Having by now returned to the Beyond, Makar made way to his quarters with the data pads in his hands, fuming. The bridge could wait. He needed some time to himself to calm down and analyze where to go on from this point. Coming to a halt in front of his own door he tapped a foot impatiently and rapped his fingers on the datapads as the scanner attempted to identify him. The panel at the center of the door flashed from amber to red.
"Records not found. Unauthorized attempt to access by / UNIDENTIFIED / CARDASSIAN / MALE / has been logged into the security mainframe."
Makar clicked his tongue loudly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He stood there for a few moments, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
"Computer to whom are these quarters assigned to."
"These are the quarters of Gul Damek Makar of the reformed Cardassian Union, First Officer of the USS Beyond." the even voice of the computer responded.
"Access Gul Damek Makar's identification profile and calibrate with the facial and optical recognition software."
For a few moments the lights flashed amber again. Then red. Makar exhaled sharply and spun around in anger.
"Unable to comply. Gul Damek Makar's personal files have not been logged."
Makar's brow furrowed deeply, "Not been logged? But…"
He looked around himself at the residential hall and spotted an interface nearby. He strode up to it— pulling out a data chip from his pocket as he did— and began accessing the terminal.
"Computer, entering data chip containing Gul Damek Makar's personnel file. Please access and log through appropriate channels. Decryption sequence being entered using crew interface terminal number… two hundred and forty-six."
"Processing. Please wait. Data entry approved."
Makar removed the data chip and walked back to his door. The recognition hardware's interface flashed amber, then green. Makar gave a relieved sigh as the door parted and slid open. He looked around his designated quarters. Standard. Bare. He had only brought a few belongings with him, none of which had been transported up to his quarters yet. Understandable with the mess the ship was at the moment.
He looked around as he went over to his bedroom and pushed down on the mattress. Comfortable. Everything looked comfortable and soft, at least compared to what he was used to. Cardassian ships didn't put very much thought into the comfort of its crew but rather the efficiency and use of space, meaning crew quarters were often cramped and shared between more than one officer. As he looked around his quarters he wondered vaguely how such a vast amount of space may have been used otherwise on one of his own people's ships.
"Computer are the environmental controls of this room isolated?"
"All personal quarters are allowed independent environmental factors subject to the occupants wishes."
Pleased, Makar continued, "I see. Computer increase temperature to thirty-two degrees, and increase humidity by five percent— and dim the lights please. Dimmer. Dimmer. That's enough."
Makar hummed with satisfaction at the room, now pleasantly warm to him and certainly not as harshly-lit as the rest of the ship.
"It's nice to see someone can take orders around here."
He went over to a armchair and fell back into it. Then, resting the data pads in his lap, took one and began reading through the updated reports. He had almost five minutes of peace before he heard the intercom to his room sound. Makar's stomach dropped and he looked to the door hesitantly.
Reluctantly he called out, "Enter."
The door opened to a man with a jovial expression, dressed in rather strange looking robes and holding up a bottle and two glasses. Makar raised an eyebrow as the man came through the door— data pad still raised in his hand— and placed the bottle on the coffee table just in front of him.
"A housewarming gift," he assured Makar, voice warm and friendly. Clasping his hands together gently the man looked around at the Cardassian's quarters.
"I see you've already taken advantage of the environmental controls. Tell me, are they to your liking?"
"Who are you?"
The man peered down at Makar, eyebrows raised attentively. He seemed to realize something as he smiled and gave him a courteous head nod.
"Of course. We haven't met yet. I am Attiel, the ship's counsellor. I came down to welcome you, seeing how the senior staff are… quite tied up at the moment. I brought kanar."
At this, Attiel sat down on the couch next to Makar and reached for the bottle. The data pad was still stubbornly raised in front of himself as he watched the counsellor.
"I'm on duty counsellor."
Attiel didn't seem bothered by this and uncorked the bottle, swiftly pouring the muddy looking drink into the two glasses he had brought with him.
"You know, I have never met a Cardassian who refused an offering of kanar…"
Makar watched him pour, the datapad in his hand lowering a few inches.
"...And I think the way things have gone today, you could really use a drink."
He couldn't argue that. The counsellor raised both glasses in his hands and offered one to Makar who— finally putting the datapad down in his lap— took it with some trepidation.
"It has been a… challenging… day."
"Tell me about it." Attiel gestured with a hand for Makar to continue. Instead the Cardassian gave the counsellor an apprehensive look.
"Counsellor I am not in the mood for a session about—"
"This is not a session," the counsellor interrupted with a small tip of his drink, with voice cool, "we're just two acquaintances sharing a bottle of kanar. Nothing more. You can talk about your day or we can talk about something else. Have you met the captain yet?"
A dark look glazed over Makar at the mention of the captain. He drank and took up a datapad again in his free hand.
"I'll suppose you have then. You... didn't like him."
"This ship should be ready to leave in a few hours time but the captain is more than happy wasting away his time drinking with his security chief."
"You don't approve."
"Of course I don't approve! He should be the one overseeing these." Makar flashed, smacking the datapad down onto the coffee table. His sudden anger didn't seem to faze the counsellor, who watched Makar calmly.
"I take it Cardassian ships are not so chaotic as this."
"No military vessel I've ever served on has been so chaotic- not to even begin to mention the lack of discipline among the crew…"
"You feel the crew lacks discipline?"
"I've hardly been able to find even a single crewman who will listen to a thing I say."
The semblance of peace Makar may have found alone in his quarters was now well gone. Clearly full of irritation now he took a longer swallow of kanar and glowered at the carpeted floor.
"I can understand that my people are not so well thought of, after…" Makar trailed off and seemed unwilling to speak, but then squared his shoulders and looked at the counsellor, "But that doesn't excuse insubordination. Whatever judgment they may have of my people, I am still second-in-command aboard this vessel."
"Have you considered that perhaps the crew needs some time to work past their impression of Cardassians?"
Makar pursed his lips.
"I honestly don't have much hope their impression will change, counsellor."
The counsellor smiled, "I do."
He could only give the counsellor a skeptical look as he drank the last of the glass. Attiel stood up.
"Counsellor? You barely touched your drink."
"You need it more than I do," The counsellor chuckled as he walked over to the doorway, "we should talk again soon, Gul Makar."
"What about the bottle?"
"Keep it. Perhaps you can invite the captain to share it with you, and you can reacquaint yourselves."
At that the counsellor left. Makar looked at the bottle and then replaced it's cork. He took the other glass— still quite full— and sipped from it, looking contemplatively around at his quarters.