Seated at one of workstations, her comm badge is placed on the bench with part of its coving removed, exposing the inner workings. She had placed it close to one of the interface panels, which also had a side and top framing removed, again exposing some of the workings. A scavenged ODN coupler and microprobe in hand, Eviea worked with an outward calm in the relative safety of the diplomatic area offered, but remained distinctly and uncomfortably aware of being effectively surrounded by not entirely friendly forces.

Her efforts to get past the lockouts imposed but the station’s security, was proving frustratingly difficult, more so than she expected for their technology level, but progress was being made.

“What are you trying to achieve?” Came the question, her father and the ambassador, who were one and the same, seemed to be getting impatient and concerned, if the notes creeping into a usually sickeningly pleasant manner of conversation were anything to go by.

“You might want to avoid What and How questions at present.” She responded without looking up from her task, close to cracking one particular sequence, her attention was only going to shift should the risk of discovery become imminent.

“Are you doing something illegal or underhanded at least?” He pressed, the stern note in his voice and the fact he was now, stood in front of her, in such a manner that cast a shadow across the workspace.

“I’m retrieving signals intelligence, that’s about all the details you probably want. If you’re going to keep up the plausible deniability and keep that status of yours clean.” Came her quick response, defensive in manner and trying to deflect any further questions, in part to keep her focus on the task at hand but mostly to avoid any conversations of personal nature. “Ha! I’m past security, hopefully garner enough information to give my Captain a basis for an agreement that will properly recognise the Makeabish.”

“Look at you, a fine diplomat in the family tradition, Of course you could have been even more notable, but you made a habit of disappearing at the most inopportune moments, starfleet has a lot to answer for me thinks” Sethran enthused, it seemed he had a genuine want for her to do well, just that their opinions of what ‘doing well’ was were clearly somewhat different.

“Please, Starfleet saved me. I was bored, father, caught between either endless presentations at dinners and reception lines with talks that seemed equally endless or swanning around with mind numbingly dull peers, whos measure was who was ‘ist’ the fastest, the prettiest, the smartest.” She vented, staking out her own opposing viewpoint, dropping and pushing aside the tools and placing her palms flat and leaning over the workstation. In truth this was the first time in a number of years she had faced past events and her feelings towards them head on.

“Your peers’ attitudes back then I know, all too well, your siblings were much the same. But you, you had something, a curiosity, a drive, I just wanted you to have the opportunity to develop that daughter.” It sounded like an appeal, like he wanted her to understand, there was belief there as well that the career he hoped for her was a worthwhile one, which made the unexpected tinge of disappointment all the more real. “But you turn away, turn to this life, repeatedly. Is it really that fulfilling?”

“Yes, what gets done by crews like mine, that share this life has tanagale benefits. Be that expanding the knowledge base of our collective civilisations, or getting in there and aiding those who have nowhere else to turn.” Eviea stated adamantly, the tone she used, posture the took, now stood up looking straight at her father, all spoke to her sense of pride and confidence in the life and career she had carved out in starfleet, and her determination to stick to it.

Her fathers expression, his whole demeanor seemed to soften at this, maybe that is what he wanted and needed from her, or perhaps he was just relenting because of the situation they faced. He moved around the workstation to a position where he could look over her work and progress. “If you’re past the initial lockout’s may I?” He queried, indicating the screen with a hand, she nodded and watched on as a command was selected, a submenu accessed, a code input. The screen changed, three new menus were available now. “It would not have worked before the initial security but once beyond that, you should have wide ranging access, it souls enable you to find what you need. What are you looking for?”

“Proof the planet is known to be inhabited, or being visited, also any communications.” Eviea said quickly, seating herself down and beginning to sift through the menu options, and the information that might be presented there. “If there’s proof of knowledge, we can push for recognition.”

“I think it’s only fair that continued support would be contingent on such recognition.” Sethren offered, drawing a pause and a lookup from Eviea. “We’re agreed on the point if they want into the federation fold they have to begin embracing the values, equal and protected rights, in this case.”

Her attention lingered for a moment, torn between an acknowledgement for the backbone of the recent statement, and entrenched and fermenting loathing for all he and by extension the entire diplomatic arm of the federation she had carried around for so many years. Looking down quickly and busying herself with the task at hand, she perused yet another submenu, as she commented. “We agree, then maybe there’s a chance for this after all.” Another submenu, this one marked ‘Transmision Log’, and there was one, sent just before the attempt to remove them from the station, and encrypted. “Might have a smoking gun here. Just need to decrypt it, fortunately tricorders are good at that sort of thing.”

Keeping her eyes between the tricorder and the display, avoiding contact or engagement, felt a little odd. But she feared the reaction she would have, feeling knotted and conflicted inside. Her father was moving a little more hesitantly, much more so than she was used to, but move he did around the workstation and seated himself in the chair opposite judging by the momentary shadow and the slight squeak only a chair could make.

“Only as good as the operator, or so I’m told.” He offered, by way of encouragement or commendation, it was kindly at any rate.

Eviea smiled and glanced up for a brief moment, her fathers face with a kind expression set against the stark white bulkhead, encapsulating the conflict she felt inside right now. one part warm, the other clinical and cold, then back down to her work. Shortly followed by a brief tone and a result. “Message reads: ‘Take no action against an unregistered home designed vessel, do not impede, do not acknowledge, it does not exist.’ There seems to be an abundance of none existent in this system. Now we contact the Roo.”