I like Andorians… but am loath to use them now, considering how
much
Oh, well. That’s the lot of a fanfic
writer.
"Andorian Blues"
By Joseph Manno
"So, what do you think?"
Theren of Andor emerged—regretfully—from
within the refuge of his thoughts.
"That is a rather broad-based question," he
finally replied, in that distinct cadence common to natives of his world.
"Could you perhaps narrow the parameters of your inquiry?"
Upon hearing his response, Admiral Aven's
receptionist—a ... Jennifer, according to the stylized nameplate on her
desk—favored him again with an expression he unfortunately recognized as an
inviting smile.
"Certainly,
Commander," she answered, with a tone that he
thought she no doubt believed was an intoxicating mixture of coyness and
professionalism.
"I was just wondering how you felt about your chances to
receive this assignment."
He considered that a moment, and then responded, "How I feel won't alter the admiral's
decision..." Abruptly, he stopped.
In the midst of expressing his opinion, he'd heard her sigh under
her breath… and if he wasn't mistaken, she'd shivered slightly as well.
The reactions and comments he'd received over the years from
non-Andorian females concerning the sound of his accent had never ceased to
perplex him. He'd been told variously, time and again, that it was "oddly
compelling," "vaguely sinister," or that it "held a hint of
danger."
For some reason he could never fathom, the word "sexy"
was always in there somewhere (or at least implied), as well. On most days, Theren considered the whole situation to be an amusing
diversion.
Today, it was just irritating.
"In this case, actually..." Janniver
began, but was interrupted before she could go on by the chime of the comm
panel on her desk.
With the possible exception of Vulcans,
whose hearing was almost as acute, no race was quite as aware of the human
tendency to speak under their breath as were Andorians. He heard the muttered, "Damn!" as she perhaps realized
her window of opportunity had just closed.
Before she looked up, though, she plastered a rather different
kind of smile on her face, and then announced, "The Admiral will see you
now, Commander." Whatever trace of interest he had seen—or, rather, thought he had seen—was now gone.
Hmm. It seems she's more
professional than I had believed, Theren thought. I should have realized that an admiral's
secretary would have "harmless flirtation" as a weapon in her
arsenal.
You're something of a tactician yourself, aren't you, Jennifer?
Momentarily amused despite himself, Theren
Sih'tarr stepped into the next room.
***
Rear Admiral Jarek Aven
watched carefully as Commander Theren entered,
approached, and came to an easy attention in front of his desk.
A long moment passed as the Andorian looked down at him. There was
no appraisal in his expression, no aggression—just a neutral, unwavering gaze.
"Aren't you going to present yourself, Commander?" Aven finally asked.
Theren blinked once, as if surprised at the request.
"I had assumed that since you'd sent for me, you already knew
who I was. Besides, you're a Betazoid. I'd think if
you didn't know, you could have already have learned without my
knowledge."
Aven leaned back in his chair, nodding in a fashion that conveyed the
idea "So that's how it's going to
be."
He retrieved a PADD from his desk, and glanced at the display.
"Would you be interested in hearing some of the salient points from your
last performance evaluation, Commander?"
"Not particularly… but if you feel it necessary, by all
means, proceed." After a pregnant pause, he added, "Sir."
Aven favored him with a sharp glance; while Andorians were
known for both their candor and sly humor, it wasn't always appreciated by
other species.
Then, again, you shouldn't ask a question if you don't want it
answered, Jarek.
Thus, rather than commenting, he turned his attention to the PADD, and began to
read aloud.
"'While his knowledge of tactical procedures is nearly
unrivaled, and his personal courage nothing short of astonishing, Commander Theren possesses surprisingly little in the way of social
graces. He is abrupt, suffers foolishness not at all, is completely unconcerned
with either the protocols of Starfleet procedures or respect for
the chain of command, and escapes being classified as a borderline antisocial
only because he reports for duty every day.'
Aven specifically avoided reading the next line aloud.
"'In other words, he's a perfect tactical officer for someone
like me. All in all, a thoroughly refreshing
attitude...'" He smothered a smile, and glanced
again at the expressionless Andorian.
"What do you have to say about Captain Mantovanni's
evaluation, Commander?"
Theren soberly considered what he had heard. After a moment, he
responded.
"He's a much better writer than I thought, and I'm not completely unconcerned with either
category he mentioned."
At this, Aven leaned forward in
interest.
"Really?"
"Yes. It would have been more accurately phrased, 'for the most part unconcerned.'"
At that, Aven stood and strolled to his
window, which overlooked the small but efficient dry-dock facilities at Starbase
828. He watched for a few minutes as a maintenance team put the finishing
touches on the exterior of a starship he'd been looking at, every day, for the
better part of four months.
Theren said nothing more.
"Yet he recommended you for your own command, and
specifically put you in for this assignment. Why would he do that?"
The Andorian shrugged. "You're the telepath. Sir."
"Yes. I am the
telepath, Commander." He moved to stand next to Theren's
chair, deliberately, uncomfortably close. "And I've learned precisely what I wanted to know."
He tapped his comm badge.
"Jennifer, come in here."
In the moment or two between his summons and her appearance, Theren of Andor stood. As he did
so, he came face to face with Rear Admiral Jarek Aven.
Aven was, indeed, a telepath… and he took a step back.
"You asked for me, sir?" The young administrator managed
to keep most of the concern out of her voice, but Theren
noted that her hand strayed to her own comm badge in that instant.
He took a deep breath, and stepped back himself.
"You may go, Commander," the admiral finished.
The subject of his dismissal nodded, turned on a heel and
departed.
After he'd gone, she asked him, "What do you think?"
"Mantovanni's right: He's one of those, 'Break glass in case
of war' types. Hard to believe he's the only son of Vice Admiral Amarian Sih'tarr. That man is one
of the subtlest, most restrained individuals I know."
"I think you're selling Theren
short. He's thoughtful, clever, and held his temper despite your provocation…
and implying that you probed his thoughts without permission is a huge
provocation—especially to so private a person."
As she'd been speaking, “Jennifer” had made the effort to remove
the cunningly designed contact lenses she'd been wearing. The action transformed
her eye color from ice-blue to their natural hue. Aven
smiled at the change; dark irises were a well-known distinguishing
characteristic of their people… and his attaché looked better
"wearing" her native black.
"Considering how he and his species feel about telepaths in
general," the admiral observed, "I don't think he would have been so
relaxed with you had he known you were a full Betazoid,
Janniver."
She grinned devilishly.
"We can't help it if he made assumptions based on
appearances, Jarek. I did get a better look
beneath those antennae than you did, though... and I think he'll do
nicely."
Aven nodded, but looked unconvinced. He'd hoped she might take
a glance at Theren's mind. Starfleet Command frowned
on such activity in its line officers, but Janniver
was a counselor, and not subject to as rigid and unyielding a set of
strictures.
You're sure about this? he
inquired telepathically.
Of course
not. You want too
many guarantees in life, Imzadi. I do like
him, though. He's strong, brave and has the subtle mind of a Sih'tarr. As a matter of fact, if he'd been on his guard,
I’m not sure I could have read him at all.
"All right," Jarek Aven replied. "Your recommendation is noted, Counselor
Aven. You're dismissed. Take your little nameplate
and go find my real secretary, will you? I have a great deal of
paperwork to finish, and you're a distraction."
She smiled brilliantly at the compliment.
"Why, thank you, Admiral. Perhaps I'll be back to 'distract'
you later."
"Go!" he growled…
…but there was a smile in his thoughts.
***
When Theren received the communiqué five
hours later, he had to admit a degree of surprise.
He'd come full circle in less than a year… and had maintained his
honor while so doing. He allowed himself a subtle smile in celebration.
When, some minutes later, he was glancing through the Fearless
crew manifest, and came across a certain name and photo, though, his pleased
expression disappeared.
Janniver Aven is a Betazoid.
Interesting.
Theren examined his anger from a distance, clinically… and determined,
after a moment, to put it aside.
Not only smarter than I'd originally believed… but braver, as well, to take such an action and then request
assignment on the deceived one's ship.
All right, Lieutenant Commander Aven, he thought, let's get to know each other…
…and for your sake, you'd
better make certain you do it the old-fashioned way.