Beneath the Armor
Posted on Sat Aug 8th, 2026 @ 1:06am by Lieutenant Colonel Ashok 'Ash', Son of Norath & Lieutenant Ralen Trellis
Edited on on Tue Aug 11th, 2026 @ 10:07pm
3,503 words; about a 18 minute read
Mission:
Flight Of The Valkyries
Location: Marine Commander Office
Counselor Ralen Trellis made his way through the corridors toward the Marine section of the ship, PADD in hand containing the personnel file he'd already memorized. Lieutenant Commander Ashok, Son of Norath - newly assigned Marine Company Commander aboard the Tokyo. The Marine Commander's file showed an impressive service record - multiple combat deployments, commendations for valor, and Company Commander.
Ralen decided that he'd save the new Marine Commander a walk and go to him instead of making him come to his suite for his initial counseling. He reached the Marine Commander's office and pressed the door chime.
"Enter!" Came a deep and powerful sounding voice from the other side.
Counselor Ralen Trellis stepped through the door and immediately took in the space with practiced observation. The Spartan setup didn't surprise him - Jaret's memories supplied immediate recognition of a Marine officer who lived by the principle of tactical mobility. Everything essential, nothing extraneous.
Upon entering the MCO Officer, the Counselor would notice a few things. It was clearly setup in a Spartan style in mind. A Marine, like Ashok, would be used to having to pick up and go. He wouldn't have much surrounding him to grab and put away unless it was easy to carry and necessary. Even though he was serving onboard a Starship, his way of not adding things to give it a more personal touch would still be there. There were, however, a few things of notice. A child's drawing framed on his desk along with a case with his Marine medals to signify his commendations. Another was a mannequin torso which had his Klingon Baldric with a few medals. Particularly, one of his Klingon House and a sheathed Klingon knife, were stand outs. In a corner was a small area set up for a child to play in and a cage for an animal.
His eyes went first to the child's drawing on the desk - bright colors, probably done recently given its prominent placement. Then to the medals, both Starfleet and Klingon, each telling a story of service and sacrifice. The play area in the corner and what appeared to be an animal cage completed the picture. A warrior who was also a father, balancing duty with family in the middle of a war zone.
"Lieutenant Colonel Ashok, Son of Norath," Counselor Trellis said, showing deference to the rank. Jaret remembered the significance of being a Field Grade Officer and the amount of responsibility a Lieutenant Colonel carried. It was a significant rank, typically reserved for battalion-level leadership. Having one aboard as a company commander suggested either exceptional circumstances or that Ashok was being groomed for higher command. "I appreciate you making time for this. I figured coming to you would be easier than pulling you away from your responsibilities."
He gestured toward the child's drawing with a warm smile. "That's excellent artwork. I'm assuming that's your daughter's doing?" It took every bit of restraint inside of Ralen to not make a joke about Marines eating crayons.
"Yes. Cirilla gave it to me after I returned from one of our skirmishes. I'm told she worked very hard on it. Wanting to make it just right before I got back." Ashok replied in his deep voice, before taking the framed picture and handing it to Counselor Trellis.
The drawing was a simple one. Green layer on the bottom to represent grass. Blue above it to represent the sky with a Yellow circle to represent the sun. Standing on the grass were two figures. Both clearly draw by a small child with proportions seeming to be slightly off, but it was a obvious representation of her and her father. Complete with labels next to them in Black saying Daddy and Me. Next to the little girl was a drawing of a Targ or a pig like creature that was meant to resemble a Targ. Under it was the label Hur'q, a word in Klingon traditionally translated to mean 'outsider'.
Ralen took the framed drawing carefully, studying it with genuine appreciation. The simple scene - father and daughter standing together under a bright sun with their targ - carried the weight of what it represented. A child's vision of safety and family in the middle of a war.
"It's beautiful," he said sincerely, noting the careful labels in a child's handwriting. "Cirilla has talent. And patience - getting it 'just right' shows she really wanted it to be perfect for you."
The drawing was prominently displayed. Not hidden away, not just tucked in a drawer. It's the first thing anyone sees when they enter this office. A statement: 'I am a father first, warrior second.' Or perhaps 'This is what I'm fighting for.' Them memories of Ralen's prior host, Jaret, supplied context - Marines who kept family photos visible were either using them as motivation or as a shield. A reminder of what waited for them after the mission. A reason to stay alive when the tactical situation went sideways.
He handed the frame back, his counselor's mind already cataloguing details. 'Skirmish.' Interesting choice of words for what was likely a combat operation with real casualties.
Minimizing the danger, perhaps? Ralen thought to himself. Calling a combat operation a 'skirmish' was textbook minimization. It made it sound routine and manageable.
"How old is Cirilla?" Trellis asked conversationally, settling into one of the chairs and gesturing for Ashok to sit as well - making this feel less formal, more like a conversation between colleagues. This was the Marine Commander's safe space, no need to dive into deep topics immediately.
"Four years old." Ashok replied, sitting behind his desk, leaning back as he places his hands on the table.
Counselor Trellis leaned back in his chair, keeping his posture relaxed and conversational. "I imagine having her aboard during wartime creates... unique challenges. How is she adjusting to life aboard the Tokyo?" Lieutenant Trellis asked, genuinely curious.
"It's one thing for adults to process what we've been through these past few weeks - Amerind, Starbase 234, the constant threat of Herald attacks. But for a four-year-old trying to make sense of red alert klaxons and her father coming back from 'skirmishes'..."
He let the question hang, not pushing but offering space for Ashok to talk about something that clearly mattered to him based on that drawing's prominent placement.
"She knows as much as she needs to." Ashok replied in a deep tone, keeping his volume low. "She's an inquisitive girl. Right now, she wants to learn about animals and creatures. She'll come to me, or one of the Marines who don't mind her company, revealing a new piece of trivia she learned. So, not that long ago, she wanted to know why we traveled a lot. Why many of the people around her were dressed like me and she seldom saw children her own age." He stopped briefly, placing his hand on his desk, breaking eye contact with the counselor. After a second or two, his gaze returned. "When questions about her heritage would come up, I did my best to explain to her about how she came to be, leaving out details she was too young to learn about. As her father, I do my best to explain what something means and why I need to be away from her or why she has to go off with someone for her own safety, despite my reluctance to leave her nearly every time since she's come into my life. So, she understands the why and when its time to find safety pretty well. I fear leaving her behind, but I keep her always in my mind to remind me why losing is not an option."
Lieutenant Trellis shifted slightly in his chair, his tone remaining conversational but his questions becoming more pointed. "I was reviewing your service record before coming here - impressive career, multiple commendations. But there's something I'm curious about." He leaned forward slightly. "You would have been about eighteen during the Federation-Klingon War in 2372. Young, but fighting age. That conflict was brief but brutal - a lot of blood spilled on both sides before the Dominion threat forced the Empire and Federation back into alliance."
Jaret's memories supplied Ralen with more than enough context of the time period - the chaos of shifting allegiances, the difficulty of fighting alongside people who'd been trying to kill you months earlier.
"Your record doesn't specify when you joined Starfleet," Counselor Trellis continued, his tone genuinely curious rather than challenging. "But at some point, you chose to join the Starfleet Marine Corps. Not as an allied Klingon warrior, but actually join their military structure."
He met Ashok's eyes directly. "That's an interesting choice - serving in the military of people who may have killed your friends or family just years before. Even with the alliance, that couldn't have been an easy decision. What led you down that path?"
"You're assuming my family and their allies had bad blood with the Federation." Ashok countered firmly, his tone deep and eyes locked on the counselor. "Not every Klingon at the time saw the Federation as a main enemy. More of a small annoyance keeping them from the main threat. The Cardassians and Dominion. My father, in particular, sat in the center chair and made it a point to avoid any confrontation with any Federation ship." He leaned back in his chair and brought his hands together, a slight air of caution fell as he observed Trellis. "Klingons and The Federation have spilled their fair share of blood. He once told us as we sat around the fire. Our history is long and bloody, started by old men seeking victory in an opponent who sought nothing but peace. There is no need to spill anymore. You never have to run from a fight if one never begins." The Klingon let out a soft sigh, a bit of a smile, before it faded. "He instilled the same advice to my daughter. Telling her that she part of her is from a line of Klingon Warriors, but she doesn't have to seek honor the same way her ancestors did. Sometimes... honor can be gained without shedding a single drop. Seeking honor like that would never make her a coward in his eyes. Just a much smarter warrior."
Ash shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of not being in the Klingon Defense Force. It was a matter of family pride and tradition. Four of his siblings all went through the Klingon Academy, with his younger brother still preparing for the journey. His twin sister, Ashahi, while currently serving as an Ambassador's aide still made it to the rank of Commander. Despite making it to the Starfleet Marine Corp, he still gets disappointed looks from his family, so it was indeed a difficult subject for him to discuss.
"Suffice to say, I did not make the cut as far as one of my instructors were concerned." Ashok replied firmly, returning his gaze back to Trellis. "I did not meet his standards and my father took his side. My mother pushed him to fight for me to stay, but he had too much respect for the man to disagree with him. I couldn't look him in the eyes after that. I couldn't look any of them in the eyes. They all treated me differently." He paused slightly, before adding softly. "Except for my grandmother. The House Elder. My father's mother. She assured me, had my grandfather still been alive, he would have humbled the man. No matter what condition my grandfather was in, he wouldn't have hesitated. While it was still my father's decision to not fight the decision, she assured me it was a stupid decision, but a son's first duty is to honor his father. It was her idea to look into Starfleet. Specifically, the Marine Corp, as a means to keep my warriors heart satiated with combat and disciple."
Counselor Trellis was quiet for a long moment after Ashok finished, letting the weight of what had been shared settle between them. The Klingon had just revealed a fundamental wound - rejection by his own people, by his own father - and framed it with the philosophical wisdom of his grandmother. "Your grandmother sounds like she understood something important," Counselor Trellis said finally, his tone carrying genuine respect. "Not just about honor and duty, but about finding your own path within the constraints of family expectation."
He leaned back slightly and smirked, "You know, I find it interesting that even for Klingons, the Marine Corps serves as... a home for wayward souls seeking purpose, even if its a violent one."
"So I have to ask" Counselor Trellis continued. "When you were pushing to advance through the ranks, to eventually command at the battalion level, how much of that drive was about proving your father wrong versus proving something to yourself?"
"Not every Klingon craves violence, despite the image many seem to project. There are many officers serving in medicine, engineering, even the sciences." Ash replied firmly, switching to a deep tone, projecting an insulted atmosphere. "The ones who were raised to believe that every achievement must come with bloody hands and animalistic grunting, feel serving in the Marine Corp is the best way to keep to that. Keeping tradition while serving outside the Empire. For me, I came to serve in the Marine Corp because I felt it was the best place to contribute given my training. I didn't come here to seek new glories and new battles. I came to serve Starfleet. If you feel it was under some 'deep desire to prove my father wrong', that is you opinion. For me, following my own path, means that I don't have to use the disappointments of others to weight me down if this path is what I have chosen and decided to keep on."
Counselor Ralen Trellis listened to the whole answer without interrupting; however, he noticed a slight contradiction. "You make a fair point about Klingons in medicine, in engineering, in the sciences." He leaned forward slightly. "You could have served in any of those, by your own account. Instead you chose the Marine Corps — the branch with the highest casualty rate in this war, and very often the first one through the door when the shooting starts." he said, highlighting the variety of options within Starfleet.
"You said that was the placement that best suited your training, not your temperament. I can accept that as true, but still find it an incomplete answer." Counselor Trellis said. "Of every assignment available to someone with your skills, you picked the one most likely to put you in the path of violence." He said as continued.
"You say that you weren't seeking new glories nor battles, by the Corps isn't really known for producing Monks." The Trill said sarcastically.
"And it's also not known for harboring glory seeking savages." Ash countered, looking deep into the mans eyes. "Marines are trained to fight. They are trained to kill, but they do not do it indiscriminately. I've held a phaser rifle in my hands, but never was it as a means to conquer another species. Never was it to satiate a need to blood and combat. It was to defend myself. Defend others. Defend the Federation and its allies. Klingons were raised in a tradition to conquer their enemies. To make them fear the Empire and lower their heads in respect or risk losing it. Starfleet doesn't search for worlds to rule. They search for worlds to explore. They don't make other species fear them. They search for species to learn about and from. Starfleet doesn't look for war, but it will defend itself and its allies should they get pulled into one. You're wrong, Counselor. Not every Marine assignment is about seeking a violent end. Some are mainly just preventing violence by just establishing a presence. The Marine Corp isn't about looking for violence. It's about stopping it and defending those who can't fight for themselves." He slowly stood up from his chair, adding with a stern look. "I welcome you to walk out that door and find me a Marine who thinks otherwise. And if you managed to find one, than you managed to find yourself in the presence of the one Marine who lost his way."
Counselor Trellis let the silence hold a moment before responding, his tone level, clinical. He wasn't here to argue with a patient, merely engage with him to determine who he was as an Officer, a Marine, and perhaps as a Klingon.
"That's a coherent framework, Ashok. Although, in my experience with other Marines, it doesn't appear to be universal." He said as he chose his words. "I've met other Marines, Officers even, who served through one bloody engagement after another against enemies who only sought death: Yours or Theirs, there was no 3rd option." Counselor Trellis said, recalling his experience as Jaret Trellis, but trying his best to avoid revealing that the experience belonged to his past host. "Those Marines saw the Corps more as a sword, rather than a shield. Precise, and necessary at times, but a sword all the same."
"I'll note that the framework you described — killing as pure defense, never as identity — lines up with documented patterns in Klingon psychology. Within that particular warrior culture, killing tends to register as transactional. A necessary exchange, accounted for and closed, rather than something that reshapes the self the way it does for other races." The Counselor said with a bit more of a detached tone.
Perhaps that was the difference between Jaret and the Marine Officer standing before Ralen today. Jaret never closed the transaction. Every kill stayed open, stacked on the last, until there was nowhere left to put them. . .until the count simply consumed him and drove him into a dark place he never recovered from. The Trill knew not to address that thought aloud. He kept that thought to himself, unspoken, filed alongside the rest of what Jaret left behind.
"For what it's worth, Ashok — that may be the healthier way to carry it." He said, looking back up at the Marine.
"Than I am sorry for those Marines and for you having to experience that. Most important, I pity you for not being able to see pasted it, because not all Marines see things that way." Ash said firmly. "Since before the time that Starfleet was even a concept, long before space travel was even a thought, the Marines of Earth were formed as a means to combat enemies and protect their defending land from outside forces who mean to cause harm and take away their freedoms. Since then, its grown to incorporate other countries and planets, taking in their allies, while keeping to the same ideals. Do some become taken by the violence and power behind it? Yes, but there are always those who don't. Those who stick to those ideals and embrace the code, even if its alien to them. As a Klingon, my culture taught me to see battles and war as something different, but much like every world when it discovered they weren't alone in the universe, I adapted and taught myself to see things differently. To see things in a way that allows me to be Klingon and serve Starfleet without a concern for how the other side would take my actions." He took in a soft breath, before releasing it to add. "If you feel that it won't work on this ship, feel free to note it in your report and send it along to the Chain of Command. I don't intend to change how I see or do things because you expected different and it doesn't share your experiences."
Counselor Trellis listened to all of it without interrupting, and when Ash finished, he didn't rush to fill the silence.
"I don't pity anyone, Lieutenant Colonel. That's not what this was." His tone stayed level, no edge in it. "And for the record — I don't expect you to change anything. That's not why I'm here."
"You've given me what I needed for the evaluation." He said as he picked up his PADD from the arm of the chair and stood.
He moved toward the door, then paused. "The door stays open, Lieutenant Colonel. Not as a condition of anything — just as an ear to listen." He nodded once and stepped out.
As the doors swished shut behind Ralen, he began to think that Jaret never had anyone offer him an open door after leaving Active Duty in the Corps. Perhaps it could have brought him needed assistance.
Lieutenant Colonel Ashok 'Ash', Son of Norath
Marine Commander
USS Tokyo
Lieutenant Ralen Trellis
Counsellor
USS Tokyo
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