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Lael Rosek

Captains Council observer
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Lael Rosek last won the day on April 13 2018

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About Lael Rosek

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    Lael Rosek
  • Birthday October 24

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    Scottsdale, AZ
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    Reading, Writing, Photography, Science fiction, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Guardians of the Galaxy

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  1. This was a very creative b-plot on the part of our Engineering and Medical team. Chief Engineer Harkrow really did an amazing job at developing the creature and its interactions with the teams and its environment. It was such a fun read. ((Sickbay, Deck 4, USS Montreal)) ::So far, Roraemey considered, this was shaping up to be a very bad orbit. Or, at least, an extremely confusing, unlikely, and frightening one. The entire period had been a string of new and strange experiences, each more bizarre than the last; she was almost certain that, should she actually manage to find the nahe nefile again and return alive, almost none in the fi would believe her tale.:: ((FLASHBACK: Space, In Orbit of Karakka)) ::She had been away from the nahe nefile, the nest-ship, for more than eight orbits, searching the asteroids for the materials her fi needed: lasif sevo, the frozen rock that they split into the gasses that fed the nahe and melted for moisture; lasif viamali, the red-black oxide that would smelt to make hull metal and would radiate roy nisifaor when exposed to the roy vunisifaor of a nearby star; rua vilayi, the heavy ore that seemed to produce its own roy nisifaor for a thousand orbits. This, at least, was perfectly natural. She was Roraemey Naf, after all, the far-flyer of her fi. But when she’d returned to the place in the asteroid field where the nahe nefile had been hidden, it was not there; instead, a massive blocky ship had hung in the space between the rocks, radiating roy nisifaor into the void. A rosivuh rur ship.:: ::Roraemey had heard stories of the rosivuh rur, the life-eaters, almost since the day she’d been shed from her mother’s hip. Massive beasts from the bottoms of the great gravity wells, they could not fly the void themselves, but rose to space in great ships that could cross the gulfs between the stars faster than any Suyuyan nahe nefile ever had. The rosivuh rur could not sustain themselves on roy, neither roy nisifaor, the light-that-is-food that sustained the Suyuy, nor roy vunisifaor, the light that aided sight but brought no sustenance. Instead, they consumed the flesh of the living, of plants and other beasts, and the stories said that their ships glowed with roy nisifaor in order to lure careless Suyuy into their waiting maws.:: ::She had fled from the ship, stretching her body wide to catch the pressure of the star’s roy and sail away from the pocket in the asteroid field, but just as she’d accelerated to a wider orbit another rosivuh rur ship had appeared as if from thin vacuum directly in her path, and she felt the star’s roy slacken almost to nothing as a shimmering barrier of roy vunisifaor appeared around the ship. For a moment, she’d panicked, nearly throwing herself into the barrier, but only for a moment. The life of any Roraemey Naf was bound to be one with dangers and challenges; she would simply have to enter the ship of the rosivuh rur, find the machine creating the barrier, and disable it.:: ::It had taken her only a little time to find a place in the hull of the ship where she could press her body between the hull plates and slide through. Once inside, though, she found herself disoriented. The rosivuh rur had brought their gravity well with them, somehow, and she felt the weight of it constantly pulling her to one side as she stuck to a surface. The atmosphere was warm and oppressively thick, as well, making every sound loud enough to sting her fronds, though there were at least enough of the right gasses in the air that she could allow her skin to respire. Moving as fast as she dared, avoiding the loud, lumbering beasts she could hear well beyond her ability to see, she explored the ship. Most of what she saw was mysterious to her: winding corridors connecting to other smaller corridors, a wide space that held nothing but a deep pool of liquid lasif sevo, a room with several soft-surfaced platforms and a wide variety of biological devices that somehow reminded her of the nest of Fulli Ie on the nahe nefile.:: ::Eventually, though, she found what she was looking for: a machine, pulsing with roy vunisifaor in time with the barrier that surrounded the ship. Carefully, she wrapped herself around it, probing to feel how it might be disabled, but then a blast of roy overwhelmed her senses, blinding and stunning her, her body wracked with pain and convulsing with the energy that pulsed through it.:: ::When she regained her senses, she found she was no longer alone. There, just beyond the end of the passageway, were two of the rosivuh rur. They were still, though they made soft noises at each other, and their massive bodies glowed with roy nisifaor. It was no wonder they could not take it in; they were already suffused with it. She stared at the pair, waiting for them to make a move either toward or away from her, and when a third crashed down between the other two with a deafening thud, she shouted a nusay at them and fled, blind and still in great pain, down the corridor away from them. In her flight, she briefly alighted on something warm and soft, and she found the sensation of it intensely comforting before she realized that she’d alighted on one of the beasts themselves and continued her panicked dash. Seeking something, anything familiar, she made for the medical room she’d seen before.:: ((END FLASHBACK)) ::But when she’d arrived, she’d only found herself deeper in the same trouble she’d hoped to escape, as a smaller roy barrier had sprung up around her, trapping her. Another pair of the rosivuh rur were there, outside the barrier, one drawn up to full height and another in a more relaxed position, close to the downward surface. As she watched them, more of the beasts entered, moving slowly. They seemed to be observing her in return, though their fronds seemed strange and lifeless, either hanging limp or bundled together or pressed flat against their strange upward appendages. Frustrated and scared, she made the loudest, most grating noises she could manage at them, hoping to frighten or at least startle them.:: ::It seemed to have little effect, though after a moment she began to hear sounds coming from the creatures. One of them, the one close to the ground, slowly reached an appendage toward her. The motion seemed… gentle. Perhaps even kind? Above, the other beasts roared at each other, but this one only reached out toward her. Then, the creature… spoke?:: Bailey: ::Whispers to the creature:: I understand you. I know how you feel. ::The words meant nothing she could understand, but the tone, the cadence… that was speech. Gingerly, she tried to reproduce the creature’s gesture toward her, extending a frond in the direction of the low rosivuh rur. The large one moved toward her, though, and directed a roar at her that made her flinch.:: Harkrow: My name is Lieutenant Jacob Harkrow, of the Federation Starship Montreal. Can you understand me? ::Although, now that she’d heard speech from the one creature, she could just recognize some of the same patterns in the roaring. What that also speech? Did the rosivuh rur roar at each other to communicate?:: Roraemey: Yufa nasero re? Vunsivuar viyufa namu re? (You can speak? You use spoken language?) ::Or, at least, that was what she’d intended to say, but she’d gotten her fronds so worked into knots that she’d mostly said gibberish. The second sentence had come out something closer to “place which is to this one a place similar what is”. Total nonsense, but the rosivuh rur responded to it. The low creature reached out toward her again.:: Sotak: ::reading from her attempt at understanding the language:: “Yufa identity?” “place of my being?” Apologies, I just tried a different pattern and I believe that the sound that reads as “yufa” could be translated to “person”, but the creature does not know that concept, so it could be the term to refer to the individual in a species. Bailey: I think the creature understands more than it can tell us. Harkrow: Oh, I think that’s an understatement. Sotak: Indeed, it is can be interpreted in more usual terms as “What is your identity?” or “Who are you?” as is more casual. As to the second question, it not-so-literally translates to “Where am I?” ::raising a considering eyebrow:: It is rather obviously confused. Bailey: It’s scared. It wonders why it was being caged. Harkrow: Only natural. Any thoughts on how to continue? Sotak: I suggest you continue trying to communicate. It is the only way I can create a complete language matrix. Bailey: It doesn’t want to communicate with words. Harkrow: ::Looking over at Bailey:: Do you have another suggestion, Ensign? ::The stream of nonsensical speech between the rosivuh rur paused after the large one addressed the low one. Then the low one extended a pair of appendages to grasp a pair of long assemblies of refined rua, and used them to push itself away from the surface. Or tried to, struggled to push upward against the unnatural gravity.:: ::The gravity. A flash of insight struck Roraemay; this creature, like her, did not live in a gravity well like the one the ship carried. The assemblies she grasped, and the ones attached to her other appendages, were intended to hold her up like the other rosivuh rur, but they weren’t doing what they were supposed to. If she could show the creature she understood it…:: Harkrow: Hold on, it’s doing something. Ensign, you might- Sotak: Response ::Roraemay slithered forward, wrapping herself around the lower appendages of the rosivuh rur. The sensation was unusual to say the very least, but also somehow comforting. Though, admittedly, the fact that the creature was feeding her a continuous source of roy nisifaor might have had something to do with that. She settled herself around the creature, feeling how the limbs might move, how they might function.:: Bailey: ::Face pressed to the ground:: Don’t come any closer. ::As if talking to the creature:: I’m going to try and stand back up now. Harkrow: Just… be careful. And if it hurts you, hollar. Sotak: Response ::The creature began pushing itself upright again, and Roraemay let it show her how it wanted to move, using the strength of her own body to enhance that of the creature, pushing up its core and out along the other limbs. The feeling was familiar, almost like piloting the nahe nefile, guiding him even as he told her how he wanted to go. Balancing the rosivuh rur against gravity just like she balanced the nahe on the curve of the roy funvi iroy. As they rose, she hummed to the creature, just as she hummed to the heart of the nahe to keep him calm when the space storms were at their strongest.:: Bailey: It think it’s used to a symbiotic relationship. Harkrow: Let’s hope so. Sotak: Response ::Roraemey felt the roy nisifaor from the creature’s body intensify slightly as it moved, in a way that suggested it was testing how it could move. It seemed to approve, for it set the assemblies it had picked up aside, relying on Roraemey to hold it up. Roraemey hummed her encouragement.:: ::It felt oddly freeing to have the creature as almost a second exoskeleton around her body. She didn’t feel off balance or stiff, able, for the first time since needing them, to put her crutches down and stand with the life forms assistance. Sheila had a wide smile on her face as she felt the creature humming as well as breathing against her back.:: Bailey: I have an idea for an attempt at communication but I suggest that one of you go grab Solok so he can be present and observe. Harkrow:...sure, I’ll do that, and Ensign Sotak can stay here and keep an eye on the translator. ::He looked at Sotak.:: And on Ensign Bailey. Sotak: Response ::Roraemey felt the creature draw in a breath, as though preparing to speak, but what came out was...:: Bailey: O mio babbino caro (O my dear papa) ::This… this was as big a shock as the speech had been. These creatures understood not just linguistics, but harmonics as well. They weren’t just beasts, not even smart beasts, they were… Suyuy. Non-Suyuy Suyuy, somehow. She matched her pitch and tone to the creature, and then, still not sure if they would understand, she introduced herself.:: Roraemey: Mivon say Siniun Nunviv say Fi Nahe say Roraemey Naf isi erili luh. (I am named Far-Flyer from the Ship Family from the Eighth Child from the Root.) ::And then, because her fear still wasn’t entirely gone, she added a petition.:: Roraemey: Rev felim ruvinir vusivuh lun luh. (I humbly ask you not to eat me.) Harkrow: ::glancing at Sotak:: You get any of that? Sotak/Solok/Bailey: Response TAG/TBC ---------- Mivon say Siniun Nunviv say Fi Nahe say Roraemey Naf (Far-Flyer from the Ship Family from the Eighth Child from the Root) ---------- As Simmed By: ---------- Lieutenant Jacob Harkrow Chief Engineer USS Montreal NCC-64927 ---------- M239510JH0
  2. I loved this post by Solok from our last mission. It showcases his creativity and knowledge when dealing with a challenging situation. It was very well written and really added another layer to the story while also developing our fleet history in a unique way. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did! ((Quarantine Ward-A, Shuttlebay 1, USS Montreal)) ::Solok sat rigidly at the desk that constituted almost all by itself the "command center" in the quarantine ward he had designed. He was looking forward, at the screen on the computer console, but his thoughts were momentarily elsewhere. Or elsewhen.:: ::After he had resigned his commission in the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps, many years ago when he was a much younger man, Solokhad chosen to pursue a career in Starfleet, and specifically, to hone his skills as a physician and xenovirologist in the multi-species environment that only Starfleet could provide. Having received extensive medical and scientific training on Vulcan, at both the Vulcan Science Academy and the Vulcan Medical Institute, he had nevertheless been required to continue his education as a part of his cadet studies. While most of the other medical cadets were conducting their studies in medical schools scattered throughout the quadrant, Solok's case had been a special one. Instead of medical school, which he had already attended, Solok had been assigned as a junior researcher at the Federation Institute for Advanced Immunology in San Francisco, on Earth. The FIAI was one of the most sophisticated facilities for immunological and virological research in the Federation, and after a brief period as an immunology resident and junior researcher, he had been promoted to Director of Research -- in which position he had learned and witnessed a great deal.:: ((Flashback -- Stardate 237702.15)) ((Office of the Director of Research, Federation Institute for Advanced Immunology, San Francisco, Terra)) ::Solok had been interrupted in his work -- the filing of one of numerous reports required of him in his position as Director -- by the sound of the door chime. Ordinarily, he would have instructed whoever it was to return at a more auspicious time, but the sheer number of the reports before him had led Solok to welcome almost any intellectual distraction. So long, of course, as it was relevant to his and the Institute's work.:: Solok: Enter. ::The door slid open, and in stepped one of the least Vulcan colleagues Solok had ever known. The Bolian physician wore a labcoat that, owing to his rather diminutive size, near brushed the floor as he walked. The sleeves of the labcoat were rolled up to expose his aggressively blue hands, and in one of them, the he was carrying a sealed vial of some sort.:: Solok: Doctor Zand. ::The Bolian repressed a chuckle.:: Zand: Doctor Solok. ::A brief silence.:: Solok: What can I do for you, Doctor Zand? ::Zand smiled.:: Zand: Do you know what this is? ::He held the vial up to eye height, which was of course, relative to the short cyan man, not very high.:: ::Solok looked from Zand to the vial, and then back to Zand. His impassive expression did not change.:: Solok: I do not. ::Zand laughed. Out loud. Solok chose not to address the breach of protocol.:: Zand: This ::he shook the vial, gently:: is something even you have never seen before. This is a plague cure. ::Solok paused, as if he did not understand.:: Solok: I am familiar with 398 distinct cures for diseases known popularly or in the scientific literature as "plagues," Doctor Zand. Zand: You're not familiar with this one, Solok. This one is new. ::Solok raised a single eyebrow.:: Solok: I was unaware FIAI resources were being used in pursuit of the cure of an epidemic virus on any station or planet. Zand: They -- we -- are not. This was made in the field, by that Enterprise doctor -- Crusher? -- and the researchers on Cor Caroli V. The specifications for the cure were just transmitted to us, and this is the first dose replicated by anyone but Crusher and the Carolians. Solok: Why have I not been informed before now? Zand: Ah, yes. Well, you will not be officially informed, and I recommend you forget everything I'm telling you now. Starfleet Medical has decided to classify the Cor Caroli virus -- they're calling it the "Phyrox plague" -- as secret. There won't be any record of it, anywhere, if Starfleet has its way. ::Solok was silent a moment.:: Solok: I see. ::He paused.:: It must be an especially dangerous pathogen, for Starfleet to authorize such an unusual classification. Zand: Oh, it is. ::The Bolian's near-constant smile faded.:: The virus attacks the lung tissue of its host, destroying nearly everything in its path. People bleed to death internally. Their lungs fill with blood. Can you imagine if this got into the wrong hands? It's like nature's perfect bioweapon. ::The Vulcan nodded.:: Solok: So why are you telling me, now? ::Zand smiled.:: Zand: I don't know, Solok. I trust no Vulcan could ever logic themselves into becoming a bio-terrorist, for one. And I guess I was just too excited to keep it to myself. A new cure! Doesn't even just the idea of it -- salvation from certain death for a whole planet! -- thrill even your cold, Vulcan heart? Solok: The Vulcan heart is not cold, Doctor Zand. The average Vulcan body temperature is approximately 32.7882 degrees Celsius. Relatively speaking, that is quite warm, indeed. ::Zand nodded, smiling to himself.:: Zand: Yes, of course, Solok. Of course. ((End Flashback)) ((Quarantine Ward-A, Shuttlebay 1, USS Montreal)) ::Solok activated the computer console before him.:: Solok: Computer, display public health history of Cor Caroli V. Stardate range 237501.02 to 237905.20. ::The computer bleeped, indicating it was working. Within a second, a great deal of text was displayed on Solok's screen. He adjusted the scroll rate to four times the Terran standard, the words flying by. But he read it all.:: ::No mention of any plague.:: Solok: Computer, access popular media archives, news services, Cor Caroli V, Stardate range 237701.01 to 237712.31. ::Again, the computer bleeped. And then, again, it displayed a great deal of information on the screen -- although this was not just text, but was text interspersed with images and videos. He worked through the material until, about halfway through, he found what he had been looking for -- despite the fact that he had not known what he would find.:: ::There, on the screen before him, was a news article announcing a medical breakthrough on Cor Caroli V. The image at the head of the story showed a group of Carolian scientists with broad smiles on their faces. They were celebrating their discovery, which apparently meant a great deal to them, since they looked both exhausted and exuberant. They had worked hard to achieve whatever it was they had achieved.:: ::What fascinated Solok, however, was not the group of scientists in the foreground. It was the figure, half out of frame and somewhat blurred, as if she was caught in the attempt to avoid having her image captured, but unmistakably Starfleet, her uniform clearly medical teal, her hair a remarkable shade of orange. He knew her at a glance, despite the fact that they had never met. She was famous, of course, and well on her way to commanding her own Mercy vessel.:: ::Doctor Beverly Crusher. Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise-D. Solok checked, but according to the official logs, the Enterprise had not been anywhere near Cor Caroli V during this period.:: ::Zand had been right. The Enterprise had helped the Carolians with some biomedical discovery that led to public rejoicing. They had cured a plague.:: ::The Phyrox plague.:: Solok: Computer, access the Library of the Starfleet Medical Academy. Computer: Accessing. Solok: Display all information related to pandemic diseases of the twenty-fourth century on Cor Caroli V. ::It was silent a moment.:: Computer: There is no data to display. Solok: Display all data related to the work of Doctor Beverly Crusher on Cor Caroli V. ::Silence.:: Computer: There is no data to display. Solok: Access genetic profile of the pathogen referred to as "the Phyrox plague." ::More silence. Then the old familiar bleep, and the connection to the Starfleet Medical Academy library was lost. Before he could even raise an eyebrow or utter the words "curious" or "fascinating," however, the computer made another sound. The textual display on Solok's monitor made very clear what was happening.:: ::INCOMING COMMUNICATION FROM STARFLEET MEDICAL. URGENT.:: TBC === Lieutenant Commander Solok Medical Officer USS Montreal Writer ID: R237908S10
  3. ((Main Engineering, Deck 4, USS Montreal)) Galven: ::to Harkrow:: Good idea about the holo-emitters. You and Doctor Skyfire should work out a way to get that going. I’m sure Lieutenant Greyson is around here somewhere. He could help. ::to Anara and Esbrun:: You two follow me. I’ve memorized everyone’s shifts and it’s about time the both of you should be on the Bridge. ::Galven bustled the other ensigns off toward the forward end of Engineering, leaving Cob and Doctor Skyfire momentarily alone at the central console. They shared a look, and then started pulling up information about the status of the ship’s holodecks and what all they’d need to gather to pull off what Cob was already starting to think of as The Big Holo-Defiant Project.:: Harkrow: Now that I’m looking at these schematics, it looks like actually pulling the holo-emitters is going to be more or less a one-person job, and designing the array we’ll need to install them in is going to take computer time but shouldn’t need outside input for... an hour or so, once it’s going? If you’ve got any medical things that need taking care of or want to go assist with the generators, I can comm you when I need a hand. Skyfire: Response Harkrow: Sure, no problem. I can handle this part. Skyfire: Response ::Cob punched in the final sequence of commands to start the array design simulation, and had just hit the button to execute when Lieutenant Commander Rosek came in through the Engineering blast door.:: Rosek: Ensign Harkrow. Harkrow: Commander. I’m just about ready to head down to Holodeck 2 and start pulling out holo-emitters. Something I can do for you? Rosek: Is Lieutenant Thoran around? ::pauses:: I had hoped to meet with the science team and Ensign Anara as well, but… ::motions around:: Harkrow: You just missed all of them, sir. Anara and the science folks headed up to the bridge a few minutes ago, Swenhart and Greyson are going to be getting the spare generators in Cargo Bay 1 up and running, and Lieutenant Thoran… ::Cob looked past the first officer toward Thoran’s office door. He and Crewman Swenhart had been in there for a good few minutes now… Dang it, whatever was going on between Rosek and Thoran, or Thoran and Swenhart, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the middle of it if he could help it. That was going to be a big “if”, apparently.:: Harkrow: Lieutenant Thoran is meeting with someone in his office right now, but I think he and Lieutenant Michaels have a plan to build a couple extra generators from parts; it looks like the spares we’ve got in storage add up to two almost-generators. Rosek: ::smiles and nods:: I see. Then I’ll just leave you all to it down here. Harkrow: Aye, sir, we’ve got it covered. ::Lieutenant Rosek nodded to Cob again, and turned to leave, but paused briefly as she passed through the blast door, letting out a slow breath. Cob frowned; he hoped she was holding up all right, even as another part of his mind insisted that it wasn’t his job to make sure his superiors were all getting along with each other; the ship had a counselor for a reason. :: ::Once she was out of view, Cob gathered up a PADD and a hyperspanner and headed for the exit, but before he reached it he heard the door of the Chief Engineer’s office hiss open behind him, followed by the voice of Crewman Swenhart.:: Swenhart: You know, mister. You owe me big when this mission is over. ::There was a pause.:: Your impossible to resist. ::Another pause.:: Sir. ::Nope. Cob did not want to hear this, because hearing was the difference between suspecting and knowing and he absolutely did not want to know this and just, just nope. He picked up his pace before he could hear anything else, rounding the corner and heading for the turbolift. Nope, nope, nope...:: ---------- Ensign Jacob Harkrow Engineering Officer USS Montreal NCC-64927 ---------- M239510JH0
  4. ((Esperance, Eagle Eye Meadows)) ::Once the music started up again, Taz could hardly wait to get up from her seat. Don’t get her wrong; the ceremony was beautiful, and she was genuinely happy for Delano and Mei’konda. But it was also a lot of sitting… for someone who was as restless as her, sitting in one place for too long was torture.:: ::She raced over to the refreshments that had been set up along a narrow table near the bar. As she contemplated which treat to take — that pastry looked like it had her name on it — she felt the distinct presence of a snoop coming up behind her. She didn’t turn around as she addressed him.:: Taz: Do Vulcans like chocolate, Saavok? ::There was a loaded question.:: Saavok: It… disagrees with us. ::He said eventually.:: ::’Disagreed’ the way alcohol disagreed with most other species. His father had warned him to stay away from it.:: ::She finally turned around, a chocolate macaron cupped in her hand.:: Taz: Well, they’ve got plenty to choose from. Saavok: That is accurate. ::The little Vulcan selected some carrot sticks with hummus. Taz popped the macaron into her mouth — to the horrified look of a nearby waiter. Since her mouth was full, Taz just shot back a disdainful look, furrowing her brow.:: Taz: oO What? Oo Saavok: We are possibly expected to pace ourselves with the food. ::He replied quietly homing in on the fruit platter and wondering how much his friend had changed in the intervening years.:: ::She turned back to the younger Vulcan and nodded, swallowing the treat so she could speak again.:: Taz: This place is too fancy for me. ::Saavok looked around with an assessing air.:: Saavok: I anticipate that the intention is to provide the guests with an agreeable experience. ::Most of which was lost on the Vulcan mentality, but Saavok was growing up amongst aliens and at least understood the impulse; perhaps better than his father did. Still, Tasnim struck him as the type who was more comfortable up to the elbows in machinery than relaxing in luxury; much like her not-quite mother.:: ::As the rest of the guests finally caught up and were taking their seats at the tables, Taz looked over to the dance floor and smiled.:: Taz: So enlighten me some more, Pointy. Do Vulcans dance? ::Saavok followed her gaze.:: Saavok: Affirmative. We learn dance as a means of improving coordination and rhythm. ::He said.:: Father has explained the social aspect in many cultures. Do you dance? ::The last was added with a thoughtful look at Taz. She’d grown from an older child into a young woman, in that hasty way many shorter-lived species had. Saavok, his people evolved for a low-resource world, would take longer to mature physically. He’d befriended her following the incident with the Ronin-A, and she appeared to find his company agreeable. They did have some things in common; a will to further their understanding of the multiverse, and the lack of a counterpart in each other’s universes.:: Taz: Actually… I never really learned. ::A sad look emerged now on her face as she scanned across the room, taking note of all the happy faces. Back in her universe, such occasions of joy were few and far between. And certainly there hadn’t been much dancing aboard the Ronin or any other stop she and her mother had found along their journey.:: Saavok: Would you… like to dance? ::None of the usual, emotionally-neutral words Vulcans used seemed to fit the request. No doubt his dad would twist the language in order to find some other way to say that; Saavok didn’t bother.:: ::She turned her head back to the Vulcan. There was such purity in his questions and perspective. Trademark Vulcan curiosity and yet without the curt arrogance that often times accompanied it.:: Taz: I’d like that very much. ::Saavok could see no reason why she should not.:: Saavok: Then I shall endeavour to facilitate. ::Tasnim wiped her hand on the tablecloth, leaving a slight smudge of chocolate, before grabbing onto Saavok’s hand, startling him.:: Taz: So you’re going to teach me? Saavok: Affirmative. ::He nodded carefully.:: Taz: All right, then I’ll follow your lead. ::It was a discombobulating reversal of the usual dynamics of their friendship, and for a moment Saavok retreated into the comfort of Vulcan reticence.:: Saavok: Understood. ::They stepped out onto the modest dance floor, the only ones thus far, and Taz placed her arms on Saavok’s shoulders, her hands interlocked behind his neck. The music soon began again, and perhaps noting the new occupants of the floor, a slower ballad was chosen.:: Taz: All right, what do we do? ::He was accustomed to being taught, not to teaching others, and Saavok had to resist the urge to simply data-dump from his mind to hers, walls up against the touch of her fingers against his neck that gave him a telepathic pathway. Taz presumably had some telepathic abilities given her father was Betazoid, but they’d never communicated that way. He could feel what his father referred to in Standard as the ‘carrier wave’, the present of Taz’s mind.:: Saavok: The basic premise is to move in time with the music’s rhythm, and all movements are based on the footfall. ::He began to demonstrate, stepping from one foot to the other in time with the music, a simple side-to-side motion, facilitated by the slow music.:: ::She tried her best to follow, stumbling a bit in the rhythm. Saavok on the other hand seemed a natural, and Taz was surprised at the ease with which the boy had slipped into the music.:: Taz: ::looking down at her feet:: Okay, I think I’ve got this... Saavok: An additional displacement step is customary, such that if all participants utilise the same system, they collectively progress around the arena in an aesthetic manner. ::Vulcans didn’t go in for partner dancing much; the step that he demonstrated was apparently Betazoid in origin, but not dissimilar to a waltz step.:: Saavok: All further movements are based on the rhythmic step. ::He explained, as others moved around them.:: ::She was still looking down at their feet, counting beats in her head as she tried matching to his footsteps.:: Taz: That’s it? How do we know which way to go to move around? ::What other steps? There were many. But the key thing about teaching someone to dance, was that you did it quietly somewhere where you could stop and start the music to explain and demonstrate and try things out; not in the middle of the dance floor. They could just maintain the basic step, no one would fault them for that, but was was boring. Feeling decidedly cheeky, Saavok gave a mental smile.:: Saavok: ~~ Like this. ~~ ::Taz got a speed-of-thought warning of what to do, before Saavok pushed her out into a move that spun her around, pulled her back for a duck and pass, and curled her in again along his other arm.:: Taz: Oh my goodness! ::She had to take a second to catch her breath as she grabbed onto his shoulder as if she were about to fall off a cliff.:: Taz: Where did you learn *that*? Saavok: Watching holovision. ::He said honestly.:: ::She looked at him nervously but his confidence helped reassure her. She took another breath and relaxed her grip on him and stood a little straighter.:: Taz: Okay, let’s give it another go. Saavok: As you wish. ::This time, they did a few more steps before she felt one hand of his guide her to move along a new path as another hand of his gently pressed against her back. A few more attempts followed before she found herself smiling with the new familiarity. After she spun around one last time, she returned back to their starting position, arms resting again on his shoulders.:: Taz: You’re a good teacher. ::He tried to be so, not having a lot of experience in teaching.:: Saavok: It is advantageous to have an apt student. ::She laughed as the pair continued to move to the music, other guests now making their way to the dance floor to join the young pair.:: Taz: Uh-huh, I bet you say that to all your dance partners. Saavok: I have not previously had ‘dance partners’. ::He revealed.:: The experience is agreeable. ::She grinned.:: Taz: Well, then I think you’ll just need to come back and visit to give me lesson number 2. ::The invitation was particularly welcome. Somehow, he’d find a way to do so.:: Saavok: I would not object to that. End --- Tasnim “Taz” Shandres Engineering Trainee, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 & Saavok Vulcan Child R238802S10
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