Through the shimmer of the transporter sequence, the pearlescent walls of USS Hipparchus’s transporter room were replaced by the glorified closet where the Romulan Republic Warbird Zdenia stowed its transporter system. Beige chevron panelling made the bulkheads appear to be sloping inwards, closing in on Lieutenant Cloyce-Kploni.
The room was ugly. If the transporter room instinctively made him want to beam back where he came from, could he trust Romulan critical thinking any more than their interior design?
“We’ve been gifted an opportunity to survey a vast in-between,” Kploni said, continuing the debate he’d instigated from a starship away. He balled his fists by his sides and planted his boots firmly on the transporter dais, as he continued.
“To put it kindly, Starfleet’s charting missions through this region have been map-hazard at best. Deciding on the starting point for our star mapping is an incredible responsibility to shoulder.” Then he huffed nervously, “What makes you think the Romulans will know where to start without getting their signals star-crossed?”
By his side, Lieutenant T’Kaal looked askance in his direction. Even through the dimly lit gloom, he could see her posture remained poised. As Kploni straightened his own shoulders, he supposed that regal authority he recognised in her was something he saw in himself too.
“No subjective evaluation is required, lieutenant,” she said to him. The Vulcan stillness of her inflection meant that even when she disagreed with him, it could still sound like she was in agreement.
“The joint Romulan and Vulcan crew of Zdenia are integral components of Audacity Squadron, bound by a singular chain of command.” T’Kaal descended the stairs from the transporter platform, but Kploni obstinately stayed behind.
“We’re not debating aquarium sizes in cetacean ops,” he said by comparison. “We’re deciding how to engage the expertise of eighty aboard Hipparchus and hundreds more on Zdenia. That decision cannot come down to the stellar cartography proficiency of the Romulan Republic.”
In a sotto voice, Kploni whispered, “They didn’t notice when their own sun went supernova. It says so in the old empire’s orbit-uary.”
Raising her chin, T’Kaal explained, “Observation indicates that Starfleet captains are heavily affected by the opinions of objective specialists. The Vulcan Science Academy is one such body. Establishing a common understanding with the provost must then precede my formal request for his recommendation.”
That left Kploni intractable. He imagined roots extruding from the soles of his feet to hold him in place. Such was how little he wanted to follow leadership advice from T’Kaal, ten years his junior.
It hardly made sense. How would T’Kaal reach understanding with Issul, the provost of Zdenia’s chapter of the Vulcan Science Academy, before asking for his advice? As quickly as Kploni considered pointed ways to question her logic, he also recognised how much he needed her. Without the support of his chief science officer, he was adrift aboard Hipparchus, alone.
One never jabbed within one’s own herd.
After a protracted silence, Kploni finally said, “I don’t understand how to reach agreement before asking for advice. If your premise is logical, won’t you naturally reach planetary alignment?”
Awry edge rose in T’Kaal’s voice when she replied, “Your research has never been peer reviewed by Vulcans.”
A mechanical hiss filled the room, followed by a strident cawing. The arched doorway hatch slid aside, allowing Commander Flavia to charge into the room. The sharp features of her ridged brow and pointed ears only intensified the mischievous quirk to her expression. Her petite stature allowed Kploni to look past the Zdenia’s commanding officer when she said ‘hello’ by making accusations of T’Kaal colluding with the Vulcans.
As if he were Flavia’s utter opposite made flesh, Provost Issul stepped into the chamber a serene gait. Unlike Flavia’s black and green Republic uniform, the compact fit of Issul’s white robes caught Kploni’s attention. Between the severe expression and thick eyebrows, Kploni feared a raised brow of curiosity from Issul could completely undo him.
Countering Flavia’s accusations, T’Kaal stated, “You are also entitled to review the analysis transmitted to Issul.”
With a cluck of her tongue, Flavia waited only long enough for Issul to stand by her side before she plucked the data slate from his hand.
“You could have asked for it, though,” Kploni noted tartly. His earlier skirmish with T’Kaal hardly mattered anymore. He automatically sided with T’Kaal. He was with her.
Narrowing her eyes on Kploni, Flavia asked, “How are you competent to participate in this conversation, outpost scientist? Go back to riding a computer terminal.” –She dropped her gaze to scroll through the data slate’s interface– “Blasting across the stars requires an adventuring heart.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut and Kploni’s abdomen constricted. His open palms raised to the level of his chest, unbidden. After flinching so publicly, he longed for T’Kaal’s serenity. She so easily found strength in objective fact and logic. Kploni had always believed those to be serviceable weapons in the hands of the many. Against Flavia, they suddenly felt flimsy as tall grass in the wind.
If he defended himself, Flavia would carve away Kploni’s apprenticeship to stellar cartographers aboard the USS Dvorak; she would undercut his research on Islin Outpost, where he had analysed sensor logs collected by braver officers than he.
This mission meant everything. It proved his respect for the stars above. The laws of physics that ruled them all were laid out in-between the stars, holding secrets for all organisation on a macro and micro scale.
Although she held her expectant stare, Flavia stopped waiting for a response from Kploni, because he was stood there cringing. Whether it was biological or imaginary, all Kploni could hear was his blood pumping, while Flavia and Issul debated T’Kaal’s proposal.
Kploni took a breath and could make sense of his surroundings again when Flavia said, “Captain Elbon is mistaken in offering import to the decision of what sector to begin our mission. It matters not. We can’t trust the collection of ‘facts.’ Facts are never neutral.”
She threw the data slate to the deck. The slate hit at an angle, sending it clattering across the room. Issul folded his hands behind his back. He opened his mouth to speak, but then waited until the clamour had come to rest.
“Can we agree that measured reality is objective?” Issul asked.
Kploni couldn’t detect a long enough pause for Flavia to breathe or even to think. Her attitude needed a latitude adjustment.
“Never,” Flavia insisted. “We must ask who is doing the measuring. What does Starfleet benefit from charting the stars pinched between the Breen and Kzinti? What will it cost their allies to obtain the final star charts? Whoever controls the maps drafts the political future of this region.”
Issul countered, “Bias can be minimised through appropriate methodology. The science academy implements systems to make any individual bias inconsequential.” As lifeless as his voice sounded, his dark eyes were magnetic in their intensity. Kploni still wasn’t sure if he agreed with the Vulcan approach, but it sure was going down easy.
“The most insidious place the Star Empire ever masked its bias,” Flavia said in devilish delight, “was inside supposedly objective facts.”
T’Kaal started to speak, but Issul was already saying, “The solution is to question Captain Elbon’s mission to chart an entire sector. We will gather more data within a smaller–”
Already knowing where Zdenia’s first officer was going with his logical argument, Flavia cut in with, “More data gathered through a biased process merely produces more sophisticated bias.”
“If I may,” T’Kaal finally said, “Starfleet would argue that truth can only be found through collaboration. No one observer possesses all of a truth. That is why–”
Stomping to make her point, Flavia raised her voice to declare, “Captain Elbon lost two crewmembers while we were escaping the alternate universe. There’s no record of them ever existing. Only I remember that truth. So my truth wins.”
As he felt a tremble in his fingertips, Kploni balled his hands into fists. Composure, he squeezed his hands to display composure, but it only made the shaking worse. Mirroring Issul, Kploni hid his hands behind his back. He kept it to himself.
Elbon had done it again. Only worse this time.
The best maps were made by the ones who knew the most about mapping. Kploni knew this in his heart. And yet Flavia claimed to hold a data point that couldn’t be independently corroborated. It wasn’t objective, but it still had the ring of truth.
Elbon had done it again.
