Star Trek: Starbase 777 - oss-zhayshoullou

Mavna had been home for a few days and already felt as though she was swimming through the tension in the artificial atmosphere of the ship. Every time she returned home, home got smaller. A Starfleet ship and a starbase like 777 were to cities as the Zhayshoullou was to a house. But, as home shrank, Mavna could feel the distance between herself and her mother stretching. A rubber band around both of their waists was being pulled to its absolute limits, incredibly tense. There was far too much unspoken floating in the air to make it healthy to breathe, she thought. Mavna stared at her folded Starfleet uniform as it rested in her luggage. It was one of her mother’s many stipulations of joining Starfleet and still being able to come home whenever she wanted. No Starfleet uniforms aboard the ship. She took in a breath and slapped the suitcase flap shut as she stepped out into the hall. She needed some breakfast, or at the very least needed some coffee to get through the day. Her aunt had wanted to read some of her papers later on, some of the medical work that she’d done over the course of her time aboard the Bering Strait, and she was pretty excited! She’d need some caffeine to keep her wits about her, though, which led her to the ship’s canteen. If she were lucky, her mother wouldn’t be up yet. She’d need some coffee to get through conversation with her, too. (edited)

Well, that wasn't happening. As Mavna walked into the hallway, her mother rounded the corner, clearly coming to get her for something. The captain gave her daughter a judgemental once-over as she came closer, sniffing derisively in lieu of a greeting. "Well, at least you left that costume behind like I told you to," she said, already starting the day off well. "You are eating with your father and I, as a proper family." In what world were the three of them a proper family? Entirely unclear, but at least Rime's presence would likely diminish Thira's temper, at least a little bit.

“Ah-” She tried to say something before Thira began to speak, and the doctor pursed her lips together as she leaned up against her closed door with folded arms. Mavna took in a breath and let out a slow, hissing sigh as her mother continued to speak, not particularly making eye contact with her. “…good morning,” She turned her head toward her mother, and did not give her the satisfaction of responding to the ‘costume’ statement, “Issss…” She huffed, “…Aunt Owili gonna be there?” Her siblings were off galavanting around in their own ships, so she knew not to expect them. (edited)

"Good morning, child." Thira was scowling still, but at least it wasn't immediately another snipe at her person. "You do look far better like this, dear. Like you belong here." On the surface, a decent comment to make, right? Except it wasn't said with any warmth at all. She sniffed again when Mavna asked after Owili, crossing her arms. "I didn't ask her, so if she shows up it's because she showed up on her own," she started, scowl deepening. "You will be able to see her more while your father and I are working, anyway, can we have just one meal where your preference for her doesn't sour the mood?"

“Mom,” She said with a small nod. She reached down to adjust her waist cape, “…thanks,” Even in all the years and all the deteriorating conversations, coral had still remained her favorite color, so she was at least comfy with wearing that instead of her Starfleet standard issue leisure wear. She was still sleeping in the sweatpants and tank top, though. Her mother didn’t need to know that part. Her nostrils flared slightly, “…didn’t know that’sss what was souring the mood…” She mumbled, just loud enough for Thira to hear, before shifting and lazily tilting her head to the side, “Honestly, mom, I’d really like to just…get some coffee and get on with my day.” (edited)

Thira's expressed soured further, clearly displeased with Mavna's response. She turned around to start walking to the mess hall, arms still crossed and clearly expecting Mavna to follow her. "I don't know where I went wrong with you," she lamented. "Four times I succeeded. I raised successful, strong children. The perfect successors your grandmother dreamed of." She sucked air through her teeth with a "tch". The implication was clear: Mavna wasn't any of that. "Starfleet..." she trailed off before once more voicing her opinion. (edited)

Mavna was…stricken for a few moments as her mother began to rant. She’d heard all of this before, time and time again, but there’s something in her that just snapped. She was a doctor, she was posted on a starbase, she saw a fucking alien dragon! On an unexplored planet! “You raised a doctor!” She shouted, lifting herself up from where she was leaned. Her expression had contorted from simple malaise to pure anger, “Do you get that? That I’m a doctor? I would be shocked if you did, you weren’t at my graduation!” (edited)

Thira whipped around, face pulled into a disgusted snarl. "I didn't raise a doctor, child, I did my very best to raise an Orion captain's daughter. Someone with a strong heart and a sense for business, that the family can rely on. I did the same with your siblings, and they turned out well." The comparisons to her siblings never stopped. Mavna had the misfortune of being the youngest of five, and, in her mother's eyes, being the weakest. The runt of the litter. "But you inherited your father's soft heart, and before I realised that, I had already allowed Owili to weaken it further with a..." she trailed off, too angry to properly form her words. She threw her hands up. "You couldn't even handle learning medicine here, you just had to run to the soft-shelled turtles of the galaxy to really rub salt in my already wounded pride." And that was what it was all about, was it? Thira's pride.

Her eye twitched. Thira always acted as though Mavna’s siblings were like hivemind extensions of herself, as if somehow Mavna was the only independent child in existence. Day in and day out while she was stuck here she longed for the days when her mother actually looked her in the eye. “And- And- And what was I suppose to learn here, how to patch up a phaser burn, day in and day out? You wanted me to be a glorified first aid kit?” Mavna closed some of the distance between herself and her mother, “You were never proud of me, you always acted like me being the smartest fucking person aboard this star-forsaken ship was a joke! Of course I went to Starfleet, how else was I supposed to get away from YOU!?” (edited)

"Get away from me? After all I've done for you? After I continuously open my ship for you, even after you defy me at every turn, embarrass me every chance you get, and backtalk the captain the way I would barely tolerate from your father, let alone someone who doesn't even want to be part of this crew." Thira was seething now, yelling back as loudly as Mavna was, not rising to close the distance as Mavna was but certainly not backing down. "Am I supposed to tolerate disrespect and ungratefulness endlessly, just so my entitled little girl can feel superior to the crew around her, looking down on people with her Starfleet education? 'The smartest person on this ship', don't make me laugh. You threw away your family's legacy in favour of chasing a dream just so you could justify that to yourself. If you wanted to leave so badly, you should have stayed gone." Her eyes widened at the last sentence, as if she herself was surprised she was saying it, but she couldn't back down. Her pride wouldn't let her.

“Can’t you just be my fucking mom for once?! It’s- It’s Captain this, Captain that, can’t you just call yourself my mother, or have I disappointed you that much that you don’t even think I’m your daughter anymore, huh? Is that what it is?!” Mavna felt like she was going to boil over. There was a part of her that almost swung her fist at her mother, but she knew she couldn’t. And then she stopped, her eyes widening into the same saucers that Thira met her with after those words escaped her mouth. She stared at her mother, at the shock on her face after something subconscious raced to the forefront of her mind and slipped out of her, and she watched as every fear she had about her mother was realized, “…I-” Her face was a strange mixture of anguish and rage, her eye twitching still, “…if…if that’s what you want, then I’ll just leave now.”

"I am your mother, and I am the captain of this ship, and you seem to respect neither of those things. It's not about what I want," except it sort of was and in a way it always would be, "it's about you hating me, your father, and this ship so fucking much that you couldn't wait to leave your entire family behind then, and every second you spend here makes it that much clearer that you can't wait to leave it behind again." Thira took a breath, as if remembering her station and the responsibility she had to maintain a sense of decorum and poise as leader of the crew. "Go eat with your father," she said slowly, either an offering of temporary peace or a threat, or both. "I will be on the bridge."

Mavna just…stood there in stunned silence for a few moments, staring at her mother as she ripped everything to shreds. All the happy memories of getting piggyback rides, the days she so happily showed off her work in the sickbay to Thira, when her desperate attempts to actually make her mother smile at her worked. She felt like throwing up as she stood here, bile stinging the back of her throat. She stared, and stared, and stared. Her eyes hurt. She hadn’t blinked in a while, “…fine,” The word came out of her without her even realizing. She felt like she was floating outside of her body and watching.

Thira rolled her eyes as she turned to leave. At least she'd made it clear she wouldn't be eating breakfast with them, but she couldn't resist getting one last comment in. "At least make sure not to disappoint your father, too," she said, before finally walking away.

Mavna stared at her mother as she walked off, thousands of words bubbling up in her mind to scream indignantly back at her, but nothing came out. There wasn’t a point. Standing here in the hallway of her childhood home, a realization dawned on her like a sunrise: There was no changing Thira’s mind. She didn’t give her mother the satisfaction of hearing her cry, returning to her room and making sure the door was shut before bawling her eyes out. When she felt as composed as she would be, she took in a deep, shaky breath and went out to go have breakfast with her father. She would pack afterward. She was leaving.