Diplomatic Reflections

Posted on Thu Mar 31st, 2016 @ 3:34am by Lieutenant Commander Li'thia t'Dharvanek

636 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Pathways

Li'thia tugged at the collar of her Starfleet uniform as she walked across the gardens section of the Starfleet Command complex. After nearly ten years of being on reserve duty and loaned out to the Federation Diplomatic Office and not wearing her uniform in all that time, the blasted thing seemed to have reduced in size. She refused to accept the fact that maybe, just maybe, she might have gained a few pounds over the past decade. She would have to get the thing adjusted, or not wear it. That joyful thought was instantly decapitated before she could even think about it seriously. Starfleet diplomatic officers were held to high standards, since they represented not only Starfleet but the entire Federation. It would be inadvisable to appear at a diplomatic function in, for example, a low cut bikini.

In many ways, Li'thia figured that her transfer to the Hyperion would be a good thing. She had grown soft and maybe just a little bit lazy as the Federation representative to Terria. She hadn't ever been a bad officer, but she had grown accustomed to late nights, lots of expensive dinners, and all the Romulan ale she could drink. Now, she was returning to a life of little sleep, stressful situations, replicated food, and well, there might be some Romulan ale included somewhere. But first, she would have to defeat two opponents: her extreme hatred of her own species, and her damned Starfleet uniform.

Li'thia paused by a small pond and sighed as she noticed her reflection. She had left Romulus with her mother nearly thirty years ago, forced into exile after her father had been forced to commit suicide for the simple crime of speaking out against a corrupt governmental system. Once Li'thia had come of age and joined Starfleet, her mother had secluded herself on the most remote desert on Vulcan, content on remaining in isolation for the rest of her life. Li'thia had grown to hate the Romulan Empire for half of her adult life, and although her hatred had simmered down into something more akin to a strong dislike, it took very little to stir her emotions up again when it came to certain subjects.

It was her exile that made Li'thia wonder if her assignment to the Hyperion was a sign. She doubted that the Romulan government would allow someone who had been exiled for thirty years to simply be allowed free run of the Empire once more unless changes had been made. It was no secret that the Romulan government had suffered a number of changes and political changeovers since the Reman rebellion in 2379, but there was no way to tell from the outside if those changes had been for the good. It was also possible that Starfleet hadn't informed the Romulans of Li'thia's presence on the Hyperion. It was possible, since technically Starfleet could assign which officers and crew they wanted to Starfleet ships. It just seemed to be an oversight that someone, somewhere, knew at the very least could be a potential problem.

With a sigh, Li'thia turned away from the pond and looked down at the padd in her hands. Her official transfer orders and a copy of her last physical exam, of which was years out of date, were on the padd. She knew that, personal feelings aside, she had a job and her duty as a Starfleet officer to stand by. She would do precisely that: her job. With that firmly in mind, Li'thia nodded, mostly to herself, and continued on her way to the nearest shuttle pad where a transport shuttle was waiting to take her up to the Hyperion. At the very least, Li'thia was sure that her assignment to the Hyperion would be at the very least interesting.



LtCmdr Li'thia t'Dharvanek
Diplomatic Officer

 

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