“How are you handling your daughter?” asked Captain Valdes without as much as looking up from the PADD she was studying, and without waiting for the doors to hiss close behind Neritalor Zantett as he entered the ready room.

Zantett, the Sirona’s Chief Tactical Officer, slow-blinked once, and said nothing, evidently taken aback by the strange question.

Well, it wasn’t the question that was strange. What made it feel so ridiculously out of place was that it came from Captain Valdes, and was directed at… him.

Captain Valdes never socialized, kept personal things to herself, and delegated conversations to people like her First Officer Elijah Kamau whenever they threatened to veer into ‘touchy feely’- territory.

And Zantett? He was Cardassian. And although there was a reason he wasn’t serving the Cardassian Union but had chosen a Starfleet career instead, being raised in a secretive and private society hadn’t exactly encouraged him to grow into the most open of people.

He froze, uncertain whether he should speak, or retreat in tactical formation. It took him a moment to remember how conversations worked.

“I am sorry, sir.”, Zantett said quickly and cleared his throat. “I don’t believe I am comfortable discussing private matters.”

“Neither am I, so we have that in common.”, Valdes said plainly as she looked up at him, and shrugged her shoulders. “But I am in need of your expertise on the matter. Aski is a capable and reliable officer, meaning whatever measures you took, they were successful.”

“I see.”

He didn’t see anything, but guessed that debating the logic of that statement would probably get him nowhere. The best strategy was to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“My daughter always handled herself quite well, and I am satisfied with her career choices.”, he agreed. Aski, too, was serving aboard the Sirona as part of the medical staff, and maintained a close relationship with him.

Sensing that his response wasn’t helpful in the slightest, he added: “But she is a few years older than Linna is, and there was a time when she was a little more rebellious, and assumed every decision I made was outrageously wrong.”

Which was, to some extent, a fault on his part. Had he raised his daughter on his Cardassia – the one before the Dominion War – rebellion wouldn’t have been considered a phase, but a crime.

And adolescence wouldn’t have been a time to ‘find yourself’, it was when you were expected to become useful.

“That seems to be a common theme among teenagers of various species.” Valdes sighed, and nodded towards her PADD. “I am reading up on it. I would have never expected needing to defer to papers on developmental psychology. Everyone else makes it look like being a parent and knowing what to do and what to say are skills that are obtained simply through proximity to one’s offspring. It’s been sixteen years, and I still do not know.”

Involuntarily, Zantett’s lips curled into a smile. He knew the feeling all too well.

“Very few parents know what to do and what to say, at all times.”, Zantett assured her. “Are you experiencing the same with your own daughter, Captain? The… rebellious phase.”

Valdes nodded. “It seems so. She has been rebellious for a while now – I could always dissuade her from making unreasonable decisions. But it appears to get more difficult, and cause more debate, every time something comes up.”

“What is it you are… debating?”, Zantett asked, now curious. The conversation was still beyond uncomfortable, but it also held the potential to improve his relationship with his Commanding Officer.

“Linna wants to visit Risa – as if she didn’t already have the chance to do so when we were officially on shore leave.”, Valdes explained. And indeed, they had visited Risa for some much-needed R&R, and planned to stay for a week. Then, the Blackout had made leaving impossible.

“She wants to attend one of those Blackout parties.”

“Blackout… parties?”

“Apparently, the civilians on Risa were growing restless. To combat this, the Blackout is to be engaged with as something harmless – or so Lieutenant T’Vana has told me.”

She shook her head, and waved her hand dismissively, making it pretty clear what she thought about such nonsense. Not just the Blackout-parties. Parties in general. And, of course, the fact that some people believed it to be wise to consider the Blackout ‘harmless’.

It was a stark contrast to how the crew of the Sirona, and the other Starfleet vessels stuck in the area, regarded the phenomenon. They had been stuck here for more than three weeks now, and while Valdes had seen wisdom in Kamau’s suggestion to grant shore leave to small groups of their officers, much of their time and resources were spent trying to determine what was happening, and why.

“And you don’t want her there.”, Zantett assumed.

“Of course not. Would you want your daughter there?” Valdes demanded to know.

Zantett thought about that.

The question was difficult to answer because Aski didn’t attend social gatherings if she could avoid them, often saying that the time spent with patients drained her empathy and made her look forward to spending the remainder of the day in her own company. But if she wanted to go, he would not stop her.

“I would. But, again, Aski is older than Linna, and an adult. Are you worried that something would happen to her if she were to spend time on Risa?”

Valdes leaned back in her chair. “Yes. As much as I know that is unreasonable. Risa is safe, I know that.”

“It is, but it is also natural to worry.”, Zantett said wisely. “What did you previously do to discourage her from making… unreasonable decisions?”

“I told her no.”

“I suppose, with adolescents of any species, that is bound to stop working at some point.”

“It seems so.” Valdes pressed her lips into a thin line. “I told her that cautious tale of a man partying on Risa and spending the night, only to wake up missing a kidney.”

“And what did Linna say?”, Zantett, who had never heard of that story, asked curiously.

“That she has two, and is happy to spare one if that gets her off the ship.”

That… was not the reply he had expected, nor was it one he could logically counter.

“Perhaps it would not be entirely reasonable to allow her to go.”, Zantett offered. “She isn’t of any help here, and you’ve permitted others to leave.”

“They are adults who can take care of themselves.” Valdes argued. “Or they are someone else’s children, and someone else’s problem.”

“That may be true, but I remember Commander Kamau made a point that the civilians aboard the Sirona cannot help us as we find a way to penetrate the walls. More than that, I would add that they can be a distraction.”

Valdes’ delicate brows knit together in a frown, and for a moment, Zantett was sure that he had overstepped. He hadn’t meant it, but he had essentially called the Captain’s daughter useless, and a distraction.

He opened his mouth, hoping that an apology would spare him from the reprimand, but before he could say anything, the Captain… offered a nod, and even worse, a smile.

“Perhaps you are right. Have we made any progress at all?”

The sudden change of topic caught Zantett off guard, and his mouth closed, opened, then closed again – an excellent impersonation of a landed fish.

Progress. Of course. Last he had heard – several hours ago – Nakamura’s team had been in preparations to launch a probe they hoped would offer them any insights on the nature of the walls that surrounded them and kept them confined to the Epsilon Ceti star system.

He didn’t know if they had been successful.

“I don’t think Nakamura’s plan has yielded any results yet, or he would have informed you.”

Valdes sighed. “Then I suppose what you say isn’t entirely true.”

“What I… said?”, Zantett asked, struggling to keep up.

“About Linna. And about civilians in general – I have been distracted, and it seems we cannot afford that.”

Zantett vaguely remembered that the Captain’s career had started out in the science department, and he could imagine that she had the urge to play a part in solving the mystery of the Blackout. But, he was also smart enough to know that it wasn’t his place to remind her that, as Captain, she wasn’t expected to find the solution herself.

“I don’t mean to overstep, Captain, but… what if she left with a group of people who can make sure she keeps both her kidneys?”

“An escort?”

“No… not exactly an escort. I mean allowing her to join a group and-…”, Zantett started, but Valdes cut him off.

“It’s a good idea. Surely one or two of Commander K’Shara’s Ensigns are disposable.” A pause. “Not disposable, of course – available.”

“Of course.”, Zantett tilted his head. “I will let her know.”

Which was probably unwise. He and K’Shara found it challenging to work together. Which, really, was a nice way of saying that they absolutely couldn’t stand being in the same room. Being on the same ship was already a stretch. It was doubtful that she would be pleased with two of her officers ‘escorting’ a civilian so they could risk an organ.

“Yes. And… Thank you. Commander. I appreciate it.” Valdes said, and rather than dismissing him, simply turned her attention back to the PADD in front of her.

Luckily for him, Zantett got the hint and turned on his heels, wondering how he was going to tell K’Shara that the Captain needed two of her ‘disposable’, no wait – available, Ensigns.