JP Ens. Trovek and Amb. Zorkal: A Good Death - Extended Family

[Arys Trova]

((An apartment complex in Berlin, Germany, Earth))

Berlin was very different from Rovaniemi. The city was modern, busy, and while Finland's north was predominantly inhabited by humans, Berlin was multicultural with all sorts of people from all sorts of places. The apartment Arys and Lukin had rented was just as new and technologically advanced, which had its own advantages even if it lacked the nostalgia Arys had connected to the old-fashioned house that was now no longer her home. 

Arys stepped into the living area where Lukin sat at the table, working. The crate with her grandfather’s possessions sat in one of the corners unopened, collecting dust. She placed a cup of steaming-hot Gelat down in front of Lukin wordlessly - she had picked this residence particularly because of the Gelata just outside the building - and took her preferred seat on the sofa, looking out of the window at the buzzing city before eyeing the crate. 

Without a word, Lukin picked up the mug and sipped at the Gelat, then sat it down. Arys was left alone as he continued to tap at the PADD, then shot off several orders to some of his aides still on Ops.  That done, he allowed himself another sip of the steaming drink, then set it aside.  He rotated between typing out messages, looking through ones sent to him, editing a draft on a proposition, and a number of other things on his PADD, inserting a sip here and there, the soft clap of the mug a syncopated rhythm to his work.  Finally, once the Gelat was finished, he set the PADD aside and turned his gaze upon the woman.  

Zorkal: Starting a dust collection?

Arys glanced at him, then back at the crate. 

Trovek: I will open it. Just not yet. I think it’s good like that. 

Zorkal: Perhaps you can turn the crate into artistic decor.  I understand that’s all the rage on Earth.

It was definitely not a Cardassian sentiment for the most part.  Art was, in Lukin’s mind, something to be enjoyed, but he had never included any in his own quarters.  His people weren’t particularly keen on it, though the younger generation was far more exploratory of the arts than his own.  He could appreciate it.  It just wasn’t something he engaged in general - except when it came to the culinary arts.  

Arys made a face and shook her head, answering with some amusement.

Trovek: A dusty crate? Hm. ::she smirked:: You are not wrong. I have seen Cardassian art that closely resembles dusty crates. 

Arys had regained much of her ability to provide snarky replies, but there were moments it all got too much for her. Then she locked herself in her bedroom or stared out of the window. 

She felt like her relationship to Lukin had changed, deepened, but the bickering remained. It helped. It lightened her mood and gave her the sense that things were normal. She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Zorkal: I’ll simply toss it out then. Put it in the reclaimer.

Trovek: ::narrowing her eyes:: How about I put you into the reclaimer? 

Zorkal: You’re too much of a weakling.  Besides, why would you throw out perfection?

Trovek: I would hire someone. Easy. But you have a point, my triceratops. I shall keep you around. Like a large pet lizard. 

He snorted.  She grinned but decided he did have a point and sat up, placing the cup of Gelat on the table by the sofa. Then she sat down on the floor, unlocking the crate, which creaked open after having stayed closed for what seemed like decades. 

Arys knew, or had a good idea, what the contents were. Seventy years of experience as a diplomat, with all the political intrigue there was to it. She had no idea how she would get through all of them before dying of old age herself, but she wasn’t opposed to trying. She treasured the fact that she had inherited them, knowing full well that they would otherwise have been lost.  

Trovek: I wonder how interesting being a diplomat can actually be. Federation politics, that is. I read enough Enigma Tales to know Cardassian politics. 

There were some books too - actual books. Literature from different species, some of it fiction, some of it poetry, and others that looked like educational volumes. Some, she reckoned, might actually be valuable. That was true in particular for the Cardassian books. 

Trovek: ::shrugging, at Lukin:: Found books. 

Zorkal: Books?

Literature from pre-war Cardassia had become rare, and those were associated with the dissident movement around Natima Lang. Recently, there had been an interesting shift in how these books, when they could be found, would be regarded - while it had once been punishable to own them, they were now an important part of Cardasssia’s history. Losing everything probably had given the Cardassians a different perspective on censorship.
Huh.  Actual books.  Lukin rose and crossed over to take a closer look.  When he saw the title of one, an eyeridge arched upward. 

Trovek: Interesting. I had no idea my grandfather liked to collect this kind of things.

She shrugged once more and continued looking through the PADDs and documents until her eyes fell on a smaller box inside the crate. It looked like a case meant to secure documents. What made this surprising was that it wasn’t federation issued, but Cardassian. What made it even more surprising was that the emblem on it was that of the Obsidian Order. 

Zorkal: Very interesting.

Lukin’s curiosity had been piqued.  Rather than take a perch on the floor, he sat on the couch next to where she occupied the ground.  

Zorkal: Not something one expects to find in a non-Cardassian home.

Or even a Cardassian one.

Arys looked up at him, then back at the box. It was a somewhat intimidating-looking thing, even with the Obsidian Order long gone. She knew her grandfather had to deal with them every now and then - mostly unknowingly, but she hadn’t expected to find something like this. 

Trovek: I have no idea why that is in there… could it just be a mistake?

Not very likely. 

Some part of her was panicking slightly, though she didn’t quite know why that was. A sixth sense, perhaps, that once this box was opened, it couldn’t to be closed again. 

Zorkal: Open it.

Trovek: What if it explodes? 

Zorkal: Then it would have already done so. 

There was a time everyone lived in fear of the Obsidian Order.  Now they no longer exist - only to be replaced by another organization.  The Cardassian Intelligence Bureau was still just as deserving of a fearful reputation of the Order.  Yet, in that place, he felt safe enough to look in the box.

She tried prying the box open, curiosity getting the better of her, and she was growing impatient quickly. A few minutes, and two broken fingernails later, she gave in and handed it to Lukin who, at this time, seemed a lot more able to figure out how the locking mechanism worked. 

Arys got up and sat down on the sofa next to him, and tilted her head as the box was opened, revealing Cardassian documents. 

Arys spoke some Cardassian, enough to have a casual conversation, but the official language of the bureaucrats was difficult, and this looked like the very definition of bureaucracy. 

Trovek: What does it say? 

She was barely able to make out names - one of them was Ceerke Foxuwea, a name Arys believed she had heard somewhere, a long time ago. Another name was Ciron Zantett, a Cardassian name from the sound of it. And, after getting more and more used to reading the Cardassian version of names, there was another one. Trovek Sileah. 

Lukin read the documents. None of it was new to him.  Her mother’s original name was Ceerke Foxuwea, she had murdered a Cardassian by the name of Ciron Zantett after volunteering to be a comfort woman, and was subsequently found to be a member of the resistance.  Yet, there was more.  A child had come of the union, though she had abandoned the son, left him to die of exposure.  Despite the fact he was mixed, he had been found and saved by a Cardassian, and then adopted by Zantett’s widow.  Lukin had known about all of it - save for the child.  

Trovek: ::repeating impatiently:: What does it say? 

Lukin wondered how she would take the news.  Ah well, he would not hide such a thing from her now that she'd been presented with the information.  Supposedly, she could read, but perhaps it was a bit too advanced for her.  So, he read it off to her and left nothing out.  Sometimes, the truth hurt, and he suspected it would be the case here.  When he had finished, he pointed to a mark on the bottom left of the document. 

Zorkal: And that is the official signal of the Obsidian order.  This is genuine. 

Trovek: I… didn’t know about any of that. 

Zorkal: I see your mother has quite the history.  

More than even he had realized, and the fact he’d been caught off guard with that last bit of information irritated him.  

Arys nodded and then looked at him. Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head before she withdrew from him ever so slightly. 

Trovek: You don’t look surprised. ::hesitating:: This is not your surprised face. Why are you not surprised? 

Zorkal: If you want the truth my dear, I am surprised.  I will not lie, I knew some of it.  Your mother’s true name, the murder of Citron Zantett, the change she made to her name.  However, I was unaware of the child.

And that irritated him to no end.

She just stared at him, and that was… not good. She nodded slowly and listened. 

Zorkal: I was also unaware of your father’s contacts.  To get this from the Obsidian order means he must have some high ranking associates.  I imagine, however, this was obtained after the Order was dissolved, and likely before the CIB fully gained power. 

Trovek: I am unsure about that. It’s not dated. It might have been obtained when my mother and my father married. I know my grandfather was against it. ::taking a deep breath to bring order to her thoughts:: But one thing after the other. How do you know any of this?

Eyeridges arched upward.  For someone who was so keen on Cardassian culture, interesting in the people and their heritage, did she really not know?  

Zorkal: I am an ambassador, Arys.

Trovek: ::hissing:: What is that supposed to mean? Just answer the damned question, Lukin. 

Lukin’s eyes flashed and he leaned forward, his voice lowering, deep, resonant, soft, not quite a whisper, but uttered in a murmur that was almost gentle.  

Zorkal: I just did.

Trovek: Why? That’s.. really intrusive, can’t you just meet people and let them be the random people they are trying to be? 

Zorkal: Do you really think that I would not look into you and your family? 

His voice remained in that same muted tone even as he mused over her so-called annoyance. He was a Cardassian.  Moreover, he was an Ambassador.  The two meant he was more cautious than even an average citizen.  She had caught his attention, of course he would seek out information about her and her past as well as everyone around her.  

Trovek: Well, I had the hope that you would ask me instead.

Of course she would have withheld information. Of course there was information she hadn’t even known. But she wasn’t bad at pretending to be open, and it annoyed her that Lukin once more knew the cards she could play, while he kept his own hand a secret. 

Zorkal: You act so ignorant, yet you yourself have indicated that not only are you well versed in our language, but also in our culture.  You know our ways, Arys. 

She elbowed him. Not much, it definitely wouldn’t hurt, but it was an exclamation mark to her questions.  He could have easily avoided it, but Lukin simply allowed the gesture, grunting in amusement.

She hated him.

 No, she didn’t. She hated that he could speak so softly, implying that she had been stupid to think anything else, like he was in the right in all of this and not a paranoid Cardassian with control issues. 

Trovek: I thought Cardassia is reformed now. You are supposed to be nice. ::she leaned in:: This was not a nice thing. 

Zorkal:  Cardassia is reformed in some ways, but we are still Cardassians.  Change does not come easy, and to change something that is at the very core of our temperament. 

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in even closer.  

Zorkal: And you know you prefer it this way.

Trovek: Okay listen, I’m trying to be upset with you. Stop doing that. It makes me want to throw things at you.

She didn’t sound too frustrated. More like she was amused. 

Deep in his chest, a soft laugh rumbled, but he hovered there a moment, his face drawn alongside hers, his breath brushing against her cheek, its light caress warm.  Then, he pulled away, straightening and turning his attention back to the file. 

Ugh, now she really wanted to throw something at him. She probably would, sooner or later. It reminded her of Lauer, just that this was completely different. 

Zorkal: And what do you think you will do with this information?

Trovek: I do not know… 

She sighed and looked through the file once more. Why? How did this fit into anything that had happened, and what was she supposed to do with it? 

Trovek: On the bright side, my mother kills babies, I just kill old people. Isn’t that reassuring?

Zorkal: Arys.

Trovek: … Sorry. Making jokes about it helps. Not much, but it does. 

She frowned, and like she had done a few days ago when they had sat in her room, Arys leaned her head against his shoulder and stared ahead, her mind trying to figure out what to do.   Lukin’s frown matched hers and he stared at the documents which she still clutched in her hands.  

Zorkal: I imagine he kept it away from you for a reason.  And from his own son.  

Trovek: ::thoughtfully:: Maybe he is still alive. Taril. 

That was a distinct possibility.  Lukin already had the name committed to memory, and the widow would be easy enough to find.  In fact, Lukin already knew where she was.  But if she had a child, *why* had that not been mentioned?  Such a thing should never have been missed and he grew even more irritated because it had been.  There would be a change in employees, that was for certain. 

Zorkal:  I can find out.

In fact, he would find out, whether she asked him to or not.

Trovek: Well I… ::she straightened and looked at him, tilting her head:: Would you want to know? If you had family, and a half brother is family, even if that family isn’t Cardassian, would you want to know? Or would you prefer not to? 

It was a good question.  Children of the Occupation were often forgotten, overlooked, uncared for from a Cardassian perspective.  The very fact that Zantett’s widow had taken a child born of her husband outside of their marriage was extremely irregular.  She was unique among his kind - then again, most would say the same about him.  Many would wonder how he managed to gain the position he had. 

Very carefully.

But that wasn't the question.  Arys wanted to know what he would do.  Like Zantett’s wife, he would do something unlike what most of his society would choose.  

Family was important, but unspoken in their culture was the idea that it should be *Cardassian*.  Lukin had loved a Cardassian woman, but they’d never had an opportunity to form a family.  He had cared for a non Cardassian woman, but he had been transferred before anything might have come of it.  And now?

He glanced over at Arys, his eyes holding hers.  He studied her, her eyes, her mouth, her entire face, gazed over each feature, had already memorised every line of her nose, every stroke of her jaw.  His lips thinned.   Dammit.

Zorkal: I would.

She nodded slowly and returned to her spot by his shoulder. She found she liked that, even if she wasn’t an overly physical person. 

Zorkal: What I would do, however, isn’t necessarily what you would do.  What is your choice in this matter?  I am willing to assist.  I’ve told you that before, it has not changed.

Trovek: I know… but I am not sure yet. Would I want a brother, even if a half Cardassian one? Absolutely, there is no question that I would… but I don’t want to do any harm. 

She hesitated. Then she continued.

Trovek: He might not even know about his heritage, or about the circumstances of his conception. I know there was gene-therapy to treat half Bajoran children, and accentuate their Cardassian features. If he is alive he lived through the war, and he had lost so much… I don’t want to… confront him with something he doesn’t want in his life. I will think about it. 

There was, but it was not so common.  Still, it was available.  Lukin nodded.  This was not his decision, at least, not the confrontation.  He would, out of diligence, seek and find out, but if she wanted the information, he would leave it up to her to ask for it.  

___________

Ensign Trovek Arys 

Counselor 

USS Juneau 

J239809TA4

&

Dalin Lukin Zorkal

Cardassian Visitor

Starbase 118 Ops