"Our problem, Dr. Strik, is that our counselor has been incapacated by physical and emotional trauma. I was referred to you by Lieutenant Sliva of the USS Yukon. Are you familiar with her?"
[Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. She interned under me. A most promising physician, if I may venture an opinion. I am surprised that she was unable to handle the case,] Strik, an older Vulcan, replied.
"Lieutenant Kassia is of an unknown race, and has suffered severe head trauma in the past. In addition, this is the third such trauma she's experienced in the past year. It was Ms. Sliva's assessment that a more experienced specialist be brought in," Dr Cherrin added.
[I see. And you will be needing the services of a counselor during Kassia's recovery?]
"Yes. Our situation is far too critical for us to go without a trained counselor," Tarik said. "We're expecting combat casualties from a multitude of races, plus traumatized civilians. I am authorized to offer you the standard Federation contract, plus transportation to and from the station."
[I'll review the contract and contact you later today with my decision. Live long and prosper, gentlemen,] Strik replied as he signed off.
"Well, I think that went all right," Cherrin said.
"He'll take the contract," Tarik said confidently. "If he didn't desire to take the position he would have turned us down out of hand. It would not have been logical for him to spend time reviewing a proposal he had no intention of accepting."
"I hope so. Anyway, I need to get back to Sickbay. Let me know if you need any other assistance on a medical issue."
"Of course. Remember, I've scheduled a staff meeting at 1600 hours. We're very short-handed right now, and I want to see whether or not we can make do with the people we have or if I need to call in more personnel."
"We definitely need more nurses and medtechs in Medical, and I'd like to get permission to set up a triage area in one of the cargo bays."
"Take Bay 23; it's unoccupied. Grab whoever you need to do it," Tarik said.
"Thank you," Cherrin said as he left the command deck office.
Once again Tarik found himself in charge of the station. And once again he found himself frustrated at not being able to participate directly in combat operations. He had a very large hand in planning the operations, but somehow he found himself missing the rush of battle. He knew administrative work was important, but beyond destroying the Mulluran Q-ship he really didn't feel as though he was making a contribution.
"Sir, incoming communications from the New Canada mining operation," an ensign at Communications informed him.
"Acknowledged. On screen."
The command deck's viewscreen flickered to life. [I'm glad I could reach you, Colonel,] Joseph Salin, the mining foreman, said. He was obviously relieved. [The situation down here has gone from bad to worse!]
"What situation, Mr. Salin?" Tarik asked.
[You aren't aware of the problems we've had with agitators down here?]
"Sir, I am only third in command of the station, and only temporarily in command now. We've had a war going on for the past few months, and my primary responsibility has been with regard to combat operations. I am not routinely kept in the loop with regard to civilian affairs. I assume you've spoken of this matter with Captain Wallace?"
[Wallace? He doesn't know what the hell is going on! I need some intervention here or I'm going to have to shut the mine down!]
A labor dispute. Wonderful! "Mr. Salin, a lockout of a legitimate labor organization is explcitly against Federation law. I will remind you to consider your actions carefully."
[That's what that clown Wallace said! There's nothing legitimate about this organization, and I refuse to bend to their blackmail!]
"And what sort of blackmail are you referring to?"
[You should see what they want for overtime! And the safety restrictions they're asking for are ridiculous!]
"How long has this been going on?"
[Six weeks now! With all these meetings the workers are having and all their complaining it's a miracle we've gotten anything done at all!]
Time to deal with this once and for all! "Mr. Salin, as the senior Starfleet authority in this system I am ordering you and the representative of the workers to report to this station at 1800 hours tonight. There will be negotiations and there will be an agreement, or I will inform Starfleet to nullify your contract."
[You can't do that! You don't have the authority!]
"As a matter of fact, sir, I do. Read over Paragraph 32, section (b) of the contract your company has with Starfleet. Then figure out how you're going to explain to your corporate headquarters how you lost a major military contract. I can assure you that the next involvement with mining you have after that explanation will require a pick and a hardhat. 1800 hours," Tarik said, "or I notify Starfleet Procurement to cancel the contract."
[All right,] Salin growled as he cut the comm channel.
"Ms. Garrett, find out which union represents the miners and contact their headquarters. Inform them that Starfleet is going to mediate in a labor dispute," Tarik said to the ensign at Communications. "Contact Starfleet Procurement and the Judge Advocate General as well."
"Aye, sir."
Damn, I wish Kassia were up to this, Tarik said. I am really out of my depth here. "Computer, begin search of all collective bargaining agreements involving mining operations with Starfleet contracts. Highlight common provisions of all such agreements."
<Working. Search complete.>
"Transfer data to a PADD for review."
Two hours later, after five interruptions over matters ranging from replicator malfunctions to shopkeeper complaints, Tarik had reviewed the agreements. It was 1200 hours--time for lunch.
He met Troy at Harry's. "How's Kassia doing?" he asked over a patty melt and fries.
"Still withdrawn," Troy said. "She won't go anywhere. Have you had any luck finding another counselor?"
"Dr. Strik is reviewing the contract. He says he won't be able to commit before the end of the day, but I'm pretty sure he'll take it. Figure six days for transit from Vulcan to here," Tarik replied.
"Six days..." Troy said, a little worried.
"It's the best we can do from a safety standpoint. Believe me, if there were a way I'd have the man here now!"
"I know. I've just been worried," Troy said. Tarik could see it in him, too. Troy had barely touched his cheeseburger.
"You know, there are starving orphans on New Canada who'd love that," Tarik said.
"Don't tell me Romulans use that old story, too!"
"Of course. My mother was always telling me to finish my plomeek soup because there were children starving on Remus. I offered to use my allowance to ship it there for her."
"Yet another universal constant. There must be something about that idea that all the Alpha Quadrant races are descended from common stock," Troy laughed. It was the first time Tarik had seen Troy laugh since Kelly attacked Kassia.
"There's a chance I may not be there to take over on time tonight," Tarik said, explaining the labor dispute he found himself mediating.
"I've heard some of the miners talk about their working conditions at Soma. From what I gather, Salin's an old-school mine boss. He's not afraid to play hardball. The miners have been trying to organize but management refuses to negotiate with them."
"They're going to negotiate now," Tarik said, "or I'll have their contract pulled."
"You might want to reconsider that," Troy answered. "Even if you do get another company to take over the contract, it'll be a good 90 days or more before they can move in."
"You know mining?"
"My father was a mining engineer. He always wanted me to work in the mines as well," Troy said. "If I wanted to I could go down there and get a job--I am certified--but bartending's a hell of a lot safer." What Troy didn't say was that he had deliberately avoided mining as a career because he wanted nothing to do with his father.
"Do you think you might be willing to help with the negotiations?" Tarik asked. "I have a little knowledge of mining but nothing first-hand."
"It would be a pleasure," Troy said.
Their conversation was interrupted when both of them heard a loud crash outside the diner. "Oops! I didn't mean to run into you!" a loud, obnoxious voice boomed.
Okay, that's it, Tarik thought as he got up. Outside the diner, Eugene Loomis was attempting to get to his feet. "Think you're a bigshot because you've got your little store now? Just remember who's boss!" Wayne Balmer, the oaf who had accosted Loomis on his first day on the station, snarled.
Tarik grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around. "As of right now, I'm boss here!" Tarik said. "If you cause any more trouble with this man, or anyone else, I'll have you off the station. If I'm charitable, you may leave the station in a ship. Understand me?"
"You can't threaten me like that! I've got rights!"
"And so does he, and so do I," Tarik said as he belted Wayne across the jaw. "Tarik to Security--I need two officers outside Harry's to collect a prisoner."
"All right, big man, what am I charged with?" Wayne asked, his lip split and blood dribbling down his chin.
"Creating mayhem, assault and battery, and refusing to obey Starfleet orders in a combat zone. And anything else I can think up."
"You can't do this!"
"Oh, yes I can. As long as this station is on a combat footing I can delcare martial law if I like. Keep that in mind, Mr. Balmer," Tarik said as Security hauled Balmer away. From what Tarik could gather of the conversation--and the file on Balmer--this was far from his first encounter with law enforcement.
"You all right?" Tarik asked Loomis.
"Yes, just an old rivalry getting out of hand."
"That's bullshit and you know it. You've got to stand up for yourself, Loomis. I can't protect you forever--it's not fair to you and there are too many things that require my attention. Don't let him do this to you."
"I wish I knew how..." Loomis said as he walked off. From the tone in his voice Tarik could tell that Loomis didn't mean the actual skills of self-defense. The man was defeated in every sense of the word.
Perhaps that can be remedied. he thought.
"What was all that about?" Troy asked. "I've seen Loomis around; he wouldn't hurt a fly!"
"I think that's precisely the problem."
After lunch, Tarik returned to the command deck. Ensign Garrett informed him of the messages from the Mineworkers' Union and Starfleet Procurement. Both had authorized him to mediate in the dispute; the Mineworkers' Union had provided an extensive file outlining unfair labor practices in the New Canada mines.
"Sir, we've got an inbound vessel requesting permission to dock," an ensign at Operations announced. "They claim to be a diplomatic packet from the G'Kar Republic."
They're early. "Tarik to Deveraux, meet me at Berth Three," he snapped into his communicator. "Hartman, prepare an honor guard to receive a diplomatic delegation."
Moments later, the hastily-prepared side party greeted the G'Kar representatives. "You are Lieutenant Colonel Tarik, temporarily in command of this station. I am Ambassador Mon'dal," the head of the G'Kar delegation said. "It is my honor to greet you."
"I greet you. May I present Lieutenant Paul Deveraux, Science Officer and acting executive officer for the station. Regrettably our party cannot be of sufficient size to properly honor your delegation; you weren't expected for some time," Tarik said.
"My people pride themselves on efficiency," Mon'dal answered. "Have the offices of our legation been prepared?"
"Mr. Deveraux will show you to your offices. I trust that they will be satisfactory."
"If they are not, I can assure you that we will let you know," Mon'dal said.
Deveraux was about to say something; Tarik silenced him with a subtle but sharp glance. Paul nodded and the party was off.
Tarik knew what Paul was thinking: how come diplomats always have to be such pains in the ass?
"From what I can see, Mr Salin, the workers aren't asking for anything that isn't already standard in most mining operations--company-provided safety equipment and accomodations, hazard pay, and paid medical. In fact, I'm surprised that you aren't offering these already," Tarik said as he faced the mine boss across a conference table.
"If we tried to offer all these things this operation wouldn't make a credit for the company!" Salin complained. "They're malcontents--and there is no room in my operation for malcontents!"
"Starfleet is paying your company a lot of money for the dilithium you put out," Tarik said. "More than enough, my associate informs me," he said, indicating Troy, "to pay for all of these things and ensure a handsome profit for Amalgamated Dilithium. Starfleet employs a substantial number of lawyers and accountants to work these things out. I don't see that you have a legitimate grievance against the union."
"They're disrupting the operation! I can't have some half-baked union rep breathing down my neck whenever one of these people stubs his finger!"
"I will remind you that freedom of association is a standard provision in the Federation's charter. It is a fundamental right of people throughout the Federation to organize however they see fit. This includes organized religions, political parties, and labor unions. If you attempt to break the union, you are in direct violation of the Federation charter, Mr. Salin. And Starfleet cannot and will not do business with any organization that violates the Federation charter!" Tarik said.
"You can't cancel the contract," Salin snapped back. "Starfleet needs a local source of dilithium too badly. Cancel that contract and the mine shuts down for 90 days while another company comes in. I'm sure your advisor has informed you of this. And if that happens, Colonel, I'm sure Starfleet would be happy to put you back on the front lines with a rifle in a heartbeat!"
Actually, that hadn't occurred to me. But now that you mention it, I'd be willing to yank the contract just to keep from dealing with idiots like you! "You forget something, Mr. Salin. This sector is still formally a combat zone. I can, on my authority, legally seize your company's equipment. Unlawful detainer doesn't apply in a wartime situation, or so the Judge Advocate General informs me. Starfleet doesn't even need to declare eminent domain, which means that your company won't be compensated. And Starfleet will recognize the union, which means we'll have no shortage of workers to run the mines. Think your mine police can stand up to a company of Marines?" Tarik asked, grinning wolfishly. The "mine police" were nothing more than old-time strikebreakers brought in by Salin to harass the union organizers.
Salin blanched. "You'd back these agitators?"
"These 'agitators,' as you put it, are asking for nothing more than what is standard in the industry," Troy offered. "Even Ferengi mining companies offer these things! You're asking these men and women to work under terms that haven't been reasonable since the 19th century. I'm surprised that your corporate headquarters is even permitting this operation to operate the way it is."
Amalgamated Dilithium, of course, had no idea about any of this. Salin had been doctoring his reports to corporate headquarters--and denying the union use of communications facilities. They would, however, know by the end of the watch.
"All right, I'll sign the damn thing!" Salin said at last.
Tarik presented a PADD containing the collective bargaining agreement to Salin, who signed immediaely. "This is government-sponsored blackmail, you know!"
"How can obeying the law be blackmail?" Tarik asked. "You may leave now. Ensign, have Mr. Deming come in," he said to the Security officer guarding the door.
Andrew Deming, the chief steward for the New Canada mineworkers, entered. "Mr. Deming, Mr. Salin has agreed to the terms of your collective bargaining agreement," Tarik announced.
"Thank God!"
"I would be in contact with your headquarters. Ask them to request an audit of the New Canada operation. I would imagine that the corporate headquarters of Amalgamated Dilithium might be interested in such an audit as well," Troy said.
"If you have any trouble with Salin or Amalgamated Dilithium, you can rest assured that Starfleet supports any reasonable position of the union. Just keep the dilithium going!" Tarik said.
"Nobody wants to strike, Colonel, any more than you would want to use quantum torpedoes on a planetary surface. It's a last option," Deming replied, "for use when all else fails and reason has lost its influence. I'm glad it didn't come to that."
"If you have any further problems with Salin or any other representative of Amalgamated Dilithium management on New Canada, contact us. Starfleet and corporate headquarters will deal with the situation," Tarik said. "Now, I suspect you have some mining to do..."
"'Ow did ze negotiations go?" Paul asked as Tarik stepped onto the command deck.
"I can see why Captain Wallace wanted to stay away from this one," Tarik replied. "Salin's an idiot, and probably embezzling funds as well. Hopefully between the Mineworkers' Union and Amalgamated Dilithium's corporate offices he'll be replaced soon enough. But the mines are open again, and that's what's most important from our perspective."
"'E could not have been worse zhan ze G'Kar delegation! All zhey did was complain from ze moment zhey arrived! I hope Commander Mallory has better luck with zhem zhan I did!" Paul replied. "Can you beleeve zhey could not understand mah accent?"
Tarik suppressed a chuckle. "What eez so funny?" Paul asked.
"Not a thing. I'm going off watch; you have the conn. If anything big and important happens, let me know--you know where I'll be."
"Ah, yes...she ees still not doing zo well, ees she?" Paul asked.
"She's up and about, but not really in a hurry to leave her quarters," Tarik replied. "Ms. Garrett--anything from Dr. Strik?"
"Nothing yet--wait, incoming message from the Shi'Kahr Exomedical Clinic on Vulcan!"
"On screen."
It was Dr. Strik. [Colonel Tarik, I accept Starfleet's proposal. I and two members of my staff will be arriving at SB901 in six standard days. In the meantime, do whatever you can to assure anyone in need of counseling services that we are on our way.]
"Thank you, Doctor. Live long and prosper," Tarik said, giving the Vulcan salute.
Strik returned the salute. [Peace and long life, Colonel. We are here to serve.] The screen flicked off.
"I guess I'll give the good news to Kassia, then," Tarik told Paul.
The furniture in Kassia's quarters had been moved around a bit to allow for more space in the center. There, Kassia, very intently, clad in loose white pants and a loose white top, moved with grace. During her recovery, she had opted to learn some of Earth's ancient hand to hand combat forms called Martial Arts. At the moment, her study was Tang Soo Do. As she moved through the first three forms, and into the fourth, she heard the door to her quarters slid open. She didn't stop as she sensed Tarik enter.
"Not bad," Tarik said approvingly. "Earth martial arts are notable for their beauty as well as their effectiveness. But kata will only get you so far in a real fight. You're going to need to practice some kumite, or sparring." In reality, Tarik was immensely grateful to see Kassia take an interest in something.
"Well, I would," she said, coming to the end of the form and stopping, taking a deep breath as she gazed at him, "But the quarters aren't set up for that . . . If they were I would consider it." Though there was a soft smile on her face, her green eyes still held that haunted look, as if the nightmares still were fresh.
"I should introduce you to my dojo program, then," Tarik offered. "Better than moving furniture around all the time, at any rate. I have good news for you: Dr. Strik of the Shi'Kahr Exomedical Clinic will be here in six days to work with you. I'm told he's one of the best in the business."
She nodded, tears misting her eyes. "Good," she replied. "I hope he can help." With that, she grabbed a bottle of water off the table and took a drink. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked.
"Yes, water for me too, please," Tarik said. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to do more for you lately."
She walked to the replicator and got another bottle of water. "Its okay," she said, meeting his brown eyes momentarily. "You've been busy with the station . . . In fact, I should be out there helping you only . . ." She couldn't finish the thought as she handed him the bottle and took a seat on the couch, almost slumping. She felt so fragile now, like she was a different person . . . and broken person . . . She didn't know where she had gone and if she would ever come back. She fought tears again and held them at bay as she stared out the porthole. Her favorite thing to do as of late.
"Don't worry about that," Tarik said. "There's really not a lot for you to do right now anyway even if you were feeling up to it. Although I think it would do you good to get out of here for a while," he said, taking her arm as he stared out the porthole with her for a while. The limb of New Canada was starting to come into view as the station rotated.
She stole a look at the door and shuddered. "I don't know if I can go out there . . ." she replied as memories of Kelly crashed into her mind.
"You can't stay in here forever," Tarik said. "That's not being fair to you. If you pull away from the world then you've given Kelly and everyone else who has ever hurt you exactly what he wanted." More and more of New Canada encroached on the porthole. "The world always comes back to confront us no matter how hard we try to avoid it," Tarik said, taking her hand.
Tears started welling up in her bright green eyes, as she looked at their intertwined hands. She then closed her eyes. But as soon as she did, visions assailed her mind. She tried hard not to sob. The pain was still there. She still felt so vulnerable. So unsafe. When she would go to the door, she would start to shake. Her heart would start beating out of control and her breaths would become shallow. She could get faint and feel pressure in her chest. She knew what these symptoms were - they were signs of a panic attack. Paralyzing panic attacks . . . And she couldn't stop them.
"I can't leave here . . . I can't do it . . ." she said barely above a whisper.
"If I come with you, will you be able to leave?"
She looked at the door again and then at Tarik. "I . . . I don't . . . I don't know . . ." she replied, feeling her body start to shake.
"Come on, let's do it together," Tarik said, taking her hand. She clung to him as they approached the doorway. As the door slid open she looked absolutely terrified. "Come on," he said. "It's the same corridor that's been out there for months. Nobody here will hurt you!"
Tentatively Kassia took a step across the threshhold. Then another, then another until finally she was out of her quarters and in the corridor.
She looked around. She body was still shaking, but it wasn't so much the corridor itself, as it was where it lead. As he guided her closer and closer to the turbolift, the memories and emotions from the attack got stronger in her mind. They made it to the turbolift doors, but as they slid open, Kassia couldn't move. She stared into the lift and shook her head. She saw Kelly. She felt him, heard him . . . She remembered the taste of his blood when she had bitten him. She shuddered and the tears came. "I can't go in . . ." she said. "I can't do it . . . I can't . . ."
"Fair enough," Tarik said, sensing her distress. "We'll try this some other time. Maybe we can explore this deck a little more."
She nodded as she tried to dry her tears with her hand. The farther away from the turbolift they got the calmer she seemed to get. It was as if the turbolift was the symbol of her absolute terror.
They walked hand in hand for a while, exploring the largely residential deck. Few if any people were about at that late hour, and Tarik and Kassia found their way to a small replimat about a quarter of the way around the station. After a quick and comparatively generic dinner, they made their way back to Kassia's quarters. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Tarik said, trying to be encouraging.
She smiled sadly. "Not if I want to stay on this deck for the rest of my life," she replied. Her green eyes misted again. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to get aboard that turbolift again," she said. "I mean, as a counselor, I know I'll eventually do it somehow, some way . . . But . . ." She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "But the fear is so great . . . and the memories are still so strong . . . I don't believe right now that they're going to ever go away . . . I hope this healer can help . . I really do . . . I can't keep living like this . . ." She wiped at tears that spilled out of the corners of her eyes.
"It's progress," Tarik said, smiling. "This is the most you've been able to do in several days! And Strik is supposedly the best. If he can't help you, then there's nothing wrong with you!" Tarik said, picking up a towel and drying her eyes.
"I just feel like . . . like I am no longer in control of my life," she said, unable to stop the tears for the moment. "This isn't me . . ." she continued. "I'm some stranger I don't even know anymore, whose run on paralyzing fear . . . and I can't live this way . . . It's like being in chronic pain . . ."
"You're going to get back in control! Just hang in there. Help is on the way!" Tarik said, holding her as she let her emotions out.
After a few minutes she quieted down, but then she grew weak. The whole experience going outside her quarters had drained her. Sensing this, he lead her to the couch. She sank down into it as he joined her. As she rested against him, her eyes began closing of their own volition. Within moments she was asleep, though it was not a restful sleep.
Tarik carried Kassia to her bedroom and gently set her down on the bed. He found a light quilt and drew it over her, then sat next to the bed for his nightly vigil. Tarik looked over the PADD he'd brought with him--an outline of force integration proprosals from the G'Kar--as he waited for sleep to claim him as well. Lately it hadn't been doing such a good job.