Apparently Mandatory Part I
Posted on Fri Oct 23rd, 2026 @ 2:00pm by Lieutenant Vura & Maren Malbrooke
Edited on on Sun Oct 25th, 2026 @ 9:47am
3,012 words; about a 15 minute read
Mission:
Episode 18 - The Edge of Darkness
Location: Office of the Chief Counselor - Deck 5 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD003 1500 hrs
The appointment had appeared on Maren’s PADD shortly after lunch.
She had not made an appointment.
That had seemed worth checking.
Apparently it was not a mistake.
COUNSELLING APPOINTMENT: LT VURA
1500 HOURS
ATTENDANCE REQUIRED
Maren had stared at the last two words for long enough that they had begun to feel personally offensive.
She had tried declining it anyway.
The computer had thanked her for confirming.
That was when she decided Starfleet computers were arseholes.
By 1457, however, Maren was walking towards the counselling offices with both hands buried in the pockets of her mother’s coat, because ignoring the appointment would only result in somebody coming to find her. That was worse. At least this way she got to choose how she arrived.
She still wasn’t entirely sure who had arranged it. Medical seemed likely. Maybe somebody had looked through the transfer records from the Herodotus and decided that being seventeen, from another universe and currently without either parent qualified her for compulsory talking.
Which, fine.
It probably looked strange on a file.
That didn’t mean she liked it.
Counsellors asked questions. Questions became notes. Notes became records, and records had an annoying habit of ending up in front of people who had never been in the room when the answers were given. Maren knew this Starfleet wasn’t the Dominion. She knew nobody was going to drag her off to a regulation facility because she admitted to being angry, scared or unable to sleep.
Knowing that and trusting it were not quite the same thing.
The corridor was quieter here than most of the ship, deliberately so, she suspected. Softer lighting. Less traffic. Everything about the place seemed designed to make people feel comfortable.
Maren found that mildly suspicious in itself.
She slowed as she reached the office marked for Lieutenant Vura and looked at the closed doors.
For a few seconds she simply stood there.
She could leave.
Technically.
She could also probably find three different routes around whatever attendance system had registered the appointment, but after the previous twenty-four hours she had already contributed enough to Starfleet’s growing list of reasons to reconsider civilian computer access.
Besides, running away from a counsellor would make it look like she was bothered.
Maren was absolutely not giving anybody that satisfaction.
She took one hand from her pocket, pushed loose hair away from her face and glanced once more at the name beside the door.
“Right,” she murmured. “Let’s get this over with.”
Then she pressed the chime.
Vura had just completed reading the notes regarding Maren and her time on the Herodotus. The teenage girl that was going to appear before her was going to be a complicated problem, put very lightly. Worse, Vura felt like that in that description, she recognized parts of herself in this Maren.
Silently she wondered, Why was Maren sent here from the Herodotus? Why force her to potentially interact with her father from another universe? He married another. That has to be slightly upsetting, doesn't it? Maybe? She has experienced so much loss for one so young.
A fleeting thought crossed Vura's mind. Could Cannir be alive in her universe? What about me? She shook her head sadly. No, thinking that way leads to madness. It is a different world there. According to this, Maren has recognized this. You should, as well, Vura.
The Deltan Counselor left her desk and walked to the door. "Come in, Maren. I am Vura." She moved out of the way and held her arm out towards the room.
There were some blooming lavender plants, which gave off a pleasant soothing smell. On a wall, over a couch, she had put up a copy of Katsushika Hokusai's "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" above a periwinkle couch that swooped up and then down in the middle and then back up again. The couch had definite sensual innuendos written all over the convenient shaping.
The walls of her office were of a deep rose with hints of purple hues. From there, she opted only for a small desk, so the desk would not set a barrier between her and her clients. It was a semi-circle and she placed it carefully in such a way where she could swivel on a chair and quickly type something on a computer or PADD and not interfere with her relationship with her client. The color of the desk nearly blended into the wall but was more mauve on closer inspection.
Warm wooded mahogany chairs were available in case her clients did not prefer to be on the couch. There was a small glass circle table between the chairs. The table contained a small zen sand garden and rake for clients to manipulate.
"Take a seat where you'd like," Vura instructed.
Maren stepped inside with a cautious, “Hi,” lingering near the doorway just long enough to get a feel for the room before letting it close behind her.
Lavender was the first thing she noticed. Actual lavender, not something pumped through the environmental system, growing nearby and giving the office a smell that was probably supposed to make people relax. The rest of the place seemed to have been built around the same idea: warm colours, comfortable chairs, a small sand garden on the table and very little that looked remotely clinical.
Then Maren spotted the picture above the couch.
Her eyebrows went up.
Well.
That was definitely a choice.
She managed not to comment, mostly because she had only been in the room for about five seconds and insulting the counsellor’s decorating seemed like something she should save for later.
“Anywhere?” Maren asked, glancing between the options Vura had offered before settling on one of the wooden chairs rather than the couch. “Yeah, okay. This one.”
She dropped into it and tucked one leg loosely beneath herself, her mother’s coat still wrapped around her despite the warmth of the office. The position looked casual enough, although she had chosen somewhere that left the door comfortably within view without really thinking about it.
Vura was harder to read than the room.
Not impossible. Nobody really was, emotionally at least, but Maren didn’t go reaching any further than what naturally brushed against her senses. There was no obvious irritation at having her there, no impatience, nothing that immediately made the appointment feel like someone had decided she was a problem that needed fixing.
That helped.
It didn’t make her trust Vura.
Maren looked at her for a moment before the beginning of a crooked smile appeared. “So... was this actually your idea? Because I got this thing on my PADD saying attendance required, which is a really nice way of saying ‘come voluntarily or we’ll probably come find you’.”
There was humour in it, but she wasn’t entirely joking. She pushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear and glanced briefly towards Vura’s desk before looking back at her.
“I nearly declined it just to see what happened. Computer wouldn’t let me.” Her nose wrinkled. “Bit rude.”
Maren shifted slightly in the chair, getting comfortable despite herself. For all the jokes, one question had been sitting underneath them since she’d walked through the door, and eventually curiosity won.
“So, before we start...” She hesitated, just a fraction, then gave Vura a more straightforward look. “How much stuff did they send you about me?”
Her mouth pulled sideways.
“Because I’m guessing it wasn’t just my name and ‘good luck’.”
Vura observed as Maren chose a chair. It was always a choice of someone that was guarded. Then Maren tucked a leg underneath her, a sign that she was further protecting herself and making herself feel more comfortable.
More interesting was narrating her impressions as she walked through the office. However, like her file indicated, she was observant, witty, and highly intelligent.
Vura took a seat near Maren and laughed prettily before stating, "No, they did not send just that. Normally, I would not read about someone before they came to me. I would much rather form my own impressions than take them from someone else. Yet, I was unable to ignore what I was sent."
She let the words sit, wondering how Maren would respond. In the meantime, she wondered how Ensign Turner would react to this young woman and her comment that the computer was rude.
Maren’s expression tightened a little. “They sent you something about me?” The question came out flatter than the ones before it, and she shifted in the chair, fingers disappearing into the cuff of her coat. “Right. Cool.” There wasn’t much cool about the way she said it. “So somebody’s already decided what I’m like before I even got here.”
She looked at Vura properly then, the humour still there somewhere but pushed further back. “And it was bad enough that you couldn’t ignore it.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m not crazy, you know.” She gave a small shrug, trying to make the words lighter than they were. “I’ve had a weird couple of weeks. That’s not really the same thing.”
Vura smiled pleasantly at Maren. "Everyone decides something about a being when they meet said being," Vura explained. "I'm certain that you made decisions about others, as well. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?"
The Counselor lightly shrugged before continuing. "I, however, have decided nothing. The background was helpful, though. I don't have to inquire about things like how you could have the name Malbrooke or how you could be another Tyler Malbrooke's daughter. While I'm certain that you're curious about many things here, I do not think you would like to waste your time telling me things that I should already know, right?"
She leaned forward slightly and told Maren, "I know you're not insane. I know the last few weeks have been difficult. However, I won't say you're not crazy. You are a Malbrooke, after all." The Counselor giggled pleasantly after saying that.
Maren’s mouth twitched at the Malbrooke comment despite herself. “Yeah, okay. That part might be genetic.” She settled back a little, not exactly won over, but Vura had at least got one thing right. Maren hated wasting time, and repeating everything that had already been dragged out of her on the Herodotus sounded exhausting. “And... yeah. Fine. I’d rather not spend half an hour explaining why I exist.”
She went quiet for a moment, apparently considering Vura’s answer, before her attention wandered instead to the woman herself. Maren’s eyes lingered briefly on her head before returning to her face. “Can I ask you something?” She barely waited before curiosity got there first. “Why are you bald?” A beat passed and Maren’s nose wrinkled as she realised how that had sounded. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I just... wondered.”
"There are no Deltans in your universe?" Vura asked surprised. "I have no body hair at all. No Deltans do.... Well, some of the male Deltans do but no women do. It is genetic." She then reduced her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It really makes exercise problematic. Liquid everywhere. Not even the fun kind of lube...."
“Deltan...” Maren repeated, and something shifted behind her expression as the name finally found a place in memory. Her dad had mentioned them before, years ago. Not often, and never because he’d actually met one. By the time Maren was old enough to understand what he was talking about, there weren’t many left to meet.
The Dominion had never liked species they couldn’t reliably control. Deltans had been worse than most. Telepaths, empaths, pheromones that could affect other humanoids whether anyone wanted them to or not. Her father had said the Founders saw the whole species as a threat to discipline, particularly once Deltan resistance cells started using those abilities against occupation forces. Relocation had become containment. Containment had become sterilisation, camps and, eventually, something nobody bothered pretending wasn’t extermination.
“Yeah. Okay, I have heard of you.” Maren’s voice had lost some of its earlier lightness. “My dad told me about Deltans. I just didn’t know what you looked like.” Her eyes went briefly to Vura’s bare scalp again before returning to her face. “There weren’t really any left where I came from.”
The comment that followed about exercise made Maren physically recoil a fraction, her whole face pinching up before she could stop it. “Ugh. Gross. Nope.” She shook her head quickly, as if she could somehow throw the image out with the motion. “Did not need that in my brain.”
Vura laughed jovially. "My goodness, non-Deltans can be so prudish!" She stopped laughing and with a mirthful smile told Maren, "Perhaps when you're older you will find the pleasures of that comment."
The Counselor shook her head. So, in her world, Cannir is gone and so am I. At least we would have been gone together. "Well, now you have met a Deltan. If you are able to get back to where you belong, you certainly can tell your father about that experience."
Maren made a face at that, somewhere between disbelief and second-hand embarrassment. “I’m seventeen. I don’t need to be older, I just don’t need the mental image.” She rubbed a hand briefly over her face as though that might somehow scrub it out. “It’s like hearing your parents talk about sex. You know it happens. You just really don’t need details.”
The mention of her father quietened her a little. Maren’s attention drifted to the little sand garden on the table, one finger nudging the rake where it lay before she looked back at Vura. “Yeah. I could tell him.” A faint smile found its way back. “He’d probably know more about Deltans than I do anyway. Then I’d have to listen to him being pleased with himself because he was right about something.”
She left it there, absently drawing the rake through one corner of the sand while she waited for Vura to decide where they were going next.
If Vura had eyebrows, she would have raised one. Instead, her eyes lengthened and the curious Deltan asked, "Right about what?"
Maren dragged the little rake through the sand again, carving a crooked line through what had been perfectly neat. “That this wasn’t all there was.” She looked up at Vura. “Dad could be... sickeningly positive sometimes. Seriously. It was annoying.”
Her attention dropped back to the sand. “He remembered what it was like before the Dominion won. Starfleet, travelling places because you wanted to see what was there, people just... living without looking over their shoulder all the time.” The rake slowed between her fingers. “He knew what freedom actually felt like. I don’t.”
For Maren, the galaxy had always been checkpoints and hiding places, food that had to stretch further than it should, knowing when to keep her head down and when to run. Capture. Questions asked by people who’d already decided what answers they wanted. The possibility that somebody might disappear and simply never come back. Her father could tell her about better things because he’d actually seen them. Sometimes his stories had sounded almost ridiculous.
“He always said the Dominion wouldn’t last forever. That there were still better places out there, even if we couldn’t see them.” Maren gave the sand another little scrape, then glanced back at Vura. “So if I got home and told him I ended up here and met people he thought were gone...” A small, reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. “Yeah. He’d get that stupid look on his face.”
She didn’t have to explain which one.
The one that said I told you so.
Vura laughed pleasantly. Maren was just a delightful normal teenager from a different dimension. Like all non-Deltans, she was much more prudish and reserved about anything remotely involving intimacy, but that was normal for someone like Maren.
The Counselor settled her laughter and said, "I don't know if he met me in your universe but I am certain that he would have mixed reactions to me there, as he does here. Were I a betting woman, I would have to believe that he is currently looking for you and not accepting that you are dead."
She waited to see how Maren would react to that before proceeding further.
Maren gave a small snort at the mention of Vura’s mixed relationship with the Tyler aboard Pioneer. “Yeah, well... if you ever start some secret club planning this one’s downfall, let me know. I’m not saying I’d join, but I’d definitely hear the pitch.” The joke came easily enough, but the rest of Vura’s comment took some of the bounce out of her.
“He’ll be looking,” Maren said, and this time there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in it. “He won’t just... stop. Dad doesn’t really do that.” She looked away for a second, jaw tightening before she added, quieter, “I’m all he’s got left.” The words seemed to bother her once they were out, and she pushed on before they could sit there too long. “So yeah, he’ll keep going. Probably until he runs himself into the ground, because apparently that’s a completely normal thing Malbrookes do.” Her mouth twitched, but it didn’t quite become a smile. “He’s gonna be losing his mind.”
A Joint Post By
Maren Malbrooke
Civilian, USS Pioneer
Lieutenant Vura
Chief Counselor, USS Pioneer
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