Occupied by a Cardassian

Posted on Sun Jul 17th, 2011 @ 8:32am by Lieutenant Jasad Broca & Lieutenant Torrna Maliya MD

Mission: Too Close for Comfort...
Location: USS Arizona Sickbay
Timeline: After A Cardie and a Trill Walk into a Bar...

Jasad made much haste in reaching Sickbay, very much embarrassed at his late arrival. He had been automatically scheduled for a physical upon reporting for duty on the Arizona, but had forgotten all about it during the press of duties. It was only now, while enjoying drinks and conversation with the ship's Second officer, that he had remembered the appointment. This left him in the unfortunate position of leaving a bad impression on the resident medical personnel.

As he laid eyes on the Doctor, he realized that he had more to worry about than tardiness.

She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that humans never could be to a Cardassian. Smooth, soft faces were a novelty. One could grow to like them, and even to feel lust for them. He had managed it on more than one occasion. But such attraction required that a person be willing to look past his natural bias and inborn preferences, and embrace alien physiques and appearances.

This beautiful Doctor was not human, however. Nor Trill, nor any of the races distinct from humans only through coloration of skin and quirks of hairstyle. A Deltan and a Betazoid and an Orion might as well be human based on the shape of their faces. Trills looked like humans with spots. All of them sported soft, smooth features. This woman had something extra. The indentation between her brows and the ridges on her nose added an angular hardness that set his heart beating faster. To a Cardassian, ridges were sexy. Neck ridges especially, but nose ridges? There was something indescribably alluring about it. It was alien and familiar at the same time. Exotic and Tempting.

It was hardly surprising that the orphanages on Bajor had once been filled to capacity with the hybrid children of Cardassians and Bajorans. Even as the army of occupation had swarmed all over the Bajoran homeworld and slaughtered and enslaved its people- even as they assured themselves that they were superior to the Bajorans in every way- the slave masters had not been able to deny the forbidden magnetism they felt towards their new chattel. Those women who would not submit willingly in exchange for preferential treatment soon found themselves bent in violent rape, abused by their overlords. It was small wonder that they had risen up so violently and successfully to throw off the yoke of oppression.

Jasad had been there, once, during his training for the Cardassian military. He had felt the same hunger as the other Cardassians upon laying eyes on his first Bajoran girl. But he had felt something else, too. A warning that something was not right with him. It was a seed that blossomed into the weed of betrayal against his own people. He had felt Shame.

Now he felt it again, taking its place alongside forbidden attraction. His people had savaged her people. If anyone had cause to hate him on this ship, it would be she.

"Jasad Broca," he said after recovering his wits, "reporting for my physical. I apologize for the lateness of my arrival."

Maliya, on the other hand had been blissfully unaware of his presence at first. At first that is, until she caught a scent all to familiar. It made her blood run cold and boil at the same time, hairs rising at the back of her neck. A 'Spoonhead' had just stepped into her territory. Flashes of memories distant, and not so distant flashed before her eyes as she looked over at him with steel grey eyes, cold as an ice-berg.

There was a Cardassian in her Sickbay, in a Starfleet uniform, with officer pips, asking for a physical. Maliya could hardly believe this. Though on the other hand, was it really that surprising? Starfleet had the tendency to accept every piece of ilk and filth that crossed their path if they proved themselves faithful. A Cardassian, proving himself faithful? To their lunatic racial cause and even crazier superiority complex only! How many had she killed? Fifty? Sixty? In the Dominion War? She couldn't remember the exact number anymore.

He was asking firo a physical!? She must have done something to anger the Prophets so violently to be punished like this. But what? Was it because she'd slept with the husband of the Roanoke's Captain? The insane Trill had already punished her enough. No, surely they wouldn't punish her for that...what then?

~Maliya snap out of it, he's talking to you! You're a Starfleet Officer, and one of the best healers in the Fleet. This piece of filth is a fellow officer. Ignore the race, treat him as just another officer.~ her mind, which caught up to events sooner than her enflamed heart and pagh urged. ~You're making an idiot of yourself!~

"Welcome aboard....Lieutenant..." she said finally, not having fully managed to loose the cold that seeped into her tone and never left her expression. Another deep breath and she stepped closer to him, unconsciously finding herself scanning him for weak spots where she could strike fast and hard...."I am Doctor Torrna, the Chief Medical Officer. If you'll please take a seat." she said pointing over to Bio Bed 1.

The rest of Sickbay occupants quickly made themselves scarce, though Torrna suspected that they were hiding behind the first corner, listening.

Jasad felt her eyes upon him. She had the look of a predatory sea creature that had found a morsel of food that was too foul to be eaten. It was, he supposed, the least he could expect. He took a seat as requested, and wondered if she had ever fought in the resistance. She seemed too young for it. On the other hand, the resistance did not have a qualifying age. When a people were oppressed, any soldier of any age might be conscripted to the cause of freedom. Many resistance fighters had sworn an oath to kill Cardassians whenever they came upon them. To slay without mercy or regret. Blood for Blood, Evil for Evil. Jasad wondered if she was one such rebel, and if so... had she allowed herself to forget her oaths?

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Jasad offered, trying to wear his most pleasant smile. "How shall we begin?"

Maliya nodded and reached over to the wall pannel to bring up his file. As she did so, she picked up the tricorder and extracted the enhancer probe and began calibrating the scans to Cardassian physionomy. A physionomy she knew in her sleep. How to strike, when, and how fast to kill a Spoonhead in the most efficient way possible.

With a heavy breath, she looked up at him, fighting with the very core of her being not to kill him on the spot. Her hatred for his people still ran so very deep. To the point it even surprised her. It had been almost two decades since the end of the Occupation, over a decade since the Dominion War. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd been there...on Bajor...or in the war?

A thought that again surprised her, what had caused him to switch sides and join up? Was he from one of the DMZ colonies perhaps? Too many questions ran through her head. Too many for this encounter, too many for her to stay focused on the task. So she pushed them aside, to the dark crevace of her heart, bolted it behind a steel door. Best it stay there for now, or she'd give in to her urges. She was Starfleet now, and this was her home. And by the looks of it, his aswell. She would treat him as any other.

If she could just see past his appearance. She had to. "Any illnesses, injuries or other maladies since your last physical that I need to be aware of?" she asked as she began scanning him. The question of sex had to be asked eventually, but she couldn't bring herself to ask it just yet. She couldn't.

Jasad searched his memory for any minor complaints that he might have forgotten. Nothing came to mind. "I'm afraid the time since my last physical has been rather dull. Transferring to the Arizona has been the highlight of my year, and it appears I missed most of the danger by the fortuitous timing of my arrival. Even the worst of the damage was handled before I came aboard, leaving only minor tweaks to be performed. So... no bumps, scrapes, bruises, or burns. I haven't had an illness in ages. Probably because I haven't been on an away mission in some time. All in all, danger and I have not been closely acquainted since the end of the Dominion war." He hoped that he might find a path to a more tender disposition by mentioning the war. Perhaps the fact that he'd been in Starfleet back then would soften any ill feelings she had.

Part of him felt that he should simply apologize to her outright for the wrongs done to her people during the years of occupation. But how did one say 'sorry' about such a subjugation? Another part of him resented the idea of his whole civilization being classed together in sin. They were not a hive mind. Each man was responsible for his own actions, and limited by his own power. Could his whole race be expected to bear the weight and burden of guilt over this? For how long? These questions and impulses formed a strange mixture of guilt, anger, sadness, and yearning that made a churning soup of his heart. More than anything, he wanted to find a way to bridge the yawning gap of pain that lay between them. She was being very polite, but he knew there was something other than friendliness lurking behind her gaze.

"To be honest," he said, hoping to lure her into a conversation, "I'm not even sure what force damaged this ship so severely, and sent so many good people to their end. Were you here when it occurred? Can you tell me about it?"

Maliya blinked for a moment, why did he go mentioning the war? It didn't quite make sense. She continued scanning him as she gathered her wits about her. Whilst her heart roared at his audacity, her rational mind fought to stay the madness and think clearly. Surely, he wouldn't mention the war if he was on the other side. He wasn't stupid. If there was one thing a Cardassian wasn't, was stupid. He'd be signing his own death warrant if he'd mentioned the war and was on the Enemy side.

That only left...~He fought against his own...he fought for us...Prophets, this is a cruel joke~ she thought. That was the only solution that made rational sense, despite how much it felt wrong to the core of her being. She put a mental break on when she realised he was talking again.

"Uh...yeah...they got hammered by the Romulans in a previous mission. I wasn't there myself, but from what I hear it was pretty bad." she said finally, then looked up at him again, "When'd you cross over?"

The sentence left her lips before she could stop herself. The Spoonheaded bastard had lured her into a conversation she DIDN'T want to have, and the sometimes stupidly curious Maliya landed right in it. Damn him!

Jasad tried to imagine a Romulan Warbird de-cloaking and having its way with the Arizona. Romulan ships were fast, powerful, and stealthy as a desert cat. It was a testament to this ship that they'd survived the encounter at all. Pushing that thought out of his mind, he focused on the question she'd asked. The one he'd been hoping she'd ask. It was the only possibility of a bridge between them.

Cross over... It sounded like a question about death. Perhaps astutely so. Everything he'd held dear had been lost to him that day. Was it not a death of sorts?

He frowned slightly as he considered the question. "I suppose the definitive moment was just under forty years ago, at Setlik III." His gaze toured her features again. It was a guilty pleasure. "I can't imagine you were born yet. You seem far too vibrant and beautiful to be as old as I am."

His frown became a slight smile, though sadness colored his eyes. "I was a young Engineering officer on one of the new Galor class ships. It was a proud time to be a Cardassian. Our culture was prospering under the guidance of the military. Every year brought news of a new world that had asked for Cardassian protection, and offered some of their lands and resources as a reward for our help. Meanwhile, I was serving on one of the most powerful ships in the Galaxy, a marvel of Cardassian design and efficiency. A symbol of our newfound strength. I knew that someday soon I would be in command of one of these vessels. Promotions always came quickly in wartime, and the hostilities that would come to be known as the Federation-Cardassian War had just begun."

He studied her face again, briefly. He could almost see what was brewing there. It had not escaped him that the things he was saying would incite anger in someone who had been born on a world only recently freed from under the Cardassian boot. But could he deny to her the heady feelings of his ignorant youth? Omit the perceptions of a soldier of Cardassia? No. Not if she was to understand the truth of his words. It might even be good for her to hear it, to know what had happened to him. It might put the whole Cardassian people into perspective. He spoke quickly, lest the conversation end before he'd said what was important.

"We learned that the Federation was massing a force in the Setlik system, in the third world orbiting that star. They were clearly building for a pre-emptive strike. Our generals decided, wisely, to pre-empt the pre-emption. Every available ship was summoned for an ad-hoc invasion force. When we received the order to join the emergency task force, the crew of our ship cheered. Soon, we would earn our place in Cardassian history, and bring pride and honor to our families on Cardassia." He delved deep into her gaze, reaching out with his will and hoping to make a connection with her. He would probably never speak five more important words to a Bajoran: "On Cardassia, Family is Everything."

"Because we were not equipped with a proper invasion force, most of the young officers on the ship were asked to lead landing parties. Squads of a dozen enlisted men, hastily armed, led by junior officers. I was both proud and terrified to be asked to lead one such squad. It was more responsibility than someone of my rank would normally be given. It was a chance to advance myself early in the war. And... it was an opportunity to be killed in action against the Federation, a foe we were warned was much more ruthless than they let on. While platitudes of peace poured from their lips, they armed themselves with powerful warships that could reduce entire planets to ash. Not a foe to be trifled with, especially if they were massing for a strike."

"Our ships warped into orbit, and met minimal resistance. We had caught them unawares! Our landing parties beamed down instantly. Thirteen squads beamed down from the Trager to secure our section of the battlefield. Nearly 170 officers and men, tasked with attacking a barracks that might hold thousands of the opposition. But we had the element of surprise. Well... I can assure you... there was a great deal of surprise on that dark day."

His eyes were no longer upon hers, but rather gazing at a field of nightmares that existed only in his memory. "It became obvious to me very quickly that we were not attacking a barracks. Rather, it was a civilian population center. Newly arrived colonists. Setlik III was not the staging ground for an assault on Cardassia. It was the staging ground for the peaceful civilian settlement of the Setlik system. I called back to the ship and asked for new orders. But I only got the old orders: No quarter- Burn them all."

"I tried..." Tears welled up in his eyes. "there was a... child. Perhaps six or seven. Blonde haired. Blue eyed. He broke away from his parents as they tried to shield him with their bodies. I don't know why he did that. What he could have been thinking. He stood in the middle of a freshly paved street, as though to welcome us. I kept thinking of my brother and sister. I could not bring myself to pull the trigger."

Jasad blinked several times. "When I ordered my squad to hold fire, everything happened quickly. My assistant squad leader relieved me of command and placed me under arrest. Then the shooting started. My... compassion... did not buy very much life for the child. Just enough to realize what was happening, and to wail in horror at seeing his own parents murdered before he mercifully joined them."

"As I watched the massacre unfold, I knew that the life of my own family was imperiled. I would be publicly tried and executed. They would be harshly investigated. At best, they would lose their jobs and house. At worst, they would be killed alongside me. It wasn't until years later that I learned they publicly and vehemently denounced me at my trial in absentia. The act probably saved their lives, though their livelihood was still smashed to ruin. Few would dare do business with the family of a traitor."

"I was, meanwhile, very lucky. Starfleet forces responding to the massacre captured me, and I was soon on trial for war crimes. I knew I would be killed, because I was very familiar with Cardassia's own legal system. Though it seemed futile, I gave my accurate account of the events as they transpired on Setlik III. To my endless surprise, I was acquitted of all charges. It never occurred to me that any society would be able to look past the face of an enemy, past cold-blooded slaughter dealt from a hated foe, and see the heart of the individual." Now his eyes focused again on hers.

"Once I got over my shock, I requested asylum in the Federation. Moved to Vulcan and studied there for years, until the Cardassian war was over. Then I applied to Starfleet just before the Dominion War began. My first year out of the Academy was... eventful." He cleared his throat. "But I'm sorry. I've prattled on with a complicated answer to what was a simple question. And I've probably put you behind on your other patients."

Did he hear how arrogant and prideful he still sounded? He may have grown a conscience, but he was, at heart, still very very much that same arrogant, delusional, misguided piece of filth that failed to see beyond his own cushy little world of misconception.

Closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath, she said, "If family is everything, then why was I robbed of mine? Why were hundreds and thousands robbed of theirs? Not just Bajorans, others too. You were the agressors in the last two interstellar wars, and the occupators of Bajor. Your people do nothing but destroy others and subsequently eachother in the process. And yet you still speak with unabashed pride of them. To me of all people. I'm morbidly curious as to what I am supposed to understand from it. That you grew a conscience? I'd believe that if you spoke more of the reason and not the glory of your bloody military. This way it just sounds like you chickened out and didn't want to die." she said in a cold tone.

She wanted to deck the arrogant, smug bastard. It took all of her will power to overcome her urge. She was Starfleet now, and ironically so was he. And she was not going to jeopardize her already shaky caree by assaulting a fellow officer over a racial bias. That would have her chucked out faster than she could blink.

She needed to move this conversation along or she'd snap, "I'm thirty-seven. Seems we were in the Academy at nearly the same time..." she said with a lump in her throat as she scanned him.

What the fuck? Why was she even talking to him? Why didn't she just shut up and do her job and shove him out? Why?

Jasad's face fell somewhat as she railed at him. He'd hoped to create a bridge of understanding between them, but that didn't seem to be happening. Then again, if she was engaging him at all, it meant she was still open. He was not the only one with baggage. She needed to vent her pain as surely as he did. It may not be the opening he was hoping for, but it was still a piece of herself that she was bothering to share with him.

"No one shuns peace more thoroughly than an unarmed man," Jasad said, recalling a common Cardassian phrase.

"You were occupied because a spiritual, peaceful, and loving race experienced a complete economic collapse. In order to survive, they surrendered their faith and reinvented themselves as monsters. Then they devoured all the spiritual, peaceful, loving races they could find. Yours included. That lasted until you re-invented yourselves as monsters to cast us off again. Of all the sins Cardassia poured upon the people of Bajor, I think the worst sin was forcing you to surrender your identities in order to recapture your freedoms."

"I can understand if you think I am a coward," he went on, knowing he was treading dangerous ground. "I have often been afraid. Terrified, even. I no longer find it useful to pretend at being a brave soldier. I am here because I yearn to make better choices, even when it is difficult to do so. I hope all of my people can bring themselves to do that in the years ahead."

He sighed. "I wish I had known you at the Academy. We might have found a route through all this pain by now, and discovered a path towards friendship. Here we are left at the beginning of a long road, and I do not know the winding way."

Leaning forward on the biobed, he spoke to her in earnest tones. "If you need to hate me, Doctor... if that is a duty you owe to your people, your friends, your brothers and sisters, mother and father? I won't come between you and your duty. If the rage you feel at the Cardassian people is the indispensable tool that helped you survive through countless hells? I won't ask you to set it down. But if you think you might ever be prepared to surrender that duty, or choose a different tool for building tomorrow, I would very much like to get to know you better. I would like, someday, to call you a friend. I think the only way to dispel the nightmare of recent history is for you and I, and a million more like us, to reach out and see each other as people again."

She had finally finished scanning him. Setting the tricorder away, she turned to him again. "I am a Starfleet Officer, Lieutenant. As are you. A small part of me can understand you are running from all the shit of your history and trying to make something of yourself on life. As fellow officers, you will not know danger from me, lest you incite it by way of betrayal." she said, "I am a healer and as such I will heal all of you, even your kind. Because that is what Starfleet does." taking a deep breath, she continued, "But until my first instinct, when I see a Cardassian, stops being the urge to end their life as swiftly as possible, until that time I shall not know peace towards you, Bajoran to Cardassian." she growled, her blood boiling.

Would she be able to look past the face of the devil? She knew not. The Prophets had a weird sense of humor, and the Universe had the strangest ways of working, so not even Maliya could say for certain, yes or no. But the Spoonhead didn't need to know, she would not admit to him that things may change, because she would not fully admit it to herself yet. But the tour was still young, and noone knew what the future held for them.

Until a time of change, however, Maliya the Bajoran would see the face of the Enemy when she looked at Broca, and Maliya the Starfleet Officer would see the gold of his collar and a fellow Starfleet Officer. Which of those would win in the end?

Jasad's shoulders slumped. He had been behaving unrealistically, of course. Some gaps were too large to bridge in a day. Some could not be closed in lifetimes. He nodded his head. "I appreciate your time, Doctor. Is there anything else you need from me for this checkup?"

"You're in good shape for a man of your age. Healthy. So you're free to go." she said, stepping back finally.

It was over, but she wouldn't breathe a sigh of relief until he had actually left the room. Or lean against a bulkhead for support as her muscles gave out, as she had a feeling they would, considering how much she was trembling.

"Until next time, then," he offered lamely, and then got up and made his way out of the room. A day of success had now been capped with failure. Perhaps it was the universe's way of keeping him humble. Or perhaps it was merely that anything worth having, was worth working towards.

As he made the trek towards his quarters, he could not get the thought of her cold gaze out of his mind... nor the adorably angled ridges of her nose. Both images would later torment his sleep, and when he woke tomorrow he would be hard pressed to choose either 'nightmare' or 'dream' as a description for the contents of his slumber.

As the doors closed behind him, Maliya slowly walked back to her office and leaned against the closest wall for support. Slowly, she leaned her back against it and slid down it to the floor, knees bent. Leaning her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands subsequently, she let out a long breath. ~Prophets...how the fuck am I going to do this....~