Security Measures

Posted on Sat Jan 16th, 2010 @ 8:18pm by Captain T'mpest Michaels & Lieutenant Commander Eliza McAdams

2,146 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Balowlli System
Location: Security Office
Timeline: current

ON:

T'mpest walked into the security office looking for the Chief. She wanted to meet the woman and find out what her policy was on weapons. Specifically, she wanted to know if she should unpack her Scottish Claymore and ahn-woon or leave them where they were until she was reassigned. Not everyone appreciated ancient weapons on a Starship, even though both were part of T'mpest's heritage and she used them in one of her exercise routines. They were great for strength and dexterity and she liked the way they looked hanging on her wall.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?"

The young petty officer manning the front desk looked frazzled, an appearance that matched the general atmosphere of the offices and accounted for much of the sullen silence that was only broken from time to time by people consulting each other on various aspects of their allotted tasks. The despondancy was difficult to place since it didn't immediately seem to be the result of conflict or overwork but it hung in the air like the thick electricity before a thunderstorm. Security work might not have lent itself towards swinging from the rafters but neither should it have produced so maudlin apathy. If nothing else, the entire staff seemed exhausted.

T'mpest raised an eyebrow. The sullen apathy was palpable and... uncomfortable. T'mpest liked to look on the bright -- and logical -- side of things. She knew her attitude was unusual for a Vulcan, but she was only half Vulcan and liked to think she'd taken the best of both sides of her nature. She smiled cheerfully at the Petty Officer. "Is Lieutenant Martin available?"

A brief nod issued forth to accompany the extended arm that indicated the Security Chief's door. Nothing more was said, which wasn't exactly courteous but at the same time the gold-clad officer wasn't being intentionally disrespectful and the harried look on his face gave adequate reason for why a lack of communication might have been preferrable. His hands danced across the console with the desperate speed of someone who had too much to do and greatly suspected he had not even half the amount of time needed to complete it.

T'mpest nodded in thanks, not wanting to take up any more of his time. She walked in the direction indicated, glancing briefly at the others in the room as she made her way to the Security Chief's door.

The door was closed, so T'mpest rang the chime and waited calmly for a response.

Sitting idle was not something that Kathryn Martin believed in.

Oh, there were times when the case you were working on required concentration, focus and the ability to stay in one place and really analyse the data, but sitting still was not the same as being idle. Her life alternated between the flurry of activity that came from collecting data, gathering evidence, executing her duties, attending to departmental procedure and the long, quiet moments of mentally processing her priorities so that each and every responsibility she'd been charged with had been given the careful consideration and attention it warranted. She could juggle several tasks at once or she could dedicate hours to pedantic detail, but she was always doing something. Some would say she had no idea how not to.

As she quietly gave permission for her visitor to enter, it might have been hard to imagine just what task the Security Chief was hoping to achieve with both elbows resting against her desk and her head clutched between her hands, bowed inwards so that her chin rested against her chest and the rise and fall of her shoulders marked the deliberately slow and even intake of breath before it was exhaled slowly. There were no PADDs on her desk, her terminal screen displayed the seal of the United Federation of Planets and though it was possible the woman had been dictating a report for recording, it was unlikely that it would have been entirely distinct given that her voice would have been directed at her boots. If the atmosphere outside had been dejected then this was clearly the bleeding wound that was oozing slow infection into its immediate vicinity.

Kathryn Martin was not happy.

T'mpest walked into the room and paused. She tried very hard not to pick up the emotions in the room, but they were so strong it wasn't easy. They seemed to wash over and through her like a storm cloud. An unpleasant one at that.

She took a moment to examine the room and the woman at the desk. It was not her place to pry, but, being Vulcan, she couldn't help but say, "I find meditation works well for clearing away the clouds of negative emotion and allowing the mind to look at things in a more abstract manner. The right music serves much the same function," she added.

Green eyes emerged from their cocoon, tired yet mildly startled to find that her visitor wasn't just another of her staff asking her to sign off on something. Kate wasn't a socialite, she didn't tend to mingle with the crew unless she had to interact with them professionally, but this was a small ship and she'd been here long enough and had paid enough specific attention to at least recognise most of the crew. It was therefore slightly disconcerting that she'd never seen this woman before in her life.

Sitting slowly back in her chair, the Security Chief managed a faint smile before allowing the back of her head to sink against the soft upholstery of the leather head-rest. "They taught us meditation techniques at the Academy, for a semester at least. Part of the general health and well-being aspect of security work, an attempt to make it clear that the job wasn't necessarily about being as tough and stubborn as you could push yourself to be." She didn't usually find casual conversation the easiest to engage in but Kate was tired, very tired, and somewhat lacking her usual vicious control on her own thoughts. With a faint huff of humourless laughter, she added, "I never did do very well in that class."

"If it wasn't taught by a Vulcan, it didn't count," T'mpest replied with a half smile. "Only Vulcans -- and a few Bajorans -- truly appreciate the benefits of meditation.' She bowed to the woman. "T'mpest Michaels. I'm the new Intel officer."

She watched the other woman for a moment. "Although, in your case, sleep is probably what you need most. Sleep and then meditation."

Ah, Intel. It took all of Kate's resolve to avoid sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. Sleep was likely a good idea but a massive dose of painkillers for her headache probably wouldn't have gone astray either. Recent events involving Intel had made Kate realise why her very first superior officer had disliked the department so much and she'd have been lying had she not admitted to hoping that StarFleet Command might have decided against reassigning an operative when the tiny ship surely didn't need one. Kate wasn't the type to argue with authority, however, and if they thought an Intel presence was important, she'd just have to deal with it.

So far, so good, at least.

"Kathryn Martin," she said, rising against her body's better judgement and crossing to offer her new colleague an extend hand and a tired smile. "I didn't realise you'd arrived or I would have come to greet you."

"There was no need of that," T'mpest assured her, shaking her hand. She noticed the change in the woman's attitude when she heard T'mpest was Intel. Interesting. The woman had a bias against her. T'mpest would have to keep that in mind when dealing with Security. "It is not difficult to find one's way around a Starship."

"It's a small ship with a crew to match. When the influx of people is minimal, attempting to be there to greet them is not unachievable. I find it helps me keep track of who it is I'm supposed to be keeping track of." Kate's smile was faint and didn't quite reach her eyes, though that was reasonably normal when it came to dealing with people she didn't know. Constantly medical evaluations stated that the Lieutenant internalised too much stress, that her expectations of herself were far too high and that she suffered from a chronic case of workaholicism. Kate didn't know who she was outside of her work and tended to feel lost if she was forced to take excessive downtime. She was likely the only person on board who didn't look forward to shoreleave.

That didn't make her necessarily judgemental, however. Fundamentally, Kate was an honest woman, a woman of integrity and heavily reliant on evidence to influence her opinions. She might have wished not to have to deal with Intel itself but the woman standing in front of her was an unknown quantity and Kate viewed her as just that. Forensics, Kate's life blood, didn't allow you to make sweeping generalisations without producing evidence of their existence. Innocent until proven guilty.

"So, what can I do for you?," she asked, moving towards the replicator.

"First and foremost, I wanted to meet you." T'mpest replied. "Second, I wanted to ask you about your weapons policy on the Archimedes. Specifically, I have a Scottish Claymore and a Vulcan ahn-woon that I use for training purposes. I normally keep them mounted on my wall when I'm not using them. A former chief of security encouraged the crew to be familiar with ancient weapons." Actually, the woman herself wore a large sword on her back at all times. Lieutenant Disela came from a planet where swords were the weapon of choice. T'mpest wouldn't go that far, but she didn't want to run afoul of the current Chief. "Simply, I would like to know if this will be a problem. I would not use them outside the holodeck, but the would be clearly visible on my wall."

Honestly, of all the troubles Intel had posed lately, this seemed relatively mundane. There was a brief pause whilst Kate took her time over her surprise, her addled mind having to change direction and work a full pace to give the matter due consideration without standing in silence for too long. Thankfully, when it came to policy, Kate was very well-versed and unless it was some obscure ruling that didn't apply very often, she very rarely had to look up protocol for anything that fell under her jurisdiction.

"As long as they're declared on the manifest as ceremonial and restricted to simulated environments only, there are provisions that allow for some classifications of weapons. I'll need a full description and any registry details if they apply." Her smile was pleasant but business-like, though Kate herself wasn't wholly aware that's how it came across. "I'll need to see them, of course, and the display mountings as a precaution but I can't see it being a problem as long as its all documented properly."

T'mpest nodded. "You're welcome to stop by my quarters and see them. They are on a simple wall mount, easily removed. As I mentioned before, they are primarily for display purposes. My Mother is Scottish. The Claymore is a traditional Scottish sword. My Father is Vulcan. The ahn-woon is a traditional weapon as well. They provide an excellent workout and they're fun to use." She grinned at the woman. "I must admit, sometimes hand-to-hand sword fighting can be a great stress reliever. The ahn-woon is still used in some Vulcan ceremonies. It is always good to keep in practice." Although she doubted she would ever need to use one in a traditional ceremony. It was a very effective and often subtle weapon.

"I'll stop by later this afternoon," Kate agreed, taking a sip from her freshly replicated tea. "Given the direct cultural significance, I can't see any reason not to authorise their presence as long as you promise not to go charging through the corridors waving either of them at the crew." In her weariness, the Security Chief had failed to notice the irony of her actually managing to hold a partway decent conversation for once. Though her eyes still betrayed the headache scorching across her forehead, the lieutenant's pale features did appear to have relaxed somewhat. "Was there anything else?"

"Not at the moment," T'mpest replied. "And I promise I won't run down the corridors swinging my claymore and yelling Scottish insults." She looked at the other woman for a moment. "If you ever want to try meditation again, let me know."

With a bow to the Chief, T'mpest left the other woman sitting at her desk, massaging her temples.

OFF

Lieutenant Commander T'mpest Michaels
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Archimedes

Lieutenant Kathryn Martin
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Archimedes

 

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