Ensign T’Fearne: Jus Soil & Jus Sanguinis
Teayl Thorn
Ensign T’Fearne: Jus Soil & Jus Sanguinis
The overhead lights cast a muted glow across the small office and the JAG lawyer sitting at his desk.
T’Fearne: Lieutenant Morrow? Ensign T’Fearne. I sent a message requesting a meeting.
The officer dragged himself from the desk in a manner that initially concerned her that she might have to call for medical assistance for him, but then he straightened and levelled a powerful smile at her that was, for a moment, slightly dazzling, preoccupied, she barely noticed.
Morrow: Greetings, Ensign, you mentioned in your message that you needed an issue resolved, and I’m hoping I can assist in some way.
T’Fearne: That’s right, sir. Thank you for taking the time. I’m not sure if citizenship law falls under your purview, but I think I need to talk to someone about this…
Morrow: My office is a speak-free zone, Ensign. By the way, you can call me Jack. Please come in and have a seat.
Something in the casual invitation nearly sent her retreating out of the office…but who else aboard the Ronin was qualified to help her with this?
She stepped inside, nodding formally before taking the seat. It felt too small, or maybe that was the gravity of the situation settling on her shoulders.
T’Fearne: It’s... personal. :: warning :: But it has professional implications. If I can’t resolve it quickly, it could pose a liability to the ship.
She tried to explain—but faltered, lips parting, then pressing into a tight line. She shook her head, frustrated at her own hesitation.
Morrow: You okay, ensign? Glass of water, maybe some tea?
She just handed the PADD to the lieutenant, ignoring the beverage offer.
T’Fearne: I’ve received an official communication from Academy Administration and Records. Apparently, Starfleet Intelligence has also been looped in on the correspondence. They’re saying there’s an issue with my citizenship, specifically, that my status as a citizen of Vulcan is under question.
She observed Morrow’s expression as he scanned the message. His bright blue eyes seemed intent, so she went on.
T’Fearne: I applied for admission to the Academy under a Vulcan-sponsored scholarship program. Now they’re claiming my documentation is incorrect, and I may have been ineligible from the start.
She looked away for a second, then added firmly.
T’Fearne: I was born on Vulcan! Or at least, that’s what I’ve always believed. My parents left Vulcan when I was very young, too young to remember. Both my parents are alive on Betazed, where we...relocated and can confirm my origins and lineage.
He tapped the corner of the PADD on his chin a few times, looking thoughtful.
Morrow: ::raising an eyebrow:: Look, it’s most likely a clerical error. Some padd pusher probably was the one who missed or omitted things from your scholarship.
Hearing his guess was a slight relief. She felt her tension begin to unwind, even gesturing at her own pointed ears with a slightly incredulous smirk.
T’Fearne: You’d think the ears would be a strong indication. :: growing more serious:: If I can’t prove I’m a legitimate Vulcan citizen through documentation, the Academy might nullify my scholarship retroactively, and that puts my commission at risk of becoming invalid. If that happens... from what I understand or remember from my LAW101 class, I would be at risk of a dismissal, maybe even a formal inquiry. It could reflect on the ship, the crew, and anyone who signed off on my assignments.
The JAG officer ran a hand over his face before setting down the PADD. She could see his preoccupation, his mind clearly turning the problem over.
Morrow: ::digging around his desk:: And you’re right, it would be a dismissal, you’d lose your commission and could be trouble for the Academy as well. Could this have anything to do with being only half-Vuclan?
She blinked at the bluntness of the question, a line appearing between her brows. Reflexively, her fingers lifted toward the fine tip of her ear but paused mid-air and returned to clasp in her lap.
T’Fearne: I wouldn’t have thought so. We’re not common, but we’re not anomalies either. When I reported aboard the Ronin, I’m sure a Trican was transferring from the engineering department to a new ship, and I think my new roommate is not a full Vulcan, though she hides it well. It’s approved of as far as I’m aware. People of multi-cultural backgrounds help to bring understanding and diverse perspectives.
Her Betazoid empathic sense flared, picking up a sudden wave of intense emotion, deep disgust from the officer. She cast a quick glance around. Had she… done something to disgust the Lt.? She sniffed the collar of her uniform discreetly. Had she been wearing it too long?
oO Or does he dislike me? What I am?? Oo
But then the wave of emotion vanished, replaced by the abrupt clatter of a mug. Morrow set his coffee aside, a mild grimace on his face.
oO Ah. Bitten by cold coffee. Oo
Morrow: That’s certainly the angle I would work. What does Betazed say in all this? Which I should ask, are you a dual citizen?
T’Fearne: I’m awaiting a document request from home, but I filed the original application under Vulcan jurisdiction. I’m not sure Betazed would have much to say. I can forward that to you when I receive it? Though it is very clear in all my documentation that I am half-Betazoid. And yes, I have dual citizenship. Vulcan citizenship is both my… :: pausing to recall the legal terms learned at the academy :: my 1jus soli—my birthright by soil—and 2jus sanguinis—by blood of my father’s family. It's my stronger claim, so I used it for the scholarship. Applying through rigorous Vulcan standards goes a long way with the Academy selection.
As the words left her lips, a chill spread down her spine. And with it, a hollow weight like a tiny black hole pressed into her chest. Losing her scholarship was one thing, but being stripped of her commission? Exiled from the ship she'd bled for? That struck her as more terrifying than her first enemy engagement with the Lattice Alliance boarding DS33.
Lt. Morrow set the PADD down, putting his elbows on the table, his hands steepled. A pause stretched between them, then he swivelled sharply and plucked a thick, ancient book from the shelf behind him. It landed on the desk with a dusty thud.
Dust motes dancing in the artificial air like lost stars, soon to be filtered out of the circulation by the Ronin’s environmental systems.
Embossed in bold across the spine: STARFLEET FAMILY LAW – INTERSPECIES AMENDMENTS, VOL II
Morrow: The answer might be in here, regarding citizenship and all the necessary padd work. Let me state for the record that we might find more than we’re looking for. Are you ready for that to happen?
Looking at the ancient dusty text, thicker than her arm, she weighed her options.
T’Fearne: :: voice quiet but firm :: What does that mean? What might we find?
Morrow: Response
Her spine straightened as the weight of the void lightened, and a determined glint ignited in her dark eyes.
T’Fearne: Then yes. Even risking that, I’m willing. I won’t let my commission be revoked without a fight.
Morrow: Response
T’Fearne: If you think that's best. Thank you, Jack. Having someone on my side in this… it helps, more than you know.
Morrow: Response
T’Fearne: Just one thing. Could we go over this in a corner of the Brew Continuum? I’ve heard they have a shipment of Robusta beans, a Qu’noS-grown varietal, and I’ll need something industrial-strength for this.
Morrow: Response
[Tag, You’re It! / Might be a good place to end scene for T’Fearne, but feel free to continue another round if inspiration strikes.]
OOC:
1Jus soil - ‘Right of soil’, the right of anyone born in a territory to nationality or citizenship.
2Jus sanguinis - ‘Right of blood’, a principle of law by which nationality is determined or acquired by the nationality of one or both parents.
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14