Kittensitting and a Stroll

Posted on Thu May 7th, 2026 @ 3:02pm by Captain Rovak & T’Shan & Ambassador Oriath Velt & Lieutenant Commander Onda Duros & Lieutenant Asami Sugimoto & Rom K'Ress

1,733 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: UnderMind [4]
Location: Ambassador Velt's quarters - DS13
Timeline: 2235 - MD02

“There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final and desperate danger to make it grow.” T’Shan finished reading the book there, Rom’s snoring alerted her to the fact that he’d finally fallen asleep. His sharp little claws gripped his quilt in time with his breathing. She moved gently from the bedside, put the book away on its shelf, and moved out into the living area, shutting the door silently behind her.

She found babysitting agreeable, not just because it was one of the few responsibilities people would trust her with at 14, but also because it gave her a chance to spend time in different homes. Even though they were all holographic replicas, she still found the change rejuvenating. This one was designed based on a former home of Grand Nagus Zek, but the luxurious and circular penthouse looked out over a real-time (with a 24-hour delay) view of the Caitian homeworld’s capital city instead of Ferenginar.

She put the Ambassador’s viewscreen on and searched the various networks. Romulan news. Ferengi betting channels. She left it on a Klingon battle-footage station for a while, but it got a bit visceral and she decided to turn it over. Finally she settled on a nice Bajoran gardening show, and before long she too had fallen asleep.

Her antennae twitched, waking her as Ambassador Velt walked through the door in his dress uniform. Technically as an Ambassador she knew he could wear what he wanted, but as a former Starfleet Captain he chose the diplomatic corps variant of the Starfleet uniform. He smelled of wood-smoked Klingon game-meats, a fusion delicacy he was an advocate of and investor in. He also smelled of scotch.

“Good evening my dear. I hope he wasn’t too much of a handful.” He said quietly, appreciating the girl’s sleepiness.

“No sir, he was fine. We meditated, went for a walk on the promenade, played a few hands of fish and watched the vaylan races on Betazed.” She admitted, leaving out the second desert she’d let him have. “Oh, and we’re really powering through The Lord of the Rings. I thought it might be too grown up for him, but he’s a fast learner.”

“He gets that from his mother, I expect. I don’t know what it is you’re doing T’Shan, but I feel like you’ve done more and better parenting this past couple of months babysitting than I have the entire time I’ve had him. Even his teachers have commented on how much better behaved he is. He hasn’t bitten anyone in three weeks.” Velt said with unburdened relief.

“It’s only discipline and consistency, sir. And the meditation helps, when he does it. The Vulcan way. The same way my father raised me. Although I never bit anyone.” T’Shan said with a nod.

“Ah, Vulcans. How much there is to be said. On that subject actually, I have a favor I’d like to ask you, if I could.”

“Of course, sir, what is it?”

“I want to change his name. But I want to make sure he’s okay with it. But it… just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing a Caitian father asks his son. Particularly his half-Kzinti son. Could be fuel for clan runctions later in life. Nobody wants that. Can you intercede for me as a party he trusts? If the answer is no, I understand.”

“Why do you want to change his name?” T’Shan asked, it was not something she knew of parents doing.

“Well his mother’s window to retake custody has expired. He’s mine now, for good, and I want him to have my name. And also because his full name isn’t Rom.

“What is it?”

“Rommel.” Velt said, exasperated.

“As in -?”

“The Desert Fox. Kzinti don’t quite get the delicacies surrounding the Third Reich. I wasn’t there to veto it, I didn’t learn about him until he was three months old and appeared at my doorstep.”

“Oh. And you want to change it to?”

“Rom. Just Rom. What everyone calls him already. What he calls himself. Just like the Nagus.”

“That is, I suppose, a valid cause. I will discuss it with him next time we are together.”

“Fantastic, T’Shanthosa, I love you.” Velt said with an excited clap of his paws, hugging her avuncularly and kissing her lightly on the top of her head in his bombastic way, relasing her quickly. “When you turn 16, if your father’s still got a bug up his ass about you joining Starfleet, come see me. We’ll see what we can’t do about that letter of recommendation, hm?” Velt said, embarrassing T’Shan slightly.

“Thank you, sir. I should get going, I have school in the morning.” T’Shan said, smiling.

“Of course my dear, run along. Thank you once again! And my regards to your father.” Velt said, moving to the liquor cabinet to fix himself a nightcap.

The ever-rounding hallway in this circular part of the station was large and efficiently luxurious. Nice grey carpet, innocuous but obvious, with textured areas along the sides that changed for each quarters one was outside. Effective but time-of-day appropriate lighting, gentle and energising. She decided to take the long way back to her own quarters, on deck 12. She read the names as she passed them. Flynn. Creon. Saez.

Her antennae sensed someone coming down the hallway, a couple, she could make it through the imperfect sensor input. Male and female. Very close, holding each other. As they became visible, they uncoupled discretely, by sight alone one would never have known. It was Commander Onda and Lieutenant Asami Sugimoto. Her quarters were several decks away. His were the next door, they had almost reached it.

Their metabolic rates were accelerated, she must have startled them. They were outside the Commander’s door. “T’Shan, good evening miss.” He reached over and shook her hand, a tradition they’d carried on every time they saw each other since she opened with the greeting when they first met, at Ambassador Velt’s advice. “Good evening, ma’am.” Sugimoto said nervously with a bow as they both departed through the newly opened door to Onda’s quarters.

Ma’am. She’d never been called ma’am before. Not by a senior officer in uniform, anyway. But that was the first time she’d ever actually spoken with the woman she was fairly sure was the assistant chief navigator. She knew it was impolite to think further on the private lives of the duo. It was late, and other than little Rom, there weren’t usually any dependents in this part of the station. She supposed that was one of the considerations made by the quartermaster.

She considered returning immediately home, but realised that she could also make the time for a stroll around the promenade. All four civilian sector quadrants would be at different times of day, she could be home again in 30 minutes.

And so she went first through blue sector, where it was station normal time of 2338. There was tranquil jazz in the space of the public areas, but it was mostly quiet other than a small group of officers dipping their feet in a pond and having a wind-down, monitored by a holographic lifeguard.

Restaurants were mostly closed, but a handful of bar patrons sat in the warm night air chatting and imbibing. The lush foliage and spacious apartment structures made a pleasant view as one reached the bulkhead that divided blue and yellow. In Yellow District, the beginnings of twilight. Earlier in the evening. Warmer. Quieter. Its denizens tended to go to sleep with the sun.

Sturdy and precise Cardassian architecture occupied the public plazas she passed through. A busy market, all packed up for the day. She smelled something like tobacco smoke, and it made her think of Alex Flynn. She couldn’t see the source. Rich voices bounced between the balconies of the stately pyramidal homestead blocks. The sound of a single dry horn played from somewhere.

In Green Zone it was humid midday, people were eating lunch busily in the many eateries around town, rush hour traffic for those on delta shift. A woman dropped what smelled like a raktajino on the other side of the courtyard, a pair of Klingon boys laughed loudly at it and were quickly chastised by their mother. This place was alive with sensation, each of the smells, the sounds hit her at once. She needed to bury her antennae, they were starting to ring, so she smothered them between strands of her thick her.

Finally Red Quadrant was cold and dark, considering it was the first thing in the morning. Gamma shift was just beginning, but the streets were mostly empty. The Klingon Brutalist cityscape loomed as intended on the low, wide streets. She stopped at one of the fires to warm her hands, a stumbling Klingon appeared from an unseen doorway and gave her an eager Qapla’! Which she responded to with appropriate passion, and continued on her journey.

When she got home, her father was reading a padd on the couch in front of the fire, listening to Richter, which the computer quietened as T’Shan entered. “T’Shan-kam. Good evening. How is Rom?” He deactivated his padd and stood, removing his glasses and folding them into his collar.

“He’s great. He’s asleep. Which is not always the best part of being around him anymore.”

“Indeed. His father is more pleased than he lets on. But I should turn in. As should you.” Rovak said with gentle caution, realising it was a few minutes after midnight.

“Yes father.” She said unenthusiastically.

“Goodnight, my daughter.” Rovak said, placing a hand on her shoulder with almost indecorous affection, by Vulcan standards.

“Goodnight.” She said with a nod, putting her hand on his for a moment before they parted. She let her feeling of that moment hold longer than kolinahr meant she should’ve, but it was warm and one she did not think it was agreeable to need to quieten it. Still, she did so, as duty demanded.

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