It appears the Lieutenant Commander is more than comfortable in her current position.  Azami files that away, but it’s a positive note in a positive conversation, more than simple information.  When the Vulcan woman indicates her interest in continuing the tour, the petty officer inclines her head slightly in agreement.  “I try to avoid denying others their wishes,” she notes, one corner of her mouth quirking upward for a moment.  “A moment, then?”  That said, she enters the crew quarters in haste.  Luck seems to be with her – there are a few sleeping forms in the bunks, but nobody awake and aware, so Azami merely places her carry-on inside the doorway and retreats from the room, post-haste.

Relieved, she shakes out her shoulders and rakes fingers through the tail of her hair before turning back to the counselor.  “Done.”  Her lips shift, this time into a momentary moue as thoughts pass through her mind.  “This is a novel experience…after you, ma’am.”  Indicating the corridor, she waits for them to begin walking again before continuing.

“Having a Lieutenant Commander give me a tour is a first,” Azami admits, to clarify.  Most often, it’s another crewmate, usually one of the medical staff.   Azami would place good money on the counselor knowing each and every crewmember by face, name, and likely some personal details…were she the betting kind of person.  A sidelong glance takes in the taller woman’s hands, their carefully curated nails noted earlier.  She is meticulous with her appearance, despite the demands of duties.  Understandable; T’Lara’s position demands a certain level of care in her appearance.  But the level of that care, the attention to detail, speaks something about the woman’s character.  Difficult to judge at the moment, but perhaps ‘no job is worth doing halfway.’  Perhaps because she lives her dream?  Azami can certainly understand the perspective, though her own motivations for being meticulous are likely different from from T’Lara’s.

Very different.

“And not the only first.”  Her head cocks to the side as she walks, her gait smooth and even, her gaze continuing to drift.  “I have not met a Vulcan so expressive, Lieutenant Commander T’Lara.”  Her lips thin.  “Hopefully my observation is not offensive; if so, I apologize.”  Given T’Lara’s seemingly open and frank nature, Azami doubts it will be taken so…but one never knows, and politeness costs nothing.

The last thing she wishes to do is alienate any member of the crew.

T’Lara had a moment to gather her thoughts as Azami entered her new quarters.  There was something about the young field medic that seemed off to her.  It was hard to put her finger on it.  Likely it had to do with the contrast between Azami’s discipline, levelheadedness and attention to details to the way she came to be assigned to the Independence.  T'Lara couldn’t believe that the thoughtful woman standing in front of her wouldn’t show the same meticulous consideration toward the advancement of her career, would allow Starfleet to direct her whichever way they desired as if she was a leaf caught in the wind.   It just didn’t make sense.   Add to that the fact that Starfleet saw fit to transfer a junior field medic halfway across the quadrant, and Azami started to read like a character from one of her father’s spy novels.

That’s ludicrous.  She stopped the train of thought in her mind.  Here you go again, T’Lara.  That overactive imagination of yours.

Still…

When Azami returned, so did a sly smile to T’Lara’s lips.  The fact that she couldn’t quite figure the young woman out made talking with her so much more fun.  She wondered if she would be able to unravel the mystery by the time the tour was over.  Or if not, at least stop her from calling her ‘ma’am’.

The botanical garden was only a step away, so it made sense to start their tour there.    The first and foremost purpose of the arboretum was scientific; a living collection of plant life from across the galaxy, carefully preserved until such time as the Independent completes its mission. That the crewmen found the stay in garden relaxing was a useful side effect.   Because it was an eclectic assortment of plant life gathered from several different biodomes, there was little consideration to aesthetics, neither in the selection or placement of the trees and flowers.  Nonetheless, the stunning variety of shapes and colors (and fragrance) overwhelmed the senses just as much as the most carefully landscaped garden.

T’Lara stood quietly by the entrance for just a moment, allowing Azami to get her first impression, before they would walk inside for a leisurely stroll.

“It’s good we made it here now.  They’re going to move half the specimen to the star base by the time the day is over.  Make some room” she called into attention the couple of blue shirted botanists from the science department, busy carefully transplanting the seedlings.

Azami’s question about T’Lara demeanor, when it finally arrived, was not unanticipated.  She knew she behaved very differently from what most people came to expect of Vulcans.  She didn’t mind sharing her story, which she has done many times before:

“There is a simple explanation to that; both my parents were banished from Vulcan before I was born.  I grew up on a remote space station, far away from Vulcan both spatially and culturally.” 
This message was last edited by the player at 14:18, Thu 17 June 2021.

Another smile from the counselor for Azami’s mental file, this one carrying a fox’s edge, clever and secretive.  She wonders at that for a heartbeat; did her queries spark that particular cast to the grin?  Or was it her answers?  Something in her movements, or face perhaps (which Azami herself would well-understand)?  Or is it a passing thought, with nothing to do with the petty officer at all?  But their tour continues without a hiccup, and the petty officer sets her curiosity aside for the moment.  It is an odd thing, though, to read so much from a Vulcan, normally obdurate walls with only a few cracks to peer through.

Those ponderings, though, are swept from Azami’s mind when they enter the garden.

She isn’t quite certain what she expected, but this certainly is not it.  At first glance, open area seems nearly natural in its cluttered lack of organization.  But after a moment’s perusal, the true chaos becomes clear; even nature has its patterns, and this garden follows few of them.  Gathered plants are placed nearly willy-nilly, likely to take best advantage of space rather than provide aesthetic appeal.   The scents mingle into a melody, rather than remaining segregated in their own small territories of the garden.  Broad, flat leaves war with spiny, jagged ones for the light.  Grasses here, a moss there, and…some kind of lichen?  And all through it move the blue-shirted attendants, gently caring for their verdant charges.  This is no tranquil, meditative garden; it is instead a silent riot for the eyes and nose, a floral fireworks display on a many-textured backdrop.  Blinking, Azami turns in a semi-circle, nodding along with T’Lara’s point regarding their good fortune.

”I am glad to have this opportunity be my first glimpse, ma’am,” she quietly states.  ”Had I come later, I might never have guessed how beautiful it had been.

Then T’Lara speaks of her past, and Azami loses interest the garden’s splendor, shunting it into the background as she focuses her gaze on the counselor.

Her parents had been exiled?  So many questions, with ‘why’ being first, foremost, and utterly impossible to ask; she barely knows the Lieutenant Commander, and prying into a potentially painful past would be unacceptable.  Instead, Azami nods her head once.  ”That…would explain a great deal,” she gravely admits, her face placid.  Inside, though, the young woman ferociously kicks herself, over and over again.  Idiot! Fool twice over!  Clamping down on her self-directed annoyance, she offers a small bow again.   “I should have known it would be a private matter; I allowed curiosity to overtake good sense, ma’am.  I will only say I hope your situation does not cause you grief or issue in your present circumstances.”

There’s almost no doubt her parents’ exile has impacted T’Lara’s life; how, Azami cannot begin to guess, but growing up outside one’s culture, struggling to adapt to a place where everyone looks, acts, IS different than oneself, and potentially being reminded of that fact every day by people less cruel than simply inconsiderate – and likely the opposite as well – would crack the ground beneath most people’s feet.  Azami knows this, all-too-well; her situation is rather different than T’Lara’s own, but if one peers hard enough, one can find similarities between the two without resorting to a microscope.  But still…did T’Lara face bias and prejudice from other Vulcans?  How did they treat her – quick to judge, condescendingly, or something even worse?  Or better, with fairness?  Did humans expect one thing – as Azami had – and become uncomfortable when faced with something different?  Azami hoped she, herself, had not; the differences between T’Lara and the other Vulcans of her acquaintance had been clear, but had not disturbed her in any way.

Her own reaction to a possible faux pas in asking, that is a different matter.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:01, Thu 17 June 2021.

In reply to DR Ranse Layne (msg # 72):

"Ch'Pertha's a solid officer.  I plan to have him promoted to full Captain.  He's tough and combat experienced... but, yeah.  Like you said," Chichester allowed.  He took a pull of his drink and swirled the glass, athought.

"For now, old friend, your only orders are to do your job.  As I learn more, I'll share what I can.  You should get yourself aboard.  I have the new Security Chief assigned as well - she's an Andorian too.  You two will share a shuttle pod over."

The Independence had settled firmly into dock, and the supply train of cargo pods were doing their duty.  Repair bees were already doing a cursory scan of the hull.

Meetings were had amongst the command staff, and secrets were shared (see ch'Pertha and Decker's posts, above).  Ultimately facts were relayed to Starfleet Command.  What they would DO with these facts might take a while to materialize... if ever.

In one of the shuttlebays for Starbase 24, DR Ranse Layne and LT Jori sh'renmaa queued up for a ride over to their new command, meeting each other for the first time...

With a curt nod to the Lieutenant, the Doctor found his seat and and sat rigidly, hands at his sides. staring ahead, his mind focused on the new assignment. He had been on enough new ships to know what to expect, personalities he would rub the wrong way, situations that rubbed him the wrong way. He had a way he liked to see things done, by the book, and he had never found a new position that didn't take some effort to adjust to.

He was glad that he wasn't in the chain of command though, and sitting at the top of his own department. The never-ending conflict among those who sought promotion was something he was glad to be free of.

As the shuttle separated from the Starbase, he let out a deep breath, and turned to greet his neighbor.

"So, returning from leave Lieutenant, or is this a new assignment for you? This is my first day here."

While he did not know the young lady, his own sense of propriety and chain of command meant that the senior officer should chose to start a conversation or not, but he also knew there were expectations. He also worried that if he didn't start, she would start a conversation, better to simply avoid that risk.

“What? No!” T’Lara chuckled “It’s nothing like that.  I had the best childhood anyone could hope for.  I might not have been raised like a proper Vulcan, but that’s true for most denizens of the galaxy, also”

T’Lara almost never had an issue with defying expectations, apart from being a curiosity.  As for fitting in – it would have been harder, she imagined, to do so as an emotionally repressed Vulcan.   Most crewmembers onboard the Independence were NOT Vulcans, after all.

“The station we lived at was on the outskirts of Federation Space.  There were so many wonders and oddities around that a playful pointy-eared girl was the last thing that seemed out of place” 

Relief spikes deeply at T'Lara's amusement, and even moreso at her words.  Azami hasn't offended; better still, T'Lara has no regrets, her childhood clearly without wounds...at least from that particular separation.  Azami watches her face as she speaks, searching for shadows that might imply hidden pain, but sees none.  Not that it means anything; she's no savant, capable of seeing through to the core of a person with a simple glance, but still, it relieves her.  Automatically, her mind also notes the movements of T'Lara's body as she talks, sorting them into the 'Vulcan' file as an outlier, yes, but still within racial possibilities.  Realizing this, the young petty officer feels a twinge of annoyance at her own habits and forcibly returns her gaze back to the flowers of the garden, just as T'Lara's last words roll in.

"...a playful pointy-eared girl was the last thing that seemed out of place."

Turned slightly away from T'Lara, Azami twitches once, her grey eyes gone glassy.  The reek of burnt copper fills her nostrils, overpowering the scent of the foliage about her.  Abruptly she leans forward to delicately touch her nose to a flower, drawing in a deep breath of the heady perfume, an almost butterscotch sweetness.  It's no use; the rank, metallic odour is a memory, one no so easily dispelled.

Her own smile is bright, if short-lived, as Azami turns back to the Lieutenant Commander.  "An interesting picture you paint, ma'am.  I would enjoy seeing holos of your childhood, if that's not too impertinent."  The idea of T'Lara having a joyful childhood, and no regrets, pushes the old memory to a distant place, and this time her expression does not fully fade, leaving an echo of the smile at the corners of her eyes and mouth.  "You've been in space all of your life, then - and connected to Starfleet as well.  Small wonder this is a dream come true."

Her eyes narrow slightly, a considering expression, and curiosity prods another question from Azami.  "Did you ever visit Vulcan, if I might ask?  Or do you feel no need?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:04, Fri 18 June 2021.

Azami seemed like a very private person, which is why T’Lara avoided from prying into her past till now.  She sensed that there was something bothering her.  But whether she was suppressing a painful memory, or a sneeze, she wasn’t entirely sure (standing so close to the blossoming flowers did suggest the latter).  Just in case, she decided it was best to be patient, and allow her to open up whenever she felt like.

“I’ve never been to Vulcan, though I’d like to, one day – if they’ll allow me”  she answered Azami’s faint smile with a soft one of her own, and quickly followed up with an explanation:

“My parents have chosen to embrace their emotions, rather than suppressing them.  They were exiled when they encouraged others to do the same.  Seeing that I am essentially a living-breathing argument against Vulcan philosophy, I am not sure they would accept me any more than they would welcome back my parents.  Or more precisely – the path they have chosen”

It wasn’t something she dwelled upon.  She couldn’t exactly miss Vulcan, if she never set foot there.

Jori was the first to board the shuttle heading to the Independence, her new assignment. She had been on Starbase 24 two days, and she had become impatient waiting. When the starship finally arrived, she was more than ready.

In her seat, she was reading a PADD that contained the files of the command crew, senior staff, and department heads. She had lost track of how many times she'd read the files, but it was to the point of having them almost fully memorized. As the new chief of security, it was important for her to learn their strengths and weaknesses.

Just before the pilot announced they were leaving, a Human man with a medical insignia on his uniform, sat in the seat next to her, nodding as he did. She recognized that it was the new chief medical officer, Doctor Ranse Layne.

Returning the quick nod, Jori went back to her PADD.

A few minutes passed and as the shuttle left the bay, the doctor spoke.

"So, returning from leave, Lieutenant, or is this a new assignment for you? This is my first day here."

Jori studied the man's face, her antennae slowly swaying. His file told her what kind of person he was, but when meeting someone for the first time, she wanted to make her own assessment.

"This is a new assignment for me as well, sir. I'm Lieutenant Jori sh'Renmaa, the new chief of security."

Direct and to the point, answering his question. Her antennae moved in slow circles.

An eyebrow raises, and Azumi purses her lips slightly as she considers T'Lara's explanation and supposition.  It is an interesting point, the idea that T'Lara herself is a proof against the claim that Vulcans needed their detachment, their logic.  As for acceptance, Azami will definitely defer to the counselor's thoughts on the matter.  Visiting the 'sins' of the parents - if one might call them such - upon the child seems grossly unfair.

Perhaps they would allow her to at least visit Vulcan, as they might any other Starfleet officer.

But that is a matter for conjecture, and Azami has no personal knowledge of Vulcan philosophy or politics outside what is taught in Starfleet.  Her knowledge is more medical, kinesthetic, than cultural. "I would hope they would...'allow' you to visit, rather than choose to exclude you completely." Furrows appear and dissolve on her forehead as she considers that insult and injury.  Finally Azami gives a faint shrug to indicate her opinion regarding such a decision on the part of the Vulcan people; fortunately, T'Lara seems resigned - or uncaring - of such a possibility.

"I have never heard of Vulcans choosing to, ah, 'embrace emotion' as you put it, ma'am," she continues.  "To go against their culture, the pressures of training and expectations."  Her voice tightens slightly, and her unfocused eyes sharpen. "Is there something that compelled them to follow this path?  An action?  An occurrence?  A tipping point?  Or was it simply within them?"

A muscle in her jaw twitches, then Azami blinks, rolling her shoulders, the intensity in her eyes fading.  "It is a...personal question, counselor," she admits, abandoning the ranking structure for a title of greater respect.  "I seem to be crossing many lines, today."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Sat 19 June 2021.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant."

Feeling amenities and expectations had been met, and noticing that she was busy reading, he returned his gaze forward and waited out the rest of the journey.

“T’Lara, please”

The conversation did turn a bit personal, especially since the two women have only met fifteen minutes prior.  It didn't inconvenience T’Lara none, however,  only serving as a pretext to try to get Azami to call her by her given name.

“And it’s fine, really.  There’s nothing embarrassing or discomforting about the story.  My parents simply fell in love with each other.  My mother had a 'much better’ marriage prospect, but she turned it down to elope with my father.  Extremely illogical, by Vulcan standards.  The passion they felt toward each other led them to question everything else they took for granted till that point of time, then one thing led to another…”

She smiled fondly as she recalled a pleasant memory

“You should see them.  I’ve never known any two people happier in each other’s company ”

T’Lara realized how hard it must have been for her parents to be rejected by everyone they ever knew.  Their own parents and family members included.  They rarely talked about their lives prior to being exiled from Vulcan, suggesting that there was still some lingering pain left unresolved.   She decided to omit that part entirely – like her mother often said, there was no point dwelling on the past.

“We should all be that lucky” she concluded the story, her eyes drifting away from Azami to take one last look at the garden.  There were some parallels to be made between the biodiversity of the arboretum and her own life; different flowers from entirely different planets, existing side by side.  But she was damned if she was going to make it.

“What do you say about moving on? There’s still a lot left to see”
This message was last edited by the player at 11:35, Sat 19 June 2021.

A second request for the use of T’Lara’s name, and Azami takes note.  First time…could be a pleasantry, could be ‘automatic’.  Second time?  Not only is it almost positively genuine, but it would be rude, now, for Azami to continue to title the Vulcan woman.  I wonder.  Does she consider herself Vulcan?  Biologically speaking, yes, but from a cultural standpoint T’Lara is no more Vulcan than Azami, herself.  But it’s not her place to ask that question at the moment; it dances so far past ‘too personal’ that Azami feels she couldn’t see that particular line with the ship’s long-range sensors.  The explanation continues, the Lieutenant Commander fortunately taking no offence at her slightly-less-personal query, and another thoughtful moue slides across Azami’s lips.

Love: that everpresent driver.

”A beautiful story,” she muses.  Beautiful, and somewhat tragic…but a far better ending than it could have been.  Briefly, she wonders how much pain T’Lara’s parents have suffered from their choice.  Worse, clearly, had they taken the other, culturally appropriate path, and T’Lara herself would never have been born.  The regrets, Azami concludes, are likely slim to none; bittersweet rather than acidic, wistful over wishing.  ”Lucky, indeed.”  The counselor stares out over the flowers and foliage, and Azami wonders what she sees in the riot of colour.

And then it is time to move on.

”Of course, T’Lara.”  She tests the name; it’s a touch awkward for Azami, not because of pronunciation, but due to it being that of a high-ranking officer.  This is a first, but she’s determine to accept the other woman’s wishes.  ”And thank you again for assisting with this tour.  Where is next?” she inquires as the doors to the arboretum hiss close behind them.

Her stormcloud eyes take on an even more serious cast for a heartbeat.  ”And if I may…the damage to the ship.  An accident?  Or did you come under attack?”  Part personal, part professional, that question; as a member of the medical team, Azami would prefer to know if this ship is one earmarked for more dangerous missions, ones more likely to involve plasma and disruptor fire.

Granted, her security clearance is nearly non-existent.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:24, Sat 19 June 2021.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant."

The doctor faced forward again. It seemed their talk was nothing more than saying hello. That was fine with Jori. There was plenty of time for more once they reported in.

DR Layne and LT sh'Renmaa arrived via shuttle, docking in Shuttle Bay 1.  The other shuttle bay was being used mostly for cargo, although some people - already enjoying a tour - had arrived with the cargo in Bay 2.

There was a combined sense of 'bustle' - as things were moving about - and 'fatigue' - as the crew had just returned from a hazardous mission.

ch'Pertha was doing all he could to ensure that his crew received some valid recovery time once the Indy was repaired, restocked and outfitted, before being expected to exert themselves again.

Stepping out of the shuttle, Ranse looks about expectantly. As a senior officer he had expected some sort of welcome, but clearly they were to busy. He wasn't sure how he felt about that...

D'rala race walked through the corridors and down the path to the shuttle bay. Breaking into a run, beside being against regulations, would cause a panic, so she stayed just shy of the pace. It wouldn't do to leave new Officers waiting about with no direction or assistance.

She slowed to a more average pace as she reached the entryway, smoothing down her jacket.

As she feared, the new Doctor was standing alone outside his shuttle, waiting.

"Commander Layne," D'rala called out and approached. "Apologies for the delay, Doctor. Welcome to the Independence. Lieutenant Commander D'rala Vex, Executive Officer." She offered a handshake in the interest of extending human courtesy.

"How was your journey here?"

"Ah, nice to meet you," the doctor responded, extending his own hand in reply. His grip was firm, and his gaze steady. "The journey was long and tedious, I was across the sector when I got the assignment. I had heard good things about the ship, however, and am eager to get started."

He has no baggage, trusting on Star Fleet to ship his belongings to his quarters.

D'rala offered a smile of welcome, and matched the firmness of his grip.  "Quite a trip you've been on then. Thank you for making the journey to join us."

"The crew's reputation is well deserved. It's a valiant group here. I'm a new addition as well, but I've seen action with them."

"If you wish to start familiarizing yourself right away, I could take you to Medical first, show you the work space. It would be understandable if you were too fatigued from your journey, of course. In which case I can show you the way to your rooms, and we can reconvene tomorrow."

"That would be appreciated. I would, of course, like a more complete tour eventually, but first things first, I want to be able to do my job, should anything come up."

If he is tired, he doesn't show it, though it could easily be the professional shell many old-timers in Star Fleet wear when on duty.

"Has the Captain left any instructions as to when he wants me to report to him? On a standard assignment I would do that before anything else, but given circumstance I imagine he is quite busy seeing to repairs and such."

Once the shuttle bay was pressurized, the pilot opened the hatch and Doctor Layne exited. Jori had a carry all, so she retrieved it, slung the strap over her shoulder, and headed out as well.

An Orion woman, Jori recognized her as the XO, was talking with Doctor Layne. Jori stood patiently on the ramp, waiting for when she could join them. When there was a break, she descended the rest of the way.

"Lieutenant Commander Vex, I'm Lieutenant Jori sh'Renmaa, the new chief of security." She offered the PADD she was holding. "These are my orders."

"Of course. The rest of our medical personnel will be eager to meet you."

"Not as of yet, but I'm sure he'll be contacting you shortly. If you need anything in the meantime, don't hesitate to approach me."

D'rala looked up at the sound of steps on the gangplank, to the sight of an Andorian Lieutenant who subsequently revealed herself to be the new CoS.

"Ah, welcome, Lieutenant sh'Renmaa. Good to have you aboard." She accepted the offered PADD, scanning the information quickly, before returning it.

"This is a new posting for me as well, as you might know," she said, offering a smile. Lt. sh'Renmaa seemed to have done her research: an asset in security personnel. "So I understand the run-around of getting acquainted to a new ship running active duty. As I told the Doctor, please don't hesitate to approach me if there's anything you need."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:43, Thu 24 June 2021.

Startled at the approach of the Lieutenant, Dr. Layne wondered if only one person had been sent to welcome them both. Were they that short handed? He waited as XO sorted things out. He tried not to fidget.