Serren Tan & Mikali sh'Shar - Andorian Blues: The Deal, Part VII

[David Adams]

(( Sto'Vo'Kor, USS Gorkon ))

One more thing, huh?

Serren rolled his eyes, guessing where Mikali was going with this. He could practically hear the words in his head. I need my old job back...

Tan: ::flatly:: Hard no.

sh'Shar: But you didn't even hear--

Tan: No.

Mikali, clearly shocked by that answer, said nothing for a moment. Then she wrapped her arms around herself, her voice barely a whisper.

sh'Shar: But I have nowhere else to go.

That old Tan weakness crept back into his mind. The chink in the armour of Marlee, Alleran, Safine, and now Serren too.

Compassion.

Tan: Mikali... I didn't mean-- come on, you can't ask me to--... come on. You lost your commendation. Commissions are necessary to drive Starfleet starships. I'm sorry, but I can't fix that.

sh'Shar: I know. I'm not asking you to wave a wand and fix everything, okay? I'm not asking you to just fix it, I'm not. I...

She squirmed around on her seat, fidgeting with her hair.

sh'Shar: Y-you know what? No. This was dumb. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. It's just... you know my history. You know where I'm from. You know what I did. Nobody else does. I just thought--I thought that because you had helped me in the past when you were Alleran, maybe you could help me again as Serren. I don't know. Maybe it was stupid of me, maybe. I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just... I just hoped.

Subconsciously, Serren's voice became more formal.

Tan: Mikali, I do want to help you, but without an active commission--

sh'Shar: It's not about that! I mean, yes, but not directly. It's about... it's about--... it's about... ::she cursed softly:: Okay, look. Every good memory I have in my life is with you. Every time I go away from you, it's just suffering and pain. I'm not saying that I don't suffer when I'm with you, but you make it bearable. Because you're my... friend. One of the only real friends I've ever had. It's you, it's S'acul and Sutel. And... that's it. S'acul is off doing his own thing, Sutel is too good for all of this, so... I'm coming to you. And I'm begging you for your help.

It was probably good that Sutel wasn't being bothered with sh'Shar's nonsense. She probably gave that Vulcan a hernia. Then again, the implication that Tan was not "too good for this" was... vaguely insulting.

Tan: I know, but--

Her voice rose to a hoarse shout.

sh'Shar: Please! It's not about being a helmsman! The job doesn't matter! I'll do anything -- I'll align the EPS conduits, I'll pour drinks and smile in the bar, I'll repair replicators with the lower decks crew, I'll scrub the outer hull with a toothbrush--I don't care. It's not about flying. It's about... I just need...

Scrubbing the hull with a toothbrush? What the hell was Mikali going on about?

She seemed unable to spit it out. This didn't make any sense. Serren scowled as anger flared inside him. He did not like to be taken advantage of.

Tan: sh'Shar, you don't need a job. You're not a starving waif. Take up a hobby. Build ships in a bottle or whatever. Fly civilian ships for fun. If you're bored, go to the public holodecks. ::he rolled his eyes:: I know this might come as some shock to you, but Starfleet is not here for your amusement, Lieutenant. We are not a travelling circus obligated to entertain you.

sh'Shar thumped her fist on the table.

sh'Shar: Dammit, Spots, you don't understand! I just -- I need to get back onto a ship with you, because... ::she scrubbed the back of her head furiously:: It's hard to explain. Ugh. I had everything worked out, and then you started asking questions, and now everything's jumbled in my head.

Tan: Okay, take a breath and start from the beginning. Tell me what you need and why.

She inhaled, held that breath, and then spoke.

sh'Shar: Okay. There's... a program that's run by Starfleet Medical. It's designed to help former officers with substance problems looking to get help, to get their lives on track in a more permanent way. To give them structure and a position and clear goals. Essentially it puts people like me into civilian jobs, with the supervision of people from the organisation -- and if we can last a year in them, they write you this big fancy letter saying that you've gone through the process and that you're clean and healthy and ready to re-enter the workplace properly. It just started this year, and there's a posting available at the nearby station. Iana. If... if I work there for a year, earn that letter, maybe I can earn a position here. Not be given: earn. By proving that I have a lot to offer a ship like this, and... 

She brushed back her hair.

sh'Shar: I need a-... a sponsor. For the program. Someone who's willing to sign their name saying they'll keep an eye on me, check in with me occasionally, just make sure that they're going okay. You'll be my next of kin notification, you'll get monthly updates on my performance, they'll ask you a few questions. It has to be someone who knew the old me and someone who can judge the new me. I can't think of anyone more suitable than you. And... when it's done, talk to the Captain for me. See if she can sponsor reenlistment. Just see what you can do. That's all I'm asking.

That was a lot more reasonable than he was expecting.

Tan: And you think this program will help? You know the Captain has discretion over these things. Reynolds runs tight ship here, she isn't going to put up with your nonsense. This isn't the Avandar. We can't get away with murder here.

sh'Shar: I know. Serren, I'm not asking for a handout. I'm asking for a hand up. Something to get my foot back in the door. Something to prove to the universe that I'm not a total screwup and that I can change.

So that's what it was.

But why? Why did she want this so bad?

--

Ensign Serren Tan

Security/Tactical

USS Gorkon

O238704AT0