Tête-à-Tête

Posted on 16 Jan 2023 @ 8:22pm by Lieutenant Commander Maurice Rubens & Lieutenant Noah Khoroushi

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Itonian Bajada
Timeline: MD09: 1030 HR
2144 words - 4.3 OF Standard Post Measure

Rice was sitting at a small desk in a room in an empty shop in the settlement’s market place. He’d asked his guide for a place to sit, think, and take notes while waiting for Khoroushi to join him. Izatti, anxious to start learning the local dialect, had left to explore. The tan jacket he’d been wearing was hanging from the back of his chair, but the thin scarf remained looped around his neck. It and the rest of his civilian clothes were already dusty from the short walk from the runabout to the settlement.

One hand cradled his chin, while the other used a stylus to make slashing notes on the PADD as he tried to diffuse everything he’d seen on the way to this place into a few words.

He looked up just as Noah walked in, “Lieutenant Khoroushi? Maurice Rubens,” he said standing to shake the other man’s hand. “Thank you for taking the time. You’re busy.”

Still wearing the burka he had donned, Noah looked anything but the typical diplomatic officer. He’d discovered that the new Chief Diplomatic officer was finally in residence and had arrived at the Itonian Settlement to see him. Well, he was here, stubble and overgrown hair notwithstanding. He was only chagrined that his presence was likely a detriment in the eyes of a senior officer. “Not a problem, Commander. I would have been here sooner.”

“No worries. Do you have a minute to fill me in on the Romulan refugees?”

“Of course,” Noah offered, taking a seat as the man indicated before delving into a concise recitation of facts up to the moment of his departure. “Presently Commander Dhow is coordinating the placement of the first parties while I make arrangements for the next installment.”

Rice listened intently, stylus scratching away, nodding. “Thank you,” he said as Noah finished. “I read your report on everything, but hearing it again is always welcome. Do you have any concerns about Hazami? Have you made any approaches to mollify him?”

It took Noah a moment to place the name, but he shook his head. “Nothing that would upset matters in the eyes of the planet’s government. The decision to house the refugees was legally placed in the hands of the Bajada settlement, and it will be their duty to ensure they do not overreach the bounds of their territory. That said,” Noah leaned back in his seat, “I’ve seen the structure and the open space available could easily suffice a group three times the refugees’ size. There is a viable cistern system that has been upgraded by the El Aurians to allow resources enough for everyone present - including crops and livestock.”

“Hmm. That’s quite a few more. I rode down to the planet with a family. The grandmother wasn’t too pleased to be in the Federation, but the children were excited about the adventure,” Rice said. As he was speaking, he made a notation about Khoroushi’s skipping the discussion of this Hazami person – had he forgotten who the presiding chief was? – as well as his misplaced faith in laws. Rice found his note linked to reports on the recent genocide and the violation of the Sunstorm Truce. He underlined the note again and set a reminder to reread the relevant material on the event.

He looked up, not realizing that he’d allowed their conversation to fall into silence. “Sorry. I spent my trip out here reading reports and personnel files. But there's so much. Plus, it only gives me a sense of the big picture, but not of the minutiae.”

Noah hadn't missed the distracted air as the man made his notes. It was something he noticed in some others in the Diplomat corps; picking apart a situation in their mind, forgetting where they were in the present. Granted, it wasn't a condition unique to the field, but something about the over-all air had never quite set well with him. "I have time if you have more questions on the details."

“No. We should move on,” Rice said, picking up his stylus again. He flipped to a marked file and Noah’s personnel file popped onto the screen. He didn’t need to read it, but he began to all the same. “You were Ops, cross trained after being wounded. You’d think after all these decades, Starfleet would design a console that didn’t explode.”

"You're assuming that we have inside knowledge to the full impact of all our enemies weapons at any given moment," Though the man likely meant it as a joke, it was an old one that didn't always sit well. Still, Noah offered a half-smile as he shook his head. "The day that happens, we'll have fully automated vessels and no need for a sentient crew to manage them; until then, we press on the best we can. Unfortunately, Operations is more than just monitoring computer systems; I could have stayed in the area after I was released from recovery, but seeing as much of my physical engagement would be limited, I chose to branch out to an area that would let me utilize my existing skills to some degree and build on what I already knew.

“Recovery on Starbase 10,” the diplomat paused, allowing a memory of another recovery ward form in his mind. “I did my recovery on Starbase 12. The initial half of it, anyway. I was sent to a hospital on Vulcan that dealt with…well, everything that comes from surviving.”

Noah shook his head on a snort of laughter. "There's surviving and not, Commander. I prefer the former - discomforts and all. If anything, it's more entertaining than the alternative. So, may I ask how long you've served in the Corps?" Unlike Rubens, Noah didn't have the luxury of knowing about the man before he spoke with him.

Rice looked at Noah quizzically. The question caught him off guard. When was the last time another diplomat – especially one who worked for the Federation – have to ask about his experience? Then he reminded himself: Khoroushi wasn’t a real diplomat yet. “I’ve been on detached service to the Department of the Exterior since I graduated the Academy. My last posting in the DOE was as the undersecretary of Diplomatic Security, but I’ve also been a consul general on Cardassia and a deputy head of mission to the Romulan Free State.”

The man clearly had the experience to back up his superiority. Noah took note and mentally reminded himself to keep his temper in check. It was rare he lost control, but the long hours lately poured into the colonization project were beginning to tell. "Then it sounds as if we are fortunate to have your experience out here, Commander."

“Hmm. Well, I hope that proves to be true. Listen, I know I've just arrived and have been learning about our situation here mainly through reports, but I've some concerns I'd like to run passed you."

Noah inclined his head. "I'm all ears, sir."

“For starters, we’re significantly understaffed. You are – hmm. Were the senior diplomatic officer on the station before I arrived, but according to the duty logs you’ve been doing some shifts as an operations officer.”

"That would be because the station as a whole is considerably understaffed at this time, and Operations did not have established leadership at the time. You cannot prioritize interspecies relations when you don't have a viable living and working space to operate from. Once Lieutenant Hokir got her feet under her, I was able to focus more on my department."

Rice’s face remained placid, but his frustration began to grow. “There seems to be a theme on Obsidian Command that its Diplomatic Corps only works in ideal situations. We will work in Zero-G suits and get our nutrients from pills if we have to: our work takes a back seat to nothing.” He waited a moment and then, while he jotted down an observation, said, “Let’s move on.”

“The Pathfinder left on a mission," Rice continued, "Every time that ship goes out there should be a senior diplomatic officer aboard. It doesn’t matter where its going or what its doing. I know that the Romulan issue here seems paramount, but it’s not as important as what the Captain is doing now.”

Noah inhaled. It was a viable point. "Very true, but as I was the only diplomatic officer until now, and we had the very real and present crisis of needing a resolution to the refugee crisis, Command put priority on the Kalaran project."

“Huh,” Rice grunted. He wondered at Command: did they not think much of Khoroushi? Or did they not think much of diplomacy?

“Forget it. Orders are orders,” he said with little conviction. He made a note on his PADD before speaking again, “My last concern is the Romulans. This is an L-class planet with limited resources and a native population with a history of xenophobia and a recent case of genocide to boot. Now there are a couple dozen Romulan families settling here. Their people don’t have the best track record with prejudice either. In fact, one of them called me a ‘half-breed’ in the shuttle on our way down. I'm worried we’re building a tinderbox.”

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course," Rice told him.

Noah allowed the barest pause before pressing in. "Everything you are listing here is valid, and to be honest I am grateful we have a dedicated officer for the position of Chief Diplomatic officer at hand. However, while I may not have your experience in this field, I do have plenty of experience in interpersonal relations and Fleet history - to say nothing of my own planet's less than stellar past. There has seldom if ever been a time in our history that the Federation has been presented with an ideal situation. Even the best have proven problematic at their core, and some of the more rocky starts have yielded the best results. What is going on planet-side is less than ideal, I agree. However, though I have been serving in the position of a diplomat, my position in the over-all situation has been advisory. The El Aurian settlement is headed by civilians with a strong understanding of the risks they were taking on.

"Am I content with the outcome of the council decision to let the refugees join their colony? Only insomuch that it is providing at least a temporary home to a people ripped from everything they know that is not some box floating in space. Genocide - while wide-spread and encompassing - is seldom an opinion shared by the whole, but rather the outspoken few, and the best way at overcoming such ideology? Lending impetus to the many to stamp out the hate. Our proposal tipped a balance - whether it will prove enough to cause change right away, I cannot tell you, but in that moment it was enough, and to me, that is a battle won in the over-arching war. So, I am sorry if my actions here have not lived up to what is typically expected of a Diplomatic Officer. That does not mean that I will challenge your direction or question you in the future; as long as you are doing your duty, mine will be to follow your lead."

Rice considered Noah for a long moment. “Lieutenant, in the future I’d appreciate it if you don’t compare what we do with warfare, even in metaphorical terms,” he said.

He wrote a final note on his PADD and then shut it off. “It’s my understanding that there are more refugees on their way. I think the best thing is for you to remain here and continue to liaise with Itonian Bajada’s leadership and the Romulans. Let me know how I can be of assistance. Thank you for your time.”

"Yes sir." Keeping his smile in place, Noah inclined his head. "If there is nothing more, I'll return to my work."

Rice called out to the departing officer, “You’ll know from your rigorous study of Fleet history that one of the reasons these Romulans have been floating around in boxes, dodging civil war, and running from warlords because Starfleet made them promises it decided wasn’t worth keeping when things got tough for us. It's grown into a habit over the last dozen years, so let’s avoid pledges to these people this time around, okay? Dismissed.”

Noah paused to turn and face the man. "I have nothing to say to Star Fleet's track record, Commander; however, when I make a promise I keep it. Good day, Sir."