round 9 LtCmdr R'Ven: Defiant letters in the darkness

[Renos]

((USS Blackwell, Chief Science Officers Office))

 

::Sometimes times the brightest days can have their own special darkness. A shadow that cast itself on life and one that resists all attempts to dispel it..::

 

::Merrick sat in his office, the lights dimmed to the point where the fixtures were but glowing embers, hardly enough to be seen against the blackness of the room. However between them and the screen in front of him there was more than enough illumination for Merrick to see his screen.::

 

::D E A R::

 

::Four letters hung there staring at Merrick as if daring him to add anything more.::

 

::He was writing family. Rodulan family. Yet the Vulcan part of himself, the part that was cultural rather than biological, demanded he excise the emotion laden word. Merrick just gazed at them, transfixed and silent as he contemplated what seemed to be an exercise in impossibility.::

 

::For the past several months Merrick had been at war with himself about home, about talking to his people. However for a man with so many memories locked inside his head, fighting with himself had taken on new and epic proportions. Voices and emotions spoke to him. There were images of alien landscapes. He could smell the gardens, hear the tinkling laughter and feel the happy little kisses of children on his cheeks. Other memories displayed for him broken vistas where the Borg had come and decimated entire homes, tribes, cultures and even planets. The burning sense of loss was almost overwhelming as he continued in his unmoving vigil of his screen.::

 

R’Ven: oO Home. Oo ::It was a word that had become unmoored from almost all meaning.::

 

::Even Merrick’s own childhood had been one of travel, moving from this planet to the next. The only cord of continuity was the Vulcan ship that threaded itself through his life. It represented family, school, work, and in many ways life. His whole personality . . . .his whole being had been consumed and tied by all things Vulcan. The language, the culture and the driving desire for logic and order.::

 

R’Ven: oO But are we Vulcan . . or . . . ? ?  Oo

 

::The very plurality of his question was a reminder of the changes he had gone through . . and was still going through.::

 

R’Ven: oO No! . . . we are something more. Oo

 

::The desktop was pleasantly cool to the touch as Merrick rested his hands on it and leaned forward to watch his screen. It was if through sheer desire and determination that he could force more letters to appear. The futility of that desire was making itself felt as pain, spreading from his neck and across the back of his head.::

 

::He was not even sure why he was composing this letter. Merrick was writing someone he had not seen in decades.::

 

R’Ven: oO Would she still want to hear from us . . . from me . . . after all this time? Oo

 

::The only answer was silence and four letters glowing defiantly in the darkness.::

 

::Standing up Merrick stepped away from his desk. He could hear his shoulders pop as he stretched. After a moment of silent contemplation Merrick folded his arms behind his back as he came to a decision and turned to face his desk and the quartet of letters still standing on his screen.::

 

R’Ven:  Computer delete the last letter and begin again.

 

::Instantly the screen became a blank canvas upon which Merrick could once again attempt to pour out his thoughts. The question was how would it appear when converted to text?::

 

R’Ven: Greetings Akeelah

 

::It was a compromise between ‘To: Akeelah’, and ‘Dear Cousin’. Neither felt . . . genuine.::

 

R’Ven: It has been some time since we have last spoken and I am curious . . . how are you doing?

 

::Actually the last time they had spoken Merrick was still living on Vulcan and had gone to Rodul for one of his sporadic visits. It had been during a time that his parents were reconnecting with relatives that they had not seen during the occupation. it had given him a strange feeling of contentedness and had a centering affect on him. Now he felt so much less Rodulan than he had ever felt. He felt so completely removed from himself that he felt almost alien in his own skin.::

 

R’Ven: I have been through . . . . a few changes since last time we met.

 

::Partially assimilated by the Borg, lost his telepathy, accused of treason, promoted to Lt. Commander and department head, assigned to a new fleet and ship to name a few. The first two changes were in sealed medical records available to his Captain and any medical staff it pertained to. The third one was accessible with digging and the last few were on his service jacket.::

 

::All of it felt like a cacophony of sudden and disjointed changes, like a man stumbling drunkenly in the darkness and crashing through the events of his life. What would being next?.::

 

R’Ven: I wonder if perhaps there might come a time when we could meet again, or perhaps correspond. It has been many years since I have had a chance to speak with family.

 

::He was conveniently ignoring his parents, who no doubt were out gallivanting from one place or another. Then there was Dorn his older and adoptive brother. It had been years since they had talked as well. Merrick's isolation was partly of his own creation.::

 

R’Ven: I look forward to hearing from you. ::and he signed it:: Merrick R’Ven.

 

::Merrick slid into his chair and turned to face his desk. Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he interlacing his fingers together he stared resolutely at his monitor. He was satisfied that at least there were more than four letters this time, even if they were not the same ones as before.::

 

::The letter was so short and it looked painfully stilted and forced even to him.::

 

::Sighing, Merrick looked over one last time and was satisfied that there was nothing else he could think to add.::

 

R’Ven: Computer, please send to Akeelah D'Sena of the Constitution.

 

::As the letter spun and then vanished from his screen Merrick leaned back in his chair wondering what the woman on the other side would think of his letter . . . or even think of him. Would she welcome family after so many years of silence? . . . . Would she answer? . . . . Would she even remember?::

 

::The answer would require time and patience. Two qualities Merrick had in abundance.::

 

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LT. Commander   Merrick R’Ven    

Andaris Task Force | CSO @ USS Blackwell   

Training Team                       A239210MR0