The Karim Files: Tork

Posted on Fri Feb 13th, 2026 @ 7:08pm by Commander Karim & Lieutenant Tork

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Pathfinder Station
Timeline: Mission Day 17 at 1300

Karim found Lieutenant Tork in a fabrication alcove that was very clearly not authorised for the work being conducted within it.

Components were spread across two benches, several of them tagged for the Sojourner’s repair queue, others conspicuously unlogged. Karim paused just inside the threshold, long enough to catalogue the layout, the power draw, and the faint harmonic whine of something that should not yet have been active.

"You requisition parts the way most officers requisition opinions," Karim said evenly. "Liberally, and without asking permission." He did not look at the device Tork was assembling. He looked at the Ferengi. "That tells me two things. First, that you expect to survive the consequences. Second, that you have done so before."

He stepped closer, hands folding behind his back. "I am Doctor Karim. Pathfinder Project." A pause. "I am not here to audit your ingenuity, however. Starfleet already does that - poorly." His gaze sharpened. "I am here because you survived the Kazon captivity without becoming compliant, and because the Sojourner survived them without winning. Those two facts are related."

Tork glanced over his shoulder at the man, some cross of a Bajoran and either a Vulcan or a Romulan... not that he cared which... and snorted at the provocation as if that were all the response it deserved. His attention returned to the items on his 'acquired' workbench for another moment or two, his hands pushing and manipulating various parts into their respective places until he seemed satisfied with his work. It was only then that the Ferengi finally turned toward the stranger with the abrasive attitude.

"Starfleet actually rates my abilities rather highly... at least off the record. And I prefer it that way, keeps nosy clinical types like you who imagine everything has to fit neatly into little boxes and anything outside of them isn't necessary or relevant from getting too curious and too chatty. But there's always a few that just can't help themselves and have to try to stuff me into a box that makes sense to them. So tell me, Doctor, which mold you have preformed in your mind about what a Ferengi is do you imagine that I fit into? Am I that 'will do anything for profit' sort in your head? Opportunistic and conniving, without a shred of moral fiber, perhaps? I can't imagine you came here with an open mind if you start by drawing conclusions about what I may or may not have been involved with while being held captive against my will," the engineer said, leaning back against his borrowed bench without any semblance of concern for where the conversation might go.

Karim regarded him without irritation, without correction, and without the faintest hint of offence. "Your assumptions about my assumptions are inefficient," he said calmly. "If I required a Ferengi caricature, I would consult a briefing file rather than interrupt productive work." His gaze shifted briefly to the device on the bench, then back to Tork. "On the contrary, Lieutenant, you appear to be precisely what a frontier vessel requires. Ingenuity without sentimentality. Improvisation under constraint. The capacity to survive captivity without surrendering initiative. Those are not deficiencies. They are strengths." A slight pause. "You mistake me if you believe I am here to diminish them."

He stepped closer, not threatening, but deliberate. "I follow the teachings of Surak. I also carry a Bajoran grandfather whose existence disqualifies me, in some circles, from being considered a proper specimen of anything." His expression did not shift. "I have no interest in purity, cultural or otherwise. I am interested in function." His eyes sharpened. "What I am assessing is not whether you fit a mould. It is whether you understand the strategic weight of your own effectiveness. When you improvise successfully under duress, others will attempt to replicate you without your insight. When you destabilise a hostile system and survive, that becomes precedent." A brief pause. "I am not here to box you in, Lieutenant Tork. I am here to determine whether you intend to shape the frontier, or merely react to it."

"Your first statement and your last don't really match, if that's really what you're looking to figure out," the engineer remarked with no small amount of sarcasm mixed in, "But we can skip the part where you try to argue that I've somehow misinterpreted your statement and I counter by pointing out the disconnect between starting a conversation with an accusation and following it up when called out by re-framing it to make it seem less inflammatory than it was to save face even if you'd deny you possess any tangible ego in the first place because Surak said egos are bad. I've spent enough time around Vulcans and half-Vulcans and mostly but not entirely-Vulcans to have heard at least a hundred different permutations of that defense."

"You want to know what happened on that ship, whether or not I was complacent in my obligation to avoid actions that might have endangered Federation personnel while being held captive, and how I managed to survive and escape capture without it causing some fracture in my psyche and render me ineffective as an officer and as someone placed in charge of others. Is that a fair assessment of what this conversation needs to center around, poor introduction not withstanding?" Tork concluded, his demeanor never shifting beyond amused annoyance.

Karim inclined his head a fraction, not in apology, but acknowledgement. "Your summary is efficient," he said evenly. "And largely accurate. You are correct. That is not what concerns me." His gaze remained steady, unprovoked. "I have no interest in your psyche, Lieutenant. If captivity had fractured you, it would be visible in your work. It is not, so you make for a rare exception in my work. Nor am I here to litigate whether you acted ethically under coercion. Frontier survival rarely permits clean hands." A slight pause. "You survived. You retained initiative. You assisted in destabilising the Kazon vessel. Those are facts. I do not dispute them."

There was a pause for a moment before the commander continued. "What concerns me is consequence." His eyes flicked briefly to the device on the bench. "You exposed vulnerabilities. You demonstrated systemic weaknesses. You escaped... Did you consider what they learned from you, or only what you took from them?" His gaze settled again, cool and direct. "Out here, Lieutenant, survival is not victory. It is instruction. It is, should we say, transactional."

"I would have been if I hadn't found out later that the ship flew apart and they didn't survive it doing so," the Ferengi said with a rather apathetic shrug, "And thanks to that ship being a hodgepodge of parts from all over the Delta Quadrant, any vulnerabilities I exposed in that particular ship don't exactly translate to the Kazon as a whole. All I did was rig technology from cultures that never should have been integrated into a Kazon ship to stop being so cooperative with foreign systems. And the person who helped them cobble most of it together in the first place was taken off that ship when we left, it wasn't Kazon engineers who had the know-how in the first place. I'll give them credit for being adept at projecting violence to get what they want, but when it comes to technical prowess, they're going to need another hundred or so years of study to make me nervous in that respect."

Karim regarded him for a long moment, assessing not the words, but the structure beneath them. "That is a defensible analysis," he said at last. "Fragmented architecture limits scalable adaptation. Cultural integration without comprehension produces brittle systems. You are correct that the Kazon lack technical continuity. They project strength. They do not engineer it." His gaze held steady. "And you are also correct that removing the architect removes much of the threat."

He inclined his head slightly. "Then I am satisfied." The words were simple, unadorned. "Frontier vessels do not require cautious engineers. They require resilient ones. Officers who can dismantle, repurpose, and sustain without resupply for years if necessary." His eyes did not leave Tork. "Isolation will test this crew more severely than captivity did. If the Sojourner were cut off tomorrow, or if Pathfinder became our fixed and isolated outpost rather than a gateway, your capacity for improvisation would not be indulgence. It would be survival." A measured pause, his eyes cast over the diminutive Ferengi and the items gathered around them. "Ensure it remains disciplined survival, Lieutenant. Not merely cleverness. If you can manage that distinction, this region will find you considerably more difficult to erase than those Kazon were."

"Believe me, Commander," Tork's lips curled into something akin to an insidious grin, "I don't plan to let anything on this side of the wormhole to punch my ticket to the Divine Treasury as long as I have even the smallest amount of say in the matter. And isolation wouldn't be a problem as long as there's someone out here we can trade for parts with. As long as no one asks for it to be pretty, I could keep the ship... the station... whatever needs fixing ready to go until the theory-types figure out how to reverse that. And if we have to... I could even be convinced to kit-bash a transwarp drive if someone was brave enough to get me on and off a Borg ship without... you know... that nasty bit where they assimilate you. But that's more of a 'last resort' kind of thing, certainly not plan A."

Karim’s expression did not change at the mention of transwarp, though something sharpened almost imperceptibly in his gaze. "I would advise against making the Borg your benchmark for ambition," he said evenly. "And they rarely appreciate 'kit-bashing'." A brief pause as a cold regard moved across Tork's features again. "If you find yourself boarding one of their vessels, Mister Tork, I recommend ensuring the exit strategy is fully formed, although I suspect it may be with you. Assimilation tends to complicate after-action reports, however."

He regarded the engineer for a moment longer, then inclined his head once more. "Your confidence is not misplaced, it seems. Nor is it entirely irrational." The faintest breath passed through his ridged nose, not quite approval, not quite amusement. "This quadrant will not be survived by theory alone. It will require officers who are willing to make inelegant solutions function under hostile conditions." His eyes held Tork’s. "I suspect we may all come to rely on you for that."

"As long as you don't question how I get it done when everything is falling down around our lobes, I can promise at least one miracle of engineering genius," the Ferengi chuckled, "Now, unless there was anything else, I should probably finish throwing this together and get back to my ship before people start hunting through Jefferies Tubes to find me. You can take the Ferengi out of a freighter, but you can't take the freighter habits out of the Ferengi, as the hew-mons are fond of saying."

Karim’s eyes shifted once more to the device taking shape beneath Tork’s hands. "One miracle is impressive," he said calmly. "Two becomes pattern. Three becomes expectation." His gaze returned to the Ferengi. "Ensure your genius remains sustainable."

He turned toward the corridor without urgency. "I do not believe in miracles, Lieutenant," he said evenly. "I believe in brilliance and timing applied under pressure." His eyes rested briefly on the scattered components. "If that is what you are offering, we will function very well."

But, just before he left, a fractional pause. "Opaque brilliance is indistinguishable from recklessness, however. And you will find my tolerance considerably less flexible than your engineering."