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     Cdr. Velorna Tal |
“Commander, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Velorna Tal glanced up at her commanding officer as he leaned with arms folded across is chest in the doorway to her quarters. “It is traditional to ask before one enters another’s quarters, sir.” Captain Daren snorted and stepped into Tal’s quarters, the door snapping shut behind him. “Commander, I heard about what happened in Seventh Heaven a few minutes ago.” She noted his calm, but firm, demeanor. “Dr. Kennedy cleared you for duty two hours ago. Now, I know that grief is something that’s hard to deal with, but I’ve learned that biting people’s heads off and then shutting yourself off from the rest of the world isn’t the way to handle it. You’ll go nuts.” Tal watched her captain with curiosity. The two had never been close. Even their professional relationship could often be called strained at the best of times. Still there was something in his eyes – compassion, she supposed – that touched her. “Captain, I appreciate what you are trying to do. I really do.” She rose from her kneeling, meditative posture and moved with grace across the room to the replicator. There she punched in the code for the nutmeg and warm milk drink that Kennedy had prescribed her recently. But?” Daren asked cautiously, “But I am not yet –“ She sighed. “I do not feel that I am yet a whole enough person so soon after losing my children to resume my duties.” Daren nodded slowly. “I can respect you loss, Commander, believe it or not. Lost my dad when I was a kid. It hurt like hell, and I ended up doing a lot of stupid stuff there for a while. I never realized, though, what I was doing to those around me. They deserved better than what was amounting to a child’s temper tantrum.” “But, sir, you were a child.” “And you’re not, Commander Tal. You’re the executive officer of a Federation flagship. You’re thirty-three years old. You’re grown woman, goddammit. So stop acting like a child, and do your duty. I need you. This ship needs you. But you’re not irreplaceable.” “If the Captain so wishes to replace me –“ “I don’t want to replace you,” Daren said heavily. “Believe it or not, I actually respect you most days. I can’t have you moping around or locking yourself in your quarters, though, just because you’re upset. Integrating our emotions into our lives is part of living. I would have thought you’d have figured that out by now, Commander.” Tal sipped her drink and turned towards the viewports that took up most of the outer wall of her quarters. “Captain, I accused Ms. D’Rall of incompetence in public with no grounds other than the fact that I was – upset.” She rolled the word over on her tongue with great disdain, “I tried to blame our incapacitation and the loss of my remaining child on her for the simple fact that I was angry. Angry and the universe for giving me children and then taking them away again. I don’t think you need someone like that as your first officer. I’m willing to resign and let someone else step in and fill that role. I’m sorry, Captain.” Silence filled the air between the human captain and his Romulan first officer. Daren eyed Tal with an expression that was nearly impossible for her to read. She glimpsed pity and anger and a hint of sadness in his eyes, but she was uncertain what it all meant. “Are you done whining, Commander?” he finally asked with a soft-spoken snarl. “I beg your pardon, sir?” “Where the hell is the tough-as-nails bitch who rode my crew like a bucking wild targ? Hrm? Yes, what you said to Ms. D’rall was inappropriate. I’m glad you see that. But hiding from the rest of the universe won’t help make matters better. You’re tougher than that. I know it. D’Rall knows it. You know it, too; but you won’t let yourself see it. You think that by hiding in your quarters you can protect yourself and others from that explosive temper of yours. Maybe so. But this crew doesn’t need protecting. They’re grownups, just like you. Work things out with D’Rall. If you think she’s really not as good as she could be, let her know and don’t be afraid to do it. If you handle it poorly, make up for it and move on. But stop whining, and stop depriving me and my crew of their XO for any longer than is absolutely necessary.” Tal’s grip on the mug of warm milk tightened to the point where she could hear cracks forming in the surface of the ceramic. “Commander, I don’t have time to be lecturing you. But I need my XO back. Especially with my Operations Officer currently a smear of organic paste on the wall of an EPS conduit. You’ve got an hour to get cleaned up and get to the bridge. I need you overseeing damage control and working with Brooks on the energy field issue. Maybe whatever caused your connection can give us a clue as to the nature of the beast.” Tal glared daggers at the captain as he turned to leave. He stopped as the doors opened and turned to look at her. His eyes were tired, his face showing exhaustion. “Commander, for what it’s worth, you have my deepest sympathies on your loss. But if you’re physically capable, I really need you. One hour. Please.” Then he was gone. In less than twenty minutes, Tal was back on the bridge, cleaned and wearing a new uniform, performing her duties as asked. In the back of her mind and heart she still felt the fresh pain the loss of her children. But she allowed the hurt to fuel her desire to preserve others rather than to fuel her anger and spite. Daren watched her from near the CIC crossover at the back of the bridge, his gaze following her every move. In Daren’s ear whispered the voice of Savant. “Do you think it’s wise to have her back on duty so soon, Captain? Is she well enough to perform her assigned tasks?” Daren continued to watch Tal closely. “They say that time heals all wounds, Savant,” he whispered back. “And since Time inflicted her wounds, only Time will tell.” --- Christian D. Clem '01, aka "Aggie" Cdr. Velorna Tal, Executive Officer (IC) U.S.S. Coronado NCC-97901 |