Better To Speak

Posted on Oct 22, 2014 @ 1:11am by Captain Kassandra Thytos & Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Edited on on Oct 22, 2014 @ 1:13am

Mission: Birth Of An Empire

"Better to speak"
(cont. "Afraid of the dark")
* * *=/\=* * *

"When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed.
But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to
speak.” ~Audre Lorde

“Remember always that you not only have the right to be an individual,
you have an obligation to be one.”
– Eleanor Roosevelt
* * *=/\=* * *

Location: USS PHOENIX
Stardate: 2.141021.1814
Scene: Sickbay

Cindy had gone to sickbay to run some standard tests, when she was
accosted by the lead Doctor, a tall, scruffy looking man with a
swollen, broken nose, who had quickly made himself a royal pain in her
ass. After some cursory and predictable comments about her 'assets' as
it were, and her eye wear, he was starting to needle her about her
qualifications, questioning them, insinuating that perhaps she was
just there because she was easy on the eyes. She was close to tears,
but kept her eyes fixed firmly on what she was doing.

Help came from a completely unexpected quarter. Suddenly Kassandra
Thytos, the scary red-headed Marine that had killed her on the CENTURY
was by her side, appearing out of nowhere.

“Doctor Foster, didn't you learn anything from our meeting earlier?”
The Marine's voice was hard, commanding, self assured. Cindy
recognized that voice, it was the voice Kassandra had used during the
rescue on the DISCOVERY, the voice that everyone seemed to follow
without questioning.

“It may interest you to know that Miss Rochemonte here was her
Starfleet class Valedictorian, same as you were,” Kassandra continued,
her eyes very cold and her words were enunciated carefully to mask her
colony world accent. “And even if she weren't, she is due the same
courtesy she treated you with. Apologize to her, and then let her do
her job in peace, while you actually do yours, and assist me in
obtaining some medkits to outfit the gym and training rooms with.”

“Fine, but only because she's far less interesting conversation. She's
so passive she might as well be a sponge. You might be an old
battleaxe, but at least you're entertaining to rile up. Plus I bet
Kane told you not to fight anymore.”

“The CAPTAIN said that I should try to use my words first. He didn't
say anything about not resortin' to violence if those didn't work.”

Cindy finished her work and headed out into the hall. She was followed
a moment later by the short Marine, who grabbed her shoulder and spun
her around, an angry look on her face.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Engineer Barbie?” Cindy looked up at
Kassandra, confusion on her face.

“What- wwwhat do you mean?” She stammered, looking into the glowering blue eyes.

“Why the HELL did you just sit there and let Doctor Foster harass you
like that?” The Marine put her hands on her hips and glared fearsomely
at Cindy. Cindy shrank back. “Do you have no respect for yourself? You
just gonna let people walk all over you for the rest of your life? Put
on yer fuckin' big girl pants, Chesty LaRue, grow a pair a' ovaries,
and stand up for yourself. You might be smart, but that ain't going to
get you nowhere if you come off as a brainless Mary Sue.”

“But you always bully me.” Cindy whispered.

“Fer cryin' out loud,” The Marine sighed. “Listen, that's a Marine
thing. Everyone gets called names. Russ is Pretty Boy, or Bird Boy, or
Shuttle Jocky, Massimo and Pia are the Twins, or Codependants,
dependin', the new girl is FNG, Drama llama, or Princess and you wanna
know what mine were? Red Menace, Lobster, Bullseye, Target Practice,
Cherry Bomb, Fire-crotch, Captain Coppertop. Anyway. Long and short,
grow up, stop tryin' to please everyone, and grow a backbone.”


* * *=/\=* * *


Scene: The Marine Quarters


The Marine’s had been hard at work training off duty members of the
crew in basic self defence, use of handheld phasers, and how to arm
the ship’s photon torpedoes. With no security officers, on board,
everyone needed to be able to help defending the ship. It was sweaty
hot work, and when they finally finished they congregated in the
hallway to get further instructions from Kassandra. The new Marine, a
busty redhead named Stacy Flannigan flung herself melodramatically
against the bulkhead, her ample bosoms heaving to their best effect as
she locked eyes with PFC Massimo.

“I’m just so hot and wet!” She exclaimed. “I hate being dirty so much…
I better go soap up and take a nice long, steamy shower…”

Kassandra’s jaw dropped, and Stacy flounced off, making sure that
Massimo got a good eyeful of her swaying derriere.

“Seriously?” She finally managed. “Where the hell did she come from?
Why is she here, and how is she a Marine?”

“I gather someone saw the chance to offload her.” Pia said dryly,
poking Massimo in the ribs. “Stop drooling.”
“I think she’s nice.” Massimo said, slightly stupidly. The two women
rolled their eyes heavenward


“Nice will get us killed,” Pia pointed out.

“We’re going to die anyway but what a way to die,” Massimo replied.
He was straining his neck to look around the corner towards where
Flannigan went so he never saw Thytos smacking him upside the head.

=/\=

Scene: Owen Arion’s Office

“You want to what now?” Owen asked amiably as he sat back in his chair.

Cindy sat up in the beige overstuffed couch, which was harder than it
sounded. “I want to file a complaint against Major Thytos,” she
announced with a trembling voice. “And Dr. Foster.”

The Trill Counselor sighed. Holding up a glass jar he had on his desk
he said, “Want a treat?”

Cindy looked at him with wide eyes (behind her glasses). “Where did
you get those?”

Owen smiled affably. “I brought them with me on board. Other people
bring clothes or mementos from home. Arion has too many attachments
so I’m trying to let that go; I’m getting better but...there’s still a
need to bring food with me.” As Cindy took out a small chocolate he
leaned back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand the desire to file
a complaint against Foster, but he didn’t know Thytos, and
professionalism forced him to ask, “Why?”

Cindy was shaking at that, which to anyone else with a Y chromosome
would have led to a “Oh you poor dear”. Instead the Trill nodded and
admitted, “This is beyond me.”

Rochemonte’s jaw dropped. Before she could say another word, Owen
snapped his fingers and said, “Lt. Smooshy, this is a case for you.”

**Lt. who now,** Cindy thought to herself. But instead she her a
light metal clanging before there was a little scrape on the floor.
Suddenly a small tan pug with a black snout and ears came trotting
over to the couch. The metal clanging, Cindy realized, came from the
chain around Lt. Smooshy’s neck which not only had his dog tag but a
regulation communicator. More spry than his rotund body would suggest
the pug leapt up next to Cindy and plopped his head on her lap.

“Mon Dieu! Is he wearing--”

“He is in uniform, Counselor teal to be precise, therefore he is also
bound by Counselor-Patient confidentiality,” Owen replied, his lips
quirking up slightly. Leaning back he said, “Lt. Smooshy’s
specialities--”

“He has specialities?” Cindy asked.

“All Counselors do,” Owen replied sincerely. Motioning to the dog who
was looking up at the Frenchwoman with large brown eyes he said, “His
include drooling, sitting patiently by the door, and naturally
lowering blood pressure and anxiety while increasing our visitor’s
endorphins and oxytocins.” When Cindy gave him a skeptical look Owen
held up his hands, “Look I just give out candy and push PADDs, Lt.
Smooshy does all the real work.” Leaning back in his chair he said,
“Go on have your session, I’ll just be transcribing for Lt. Smooshy;
he’s terrible with PADD-work. Always late and I’ll tell you now,
Daziel is already on his case about it.”

“Right,” Cindy nodded. Well she already finished the chocolate.
Looking down at the pug she said, “It’s not fair. I mean I work hard
but all I get are Chesty LaRue and put on your big girl pants from
Major Thytos.” When Lt. Smooshy rolled over, Cindy sighed and rubbed
his belly.

“That’s his sign for tell him more,” Owen prompted.

“Oh well,” Cindy continued on, “And I have a name, it’s not like she’s
ever used it.”

When Lt. Smooshy made a grunting sound, Owen never looked up from his
PADD but asked, “Smooshy wants to know if you ever told Thytos that.”

Cindy looked down. “Kind of - I don’t know - well maybe.” Smooshy
began to nudge harder at her for that; eventually Cindy opened up her
arms and Smooshy settled down in her lap. Once the pug settled down
she admitted to the calmed down dog quietly, “It’s very hard to talk
to her.”

Both Owen and Lt. Smooshy sat there and looked at Rochemonte for a
long time until she became uncomfortable. “What?!” she asked.

“You have no problem pushing me, or Lt. Smooshy for an answer,” Owen
pointed out. “Why?”

“I’m sorry -- well it’s just that -- y-you see,” Cindy sputtered as
she began to wring her hands. But every time she tried, and kept
trying to push out her words, Lt. Smooshy kept headbutting her. “Stop
that!” she told the pug. Eventually Lt. Smooshy’s ears flopped down
and buried his pushed in lap, as if he was ashamed of himself.

“He doesn’t like it when you do that,” the Trill replied mildly from
across the room.

Cindy looked up at Owen. “Yelling at him?”

Owen shook his head. “My last co-worker was a Nauscian who ate Orion
wingslugs as a snack -- you don’t want to know what that’s like. Lt.
Smooshy *loved* him; he could care less about yelling. No that thing
you do with the stuttering and I don’t know what to call it but with
your hands all mixed up.”

Cindy bit her lip. “It’s a nervous tic.”

“Yeah I got that,” Owen nodded. The Trill got up and moved to the
seat across from the sofa where Lt. Smooshy and Cindy were. Leaning
in so that his elbows rested on his knees he asked, “Let me say this:
you’re a brilliant woman. But if a *pug* who graduated last in his
class at obedience school can see what you’re doing to yourself and is
desperate to make you stop it to the point of almost hurting
himself...what do you think you doing that does to Major Thytos? Or
Dr. Foster? Or even your co-workers? Or your friends?”

Cindy didn’t feel like this was the time to mention she didn’t have friends.

“They don’t want to see me be like that?” Cindy asked quietly.

“Yeah, but sadly the universe is not made up of pugs,” Owen said
quietly. “Not everyone is going to headbutt you, Cindy, to make you
change your ways. Major Thytos is responding in a way she knows how.
It’s crude, and crass, but it’s her way. Dr. Foster
is...well...agreed, he’s unprofessional, and I’ll leave it at that.
But like pugs, people respond to something, rarely do people just go
out and do something. They’re responding to *you*. If you don’t like
the way they’re responding...maybe then you need to change what it is
they’re responding to. And maybe you’re worth more than what you’ve
built yourself up to.”

Cindy nibbled her lip saying nothing. Inhaling she was about to say
something when Lt. Smooshy jumped off the couch and waddled back
behind Owen’s desk. “Where’s he going?”

“End of the session,” Owen replied affably. “Or in Lt. Smooshy’s
terms, time to get some grub,” he grinned.


* * *=/\=* * *

Don't be offended by my frank analysis,
think of it as personality dialysis,
Now that I've chosen to become a pal, a sister and adviser,
There's nobody wiser, not when it comes to popular.
It's all about popular, it's not aptitude
it's the way you're viewed,
so it's very shrewd to be very very popular like me!
-"Popular" from Wicked

* * *=/\=* * *


Scene: The unnamed ships lounge

Cindy wasn't sure what to do next, so she went to the ship's lounge.
It was a bit austere and right out of the box in feel, but people
apparently had been bringing in personal items to make it feel more
homey. Several board games were on the top of the bar, and some
bright shawls and fabrics were strewn about, obviously waiting for a
good home. The barman Rodger van Horne was flirting outrageously with
a curvaceous redhead wearing a skintight jumpsuit.

The redhead smiled at Cindy and sashayed over.

"Well you just look miserable, sugar! We can't have that, this is a
place to relax! My name is Stacy Flannigan, what about you?" She
smiled broadly.

"Cindy Rochemonte." Cindy accepted the proffered hand.

"Well, now we're friends, why don't you tell me what's making you look
like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders?" She shooed
Rodger away from the bar, and sat Cindy down.

"I wouldn't want to annoy you with it," Cindy said uncomfortably,
unsure why the woman was so interested, but also aware that of all
the people on this ship, Stacy might understand her plight.

"Well I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't curious, so you aren't
exactly putting me out, sweetie," Stacy looked at Cindy quizzically.
"Unless you don't want to talk."

"N n no, that's not it." Cindy began to knead her hands again before
she remembered what the counselor had said and sat on her hands.

"Well then, don't be shy! Stacy plopped down, lacing her fingers and
resting her chin on the backs. "I love talking to interesting people,
and you look like you just might be one, even though you're trying
hard to pretend you aren't."

"I'm really not." Cindy looked at her lap.

"Sure you are. Boring people are usually too dumb to worry about
things." Stacy smiled at Cindy.

"Well... I feel like everyone is ganging up on me recently. That
horrible doctor, the bitch of a MCO, and the really nice counselor and
even his dog have all told me that I need to grow a backbone." Cindy
removed her glasses and wiped away a tear.

"And do you?" Stacy handed her a handkerchief and began to put a
prettily embroidered pillowcase onto a throw pillow.

"Maybe. It seems like no one respects me anymore. The other engineers
are nice but they don't respect me even though I'm the aCEO. They
picked up the horrible nicknames the MCO gave me, and call me that
instead of my name. Then today after I talked to the counselor I tried
to stand up for myself and they laughed at me!"

"How... exactly... did you stand up for yourself?" Stacy asked hesitantly.

"Well, everyone seems to listen to the MCO, so I tried to tell them to
stop calling me Flaming Tits using that voice and attitude she uses,
and they laughed. Then since that didn't work, I tried telling them
the way Xana Bonviva would, and they laughed harder... and now you're
laughing at me." Cindy felt wounded.

"Not at all cupcake, but I know why it didn't work. You can't command
respect by acting like someone else, you gave to find a way that works
for you. The Major's way works for her because she knows she's no
better than the common being, and lets face it, she's scary. Ms
Bonviva's way works because she knows she's better than the common
being, and has the political chicanery to back it up," Stacy patted
Cindy on the shoulder. "You need to find what works for Cindy."

"Why can't I just be who I am?" Cindy complained.

"You want an honest answer? Because your lack of confidence and your
passiveness hide all your accomplishments, and allow your coworkers to
turn you into some weird nerdboy fetish dream instead of recognizing
you as a fully realized human being in your own right. That's why the
Major's nicknames are all about your chest, because you don't let
anyone see you as more than an attractive, awkward, insecure woman
constantly seeking male approval because of daddy issues," Stacy said
it all with a smile that softened the sting. "Now, the Major isn't
very impressed with me personally, thinks I'm a terrible Marine, but
she respects me because I know who I am, and I know what I'm worth. So
go on, Cindy, brag to me about all the things you're proud of for a
start while we fix this place up, and then while we eat our dinner,
you're going to give me a good long rant about all the things you
hate."

"Why should I do that? Why would you want me to do that?" Cindy
frowned, tossing her hair back from her shoulder and staring hard at
the other woman.

"Because you're my new project. Trust me. Being opinionated feels good."

* * *=/\=* * *

NRPG: Chris, thought this would be a good time for you to flesh out
Cindy, and hope you don't think we were being mean!

Anyhow, lets get this show to LIMBO

A Joint Post by:

Sarah Albertini-Bond
Xana Bonviva
USS PHOENIX

&

Alix Fowler
Kassandra Thytos
MCO/Gun for loan
USS PHOENIX