TWENTY-NINE: Shut Down

Disappointment and frustration bit deeply as Dagmar's request was all but thrown in her face.

It was not unusual for a subordinate to make a formal request from their superior – not unlike Feudal samurai would for their daimyo, if they held a specific position within that ranking system under their lord- but Dagmar knew she was pushing it by asking so soon after coming into Ambassador Thoris' employ.

Truthfully, she had half-expected the refusal, but that did not lessen her bitter disappointment and dismay. She had expected this, yes… but she had also hoped otherwise.

Ambassador Thoris had refused point blank to let her leave the planet – had refused to permit her to so much as set foot on a transport ship going anywhere near Vulcan- when Dagmar had made the request. Not only that, but the Ambassador had then demanded to know what had possessed her to dare to ask in the first place.

To her credit, Dagmar held her silence for well over an half an hour of pseudo-interrogations –out of respect for her friends' privacy- until Thoris threatened to dismiss her from her post. Shral observed, openly puzzled, from the sidelines but said nothing.

"It's…" Dagmar was extremely reluctant to speak, but she knew not even T'Lar and Varek would ask her to lose her job over this sort of thing. A large part of her rebelled at the thought of breaking her silence anyway, but reason won over – and self-preservation. The loss of her position would render her… purposeless… And potentially homeless, as she was only on Andoria due to Thoris' employment of her translation skills.

"My mentor, a Vulcan xenobiologist who helped me adjust to living on Earth, was bonded recently – but he and his wife can't conceive."

Even Thoris, rigid and unflappable as the Andorian politician was, was not unaffected by such information. His antennae drooped, just fractionally, before righting themselves again; a passing moment of pity for an affliction that was as good as leprosy to Andorians.

"I see."

Dagmar swallowed, awkward, and continued, "My friend and his wife believe that a Human ovum might be the solution to their problems. They asked me to donate several. It's a quick procedure – only a few weeks- from what I understand; in my time, the process and drug regimen could take months to complete."

The Ambassador's office was silent as the grave for a very long time after that. Shral and Thoris exchanged a long glance, and Dagmar tried not to feel extremely antsy. She wanted to help her friend, but she had to go through the Andorian hierarchy to so much as leave the planet.

She hated that she'd had to divulge such a private thing, even to her boss –whom she knew she could rely on for discretion. It seemed like a horrible violation, a breach of trust, even as logic and sense told her that she would not be blamed for speaking under duress.

"And where is this… procedure meant to take place?" Shral inquired. Both Andorians looked uncomfortable.

The blue-eyed redhead couldn't blame them. Andorians did not talk about infertility. At embarrassing all. Ever. That she brought it up so casually, in their view, made them distinctly perturbed.

Dagmar shrugged minutely and offered, "I didn't think it was wise to make any further preparations without running the whole thing by you."

Thoris nodded, thoughtful, but the flicking of his antennae gave away his irritation. Shral's expression gave nothing away, the aide as still and stoic as ever, but Dagmar got the strangest impression that he was… disturbed.

It occurred to her, briefly, that she may have done a little more than push her luck with such a request, and a moment of wild panic seized her. What if they were they angry with her? What if she had offended them? She had never meant to give serious offence – she just wanted to help her friend!

"The Vulcans would want you to have it done on their planet." Thoris stated, just a touch of irritation colouring his rasping, sibilant voice. "But you do not have my permission to leave Andoria."

Dismay seeped in, loosening the translator's straight shoulders into a sad slump. Her gaze dropped, feeling as though she'd let T'Lar and Varek down. True, she hadn't promised anything – they'd advised her not to, and she'd said she'd clear it with her boss- but… They had come to her to help because there wasn't really anyone else to ask. Things like this weren't really discussed in Vulcan society, and even when they were it was under a great deal of duress. It was considered immensely private, and even Vulcan physicians had only recently become open to advancing their studies on the subject.

A touch of anger seeped in, then. Why? she asked herself. Why wasn't she allowed to do this for her friends? Why? It cost the Ambassador nothing!

…But that was not a useful way of thinking, was it? Ambassador Thoris had his reasons, whatever they may be. He was objective and rational, and not likely to allow past prejudices against Vulcans to interfere with his decisions. She knew that – she'd seen it a hundred times first-hand.

She had to trust in that objectivity.

Thoris noticed her disappointment, but said nothing. The translator did not have to like his decisions, but so long as she did not question them the hierarchy was maintained. Whether or not he understood the motivation behind her request was irrelevant; he might have held a trace of fondness for the strange Human female, but not so much that such an outlandish request could be permitted. He could not have a member of his personal staff flitting about between planets – the ministers wouldn't have it, and the Vulcans might take the opportunity to make an ungodly fuss over it.

Relations between Andoria and Vulcan were not so strong that there was no risk of damage of reneging upon agreements over even so small a matter and the Ambassador knew it.

"…Thank you, sir." The redheaded Human said after a moment, swallowing thickly. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

The Ambassador dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Shral's gaze followed her out of the entirely-too-cold office.

Dagmar spent the rest of her shift in absolute silence, mechanically working through PADD after PADD of translations. She didn't even really notice what it was that she was translating, only that, suddenly, Thelus – the other translator she worked with- was patting her upper-arm.

That was a curious thing, the physical contact. Ever since she had "properly settled" (according to Thelus, at least) the other Andorians she worked with and around had been considerably more touchy-feely with her. They patted her arm to get her attention, touched her back or shoulder to indicate that she needed to move. One, who was apparently quite comfortable pretending she was Andorian, even went so far as to tap her hip or thigh whenever he wanted her to vacate a computer station. It wasn't anything sexual or invasive, like it might have been for Humans – that was one of the many non-verbal methods Andorians used to communicate- but it was surprising nonetheless.

Surprising, but… nice. It was nice to be included. There had been times when she had watched all of the Andorians around her interact with each other in such ways, and had always felt slightly saddened, like she was being left out.

"Yes?" She came out of her reverie, looking up from the PADD in her hand – the translations for which, according to the time-stamp, she had finished over two hours ago. Chagrin tinged her cheeks red and brought forth a grimace as she set the PADD down on the table with the others, her arm gone stiff from being held in one position for so long. "Oh. Oh, wow. I've been here for a while, haven't I?"

Thelus nodded and spoke in his familiar archaic dialect, "I noticed that your shift ended two hours ago. It is unusual for you to stay so late."

Dagmar flushed a further red –something which openly fascinated several of the Andorians she was acquainted with- and stood. "I'm sorry, I've had a lot on my mind…"

The Andorian translator simply nodded, antennae curved forwards in polite interest only. "Home is a better place for such thoughts."

Wordlessly, the Human woman smiled an awkward smile and gathered her things. As she walked home, only just remembering to put her mask on before exiting the building, Dagmar was once again lost in her thoughts, but one particular though stood out in particular.

What was she going to tell Varek and T'Lar?