Capt. Shayne: The Last Stros
Randal Shayne
((Alpha Trounus Prison Facility))
Shayne: Yes, very informative. Thank you. However, we found a number of small issues, some structural, some electrical. Nothing to worry about- it’s bound to happen when we’re dealing with temperature variations this extreme- but I’ve ordered a small team of engineers to beam down to effect certain repairs.
True? Yes. Lame? Also yes. Every second longer that he stood there, feigning a sturdiness of purpose, trying to obscure Matthews’ probing investigation, and feeling the weight of Ayemet’s tremulous frustration, was an exercise in endurance. Did he have so little faith in her? No. No, that wasn’t the reason, and he musn’t forget that. But he also had faith in Tram- faith that something, either related to him or because of him- would go wrong, would hurt Ayemet, would make it the second time he’d abandoned her.
Tram: How kind. It seems Tompkins has been lacking in his duties. I shall make note of this.
Shayne squinted assertively. Tram was no leader. He was a scientist and a warden, and a doctor at one point, according to him. Starfleet might not be too choosy as to who ran their penal colonies, but they might want to start.
A.Dewitt: I am so sorry for the interruption Mr Tram. Our Captain likes to make sure that all boxes are ticked.
Tram was not in danger. Richard wasn’t. Shayne wasn’t. And with the pair of them now here, Ayemet wasn’t. So what was she trying to save? Had their report been so quick in the making that progress couldn’t be salvaged? Or perhaps it was Ayemet who didn’t believe in the pair of (admittedly awkward) men?
Tram: What are we without our boxes to be checked?
He spoke with such calm, as if he found the words to be a bracing structure against which he support a wavering instance of doubt.
It was righteousness, and more than that, it was a righteousness he was only mostly sure others would share with him. Even if Shayne’s actions had been wrong, his instincts had been right.
A.Dewitt: Captain this really is excellent wine. You should try a glass.
Even before the subtle but visceral reaction from Tram, Shayne knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t put anything belonging to Tram in his mouth, or anywhere else.
Tram: I see that the Vulcan has completed his tour. The lovely Lieutenant and I were exchanging a few shared observations.
“The Vulcan”. It was more than just a casual, caustic forgetfulness. It was deeper than that, and it tweaked Shayne in a very particular way. If he didn’t like Tram before, he positively detested the sanctimonious urchin now.
A.Dewitt: Mr Tram is being far too modest. I was about to share my experience at the lab with him.
His eyes darted to her, twitched, then moved back to Tram, as to always keep him well in sight. He had no right to be surprised, or to judge; Ayemet’s trauma was inflicted, but how she wished to deal with it was her business. But to reveal something so… revealing… to Tram of all people, so soon, so…
Shayne: You were?
Matthews: You were?
He glanced at Matthews briefly.
Tram: Does this surprise you Ensign...?
Shayne: Captain, thank you. Alas, our needs are more immediate than yours, Mr. Tram.
Curiosity might be legitimate within the thoughts of Tram, but he’d be curious a week from now. The Khitomer would largely be dead a week from now.
A.Dewitt: Mr Tram as you can see time is an issue for our Captain. I really am very eager to see if we can correlate our experiences . Is there any compromise that might be acceptable to you?
Tram: Is there something in particular I can assist you gentlemen with? I am eager to return to my conversation with the Lieutenant, I fear I am woefully overqualified to handle electrical concerns. If you need I can summon Tompkins, he would be more than happy to assist with any incessantly mundane inquiry you could possibly entertain.
It was like pieces were falling into place by themselves. Tram’s words peeled away more than he’d ever intended, and in the place of a man, Shayne now simply saw a truth, charted by a story Tram had written only snippets of. “Incessantly mundane inquiry”. “Woefully overqualified”. Tram was high on his own supply, but that was helpful in casing the man, as Richard cased the joint. He spoke like the most prestigious honors were due him, and if that were the case, they’d be obvious. But his ego was inflated to bursting… as warden of a prison. Off maps, off people’s minds, of no interest to anyone not there already, or concerned with those the prison contained. There was something here, something worth having, that allowed Tram to endure the indignity of unannounced visits, of Starfleet intervention, of cold and sallow surroundings that drove a man mad…
Shayne: oO It’s the prisoners. Oo
Shayne: In a moment, perhaps. It brings to mind, however, a question- what duties are not below you, Mr. Tram?
What exactly did he do in the day to day? And just how much of it involved the population nearby?
A.Dewitt/Matthews: Response
Tram: My duties are more overseeing the residents of the facility.
The stillness of concentrated neutrality was impossible to ignore, even to a non-telepath.
Matthews/A.Dewitt: Response
Tram: The communication is...simplistic. The Sheliak speak in a bastardized version of Federation standard. Beyond basic life care, I am not in the business of playing dutiful host. Previous attempts at motive have stalled. It seems they view us as nothing more than an inconvenient infestation requiring cleansing as they expand on their empire. Rather straightforward and simplistic. A similar sentiment held by the Changelings.
Shayne’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, like a trout’s.
Shayne: The fact that you’ve made any kind of progress understanding their language is… remarkable.
Tram/A.Dewitt/Matthews: Response
Shayne’s head fell backwards very slowly, and his eyes shut. Without opening them, he spoke.
Shayne: And these… examinations… they were voluntary?
Tram/Matthews/Dewitt: Response
Tag/TBC…
Captain Randal Shayne
Commanding Officer
NCC 62400
G239202RS0