From Star Trek: Theurgy Wiki

Personnel FileR-o3.png
PositionTactical Officer
BirthplaceShi'Phehr, Trilan
Height5ft 9in / 1.75m
Weight140lbs / 64kg
HairEbony bob, poorly-maintained
Eye colorGlacial Blue
Played byAya Shalkar
WriterTop Hat

Spice Tea
Aerospace shows

2310-2316 Trilan Seminary

2339-2340 Starfleet Bootcamp

2368-2371 Starfleet Academy
Service Record
2340-2364 Crewman to Chief Petty Officer, USS Minsk NCC-1752

2364-2368 Chief Petty Officer to Lieutenant JG, USS Excalibur NCC-26517
2371-2375 Lieutenant JG to Lieutenant, USS Repulse NCC-2544

2378- Lieutenant, USS Theurgy NX-79854
2362: 22 Years' Long Service And Good Conduct

2368: Legion of Honour
2370: 30 Years' Long Service And Good Conduct
2375: Dominion War Victory Medal

2380: 40 Years' Long Service And Good Conduct

Lieutenant Evoras was the Chief Tactical Officer of the USS Theurgy in January of 2381. After sustaining a phaser beam to the chest from Cala during the USS Calamity’s first attack on the Theurgy and put in cryogenic stasis, she was succeeded by Rennan Cooper, Sjaandin Fedd and later Commander Carrigan Trent. After recovering from her injuries - just after the first encounter with the Savi - she has returned to duty on the Theurgy in the Tactical department.

Her fate was interlinked with that of T'Less, another Vulcan that was supposed to have served on the Theurgy, but a Butterfly Effect made Evoras and T'Less switch places in the timeline where the Theurgy led the opposition against the parasites that compromised Starfleet Command in the end of the 24th century. In another timeline, Evoras would have ended up on the Ark Royal instead.


Conversation between Evoras and Telen, Trilan, 2309

"Evoras, you have been warned not to climb those cliffs."

"I take my beacon with me. The township sensor net would detect a fall and beam me to safety."

"And if there is a failure?"

The Vulcan girl stayed quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, there was less certainty. "There is an auxiliary."

"Total power loss. Stellar flare."

"I would likely survive-"

"And a bad fall, tumbling, upside down by the time you got to the base?"

Silence. Hypothetical this conversation may have been, but it was still plausible.

"I am careful." Certainty once more. "I know my limits, and how fast they change."

"Very well. Never forget."

Conversation outside a Trilan monastery, 2316

The colossal stone arch soared overhead, marking the entrance to the mountain pass in which the Kolinahr retreat lay. It had been hewn by hand with almost-perfect precision, a monument to minimalism and simplicity. It imposed itself on the landscape, but without overpowering it; the arch simply was. It was late morning, and the high sunlight blocked by the massive stones lent them an almost sinister air, making the edifice appear darker than it actually was. Evoras looked with trepidation along the rocky path.

"Go on, child. The monastery staff will take care of you."

"But mother, won't they find out-"

Telen nodded. "Yes. But as long as you listen well, and behave, and show them that you have simply found your own way of controlling yourself, they will let you be. You will be trained regardless."

Sitek, her father, laid a hand on her shoulder. "'Infinite diversity in infinite combination'. They know the maxim better than anyone. Do not be afraid." He glanced at the sky. "And do not tarry. We will be here when you complete your journey."

Conversation between Evoras and Sreilen, near Shi'Phehr, Trilan, 2339

"I wouldn't have thought a scholar of Surak would have understood..."

"Evoras, that is precisely what I study to understand."

The pair had taken a meandering path through the Avori hills, playing the subtle and delicate game common among youthful humanoids the galaxy over. Theirs was simply a quieter version of it. Never one to sit still, Evoras had insisted that if Sreilen were going to quiz her system of logic, he could do it on a constitutional rather than cooped up in a tea room.

For tea, she had brought a flask.

"There. The reason I brought you here."

Beneath the peak on which they stood, the range descended to the shores of the Vol sea. It was a gargantuan impact lake, formed a scant few million years after the planet's formation, and held an ecosystem held quite separate from its surroundings by the crater wall.

"It is a... very large crater," Sreilen allowed.

Evoras sat with a sigh, rooting through her pack. "And how does it make you feel?"


She patted the ground next to her. "There's no one around, Sir Scholar of Surak. Be frank."

"I feel that it is a crater lake." Nevertheless, he sat, and gratefully took the steaming cup she handed him.

"No. It is filled with life separate from the rest of this whole world. Seeded millions of years ago by the slimmest of astronomical chances. And we can witness it now. I come here infrequently, when I want to feel connected to things."

"You visited the human quarter recently."

"And, of course, their waxing poetic rubbed off on me." Evoras didn't smile, but her eyes were alight. Sreilen gave a subtle tip of the head, some miniscule change in his body language indicating his own private amusement. It faded. "Your application was rejected?"

Evoras sighed. "It was. I plan to enlist instead."

"You're qualified enough that you-"

"I am going to go whatever way I can. Wanting to hold a commission is a mere illogical desire, quite irrelevant to joining the Fleet."

"I am... grateful the galaxy is a smaller place than it used to be. I will visit."

"Now who's waxing poetic?"

Conversation between Chief Petty Officer Evoras and Cadet, Kuiper Belt Firing Range, 2362

"Cadet Negev, if you do not pay attention, I will have you loaded into the next casing."

The young human looked at her, uncertain. He was never sure when this particular Vulcan NCO was joking. "I was just-"

"You were engaging in a tiresome - and, judging by the Cadet's expression, unwelcome - courtship attempt when you are supposed to be learning about how to ensure these weapons are stored in such a way as to avoid their premature detonation in the rack." Her gaze switched to one of the more attentive cadets in the front row of the huddle in the Minsk's magazine. "How many loaded casings are usually stored in the weapons bay of a Constitution-refit vessel like this one?"

"Ninety-six, Chief."

"And the total quantity of antimatter therein?"

"One hundred ninety-two kilogrammes."

"With an annihilation yield of.."

The cadet ran through some mental calculations for a second or two. Or perhaps remembering the information by rote. "Seven thousand six hundred and eighty megatonnes. Give or take."

"Perhaps Mister Negev would care to explain why he thinks it would be acceptable to risk all of that going up? Your shields wouldn't save you. No structural integrity field yet built could contain it. All hands lost, one hundred percent probability. Not to mention the risk to any nearby shipping. Perhaps it could be an accident on the way out of Space Dock? It would be the biggest disaster since Praxis."

"No, Chief."

"Very well. As I was saying..."

Conversation between Evoras and Sreilen, near San Francisco, 2364

The skies were clear over Scarpet Peak, small-craft traffic flitting black against the blue between San Francisco and the facilities in orbit. Evoras settled a little closer against the warm form of Sreilen as they looked north towards the bay. Once again, he had indulged her need to be mobile rather than static by coming out here, even though she knew he would have preferred shelter from the summer sun. The heat wasn't so much an issue for him, but he far preferred drier climes to the humid coastal air near Starfleet Headquarters.

"How did you go from philosophy to xenobiology in the time it took me to teach one semester in the Kuiper belt?"

"Academia is its own reward, Evoras. Though it is interesting to see how similar our differences can be under it all." A brief pause, in which his arm drew tighter around her waist as she leaned back against him. "Also, I found myself bored without diversion while you performed your gravely important duty teaching children to listen."

Evoras felt one eyebrow rise ever so slowly. Sreilen's sarcasm was infrequent, and carefully deployed so as to disguise quite which part was supposed to be the punchline. It was her favourite word game to play. She slipped a hand along his arm to tangle their fingers together. Despite the uncomfortable weather, he seemed to radiate contentment. A satisfied smile tugged fleetingly at the corners of her mouth.

"Sreilen, what would your parents say? You joke like a human now."

He paused, and the subtle, almost imperceptible way his posture stiffened told her that he was scrambling to find a way to banter back. Her smile settled in earnest.

"Another point to me. You'll have to come and meet me on shore leave next time."

"You're being moved away?"

"I requested shipborne assignment. They put me on the Excalibur. Neutral Zone patrol."

"I hope your tour is uneventful."

"What is the worst that could happen?"

Aboard USS Excalibur NCC-26517, border of Romulan Neutral Zone, 2366

"Captain!" called the ensign at the Science station. "Another tachyon trace, approaching at warp... three point six."

[Excalibur, you were warned not to cross the demarkation-]

"As I told you already," Captain Smutko spat, "we did not cross the line, and we were responding to a Romulan freighter in apparent distress."

[Your assistance was both unnecessary and unwelcome. But yet again, we see the Federation's disregard for the very treaty they insisted on having signed...]

"Oh, forget you. Ops, close channel."

"Aye aye."

"Tactical; assessment."

Evoras shared a look with Lieutenant Commander zh'Vrella. The Vulcan shook her head. The Andorian looked back towards the centre seat and cleared her throat. "Three cloaked warbirds and a fourth on the way is an unwinnable fight, sir. Recommend retreat, or reinforcement."

"It's a bluff."

Smutko and zh'Vrella both looked at Evoras, though with wildly different expressions.

"Chief-" the CTO began to reprimand, before the Captain interrupted.


"The other three traces bear little resemblance to the first, sirs-"

"They would hardly have a single engine configuration in their entire fleet-" zh'Vrella started in, before Evoras ploughed on.

"- and they came from an almost identical vector to the approach of the hailing vessel. I posit that they are decoy probes launched by a single warbird with the intent to intimidate us and test our defence of the Neutral Zone. Sirs."

Smutko swivelled to face the fore again, pinching his lower lip while he thought. Evoras ignored the look the CTO was giving her for speaking out of turn. Science called out again. "Fourth contact now in formation with the others."

"Charge the deflector," the captain barked. "Anti-proton saturation of that whole formation, highest output you can. I want to see what's hiding there."

"Uh, aye sir. Working now."

A muscle in Evoras' jaw ticked as she waited for the sensor return to update. After what seemed an age, she was vindicated. The hazy silhouette of a D'Deridex and three tiny probes - the latter of which weren't even cloaked. Just at such a distance and small enough to fool their algorithms into interpreting their signature as another cloaked ship.

"Ops. Hail the Hheirant again."

"No response, sir."

Languidly, with exaggerated nonchalance, the Hheirant's signature yawed on the spot and peeled away, back into the depths of Romulan territory. The probes, their ruse discovered, were abandoned.

"Good work, Tactical. All hands, stand down Yellow Alert."

Citation in Starfleet Personnel file, dated May 2369


"Senior Chief Petty Officer Evoras, in light of your extended commitment to Starfleet, the Admiralty Board wish to award you with the following citation: Thirty Years' Long Service and undetected crime, and commend you for your Good Conduct.

"And in light of your contributions to the Fleet and by the recommendations of your peers and superiors, you are also hereby elevated to the rank of Lieutenant (junior grade), with all of the privileges and responsibilities implied..."

Raid-in-force on Dominion logistics, 2373

"Tactical, why aren't you firing?"

"Because they're about to pass over us, sir," Evoras responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, to the Tellarite in the centre seat. The Captain sputtered, the slow red strobe of the alert lights dyeing his features a lurid scarlet. It clashed horribly with the puce flush her words had provoked. Commander Tallarn was in sickbay, having been injured a few minutes prior by an overloaded power conduit.

"Ks- I ordered you to fire on those fighters, Lieutenant!"

"And I will, sir, when I can guarantee a kill-shot." She glanced down at her console, watching the trio of Dominion attack craft sliding into the dorsal arcs of the Repulse's phaser arrays, turning in to make a high pass against the Excelsior class cruiser. Deftly, she locked up all three ships, focusing the impact points to overwhelm the shields on the little vessels and perforate them stem to stern, now that she had a larger number of emitters to use. The debris cloud from their destruction passed silently by their port quarter. "Fighter wing down. Incoming warp signature-"

The hulking, swept-back silhouette of a Dominion battlecruiser slammed into sublight a few million kilometres away, weapon batteries powered up and torpedo doors opening. Predictably enough, threatening the regional ketracel-white production facility had produced a robust reaction from the invading forces. The chatter and call-outs on the venerable cruiser's bridge increased in volume and pitch.

"Re-training weapon locks, sir. Dominion battleship is on attack vector; coming about. 'Care package' dropped for ketracel factory - one minute to detonation. Torpedo volley inbound - all hands, brace for impact." The deck shuddered and heaved as new alarms screamed about collapsing shield sectors and saucer hull breaches. Amid the chaos, Evoras somehow found Captain Gannek's eye. "Permission to engage in a... what's the Tellarite expression? A frank exchange of views, sir."

"By all means, Lieutenant. Please convey our thorough rebuttal. Damage report!" he added to Ops.

The ghost of what might have been a smirk flashed across the youthful Vulcan's face as her hands flitted across her panel, and the forward battery of the Repulse made a fairly convincing argument in return, written in ripping phaser volleys and a sustained photon torpedo bombardment. Behind them, more warp-exit flashes heralded the arrival of the rest of the Starfleet flotilla.

Convoy Escort, 2375

Evoras stalked through the corridors of the stricken UHS ibn-Sina, phaser rifle raised and ready to fire. Behind her, three more members of the Repulse's crew followed, similarly armed, one of several teams inserted to attempt to rescue the last survivors. The smoke stung her eyes and tickled her throat, and the heavy cupric smell of blood in the air made her want to gag, but she pressed on. Not for the first time today, she cursed the strong moral fibre possessed by her husband that had pressed him to volunteer as a relief medic in the effort against the Dominion. He had taken a role as trauma surgeon on this exact hospital ship two months ago. And now his decision might have killed him.

For once they had been stationed close together - the Repulse was even assigned to escort the ibn-Sina's convoy through a contested sector - but the Jem'Hadar had detected them despite their best efforts. And the Vorta had decided that it would make a useful propaganda victory, and ordered the attack. No - the butchering.

They had settled for merely destroying the supply tenders. The hospital ships, though? Those, they had crippled and boarded. Those, they put to the sword.

The Repulse took a savage beating in defence of the convoy, but Evoras would have spent every torpedo casing and every spare phaser capacitor of every ship she could beg, borrow, or commandeer to do it if she could. But they had to keep their shields up until the last Jem'Hadar ships were destroyed or withdrew - no beaming anyone on or off the ibn-Sina.

But now, she was coming for her mate.

Up ahead, in one of the sprawling wards amidships in the Olympic-class ship, the sound of gunfire echoed towards them. A scream, cut short. The Repulse team quickened their pace. Evoras rounded a corner and found herself in a twelve-bed recovery ward. Most of them were filled with fresh, bloody corpses but for the last one furthest from the door.

Sreilen stood before it, defending his last patient with a laser scalpel in hand, pointing it at the Jem'Hadar Second who was casually advancing with his polaron carbine held at lazy rest. Evoras took aim. She squeezed the firing stud-

-and the beam carved a burning line across the bulkhead as she was tackled by another Jem'Hadar who had been guarding the door. A mailed fist slammed into her gut as they rolled, driving the air from her lungs before she kicked the invader off her. Swaying back just in time to avoid decapitation by kar'takin, the blade instead took the tip of her left ear off.

She heard the carbine discharge at the other end of the ward. She heard Sreilen yell.

Phaser blasts silhouetted the Jem'Hadar trying to kill her, the scaly clone keeling over at her feet. More searing orange beams stabbed out down the room to end the Second. Still unable to draw a breath to loose the scream building inside her, Evoras stumbled down the aisle, hauling herself along by grabbing onto the ends of the beds heedless of their macabre occupants.

She came to her knees next to the curled-up form of Sreilen - still alive, gutshot, the organs of his abdomen scrambled by the sadistic engineering of the Dominion rifle.

"Sreilen," she whispered. "Sreilen, no."

His hand came up, but batted hers away when she tried to take it. Instead, he reached towards her face. She didn't realise what he was doing until it had begun. Chin, cheek, brow - it was the quickest, roughest meld he had ever bade her join. She felt his pain. His numbness. His fear.

And then everything. He was with her. She thought her head might explode, but there was room enough for his katra in the end. Sanctuary. Safe from his torment. Safe in her charge.

As his empty body died, she found her voice to scream.

Conversation between Telen and Sitek, Trilan, 2377

"The war changed her, Sitek."

"Of course it did. It was a war. One Starfleet started, if certain corners of the network are to be believed. Not to mention... well."

"Sreilen. He balanced her well."

"He did."

There was a silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of a gong in the courtyard marking the hour. Sitek watched Telen carefully through the wisps of steam rising from his cup. "You worry for her."

"As do you... but yes. The armistice was signed two years ago. I have yet to notice a significant change in her behaviour since she returned home. She spends most of her time meditating - something she would rarely bother to do before. I worry that we lost our daughter when Senva and T'Vei lost Sreilen."

"It will take time, Telen. As with all things. She knows where we are."

The glassing of Niga, 2381

The Theurgy was back under their conscious control. The virus had been purged, after a horrifying night where the crew had succumbed to baser desires at the nudging of the vector. Some had escaped infection and assault - Evoras was grateful to count herself among them. She was never sure, when not in a meditative trance, what Sreilen thought of it, but she was confident that he too would be satisfied by her escape.

But the next visitors to the planet might not be so lucky.

"Destroy that planet."

"Aye, Captain. Calculating firing pattern now."

Grimly, she ran over the scans of the surface topography and tectonic layout so as to maximise the effectiveness of the torpedo barrage she planned. It shouldn't take more than a few dozen quantum torpedoes detonated in-atmosphere in order to reduce most of the surface to glass and plunge whatever remained into a millenia-long nuclear winter.

She felt the distant launcher assemblies thump the superstructure as they released their payloads, the scintillating blue motes of light curving around the planet to saturate the surface.

Forty searingly bright flashes flared in the night for an instant before leaving lurid orange holes in the planet's crust - fading to reveal glowing chunks of debris, kilometres-wide, falling slowly back to the surface.

Niga would trouble no one again.

The night after the Ishtar Incident, 2381

Evoras stirred, disturbed by a shifting mass in her bed. Checking the chronometer on the nightstand revealed that she was nearly due to wake for her next shift rotation anyway. Looking to the other side of the mattress, the recumbent form of an Andorian woman was revealed by degrees in the twilight from the viewport, facing away from her. Ida.

Their encounter came rushing back - born out of a mutual need to assert their own decisions on their bodies after the Ishtar had had her way with them. Normally Evoras wouldn't have been interested in another woman in that way, but the thought of going to Nelis for such support had been unthinkable for the moment. The intimacy of the act had shown her own guilt and uncertainty and trepidation reflected in the Andorian, though, and there was no stopping that ball once it got rolling.

But Sreilen-

~Evoras, my hathain, do not neglect yourself on my account.~

-she blinked, the thought-not-her-own surprising her outside of meditation. She released the breath she hadn't realised she was holding, and slid closer to the sleeping security officer, propping herself up on one elbow to lean over and see Ida's face. Gently, she swept a lock of white hair away from the blue-skinned woman's nose and tucked it behind her ear. There was a sense of relative calm from the angry, passionate woman - and it had felt like some of those energies had been worked out last night - but for now, Ida was resting and comfortable.

Despite the obvious mutual nature of their experience, Evoras felt a certain inexpressible debt to Ida. In the pit of her loneliness and self-doubt, she had come to help centre herself. She wasn't sure she could repay such an intangible thing.

Engagement with the Calamity, 2381

Evoras played a symphony across her console, a duet with their helm - the defensive Beta-3 transitioning into an aggressive Delta-2 and allowing her the full enjoyment of Thea's battery. And, now it was insulated from enemy e-war attempts, what a battery. There was a carpet of phaser fire and torpedo exhaust thick enough to walk upon between the Calamity and the Theurgy. She took a decidedly un-Vulcan enjoyment in her work.

Subtly, the noise on the bridge changed. A startled grunt behind her - then a wet crunch and a scream. Springing out of her seat and turning, she saw Thea - or something like her - already aiming a phaser at her. Before she could say anything, Evoras was punched in the gut with a searing bolt of nadion radiation. The pain wasn't even so bad, but the sense of damage was appalling.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't feel her heart beating. She didn't even feel the impact against the console behind her, nor when she slid off it to fall to the deck. Around her, the sounds of the vicious fight for the bridge faded to a dull roar.

Sreilen. Sreilen, I'm sorry. I couldn't- Sreilen-

~I am here. I am always here.~


Continuance Protocol, 2381

"Welcome back, Lieutenant."

Evoras opened her eyes, one hand immediately going to the side of her torso where she'd been shot. No scar she could feel. Not even any lingering disorientation from a sedative. For a moment, though, she stared off to one side as if listening to something unheard. A faint frown creased her brow.


"You were placed in stasis until we could dedicate the resources for an artificial heart," the doctor said. "Though, with the Continuance Protocol, we're somewhat short-handed, so-"

"The what?" she interrupted, pushing herself into a sitting position, aided by a hovering nurse.

"Ah, the Vectors have split up on orders of the Captain. We were attacked by an alien race and several crew were abducted. I will have the logs brought to you, but I must insist you stay with us a while in order to fully assess your condition."

Evoras blinked, then settled back against the pillows. "Very well."

Ignoring the nurse as he worked around her, she dropped into a meditative trance. It was difficult, suffused with a mild desperation as she was, but was rewarded in a minute or two.

~Hello, again.~

Personality Profile

Her family, while they did subscribe the the teachings of Surak, did so with such a liberal interpretation as to nearly qualify for outright radicalism. As a result, Evoras was positively outgoing compared to most Vulcans - even if she wouldn't subscribe to most of the social cues that her peers of other species might. She allowed herself to feel emotions more freely than most Vulcans, but still ensured that logic dictated her actions before emotion did... and especially-so around other Vulcans.

Evoras was content to take a more long-term and patient view on her career - a side-effect of her partnership with Sreilen. Given how long her species tended to live, she wasn't particularly concerned that she had more or less plateaued at lieutenant, reasoning that she had plenty of time to pursue higher ambitions... resolution of the Theurgy's mission pending.

Physical Profile

Evoras cut a slight figure; compact but feminine. She enjoyed the high relative physical strength endemic to her species and was careful to maintain her fitness several times per week when off-duty. Her pale olive skin and light eyes contrasted with her dark hair, which she was forever brushing away from her face - despite the logical solution being to tie it back or cut it differently. She was mostly-unscarred but for missing the very tip of her left ear - a souvenir of the Dominion War. As it didn't affect her aural acuity, she never bothered to have it repaired; merely healed.

Off-duty, she tended to wear comfortable slacks and vests, though she kept a wardrobe of more formal robes for the few special occasions that life on the Theurgy afforded. However, she preferred her Starfleet-issue dress uniform for any events that mandated a dress code.

Special Notes

Evoras carried her mate's katra - for want of a better word, his soul. With it, she gained access to all of his memories and knowledge, and to a certain degree his personality lived on in her mind. The effect was similar to that of a Trill hosting a symbiont, though she didn't inherit any of Sreilen's professional abilities. It was more akin to owning a (comprehensive) textbook on a subject without having learned the accompanying skillset.