Monét June Harris

Summary
Monét June Harris is a Starfleet ensign, assigned to the tactical branch, currently serving aboard the USS Lammergeier. Growing up in St. Louis, on Earth, she is the daughter of June and Marc Harris, a teacher and a district administrator. Heavily involved in her neighborhood’s vibrant scene, through her parents, the young woman became a skilled social animal – but not without her own shrewd proclivities.

Commissioning after the Battle of Sector 001, Monét specialized in battle tactics and first contact procedures, while at the academy. She graduated as the runner-up to the top spot of her class and had her pick at various assignments. So for the first two years of her career she served as a trainee on the Borg survivor USS Thunderchild. Continuing on with her headstrong and sometimes difficult tenure, the young officer was soon transferred off to the far end of Federation space.

Here she joined Task Force 11 and the USS Lammergeier at the last uncharted frontier.

History
Born as the daughter of a local administrator and a middle school teacher, Monét was exposed from an early age to the importance of community – as her parents served various non-profit organizations in the area – yet as a child she had never found to be fitting in anywhere perfectly. The youngest of three brothers, she had always known the struggle of asserting herself among others, while at the same time, the warming coat of community embraced her at every corner, in every courtyard where a solitary elder gentleman sang a-capella jazz tunes off the cuff. A neighborhood filled with the scent of barbecues each day of summer and the sounds of children playing in the streets, as well as the solitary pitter-patter of autumn rain on the roof of her room at night. When under the blanket of her bed she read the wisdoms of Sung Tsu or the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, hidden away from her parents and siblings.

It was in these hideaways that she indulged in the more quirky aspects of her character, that would’ve at least get her relentlessly mocked by her brothers. At age ten onwards, however, she didn’t care anymore. One morning at breakfast she proclaimed to only answer in Chinese from now on, witch she had self-taught herself for five years now. Her mother instantly covering her oldest brother’s mouth, who was about to comment disparagingly. Him and Monét had it out half an hour later on the front lawn, her first physical altercation, that resulted in one broke lawn flamingo and a bloody nose … on him. She had planned the entire assault from the front door, as they were about to head to school, across the soft greenery, to the garden sculpture she would use as a mallet against his face, and the ultimate burgundy streak of embarrassment across his pate, which he would have to wear like a red ‘A’ all through the day.

Soon Monét had a reputation as not to being messed with, moving into Van Buren Middle and High School, just a bit further down the district. It put her into a slightly questionable, yet honest, circle of friends that would hang out after school and cause mild mischief. Something that flew under the radar, most of the time, as she excelled being the executive strategist of the flock. Daughter of a teacher, however, let alone at HER school, excelling intellectually was also a given. So, by the time her high school graduation came around, the young woman had settled in almost perfectly into herself and the role she was going to fill for the rest of her life.

Accepted into Southwester Illinois College for intercultural studies she literally had the path for her near future all planned out. Then the Borg came.

In July 2373 the bionic race had fought its way through to Sector 001 in an attempt to assimilate earth. A task ultimately foiled by the USS Enterprie-E, but regardless, one that would scar and shape Monét from that moment onward. She remembers the flashes in the sky vividly, as the remaining ships of the fleet engaged the cube, far above the Atlantic. As well as the temporal Vortex and that momentary dread of helplessness and bone deep fear, among everyone staring up at the sky that day, holding their loved ones, fearing for a future that was – what they later learned – about to be extinguished in the past … and for a moment it had been.

Tormented with dreams of having Borg implants all over her body, waking up sweat soaked, the eighteen-year-old girl had an epiphany, a spark of purpose, and the same night she enrolled at Starfleet Academy. Only to find that she was not the only one. Arriving in San Francisco via planetary transport she found the interest in joining the defense forces was staggering. The plaza in front of the administrations building was packed, filled with an air of excitement and courage. She could actually recall very few instances where she felt so alive, even to this day.

Being drafted into the tactical branch, due to her initial aptitude tests, Monét had hoped to be able to pursue her studies in different cultures, instead. But ultimately opted to make that a side job, after excelling so well in her suggested profession. Particularly her analytical and almost prophetic tactical appraisals gave her a leg up among the competition. For example, she forged orders in a desert training mission on Vulcan, into perpetrating her tactical appraisal of the situation, as her immediate group leader did not want to consider her input. The exercise was subsequently a smashing success and in order to keep face, no charges as to whom the executive plans had come from, were ever filed.

So, it was no surprise that eventually the spirited woman graduated second in her class – something that still would gnaw at her and keep her ambition fired onwards – and thus was betrothed with the privilege to select her first assignment herself.

2377 - 2379
The pick for the USS Thunderchild was quite easy, at the time. The Akira class had become the symbol for the Federation’s new teeth. Blunt choppers that had long needed new veneers. It had victoriously participated in the Battle for Sector 001 – Monét’s initial persuasion to apply – and was now the poster-ship of Starfleet’s newfound confidence, after the Dominion was defeated as well. And to show everyone that, as little as the kids from ‘The Ville’ ever backed down, neither would Starfleet.

Being deployed to the Romulan neutral zone in 2377, as the recuperation period after the grand war created a power vacuum in the region, it was decided that Starfleet’s most well-armed vessels should assume a policing rule to deter pirates and smugglers. But in reality, command’s intentions were to guard the Federation border, in case the Romulans decided to cease the opportunity of a weakened fleet. Even though they had suffered tremendous losses themselves. No one really knew how many forces they had in the back hand still.

In her position as a tactical trainee, the young ensign was heavily involved in the planning and execution of combat exercises along the neutral zone. She soon became infamous for her strong work ethic and relentless attitude. Never stopping until the job was done, the way it was supposed to be done. A stance that earned her the nickname of ‘Pitbull’. It was not unheard of that the hot-headed young woman would became enraged and personally involved, when things did not go as planned, or fellow officers didn’t pull their weight.

For one instance, Monét manipulated a series of training rifles, so they would fire low-level electric bursts, instead of simple ionization-markings. All but one rifle, really. That of her superior, for not adhering to her advice on ‘upping the ante’ in reference to their tactical drills. So as soon as the match started, he found himself on the deck squirming. The ensign would later argue that once upon a time animals were trained with little electric zaps and that the success rates had been documented at almost 100%. Granted, it landed her atop the list of potential transfers by the end of the mission.

Towards the middle of 2379 her small little punishments on fellow crewmen had become so skilled and covert, that her superiors could only ever assume it was her, never prove anything. Which made official reprimands difficult, and it was ultimately decided that they too would have to resort to slightly underhanded shadow-play, and mask her transfer as an ‘opportunity’. So it came that Monét was sent to Starbase 157, where she would join the crew of the USS Lammergeier, as a Tactical Analyst and First Contact Advisor.

2379 - 10/2379
Little of her former superior’s suspicions and issues had found their way into her files, so upon being welcomed on the ship, everyone was very positive about the prospects of having her aboard. It was a newfound appreciation that mellowed down the edges that had come out aboard the Thunderchild so noticeably. The environment that Monét found aboard the Lammergeier, fostered by Captain Palmer himself, was far more inclusive and relied less on the chain of command, than the weight of expertise and merit. Something that colored her hopeful, that there was indeed a place where her unbridled patriotism and passionate ethics would be accepted as perks, rather than downsides. Where she could live out her strengths, rather than worry about her weaknesses.

Only time will tell whether this is true.

Appearance
Monét is of petite build yet considerably tall for her weight. Extremely lanky features and a dainty frame can give her an almost alien appearance. Her doll-like head teeters precariously on a skinny neck, completing the bobble-head cliché. Despite of that, her muscle tone and reflexes are usually grossly underestimated. Skinny by design and not starvation she is a plucky firecracker.

Her skin a mix of her darker father and lighter mother Monét sports thick chestnut hair, caught somewhere between tiny curls and silky smoothness, aiding her well in styling different hairdos on a whim. Long lashes and plump limps are only further aspects of her feminine exterior that aid the youthful look. Something that always had her underestimated. Which she turned into an advantage.

Motivation
Where the call of duty beckons, you follow. Not much more incentive should be needed. But regardless of that, Monét was actually rather glad to get off the Thunderchild. Your childhood heroes were usually not what you elevated them to be. The prospect of the Shackleton Expanse and the unexplored wonders and dangers within, were a siren’s call hard to resist, for the young girl. Especially since she’d been basically shoved upon it.

While first contact procedures and tactical training seem like an oxymoron (much like most of the ensign’s proclivities) in her mind both of them are closely related. Yet nowhere in the fleet was a position for a tactical advisor / first contact specialist ever on the roster. There are distinct molds you have to fit into when joining a crew. Not so aboard the Lammergeier, where everyone can find a place to fit in, no matter the color of your undershirt, or the number of Pips on your collar.

Episode 01

 * Day 01 | 0000 hrs. | Thread Title with Character 01, Character 02, Character 03