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Inverse Magneticism

Posted on Mon Jan 25th, 2010 @ 5:21am by Lieutenant Linom Dekur & Commander Lorran Vos

Mission: Removing The Blindfold. Season 1 Episode 5
Location: Day Cabin - Executive Officer

Dekur walked up to the day cabin and paused at the door. The PADD in his left hand, he paused a moment to smooth out his uniform one last time with his right. Typically, he had little care for his appearance - Starfleet engineers had a propensity to be covered in dirt and grime that would have shocked a traditional officer in the Cardassian Guard - but when reporting for duty, Starfleet had ingrained in him the necessity for protocol. And protocol was to look appropriate when reporting.

Taking his hand from his uniform, he pressed the control panel next to the door to activate the chime. "Lieutenant Dekur to see Commander Lorran." The name listed on the door did not miss Dekur's trained eye. Lorran Vos. A Bajoran name.

"Come," sounded a voice from inside. Upon opening the door, Vos could be found seated at a couch off to one side of the room with a backed up tower of PADDs on the coffee table in front of him. He rose as the lieutenant entered, setting down the one PADD from the mountain he'd been working on as well as the cup of steaming tea or coffee he'd been nursing for the last hour and a half. (He'd been going back to the replicator every half hour to warm it back up to just shy of scalding hot.) "Thank you for remembering the proper placement of my surname, Lieu-" the commander suddenly froze at the sight of the Cardassian that had just entered his office.

"Ah..." the commander's hand, which he'd begun to offer for a friendly handshake, dropped back down to his side. "Lieutenant...Dekur, was it?" he said in a carefully neutral tone. "Is there something you need, Lieutenant?" he asked, the muscles in his jaw noticeably clenching underneath the skin of his cheek.

"Yes, sir," Dekur answered, his keen senses not mission the hesitation in his new superior. He'd come to expect this form of reaction from a great many of his fellow officers. Though the war was a decade past, memories of the Dominion War - and the extremely prominent role of the Cardassian Union amongst their enemies - dominated the fleet. Those who had not suffered wounds in the war inevitably knew twenty who had and another twenty more who had never had the chance to tell the tale. He'd suffered the unfair treatment with the same stoic pride that he put into his duties and studies. If they judged him for his race and not himself, then he'd simply show them for how ignorant they truly were.

And yet, matters were typically far worse with the ever-increasing Bajoran contingent amongst the fleet. They had even greater reason to despise the Cardassian they found lurking in their new-found home. Each had suffered beneath the crushing weight of a military dictatorship run amok, squeezing the life from their people as they squeezed the resources from their world with equal callousness. Every Cardassian they had ever known had been a vile symbol of oppression, a walking avatar of their own demise, ready to mete out death...or in many cases, a far more cruel fate.

Now they had found a place in the universe to call their own, a home in which they should feel safe from the monsters that had ravaged their world. But within those ranks lay another demon, another slayer ready to set upon them the moment they turned their attention away. Regardless of the uniform he wore and the oath he had taken, he remained a viper in the weeds, a wolf amongst the sheep. It was a belief none of them ever seemed to shake, an image that permeated around him like an aura that could not be washed away.

'And,' he was forced to admit to himself, 'even though I cannot blame them for it, I do hate them for it.'

"Lieutenant Linom Dekur, sir," spoke aloud, carefully maintaining the strictest appearance of professionalism. "Reporting to assume command of the Operations Department, Starbase Six-One-One."

Commander Lorran held out his hand sharply toward the lieutenant, his deep brown eyes not leaving what he immediately (and perhaps wrongly) saw as the Cardassian's lizard-like expression of sneering condescension. He knew in his head that he shouldn't judge an entire race by their history, nor the man in front of him by the Cardassians he had known as a boy and as a teenager, leading the Karath resistance, but his heart was louder. He had killed spoon heads quite adequately and professionally since he was thirteen years old. Cardassians had let his mother die in childbirth because they couldn't be bothered to spare the needed medical supplies. Cardassians had killed his father and blinded his sister in front of his eyes after working them all to expiration in one of their death camps. He hated them with all of his heart and soul...the Prophets forgive his weakness.

The tension between the two men was palpable, with an old hatred running like a live current through the small room. "Your orders, lieutenant." Vos said brusquely. He could keep himself from grabbing the nearest heavy object and pounding the man's skull in. He could be civil...but he didn't have to be nice.

Dekur passed the PADD to the commander, continuing to maintain his collected demeanour as he rested in a semi-casual state of attention. He would bear the unearned burden of his existence and let the ignorant man before him be blinded by his hatred. For the time.

"You may go, lieutenant." Vos said, not taking his eyes off of Dekur out of old habit. "Report for Alpha shift at 0600 sharp. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Dekur responded promptly with a curt nod. Turning, he nearly marched from the office, leaving the Bajoran commander to simmer.

 

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