive than what she wanted to say about her track record 'disappointing' her superiors. Wars had ways of changing people. Katja went from dreaming about the future to scrabbling to get through the day. Not that she would complain. She had made the choice willingly, years ago - and would make the same ones a hundred times over. Besides, where else could she have gotten the nifty bio-prosthetic leg that malfunctioned at the most 'interesting' times?

Toren grunted with approval, "I will hold you to that." He habitually tapped the PADD in front of him, his antennaes twitching a little, "I make no bones about my intentions here - I will be moulding this crew into something tight knit. Knowing that anyone you meet aboard has your back is the hallmark of the finest vessels and the Galileo will be counted amongst them."

He refocussed his attention on the PADD, "So I don't want to be going over your whole file with you, but there are a few things I'd be happy to know more about." He tapped the screen, halting the scroll, "I see you joined up during the Dominion War," his antennae shifted forward a little, "What front did you find yourself on?"

Katja looked away from Toren and down to her hands that had gone rather still atop the table they currently rested on. Sheisse. He wanted to go there? Now?

"I usually do my ruminating over a bier or a whiskey." She silently sighed and then continued. "I suppose you could say...THE front. I saw action at The Second Battle of DS9, Torros III, both Battles of Chin'toka, and the Battle of Cardassia - That's where I picked up my souvenirs. Then oodles of skirmishes...it was a very busy time for a combat medic."

Toren let out a humourless, monosyllabic laugh, "Busy weren't the half of it." He prodded a welt on his forehead, "That was Cardassia for me." His finger traced a grey scar that ran from his cheek to his jaw, "This was Betazed." He nodded slowly, "Souvenirs indeed."

He exhaled slowly and scrutinised the officer in front of him, "Dark times they were. Suredly better to share such tales over something strong as you say. Though that'll have to wait a time. Captain Tarin in her wisdom has declared this ship dry as a bone." He paused for a moment, but did not make his personal feelings on the decision known, "So it is synthehol or nothin', and that's all smoke an' no powder."

Katja stared at her hands as she heard for the second time in one day how the captain ran a 'dry' ship. She wanted to rail against the unfairness of that...and yet such battles were often pyrrhic in nature, so she kept her mouth shut. Let's not give the COB any more reason to scrutinize her.

"I am more than happy to never discuss them again, Chief, to be honest." Katja huffed at her own comment. So much honesty. It was so very unlike her.

And yet...Katja saw Voren's eyes...and they were eyes that missed nothing. A visceral decision. The truth was the only acceptable defense.

"I'm not sure if I'm the type of NCO you're looking for to achieve your dream here, Chief...but...I'll try."

"We all have our demons Chief Becker," Toren's gravelly tone took on a slight softness - long shadows had been cast over his own past and present. The shift to the future had left a lot of loose ends that he hoped he could either resolve or come to terms with by the time they returned to 2392.

"But they don't define us. They lurk in the shade and test our spirit. An' sometimes in the darkest of moments we draw upon them, use 'em to kick ourselves onto another level." He met her gaze - he could see resolve there, and something more. What it was... well he wouldn't find out this meeting.

"As for my 'dream' here," he continued, "it's soon to be a reality. You'll be a part of it an' I believe you have more to offer than you might think."

Katja smiled and nodded...but didn't believe a single word that came out of the Andorian's mouth. Oh, it wasn't him...it was definitely, definitely her.

"I am suitably inspired, Chief."

"Hm," Toren frowned a little. He caught the edge of her smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes, and he knew well the dance of skepticism and the walls built by years of hard service.

"Suitably inspired, huh?" He leaned back slightly, the light from the stars playing across his blue skin. "Well, that's a start. But inspiration's only the spark, Chief Becker. It's what you do with it that'll set this ship ablaze or leave us drifting in the cold."

He stood up, signaling the end of their meeting but not the conversation. "Just remember, this crew, this 'dream' of mine - it's made up of individuals just like you, each with their own battles, their own 'souvenirs.' Together, we'll turn those experiences into something greater than the sum of our parts."

Toren offered a final nod, "I'll be keeping an eye out, Chief Becker. Not just on you, but with you. We're in this together, after all."

As he gestured towards the door, he paused, meeting her eyes with a smirk dancing on his lips. "And when we do find that beer or whiskey, we'll toast to being 'suitably inspired'."

Katja stood a few seconds after Toren. So the meeting was over then? Was his curiosity suitably slaked? She hoped so.

"Understood." She responded simply. There didn't seem to be much more to say in the moment. The COB would be watching; be on your best behavior. That's what she took from it. Fair enough. Try not to disappoint.

Why did she feel, somewhere deep down, like that was going to be a forgone conclusion?

"For what it's worth...thanks for the break, Chief. Walking a deflector dish, looking for tiny things that don't play well with EV suits is not in my top 10 things of I enjoy doing."

"I'll see you again, soon, Chief Becker. Once things get a bit less crisis and a bit more... normal," he snorted a 'ha', "around here, we'll have another talk. Stay sharp."

"Aye Master Chief. Knife's edge."

[OFF]

--

MCPO Toren Vral
Chief of the Boat
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Vala]

&

CPO Katja Becker
Medical Officer
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Sera]

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