Star Trek: Defiant

"Stereotypes Broken" - Part 1A

Written by Valas Maerret

"The magnetic flux of the object is reading .171 teslas," Maerret states after looking up from the console. Stellar Cartography is where he has been spending his recent days on the Defiant. When he first arrived, he was greeted with, at most, sceptecism from the majority of the crew, especially from the Vulcan stellar cartographer, T'Mal. When she had been given the extra large list of assignments for this month, she was forced to pull crew from other science divisions to assist. As it turned out, the Romulan astrophysicist was one of the few who had experience in this area - a prospect she was not overjoyed with.

Maerret tried to make her as comfortable as possible with the arrangement, but he knew that only time would ammend the uneasiness that many felt with him. Unfortunately, his credibility isn't exactly like a y'Lidian merchant. He was part of a Romulan attack on a Vulcan science station several years ago, which cost all of the Vulcans there their lives. But that, as with all of his previous memories was nothing more than a black void to him.

"Are you going to give me the ionization reading or just sit there daydreaming?" came the expected call from Lieutenant T'Mal. She had become a little more comfortable around Maerret these past few months, but still there remained that underlying animosity, and he knew to give her a wide berth in that area.

"I am sorry, sir," Maerret replied. "It is a little hard to make out at this range. Maybe if we moved a little closer..."

T'Mal cuts in "Now you know we just can't call up to the bridge and have them change course just so you can get a little better look at routine phenomena halfway between here and Romulus." Maerret wondered if that reference was deliberate.

"Of course not. I'm sorry, sir. It's around 2100," Maerret replied. Sir. That was sure an uncomfortable title to give. It had become more practiced lately, but the first year at the academy was difficult. Was it because he was used to giving orders? He does have the look and demeanor of the experienced sort. Indeed, may of his "former talents" are still in very much working order, suggesting that he does have much experience. Speaking English or Vulcan is no more difficult than Romulan, and even a little Klingon has escaped his lips.

There are the darker traits, too. The ones that may prove to be the largest cause of mistrust from Starfleet personnel. At the academy, he snuck into a seminar for sixth year brige officer cadets on tactical combat. After the instructor displayed the situation, Maerret had correctly guessed the proper manuevers for the various vessles to acheive a wide range of objectives, even before the lecture was started. It was almost too easy. He brought his findings to the officer's board and requested to enroll in bridge officer courses. Instead, he was given a reprimand for Intrusive Descrying. Not detracted in the slightest, he decided to take the long route to command, and only through a certain favor owed by Captain Bridges was he allowed to serve aboard a starship.

"Is there something bothering you, Maerret?" T'Mal asks, trying to sound interested, and getting annoyed from the said Ensign's lack of attention.

"Just wondering who I am."

"You're Ensign Valas Maerret, astrophysicist for the United Federation of Planets," T'Mal responds rhetorically.

"Look," T'Mal continues, "Not that I want to get personally involved with your affairs, but I would like to give you some advice. Just let the past go, it probably isn't all that good anyway." And for the first time, Maerret thought she actually tried to sound becoming.

"But if you're going to sit here moping all night," she interjects, "you should go talk to someone about it. Perhaps Barak. He might be able to help you find what you're looking for, whatever that might be."

"I've been purposely avoiding that one."

"Why?" T'Mal asks while still studying her padd.

"Because I might find out who I really am."

T'Mal looks up "Then what have we been talking about all this time?"

Maerret simply shrugs and looks back down at the console, determined to get this night's work done and sleep his confusions away.

* * *

"No way. Vladamir Heltzoc isn't gonna be defeated by any Bolian named 'Boogie'," Ensign K'larn states sternly in response to Commander Bedard's repeated antagonisms. "He's won the last four out of five championships. And especially if they play this year's on Mylar 3, there is little chance for your man."

"You don't know how wrong you are," Bedard replies undaunted. "Haven't you been keepin' up with these last several weeks scores? Heltzoc is loosing his touch. He's heading down so fast that retirement is gonna hit him like a Ferengi sanitation barge. My god, man, Henry Feller beat him just the other day, and he's ranked thirty-second!"

Maerret enters engineering just before the argument gets really heated. "Here's tonights scan of the Z'tarnis sector. T'Mal said you guys needed it for something."

"Quite right. Thank you, Ensign," Bedard temporarily pulled away from his debate, replies. "She's got you working late tonight, huh?"

Maerret states "I'm beginning to wonder if the sun ever sets on Vulcan." He walks over to the dilithium reaction chamber after handing his padd to the Bolian. Staring intently at the warp core he asks "Do you have any positions opening up in engineering?"

Bedard continues entering some figures in his console. "You've asked me that about three times now in the past month, and I'll give you the same answer: Yes, we have openings, but I don't handle the transfers, so until they *allow* you to transfer, I guess you'll be stuck in science."

You can't get anywhere from science, Maerret thought. He then noticed a small device sitting atop the chamber housing, hidden behind the plasma grate. He picked it up. "Is this yours?"

The Bolian smiles. "So that's where that thing was hiding. It's a particle stabilizer which we used on the dilithium during our antimatter refill last week. Someone must have set it on the housing there and forgot about it."

Maerret hands the device to Bedard on his way out. "And by the way, Dave Svarrx is gonna win the championship" he says, leaving with a confident smile on his face.

"Those Romulans wouldn't know double-tier boxing if it came up and punched 'em in the face," K'larn states heartilly. Bedard just smiles and continues his work.

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