writers_muses Prompt 132
History had never been B’Elanna’s favourite subject. She preferred to live in the here and now. She liked physical activity - running or sparring or hoverball or something - and she liked engineering. She liked holonovels that involved a lot of participation. In short, she liked being in control. Learning about things that she couldn’t affect wasn’t her idea of fun.
She sat at the back of ‘Early Starfleet History’, attempting to take notes. She was impressed by the instructor’s knack for making something that should have been relatively exciting - in this case, the five year mission of the USS Enterprise - remarkably dull. Despite her feelings concerning the subject as a whole, she couldn’t help but admire Kirk’s ingenuity and Scott’s remarkable skill. Even Commander Spock, the austere first officer, had a certain appeal. Probably because he’d balanced his dual heritage and refused to let it hold him back. B’Elanna, who hadn’t managed to reach that sort of equilibrium, was a little jealous.
Of course, klingons were very different to vulcans. As soon as the instructor mentioned Commander Kor, she knew that the lecture was going to take an unpleasant turn.
Someone had asked a question about the attempted occupation of Organia and Kor’s relationship with the Federation captain that had come so close to thwarting him on so many occasions.
“Kor often mentioned a desire to face Captain Kirk in battle ...”
(“It that all klingons do?” murmured a student somewhere on B’Elanna’s left, “Fight?”)
“He held him in high professional regard.”
(“And all they care about.”)
The instructor was making it sound like some sort of story. She was sitting in the lecture theatre, surrounded by students in varying states of consciousness, and he was acting as if he was reading some sort of novel out loud! Didn’t he get it? Didn’t any of them get it? Real people - humans and klingons - had died after the break down of the peace talks. She’d spent every day of her life aware of that. Grudges didn’t fade. Sometimes, she caught people staring at her - at her forehead, anyway - when she walked through the street.
“What was it like to grow up there, B’Elanna?”
The boy in the row behind her leaned forward to ask the question. She could feel his breath on her neck and the eyes of everyone who had heard him on her face.
“Actually, I grew up on a Federation colony. I’ve never been to Qo'noS.”
She answered tersely, attempting to pull herself out of the conversation. It didn’t work.
“Really?”
Why did that answer always come as a surprise?
“Really. Now, can we just go back to listening to the lecture?”
“But ...”
“I said I want to listen to the lecture.”
“Is that the famous klingon temper?”
In hindsight, it had probably been a poor attempt at a joke, but B’Elanna - who had a short temper and a testy sense of humour - threw the first punch as soon as the words had left his lips.
The ensuing brawl resulted in her second disciplinary hearing. She tried to pretend that she didn’t care.
Prompt: "Things would be different one day. But you had to start small, like oak trees."
Word Count: 515
She sat at the back of ‘Early Starfleet History’, attempting to take notes. She was impressed by the instructor’s knack for making something that should have been relatively exciting - in this case, the five year mission of the USS Enterprise - remarkably dull. Despite her feelings concerning the subject as a whole, she couldn’t help but admire Kirk’s ingenuity and Scott’s remarkable skill. Even Commander Spock, the austere first officer, had a certain appeal. Probably because he’d balanced his dual heritage and refused to let it hold him back. B’Elanna, who hadn’t managed to reach that sort of equilibrium, was a little jealous.
Of course, klingons were very different to vulcans. As soon as the instructor mentioned Commander Kor, she knew that the lecture was going to take an unpleasant turn.
Someone had asked a question about the attempted occupation of Organia and Kor’s relationship with the Federation captain that had come so close to thwarting him on so many occasions.
“Kor often mentioned a desire to face Captain Kirk in battle ...”
(“It that all klingons do?” murmured a student somewhere on B’Elanna’s left, “Fight?”)
“He held him in high professional regard.”
(“And all they care about.”)
The instructor was making it sound like some sort of story. She was sitting in the lecture theatre, surrounded by students in varying states of consciousness, and he was acting as if he was reading some sort of novel out loud! Didn’t he get it? Didn’t any of them get it? Real people - humans and klingons - had died after the break down of the peace talks. She’d spent every day of her life aware of that. Grudges didn’t fade. Sometimes, she caught people staring at her - at her forehead, anyway - when she walked through the street.
“What was it like to grow up there, B’Elanna?”
The boy in the row behind her leaned forward to ask the question. She could feel his breath on her neck and the eyes of everyone who had heard him on her face.
“Actually, I grew up on a Federation colony. I’ve never been to Qo'noS.”
She answered tersely, attempting to pull herself out of the conversation. It didn’t work.
“Really?”
Why did that answer always come as a surprise?
“Really. Now, can we just go back to listening to the lecture?”
“But ...”
“I said I want to listen to the lecture.”
“Is that the famous klingon temper?”
In hindsight, it had probably been a poor attempt at a joke, but B’Elanna - who had a short temper and a testy sense of humour - threw the first punch as soon as the words had left his lips.
The ensuing brawl resulted in her second disciplinary hearing. She tried to pretend that she didn’t care.
Prompt: "Things would be different one day. But you had to start small, like oak trees."
Word Count: 515