Star Trek: Starbase 777

Vanik was standing in the corridor, prying open a panel on the wall. People were milling about the hallway around him, walking past him at varying speeds. With his sensitive Vulcanoid hearing, every footstep and voice echoed in his mind. He did his best to tune it out and pay attention to what he was doing. There had been a lull in Drydock - his coworkers were taking care of the ships there, and there'd been a call for a malfunctioning relay or some easy repair in this corridor. He'd yet to explore much of the Starbase, so he elected to respond to the repair request. He grabbed a toolbox and strode through the halls, avoiding eye contact with strangers, and following the directions on his PADD. So he was there, in Corridor 11 in the Arts and History "District," of the Starbase, elbow-deep in a panel in the wall, and entirely focused on the relays inside. His eyes were set on the mechanics and electronics in front of him, and he was fiddling with a fuse or something like that, pointedly ignoring his surroundings and concentrating on the task at hand.

Between his scheduled shift duties, Saros V'Lanutt methodically traversed the station, committing its layout to memory. This practice was both logical and efficient; familiarizing himself with the station's configuration would optimize his response time should his services be required in an emergency. His equillibruim was delicate but he was in control. His episodes were down and he was in a state enough to work. Saros’s enhanced ocular implant detected a familiar figure as he rounded a corner. His stride faltered, an uncharacteristic break in his usually measured gait. The subject was Ensign Vanik - his nephew. While Saros had seen Vanik in recent messages, the in-person encounter was unexpectedly jarring. Saros took precisely three steps forward before halting. His Vulcan discipline warred with an unexpected surge of emotion. The reality of Vanik's presence on the station conflicted with Saros's carefully maintained mental equilibrium. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was going to make a plan. He was supposed to have time. Suddenly, a faint, distant whisper echoed in the hallway - the unmistakable drone of the Borg collective. The corridor suddenly seemed to stretch and distort, the familiar hum of the station replaced by the haunting drone of the Borg collective. His ocular implant flared, projecting phantom green lines across his vision.

07:46

Saros's breathing quickened, his heart racing as if he were back on the Celest, surrounded by assimilated crew members. His muscles tensed, ready for a fight that wasn't there. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, betraying his struggle for control. He blinked hard, trying to dispel the intrusive memories. Vanik's face blurred, momentarily replaced by the lifeless eyes of the scientists he'd failed to protect. Saros's hand trembled, reaching for a phaser that wasn't at his side. With extreme effort, Saros turned away, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He stumbled to a nearby alcove, pressing his back against the wall, eyes darting, scanning for threats that existed only in his mind. In the relative “safety” of the alcove, Saros tried to steady his breathing, to recite Vulcan mantras of logic and control. But the words slipped away, replaced by a loop of failure - the Celest, Vanik, his duty, his family. His ocular implant pulsed erratically, each flash bringing a new fragment of traumatic memory. Saros pressed his palms to his temples, a futile attempt to physically hold back the flood of emotions and memories threatening to overwhelm him. He breathed in. He was in control…Inhale 4, exhale 6. Feel the air on your lips….. He was in controol…. *As the episode slowly subsided, Saros was left drained, his Vulcan composure in tatters. The logical part of his mind struggled to rationalize what had just happened, he breathed in. As he glanced down the hallway, hoping that Vanik saw nothing. He could… Go back to his quarters…. Meditate some and…Stragetize from there…..He turned the other way and moved to leave. *

As Vanik was working, he heard a set of footsteps approach, stop for a moment, and then turn around and leave. He pulled himself from inside the panel for only a moment, glancing through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow of a tall figure back away. He idly wondered what might make someone turn so abruptly to leave, though it was only logical to assume there were many reasons. Maybe they forgot something, maybe they realized they were going the wrong direction, maybe they received a notification to go somewhere else. The possibilities were endless, and to be quite honest Vanik did not want to interact with anyone anyway. He was perfectly content to fix the relay and be on his way back to dry dock. So he turned back to his work with a raised eyebrow, and and deftly adjusted whatever parts needed adjusting or replacing in the panel. When he was done, he walked back down the corridor, in the opposite direction of the person who disappeared, toward the Drydock.

"...and that, young Paco, is a brief summary of Magna Romani life." Octavia was beaming as she exited the turbolift with her entourage (and escorts) in tow. Indeed, her explanation had been 'brief' and quite to the point - if you consider a thirty-minute long mini dissertation about the Magna Romani people brief, that is, interspersed between brief visits to places of note and explanations provided by Bellona and Paco both. The former in particular was very obviously tired of listening to the senator's tirade and trying to keep her ire kept under wraps - something she was admittedly doing quite well. "Won't you tell me a little bit about what goes on here? A Federation facility this large and diverse must have its own set of quirks..."

Paco happily listened very intently to what the Senator had to say on their way, occasionally interjecting to ask more questions about Magna Roma and parts of the mini-dissertation. Paco was having a pleasant time has he typed down notes on his PADD, especially when they arrived to the Arts and Culture part of the station, the anthropologist's face just lit up with a smile when she asked him about the station at large. "Well, as you know, being picked by to be a key strategic hub of the Khitomer Alliance and its allies, 777 is not only staffed by Starfleet Officers, but also exchange officers from the Alliance's member worlds. Of course that would present some challenges that make every day interesting, but it it is worth it for closer cooperation. Aside from that, we also focus a lot of effort on cultural exchange efforts for both civilians and officers, for instance..." Paco continued on in a brief mini-dissertation of his own about life in the station, along with showing off convenient places such as the museums and galleries, Paco also showed the Senator the diverse civilian-owned businesses as well. "Also recently, the station hosted a Arts and Culture festival, which was organized by yours truly. It was a good opportunity for people in the station to show off and represent their home worlds and heritage to everyone. We try our best to do these kinds of events often to bring awareness and promote the diversity of the community we built, and we believe these kinds of things are a source of pride for everyone as well." Paco said with a smile as she showed the senator some photos from the event, including... "Fun fact: Bellona, also participated in the festival as well with a booth dedicated to Magna Roma culture! "

"Did she! I'm sure she did a splendid job. I taught her everything she knows, you see. Did you, child? You wouldn't do your mother the disappointment of a subpar presentation on our glorious roots would you?" Octavia looked at her daughter and smiled - a predatory look, one that practically screamed Give me the wrong answer, and I will rip you from limb to limb. That kind of sentiment, you know?

Not once in her late teenage to adult life had Bellona ever withered before someone else, regardless of status, stature or rank. Her personal philosophy was simple (and ironically, drilled into her mother herself): even when death itself was careening towards her face, stand tall and proud, and with blade held high. This time she held firm against her mother's snide remark - though one could see a vein threatening to pop in her forehead. "Yes, Senator. The booth I set up was well-received by many starbase residents." She replied, tonelessly, as if expending a supreme amount of effort to rein in her ire. "They quite liked the armour I showed them. My armor. I made sure-"

"-it was polished to a mirror shine before you showed it to them, and the flares were free of dust? Wonderful! Just as I taught you." Octavia cut her off, smiling savagely as Bellona pursed her lips and fell silent. "You see, young Paco? I honed her into the knife she is, and I see she has not lost much of her sharpness." (edited)

"I see that very clearly. Bellona has certainly gotten a lot of her...... ambition and pride in her roots from her mother." Along with a whole lot of other things. One need not be a Betazoid, or even any sort of Empath to tell that the sight of that mere look the Senator gave to Bellona very much scared and intimidated the lights out of Paco's poor soul. Thank the Prophet's he wasn't the one being targeted. Still, he opted to mind his own business for the time being and tried his best to still be all smiles and friendly demeanor as they continued along the corridor. "I'm sure you must be pretty proud of her, Senator." Paco said warmly with a slight smile.

"Oh, she is a gem! One that is not in its rightful place, but a lustrous ruby of fortitude and courage!" Apparently Octavia had no issues needling her own daughter right in front of her colleagues. Some passersby had even begun to stare and murmur under their breath while glancing between her and Bellona. Yes, the resemblance was absolutely uncanny. One short, mousy-haired human ensign murmured 'damn, she's hot' (though about whom was not clear) before being dragged away by his two companions, both of whom flashed sheepish smiles at the party. One or two of Octavia's staffers had to suppress smiles.

Meanwhile, there was now a noticeable vein definitely threatening to pop on Bellona's forehead. The Magna Romani's jaw was set, and her lips seemed to have been superglued shut with how tightly pursed they were - yet, somehow, she maintained utmost professionalism and respect. Taking her mother's thinly veiled insults without clapping back in front of everyone in the hallway must have taken her a huge amount of willpower.

"Indeed she is. You should've been there, the festival as a whole was a great experience, especially the Bellona's display." Paco simply nodded and smiled as they walked along as he took a mental note of Bellona's reaction. It would probably be best not to make her the topic of any further conversations for her own sake. At least he had some idea on what they're relationship was like. When they passed by the ensigns, Paco shot a stern look and a slight nod at the trio, as their superior officer, which subtly and silently went along the lines of leave. now. especially at such a show of disrespect, not only to the Senator, but in general. "Oh, my condolences for the loss of Senator Pontus Fellan Augustus... I had read about it in the article recently before your arrival... What was he like? Were the two of you close" That little fact nearly slipped completely out of his mind from the mini dissertations the two exchanged with each other. (edited)

"Young. Handsome. And far too liberal for the good of the people. He wanted to begin doing away with gladiatorship as an art form, would you believe it. A major part of our cultural heritage. The ignorance." Octavia sniffed in indignance. "By the Gods. I hope wherever he goes in the life beyond death that he'll learn at last that some practices, especially those instituted by the great ancestors, ought not to disappear." She paused in front of the entrance to the #memorial-garden, and hummed thoughtfully. Clearly she approved very much of what she saw. "Oh, this place is lovely. What is this?" She asked, glancing between Bellona and Paco for once. Yes, her daughter, too, instead of dissing her. Progress!

"The audacity... Every culture has its own form of Martial Arts that has its own significance to their peoples... even if it has evolved in some shape to do away with... well murdering you're opponent for sport for example, that fate is still better than trying to do away with it completely. I know people of many earth cultures who would have a similar outrage if their culture's signature combat sport was suddenly the subject of potentially being killed off without considering it's history and significance to the people." Paco explained as he nodded along in agreement with the Senator as she spoke, though it was mostly for courtesy for her than actual agreement of what the fate of Senator Agustus' soul should be. When they approached the garden and Paco noticed that the Senator's approving look, he smiled and took the chance to answer. "This is the station's Memorial Garden, its a beautiful greenspace dedicated to remembering those who have sacrificed themselves in service of the Khitomer Alliance. It is surrounded by a diverse range of plants from various Alliance member-worlds. We thought it would be a good place to show you for your visit, a bit of a change of scenery if you will." The anthropologist explained with a warm smile as he stepped aside to let the Senator enter first. "After you, Senator."

"Why, thank you." Octavia smiled and walked through the entrance first, followed by her staffers. Bellona watched them enter in silence before moving to catch up with them.