Alora DeVeau

@Alex Brodie made me giggle.

@Alieth and @Alex Brodie are such great writers, and here we get to see a Vulcan who finds herself in need of counseling. A rare insight into the Vulcan mind, and Brodie's masterful handling of the situation. [[Hammer’s Bowling Alley, Deck Five, USS Thor]] It was a quiet night, Alex stepped up to the doors and typed in the key-code. Darren had been good enough to loan him the access codes and the facility for the night. He stepped through the doors and activated the lights. They thrummed into life and he moved behind the small hospitality area and switched on the replicator. Brodie: Coffee, milk, no sugar. The cup materialised in the small alcove and he removed it, taking a long gulp. He wandered towards the lanes and took a ball from the rack. He stepped back, lined up his body and sent the ball flying down the lacquered surface. It crashed straight through the middle of the pack and left the seven and ten pins standing. An impossible split. He moved to pick a second ball but turned as the door hissed open behind him - his appointment had arrived. He’d suggested the venue for a couple of reasons. They were familiar with the medical deck, it was a work environment, difficult to relax. This was out of the way, especially at this time of night. It also had couches. Brodie: Ah, Doctor, please come in. The young Vulcan woman lingered for a moment in the doorway, surveying the unfamiliar place. She was aware of the existence of the site, of course, as she had had to treat more than one sprained ankle or finger produced there and. As a result, she had read about this peculiar Earth pastime. Like so many of the other leisure activities humans enjoyed, it was just a basic geometry application. As it lacked the additional challenge of an adversary's aleatory influence over the activity (as did, for example, other forms of entertainment such as billiards), she had immediately shelved it as a toddler's activity. So, after that brief inspection, she beelined to where the counsellor was standing. Alieth: You have chosen a rather... interesting place for this particular appointment, Doctor Brodie.... Brodie: A little unconventional perhaps, but we won’t be disturbed. Should people see us in conference on deck ten they might think it’s a conversation they can interrupt. Can I get you a refreshment? Alieth: Vulcan Tea, Saros of Chi-Ree Blend, number 10004 The beverage quickly appeared in the replicator's niche, housed in an antique earthenware cup, glazed in an uneven graphite grey. The moment it appeared, the subtle, bittersweet aroma of his father's latest project filled her nostrils, bringing back memories of their farewell. In spite of herself, her heart shrank slightly in the lower part of her ribcage. Nevertheless she took the cup, cradled it in her hands for a moment and took a small sip. Precisely the flavour she remembered. Predictably, Saros was exceptionally meticulous when it came to translating his creations into replicator code. And he had supplied her with the work of the last six years, which she had, of course, diligently integrated into the Thor's computer memory. Alieth: As we discussed, I have set up this meeting in accordance with regulation twenty-nine point 3 stroke C which dictates that all personnel are required to undergo at least one psychological check-up annually during their service aboard a starship on an active mission. Alex took a seat on the couch opposite the Vulcan physician and leaned back. Brodie: Perfectly correct. That said, we could have done this at any time - rather than eat into shore leave on your home world. Alieth: Indeed, the visit to the Home Planet has had some influence on this decision. Brodie: I see...this would be your first time back on Vulcan since the academy? Brodie wasn’t sure when Alieth had last been on her homeworld but certainly not since she had come aboard the Thor. In that time she had been promoted to rank of lieutenant and the position of chief medical officer. That didn’t include the contents of the missions she’d been part of - including the contact with Kalib and the entities in quantum space. Whoever had left Vulcan to join Starfleet it was fair to say that, no matter how stoic they were, these things changed you. She nodded slightly, as she let the tea warm her hands. Alieth: This is the first time I have made a visit to the homeworld since over six years ago, indeed. Brodie: And how has that made you feel, being back home? The response was immediate and direct. Alieth: The suggestion that a return to my native planet elicits an emotional response is arrogant and fallacious :: raising an slanted eyebrow:: and most decidedly human. It was a human suggestion...he took a moment to rephrase. Brodie: Perhaps not an emotional response but a lot can change in that time. It would be understandable if you’d needed a little time to readjust. She took some time to answer this re-elaboration of the query. Just long enough that the tea lost some of its temperature and as she took a sip, the flavour of the mixture would have changed marginally, as the herbal blend shifted the more intense flavours in favour of more subtle ones. Alieth: Saros of Chi-ree used to say that nothing changes too much on Vulcan. While there is truth in those words, I have nevertheless found that it does not quite fit reality. She made a brief pause and tooe another tiny ship of her tea:: Such a dichotomy between invariability and change has been an interesting thing to witness. Brodie: There was a philosopher in ancient Greece, Hera[...]us, who proffered that "The only thing that is constant is change”. I’ve always rather agreed with that. I can’t say I am familiar with Saros, is he widely known on Vulcan? Alieth: Saros is indeed not a widely recognised philosopher, but he is certainly a wise man. And a master of tea making. Brodie: It sounds like you’ve studied his teachings in person. Alieth: Indeed, he is my father after all. There it was. “In accordance with regulation twenty-nine point 3 stroke C”, ”the visit to the Home Planet has had some influence on this decision” and “a return to my native planet elicits an emotional response is arrogant and fallacious”. He did wonder if perhaps the doctor did protest too much? Vulcan’s were, in some ways, quite emotional about emotion. Perhaps it was an unfamiliarity...perhaps even a fear of slipping back into a more aggressive primal society. He’d seen examples of pre-Surak at the museum - was every Vulcan doing their part to avoid a return? Still, the only Vulcan that mattered right now was the one sitting one the couch opposite - focusing on her tea. Brodie: I...get the feeling we’re in the general area of why you wanted to see me. She suppressed a tiny sigh, her diversion from the first question had been just too short-lived. Alieth: Roughly. He knew he was unlikely to have an emotional breakthrough...and he wasn’t sure what the outcome might be. He decided to try a more practical...more logical and direct...a more Vulcan approach. He leaned forwards slightly. Brodie: Do you know what the role of counsellor is, Alieth? She didn't have to rack her brain too much to find the textbook definition she considered most relevant. Alieth: Check and verify the stability of the crew to ensure that they are able to continue with the activities to which they are dedicated on board the vessel and to prevent conflicts or unresolved situations from escalating in a way that could be deemed hazardous to the personnel concerned. Brodie: All true. Ultimately, however, the job is to help people resolve things. Sometimes that is spiritual aid, sometimes psychological care...other times...more practical solutions. So...tell me...what is it that you are struggling to resolve? Alieth: Due to certain decisions in my past and by heritage, I am widely regarded as a maverick among my clan and my own bloodline. Nevertheless, due to a series of recent events, the assistance of the clan and a number of other acquaintances on Vulcan is not only necessary, but also vital, not for me, but to people I have in high regard. She tilted her head slightly, and rolled the steaming mug between her hands. A stray thought told her she should have replicated coffee instead of tea, but she dismissed it as soon as it appeared. Alieth: However, all prospects suggest that I will face a number of conflicting situations that may hinder the process, which is... not desirable. Alex regarded the Vulcan...he’d never really considered her a ‘maverick.’ Perhaps slightly more outgoing by Vulcan standards but stoicism was a spectrum. What did occur to him, however, was that she may also consider herself to be a maverick...which was a very different style. Once more, he opted for the direct approach. He became aware that he was rubbing his shoulder slightly...his own scars of reckless behaviour in the eyes of some. Brodie: Do you consider yourself a ‘maverick’? The young Vulcan blinked a couple of times in a conspicuous fashion as she sipped her tea. Immediately after, she placed her cup on the table and made a particularly controlled answer. Alieth: I deem the answer is obvious, Counselor. I am She tilted her head and folded her hands in her lap. Alieth: Is it relevant, Commander? Brodie: It’s not my place to judge...although I do seem to recall you were awarded a Silver Star for gallantry - some could argue that is a form of maverick behavior? Alex watched her reaction closely. The Vulcan's brows furrowed and she tilted her head slightly to a side. She remembered why she had been bestowed that award, it had been during what had come to be called "The Hammerfall Event". She had been involved in rescuing Kalib, which had allowed her to discover the creatures that were threatening the ship. However, she hadn't acted impulsively, but had been driven by her inclination to help others. That was, after all, why she had chosen to pursue a career in medicine. Of course, she kept much of that reflection to herself. Alieth: I disagree, sir. I was only fulfilling my duty. The corners of Alieth's lips tightened slightly as she answered. If she had come out of the whole event alive (or sane) it was only because Geoffrey John had broken her meld with Kalib, ignoring the one and only warning she had given him: that he should not inoculate her with Leroxin, a chemical that affected those who carried an extra katra. The results had led to the situation she was currently handling between the starship and the surface, while she awaited the arrival of her mentor. The memory of this and the more than likely prospect that both the Commander and Sern would get lost if she failed to take appropriate action made her eyes darken in concern. On her lap, her fingers twitched briefly as Brodie kept talking. Brodie: You also helped save a young boy and the crew of this ship through your actions. But…::He placed his cup down::...to circle back to your earlier comment. You’re facing a situation that you feel is vital to people you hold in high regard? She nodded slightly and then picked up her own cup to take a small sip in order to gather her thoughts. The tea had turned lukewarm and sour. Alieth: I have let a misguided situation linger on for too long, and now the lives of an officer and the existence of my most cherished friend are in jeopardy. That didn’t sound like Alieth...the woman he knew was decisive, logical, focused. This woman was emotional - and he wondered if that scared her more than anything? Brodie: It sounds like you already have a course of action in mind? She swirled the bitter liquid in her cup, but did not drink it, as the shallow tension reappeared on the sides of her mouth and on her brow. Alieth: On the other hand, the actions I need to take :: She reworded the statement to fit more closely to reality :: The actions I already have taken may put my personal status on Vulcan in a precarious situation, which could render me as an outcast in my birthplace and could affect my parents and siblings negatively. That sounded more like her...thinking of others, not herself. The twitches in her face, the fear - perhaps even a little anger. They were all accentuated by the light from the bowling lanes and the warm spot-lights above them. Sometimes less clinical was more effective. Brodie: And this situation is... Alieth: The situation concerns the katra of the Sern of S'th'gee Clan... and with the First Officer of this vessel. And there it was, Teller had said as much himself when he had been aboard the John Paul Jones: “there’s just too much in here”. Brodie didn’t know much about Vulcan spirituality but he had touched on them during his studies at the academy. Katra’s were the essence of the Vulcan mind and, perhaps more than that, were - to all intents and purposes - the soul of a Vulcan. That’s what Alieth was also facing, as far as he could see, a struggle with her very essence as a Vulcan. He’d kept a respectable distance from both Alieth and Geoff regarding the matter...so far...but now both needed some professional...problem solving. Brodie: The precarious nature of this situation…regarding your family...is that related to the fact the transfer occurred….or, to use your words, the steps you have already taken in, I assume, trying to rectify the situation? This time, she took more time to answer. Time she spent drinking the bitter, tepid tea from her cup to the dregs. Alieth: It concerns the original situation that led to this whole affair, in my time before Starfleet, as well as my refusal to comply with certain conditions that have been imposed upon me in order to resolve this problem in accordance with the requirements of the Clan. Brodie: And what have they entailed? She looked him straight in the eye, her face carefully stern and devoid of emotion. Alieth: Split the Commander's mind in such a devastating way that the chance that he would either be killed or rendered mentally impaired is above 72.6%. Alex’s eyes widened. That was not a comforting number in any way, shape, or form. The extreme risk only had one silver lining - if they could formulate an alternate plan it was unlikely to have any more detrimental effect. It was not a happy thought. Brodie: Yeah...no. We’re not doing that. Have you brought these numbers to Geoff’s attention? Alieth: Of course not. Brodie: Good. It’s probably best to keep it that way. She said nothing on the matter and just spun the empty cup in her hands idly. Brodie: I wonder - if it’s an avenue we could explore with some others with expertise in this area? Trill has a lot of experience with consciousness transfer. Betazed may also be worth looking into. I’m not making any promises but it would allow us to explore options without highlighting anything to those on Vulcan Alieth: It is an alternative. Nevertheless, while to the telepathically null individuals telepathy may seem like a unified phenomenon, it has evolved in very different ways in different species and differs greatly from one species to another. ::She looked at the counsellor with a tilted head.:: And even among different Vulcanoids. Brodie: Although given what you’ve just told me, and the non-typical method of the transfer, I think it’s worth keeping an open mind. That said, with regards to the Katra I would imagine that there would be little expertise outside of Vulcan. Finally, she put the cup on the table and stood up. Alieth: This is, as I expected, a Vulcan issue, which must be resolved in a Vulcan way, sir. ‘Must’ was a strong word. He wasn’t sure if it was a sense of duty, a sense of guilt or a sense of pride that prompted the response - but it was definitely a sign of the stress the situation was placing on the ships chief medical officer. Brodie: I’ll look to see if there’s any research onto this, or similar, outside the typical archives…::raising a hand against protest::...just in case. Obviously if it’s unavoidable you should act to protect Geoff but, otherwise, I’d ask that you don’t take any steps without letting me know first. Brodie had a duty to protect the mental well-being of the crew and any process with a one-in-four chance of mentally impairing the first officer would entail a considerable amount of paperwork before it could be sanctioned...and that approval would need to come from him with Alieth having a clear conflict of interest in this. Brodie: I think we’ve covered a lot of ground today, perhaps we should break and recovenene at a later date. Alieth: Thank you for your time. And the tea. The counsellor pushed himself out of his chair. Brodie: You’re very welcome, Alieth. We’ll talk more soon - and, as always, my door is open whenever you might need me. The young doctor made her way towards the door but, before she left, something on the lanes caught her attention. Two separate pins at far and opposite ends of it. Seven and ten. The Vulcan did a quick calculation and nodded to herself. Grabbing one of the heavier balls resting next to the lane, she stepped to the left and with a measured and precise movement, threw the ball. It swung towards the seven pin with a swift roll and hit the inside of it, apparently barely brushing it. The target knocked and hit the side wall, bounced back to the lane and struck the second pin, knocking it down. Alieth nodded one more time and, without a word, left the bowling alley. Alex watched her go and looked back down the lane. The full array of pins now reset after the impossible split was removed - that chances of which were less than one percent. It could be done with the right curvature but that was always more by luck than judgement. You needed, as Alieth had done, to use not only the ball and the pin but also the side or rear wall to ricochet off. You needed more than just the two players in the game to make the split work. Brodie: ::To himself:: See….nothing is impossible with a little help. [[END]] ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0 & Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Death by plants. Resonates so much with Alora. 😄 @Roshanara Rahman too, I bet! 😄

Okay, Thor ppl, we have to keep an eye on this one.

I think I may have found Zel's weakness.

No one can die without Alieth's permission. Especially @Wes Greaves.

Yes, Max. Yes you are.

OOC: @Alieth and @Geoffrey Teller both have a way with words. Alieth has a particular skill for infusing the ability to connect to a person that is supposed to have tight rein on her emotion - and yet she's so emotive. I just adore this pair. IC: ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, deck 10, USS Thor)) Teller: We're in trouble, aren't we? ::Geoff tapped his temple:: Both of us. Their gazes met, and he folded his arms across his chest. The young Vulcan kept her features carefully in check as she regarded him, but eventually she let out a soft sigh and provided him with as much of a response as she could. Alieth: I cannot answer that, Geoff, not now, but whatever it takes, I will sort it out, he can count on me :: She gazed into his eyes earnestly, her concern well hidden behind her impassive mask :: And so will you. He took a moment to speak again, as if lost in his own thoughts. She could not blame him, he was, in the end, human, and until a moment ago that alien, shambolic brain of his had housed not only his own being, but two others...and...whatever it was they had found in there. Either a disruption, a commingling, a melding, a folding, or simply the strong memory of someone who had left a mark on Teller's innermost being as much as his skin. Geoff finally blinked and seemed to focus on reality once more. The Vulcan doctor could only tilt her head to the side. Teller: I'm not sure how many sets of memories I have in my head at this point, but all of them tell me to trust you Alieth. ::Geoff forced a grin, if for himself if nothing else:: We'll sort this out, together. Sern's kinda like family to me at this point, and I'd hate...well, you two have been through enough. So, now what? ::Geoff held his hands up defensively:: If you say another mind meld I'm getting a phaser. And a helmet. The prospect made a smile dance in her eyes, even more so now that she had a vague idea of how this endeavour might end. Alieth: We shall see, but for the time being I think you should have some rest. And in the next few weeks just... make sure you stay out of trouble. And for once play it safe, troublemaker. Geoff snorted, which prompted her to allow a tiny curl of one of the sides of her lips, barely a hint of a expression, just an early draft of one. Geoff looked back to Alieth's desk, at the small package and had been lying there, forgotten all that time. Teller: That reminds me....you should really open that. She furrowed her nose faintly in feigned frustration, barely concealing the curiosity she felt as mild vexation. Alieth: You know that there is no jubilee, no human or Vulcan festive observance that would mandate a... :: waving a hand gently to flag the package:: ...a gift. That smug smile of someone overly confident about himself (and in the sheer GENIUS of all and every one of his disastrous ideas) appeared again on his face, this time, at least, without the extra of his former crooked nose. Teller: Well, you can call it whatever you want, I mostly consider this a warning for others. Alieth: Be careful what you are up to Geoffrey John, or else…. She didn't finish the sentence and, instead, took the present and deftly unwrapped it with a couple of concise movements. When she pulled the paper aside, it revealed a piece of duranium that she instantly recognized, largely thanks to the traces of yellow on one of its jagged edges and the lingering smell of bog which not even months and a thorough scrubbing had managed to wipe away. She ran one of her thumbs over the polished surface, over the sixteen words in two languages that the piece encased. Despite all her effort, a faint green blush tinged the tips of her ears and even dared to reach her cheeks, a sign of how the human's emotionality still lingered in her. Chief Medical Officer Alieth Professional Troublemaker USS Thor She took her eyes off the plate and shot him a stare that she had long nursed to terrify patients and health professionals alike away from HER sickbay. Of course the Thor's First Officer was not affected in the slightest. Teller: I figure you can leave that on the desk, at least give your patients a heads up. She clutched the piece of metal tightly in her hands Alieth: this is fallacious, outrageous and utterly inane... And dishonest. Her voice was blunt and dry, yet a glint in her eyes and a slight relaxation around her mouth hinted the truth. As did the fact that he never let go of the plaque. Teller: If that was a thank you, you're welcome. ::Geoff rose, finally confident he could make it to the turbolift without hitting the ground:: I think I'm going to head back to my quarters and sleep for a week. You need anything else from me? Alieth looked at him for a moment and at last tilted her head, to inquire about something that had disconcerted her at the very end of the meld. Alieth: What is a ‘ Silas’ ? Teller: I'm not sure what worries me more...that you know to ask that question, or that you're not even sure about the answer. I'll try to explain...Silas...another time. Alieth: ::With a light tone:: All right, keep your secrets Geoff. ::softening her expression a bit:: And rest well. Geoff smiled weakly and beat a hasty retreat out of sickbay. She followed him out with her gaze and, as the door closed behind him, she indulged herself in a tiny smile, prior to clearing a place of honour on her overcrowded desk to display the cautionary plaque. As he surveyed it and her eyes trailed the complicated spirals of her name in her native tongue, that secret smile melted from her face and morphed into a gesture of concern, as the realization of the danger in which the author of the nameplate and the katra of her most cherished friend found themselves, dawned upon her. She scowled and made her way to the replicator in the office in order to grab a soothing cup of tea before she made any decisions about what to do next. For some reason, the contents of the cup she replicated were not what she expected.... but rather black, steaming hot, bitter coffee. [[END?]] ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director =================================

This made me laugh! If only I could get away with that!

Arms. Wrists. Shuttles...

You know. That guy.

I couldn't help but envision this:

Peri didn't do it!

And he's dragging Peri along with him.

Careful extractions of items from a nose. Oh boy, do I have experience with this!

@Alieth has introduced this lovely character arc involving her deceased lover (don't even try to deny it, Alieth) who was killed and his katra placed in @Geoffrey Teller in order to preserve it. Here, we see that Vulcans are not devoid of emotion, and though the display isn't as overt as perhaps one might see in a human, I can't help but connect emotionally to Sern and Alieth. ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Veritas)) Sern: I do not choose the places. They never last long. Days - sometimes hours. It was fortunate I came across this one. The bridge jolted around them. On the screen, the nose of the Veritas pitched towards the planet, its rings and moons taking up more and more of the screen. Alieth: Then choose a location, hold on to it. This bouncing from one memory to another is putting Geoff in danger. Her voice came softly, stating the glaringly obvious. He’d figured that out weeks ago - back on the holodeck. When he first began to withdraw. His reply was quick and curt. Sern: I am aware that Geoffrey John is in danger, and I am telling you that my actions are not the cause. She straightened up and blinked several times.There was another long pause, as he considered putting his hypothesis forward. Sern: I … I believe it may be my presence. It made sense. Carrying the katra of another, the essence and full memories of another Vulcan required a toll. A Vulcan could adapt - given enough time and mental discipline. A Human could not. The Human brain was simply not constructed to bear the weight of the katra. And they both knew it. She held out her hand. A smile etched softly across her face. It was a gesture that comforted and alarmed him in equal measure. Alieth: Then come back to me. Just as it used to be. You and me. Sern looked from her hand to the surprisingly eager expression on her face and back again. Could it be done? Could he return? Such transfers had happened - but in a matter of days, not weeks. And certainly not months… The damage he was wreaking on his Human host was obvious, more than obvious. Was it the same for a Vulcan? Were they just better at hiding it? Yet, more importantly - what would be the consequences of returning now? Sern: No. ::he paused, the word coming through a little too harshly:: I cannot - we cannot. She took a step back. The starship shook around them. Panels fell from the ceiling, a cascade of sparks burst from the viewscreen before a rift split it in half, extinguishing the view of space. With a pop and a flash, everything forward of the helm snapped out of existence, the blur closing in. A crack spread out between the two Vulcans, narrow, but tearing them apart. Alieth: I do not understand. Why? Why not? The rift deepened, spreading across the bridge to the point where the illusion ended, and curving around to split the ceiling above. Sern: This place is unraveling - come with me! Jump! She tried to reach for him, arms outstretched in front of her. The crevice broadened suddenly under her feet and she was forced to stop at the edge of the abyss, her goal forgotten in a vain attempt to keep her balance on the edge. He took a half-step closer, held back by a familiarity with the calamity the Edge could hold. At the other end lay another memory - some good, some bad. With an unraveling as violent as this: almost certainly bad. Alieth: Sern!?!?!?! His hand snapped out in one final effort to catch hers. Sern: He must be pulling you back - I shouldn’t - I knew this couldn’t last… JUMP!! Despite his words, despite her efforts, she fell. The blur around the edges deepened - the line between existence and darkness rapidly disintegrating until- Nothing. ((The Brew Continuum, Deck 4, USS Veritas)) ((Not Blowing Up)) The silence was deafening after the sound-and-fury departure of the last world. Slowly, the space filled with a soft backdrop of white noise: the clatter of cups, the occasional hiss of steam from the equipment, the blended chatter of voices. No conversation could clearly be distinguished. After all, neither the Vulcan nor the Human knew what had been said. The room itself began to take shape - a close, tight arrangement of tables and beings. Some, Sern knew from his last trip here, belonged. Others, not so much. Good. He’d stumbled onto a haven. Slowly, a table began to take shape in front of him. Sern found himself sitting before he could fully recall the place, a mug appearing in his hand. From the depths of the vessel rose a distinct aroma, borne on the tendrils of steam that snaked their way up to his nostrils. The Vulcan hated to admit it. He was beginning to grow fond of that vile, brown liquid… [End Scene?] __________ Sern of Vulcan Katra Reluctant Coffee Drinker E239602QD0

I really enjoyed the sarcasm and banter in this JP between @Anton Richards, @Kellan Glass, and @Wes Greaves. A fun read, y'all! IC: ((Main Corridor, Deck 6, USS Thor)) Wes Greaves strolled down the corridor, a towel tossed over his shoulder and his face red from exertion. Small beads of sweat rolled past his eyes and with a single motion he wiped them away with the towel. It’d been a good run. Despite the ship looking generally the same, Wes had wanted to get away from the beaten path of Deck 9 and run somewhere else. Running circles on Deck 6 looked generally the same, but felt a little different. More importantly, it reminded the crew that there were Marines aboard. To Wes, it contributed to the friendly rivalry between the Marines and their sister departments. A way to say We’re here, and we’re getting ready for the next crisis. Are you? Another bead of sweat and another flick of the towel put an end to it. Wes could feel his heart rate starting to return to normal as he made his way to a turbolift. He didn’t recognize many of the faces he saw in the corridors on this deck, which made the face nearby jump out at him. A dozen meters to Wes’s front and walking in the opposite direction, he spotted someone that he thought he recognized from somewhere. The man was familiar, but Wes was having trouble placing the name. After a second, it finally came to him. Ensign Richards. One of the new joins that checked in when Wes was in command of the Thor. Security if he remembered correctly. As the two closed the distance on each other, Wes plastered his signature smile on his face. Greaves: Ensign Richards. I see you’re starting to get settled in. Anton, who was deeply engrossed in his padd, jumped a bit at Greaves’s greeting. Richards: I… Yes Sir! It’s been quite the experience. Talk about getting dropped right into the action! Although I feel that as soon as I got on the ship I was already leaving. I’m looking forward to returning to duty. Greaves: Good to hear. I’d like to say checking into a new ship isn’t always like that, but I had a similar experience a while back. Richards: Oh really? Well I’d love to hear about it sometime Sir. Greaves: I just finished up with a workout, but I’m starving. Care to join me for breakfast? I could tell you all about it. It took almost every muscle in Anton’s body to stop the smirk of accomplished that attempted to protrude from Anton’s skull upon getting invited to breakfast with the Chief Security Officer. Some things really did just fall into Anton’s lap. Having just ate Anton makes the only obvious judgment call. Richards: Absolutely Sir! I’m starving. After you. ::gestures forward:: Kel was wandering, wandering and thinking were two things that he tried to make time for. Vulcans had their meditating, but Kel prefered to move and think. With Kel’s Tactical role onboard being one where you had to think quickly and work on your wits, he had to make sure that he allowed time for contemplating and taking his time with decisions in almost every other aspect of his life. A ship as huge as the Thor was a great place to wander, its arching corridors seemingly stretching on for miles as they ran their course around the ship. Kel was contemplating what the ship’s doctor had dropped on him and his mind was racing. As he reached a junction, he let his feet do the deciding as he pondered on exactly what could have warranted a memory reconstruction. On autopilot Kel turned the corner and ran straight into two officers coming the other way. Glass: Ouufff...Sorry::Looking at the two officers:: Sir’s….::Then noticing that the two were the most familiar members of the crew he had met so far:: Ahh Anton! ::Nodding at Ensign Richards, then straightening up a little more:: Captain! Wes laughed softly and shook his head back and forth a bit seeing the Ensign. Memories of his first meeting with Fleet Captain Kells flooded his mind, although that encounter had been slightly less sweaty…. Or had it? Looking the Ensign over, there was now plainly a wet spot on the man’s chest where Wes’s sweat had rubbed off on the man’s uniform. With a final shake of his head, and a smiler still on his face, the Marine tossed the towel from over his shoulder into Glass’s hands. Greaves: Ensign Glass. Good to see you again. Might want to wipe yourself off. Sorry, I just finished up a run. Anton looks at the startled Ensign Glass and smiles. Richards: ::pretending to tap his COM badge:: Security we have an intruder alert. Some type of walking zombie Ensign. I’ve never seen anything like it. Kell wiped the stubborn stain, that really wasn’t going to go anywhere until his top was washed….gave up and tossed the towel back at Richards. Glass: Well I guess Zombies like eating brains...so your safe Anton! ::Flashing him a smile:: Greaves: Jokes aside, we’re on our way to breakfast if you’d like to join us. I figured we could grab something outa the replicators at the lounge. I’ll probably get fewer dirty looks being in workout gear there. Glass: Yeah sounds good, I was on my way there anyhow! Richards: ::Nods:: With a nod Wes led on toward the nearest turbolift. Greaves: You’ll both enjoy the Valhalla Lounge. Its got a great view out the forward windows, little stage off in the corner for small events, and good ambiance. Half the time they keep the lights dim so you can just relax, although at this time of day its probably fully lit. Richards: Ah yes. I’ve heard of the Valhalla Lounge before I believe. Glass: Does the ship have entertainment nights? With a whoosh, the doors to the lift slid open to reveal an empty turbolift and Wes continued in. Greaves: (Lifting his head) Deck 5. (Turning to the others) Honestly, I can’t remember any. The former Chief of Security did a little rock show in the lounge once. ((Turbolift, Below Deck 6, USS Thor)) Richards: ::Chuckles:: So you're saying that you have a show coming up soon then? Glass: My father was obsessed with the Beatles, he even went as far as collecting vinyl records of the band. He swore they sounded better than the recordings on the ship, but it all sounded scratchy and terrible to me. As the Marine opened his mouth to reply, the faint hum of the lift changed in tone ever so slightly, and suddenly the floor dropped out from under him. For several seconds the trio experienced near weightlessness as the safeties failed and the turbolift fell. Finally, the emergency brakes engaged and with the sound of grinding metal, the lift slammed to a stop, throwing Wes hard to the ground. Kell’s stomach, although thankfully not full, lurched and he felt nausea building up but the pain of hitting the carpeted floor of the turbolift distracted him from actually vomiting! Anton fell backwards into a corner of the turbolift. He managed to stand up quickly. But shortly afterwards bent over placing his hands over his knees and rubbing them. Richards: Yup. I’m sure I will be feeling this one for a bit. Anton stands up straight and then began looking around the turbolift, seeing if there was some type of furthering safety threat. Glass: What the hell was that!::Pushing himself back up to standing:: Kell looked at the control panel, devoid of lights, the glassy surface just reflected his own image back at him. Glass: Great...trapped in a lift with Anton, it isn’t bad enough I have to share quarters with him… Kell looked around at the two other officers Anton shrugged Glass’s comment off with a quick grin, He was used to them bickering back and forth from the Academy. Wes brushed himself off and retrieved the towel from the ground where it had been thrown. His knee was bleeding ever so slightly from being thrown to the ground forcefully, and he was sure there would be a sizable bruise on his left thigh as well. Otherwise the worst seemed to be over. Glass: Are you two ok? Greaves: I’m alright, seemed the lift is dead though. Richards, you good? Richards: Besides a jolt to my knees. I think I’m good. Glass: It should be a quick fix::Tapping his communicator:: Glass to transporter room, we are stuck in turbolift 2a and need transporting out please? There was a static sound, but no voice replied to the call. The Marine frowned and retrieved his own comm badge from the gym shorts he wore. The device beeped a warning when he tapped it. Greaves: Looks like whatever happened to the lift also disconnected it from the internal communications grid. Either of you a whiz with electrical wiring? Richards: Not particularly Sir. Anton looks towards the panel on the side of the wall, and then to Glass. Richards: Do you think we should take a look Sir? Expert or not. There isn’t much sense being trapped here. He glances quickly at Glass. Kell, sensed a change in his demeanor, all of a sudden the perfectly adequate internal space of the lift started to look just a little bit smaller, more confined and even though he knew it was just him imagination, he felt the need to breath a deeper gulp of air, almost as if the air was no longer enough in the turbolift. Glass: Whatever we do, I think I’d prefer it to be on this side of today rather than tomorrow::Kell tried to flash a confident smile, but his apprehension was evident to all:: Greaves: Agreed. (Motioning to the blank interface) Let’s pop that panel off and see if we can’t get us talking to the outside world again. I’m sure we can figure it out. Richards: ::nodding and standing behind Glass overlooking the procedure as if he had a clue what was going on:: Kell moved to the panel and grasped the top edge before yanking it rather too firmly off the wall. Looking inside at the myriad of circuits and bio gel packs, he turned and gave the look most non engineers give when looking at the inner workings of a ship! Glass: Where the bloody hell do you start? Wes frowned. It was a fair question. Greaves: Worst case scenario, we crack the emergency hatch on the ceiling and climb up to the next deck above us. He paused for a second and looked over the faces of the two officers. In all honesty, he kind of hoped for that route. Sounded like fun. Greaves: Any luck with the panel? Kell tried to remember anything he had been taught in the academy that might help, but the more he looked at the hopeless mess of components the more he felt a tightening of panic rising in him. Richards: Do you think maybe that red flashing thing, connects over to this other red flashing thing? ::giving an unconfident and weak smile:: Glass: It’s hopeless...I haven’t the foggiest what half of this does...we move the wrong thing and we could plummet to our ends. Greaves: Well, climbing we go then. Ensign Richards, I’ll give you a boost. See if you can’t get that hatch open up there. Wes knelt down and offered a hand and his raised knee as a foot hold. His other knee, still bleeding slightly, dug into the carpet and the Marine gritted his teeth in a momentary wince of pain. Anton stepped up on Wes’s knee and reached up towards the shaft at the top of the turbolift. He could feel how insecure the turbolift felt. Richards: ::Continuing to attempt to reach the top of the lift:: You know? We really gotta start making it a habit to bring an engineer along for our adventures. Kell watched as the two men struggled to hoist Richards up to the ceiling hatch. Just as it seemed that they were about to get up there, there was a sudden metallic wrenching sound..the lift fell slightly, maybe only a foot or so, but the sudden movement was enough to give serious thought to the assembled men. Glass: Jeez...that sounded a lot like the emergency brakes failing to me! Kell watched as the two men struggled to hoist Richards up to the ceiling hatch. Just as it seemed that they were about to get up there, there was a sudden metallic wrenching sound..the lift fell slightly, maybe only a foot or so, but the sudden movement was enough to give serious thought to the assembled men. Glass: Jeez...that sounded a lot like the emergency brakes failing to me! It took nearly all of his effort to prevent Richards from falling and crushing him. As the lift steadied from the short fall, and metal whined in agony, Wes held Richards’ legs tightly to keep him from losing his balance. Greaves: Alright, time’s up. Let's get out of this death trap. Up you go Ensign Richards. Bracing himself against the wall for balance and leverage, Wes stood in a one legged squat, creating a rising platform Richards stood on. With a grimace of effort on his face and a final huff, the man was through the small hatch above. It was a small effort to repeat the process for Glass. Finally Wes was alone in the lift, the two others offering their hands through the hatch above him. He could feel the blood trickling down his leg from the cut in his knee and as he took in the next challenge he winced slightly from a cramping muscle. Greaves: oO Would’ve gone easier for my workout had I know I’d be doing this afterwards… Oo Taking a breath and crouching to ready himself, Wes prepared for the jump. Leaping up and catching the Ensigns outstretched hands, he was pulled roughly onto the roof of the lift and into the turbolift shaft. Glass: We’ve got you sir! Richards: Up you come now, Sir! Greaves: (Rolling onto the roof of the turbolift and panting a little) Nothing to it (grin). Wes looked around at the walls for a second, his eyes adjusting to the relative darkness. The lift shaft had only sparsely spaced dim lights. After a second he recognized the metal rungs of the ladder embedded in the wall and the Marine pointed in their direction. Greaves: This lift ain’t gonna wait on us forever. Start climbing. It's just a few meters up to the next deck. Richards, Glass, you two first, but hurry. I don’t feel like riding this thing down to engineering while you two take your time on the ladder. Kell looked up at the seemingly never ending tunnel and ladder as it snaked its way to wherever these things went. Glass: That’s a long way up! Kell hoisted himself up, the exertion of pushing himself up to the first rung sending whining noises from the turbolift compartment. Eager not to be the solo survivor, he hurried his pace and called down. Anton was quick behind Glass as he also didn’t feel like seeing exactly how long the lift would hold for. Glass: Come on quick, I don’t know how long the emergency brakes will hold! Richards: I’m hurrying! It’s my damn knee Anton was moving slower now and beginning to grimace as the shock of the fall had worn off, and he was starting to feel the bruise on his knee begin to swell. Greaves: Nope, no time. I don’t want to hear it. Get on that ladder. Anton nodded once again and gritted his teeth through the climb. Kell began climbing upwards, eager to see the bright lights of any deck over the tight confines of the turbolift innards! Glass: I see a door! Richards: That’s good news! How much farther? Anton wasn’t sure if was going to make the climb, just as he sensed that Glass was about to answer him, Anton lost his footing, causing his left foot to slip backwards on the ladder brushing very close to hitting Greaves in the forehead. Anton twirled around to the edge of the ladder, briefly looking down the turbolift and seeing the fall. Looking up at Glass’s call, Wes saw Richard’s foot slip just in time to let himself drop down a rung and narrowly dodge what would have been a swift kick to the face. With a scowl on his face, the man watched Richards twirl to the side of the ladder, but the concerned look on the security officer’s face halted what was about to be a harsh response. Greaves: (Growling voice) Richards, for the love of god, get back on that ladder and quit looking down. We’re almost there. Anton steadied himself and began climbing, faster than before. The sight of the drop “inspired” him. Glass: Come on Spiderman! Wes smiled at the comment. Kell looked back at the door, with the absence of an actual turbolift the door stood firmly closed. Glass: Without the turbolift here, it's not going to open easily! Greaves: I have confidence you can figure it out! Emergency release should be on the right side. Richards: Yeah Glass! Any day now! It was part sarcasm and part anger due to the frustrating pain he was experiencing as Anton held his one knee up off the ladder to avoid putting pressure on it. He was hoping this wasn’t going to result in a trip to sick bay. Kell reached over and grasped the red handle to the side of the door and began turning it anticlockwise….slowly the door inched it way open. Glass: Its opening now, hold on. With a hiss, the turbolift doors to deck 13 slid open revealing the carpeted corridor beyond. One by one the three climbed up and scrambled to the safety of a solid floor. Bringing up the rear, Wes took the offered hands of the Ensigns to pull him the last bit of the way, and at last they were clear of the danger. Another hiss and the doors slid shut once more. Wes took stock of the three. They’d all accumulated a bit of grease and dirt on their uniforms from the climb, and Wes’s workout clothes were still plenty soiled from earlier in the day. Doing his best to brush himself off, Wes stood and gave a stern look to a passing crewman which looked bewildered at their sudden appearance. Greaves: Congratulations Ensigns, you’ve just survived turbolift seven. Anton rubbing his aching knee, brushes himself off and stands up straight. Still out of breath Anton looks down the shaft and then up at Greaves. Richards: Perhaps I will have a t-shirt made. Kell felt a sudden wave of panic, the room started to spin every so slightly, causing him to grab hold of the wall and steady himself, closing his eyes he counted to ten. He’d never personally experienced a panic attack, but knew the symptoms well enough from his mothers teaching. Glass: Ok….is….is everyone in one piece? Greaves: (Gesturing to his bleeding knee) All things considered, I think I’ll have to raincheck on that breakfast. Engineering and Ops need to know about this lift, and I need to get cleaned up. Anton nods at Greaves Richards: Yeah. I believe I have lost my appetite. Glass: Yeah, I’m going to walk back to my room and have a bit of a lay down! Greaves paused and looked the two over once more. They hid it well, but there was something in Glass’s look that worried him. A slight hesitation. A lingering look at the doors. Greaves: Are you both going to be alright? Anton extends his arms outright from either side of him, eyeing them back and forth to make sure that he had not in fact plummeted to his death in the turbolift. Richards: ::Nodding:: I think I’ll be fine. Just another day at StarFleet I presume. Kell shot the pair a luke warm smile. Glass: Yeah...I’ll….I’ll be ok, just gotta leave off taking one of these again for a while!...see you back in our room later buddy…::then looking back at Captain Greaves:: Thanks for the cool head sir! Kell tapped Anton on the shoulder, smiled and walked off. The Marine nodded at the comment but didn’t speak. Instead he watched as the pair walked off deeper into the deck, likely in search of another turbolift. After a moment they were lost to sight in the busy corridor and Wes turned in the other direction. The two Ensigns both were quick on their feet, at least in the simple adventure they’d all shared. With any luck, Wes would be inheriting two promising officers. END ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 & Ensign Anton Richards Security Officer USS Thor T239802AR1 & Ensign Kellan Glass Tactical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding T239802KG1 =========================

@Brutus' sim gave me a good chuckle at this.

This introspection from Richards really resonated with me for some reason, particularly the comment about being eaten. 😄

So wise.

This just about killed me.

The question is, what does NOT get you killed? Besides eggs?

DO NOT LICK IT

I'm really excited to read more of this plot arc @Alieth and @Sirok are writing. I'm already in love with Rekika. She's just how I imagined her to be! ((Vulcan - Kyr Province - Sobok family House)) T'Lil had prepared the wedding from multiple functions. On the one hand a show of unification between Vulcans and Romulans. On the other hand an attempt to continue the family saga if all went well. And as an introduction to the Vulcan society for Sirok himself. The Vulcan matriarch, if in private she had disparaged Sirok's Starfleet career, opted to picked out every positive trait in public, everything of what her son could learn and do for Vulcan and Kyr as a Starfleet officer. And she highlighted his rapid rise through the ranks despite his relatively young age. The event itself had perfectly fulfilled all the precepts of a very traditional Vulcan wedding, implementing old elements of Romulan weddings, which had quite a few things in common with Vulcan’s. In itself the act was meant to exemplify unification. While for some the Vulcans and Romulans present it was just the most fitting way to carry it, for others it was just too soon for something like that, or even something that should never have happened. Some inhabitants of Vulcan, old and new, thought that Romulan presence was only temporary, until they could once again claim a planet as their own. For Sirok the situation had resulted to be a test. In the days before the ceremony, he had tried to memorize the names and faces of each of the attendees. And that was just a quite long list. Although T'Lil had conveniently overlooked to invite any of the Thor's crew, not even the captain. Her excuse, of course, was only logical: those uniforms made some of the bride's family skittish. And she had had just enough to do with dealing with her son's feelings to add other’s to the mix. The young engineer was not used to such social events. He most time tried to avoid them, even though he understood the usefulness of such rituals. He endeavored to behave like a Starfleet officer in a diplomatic situation and follow the instructions that his parents have give him. As soon as he saw an opportunity Sirok decided to retreat and took refuge in the secondary house. A building erected by his great-grandfather for S'Vec and T'Lil to live in, while he still occupied the main house, while Sobok remained on the USS Elcano and his wife preferred to live near the Academy of Sciences. It has remained uninhabited since Sirok's great-grandfather passed away, as Sopeg lived with his wife in the capital. Even there, at that distance, he could still hear the faint chimes of vulcan lutes, as much as the barely audible murmur of multiple conversations. So, he entered the house and without even close the door, he looked for a dark place, a hidden spot where he could shut his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He repeated in his head principles of logic, endeavouring to free his mind and take hold of his feelings. If he weren’t wearing for the ceremonial robes, he would attempt to practice suus mahna. When he had barely managed to regain some degree of mental equilibrium, his efforts were interrupted by the sound of light footsteps behind him. Rekika: So this is where you have chosen to escape… The words were left hanging in the air, sharp, with no trace of sympathy in them. She followed shortly after, abandoning the shadows she had inhabited. She strode across the narrow chamber to his position, her gait confident and steadfast, the tap of her heels ricocheting firmly against the polished floor, as if she were part on a martial march. Only when she was just a few centimetres away from the young Vulcan did she halt, her gaze at almost the same level as his. She held his gaze as the minutes thickened, cold and tense amid the desert heat. At some point, the Romulan woman determined that she had had enough and examined him from top to bottom, scrutinizing him in unabashed detail. Rekika: Since my family moved here I have had ample time to learn your language, son of S'vec. So tell me, Sirok, are you so outside of hope as your name implies? Sirok stood staring at her for a brief moment, the situation was strange. Legally he was linked to that woman and it was a logical link for many reasons. But given the speed of the whole new situation the young man, who followed strong routines to help his memory, was not quite used to it. Sirok: I thought they told you about my condition. A smile crept across her features, whether there was mirth or disdain in her was somewhat difficult to pinpoint. Rekika: They did, but humour me with your version of the facts. Sirok: We should go somewhere else, now it is also your home, and you should be familiar with it. She gave a slight shrug and the smile etched in her face became somewhat more skewed, albeit no less ambiguous. A motion of her chin suggested that he should lead the way. Without waiting for a more elaborated answer, he turned on the light and escorted her into the living room. As every chamber in the Sobok’s property, it was tidy and spotless. Nevertheless, the design was somewhat old-fashioned, yet every little detail was strictly functional and every piece was made of the finest materials. Sirok: Sometimes I came here to meditate and study when my brother's Sehlat did not allow me to enter the main house. Have a seat. Rekika: Lovely, even the little kitten despised my groom. She sat down just before kept talking, at ease and leisurely, as if she owned the room. In some ways she did, or would do so in the future. Sirok: the reason why he did not accept me is related in part to my condition. :: he said as he sat down. :: Rekika: Is that the answer to my question? Sirok: As you should know now, I was born with brain damage. It mainly affects my telepathic abilities, which are practically non-existent. Also, my memory is worse than it should be. Although unlike telepathy I have applied techniques developed by some of the best Vulcan masters to alleviate its effects, making it practically unnoticeable for the time being. Sirok said it with his usual dreary tone. Only someone who knew him very well would know that he was showing some nervousness. Rekika: … for the time being :: She echoed, her tone much more nuanced, if as contradictory as her expression.:: And what about the future? Will I find myself married to a chunk of worthless meat soon? She tipped her head fractionally and indulged herself in a momentary display of compunction. Something she studiously made an effort to prove that she did not feel. At all. Rekika: No offence to your brother's condition. Sirok: I am a follower of Surak. I am not offended by such comments. But as you said, yes, I have a higher probability of having neural afflictions of different nature. Rekika: When. The word was delivered both as a query and a demand. Sirok: I cannot know. It should not happen for quite a few years, I am still young, so maybe plenty. Or perhaps it will never happen. Only if everyone has some chance of that kind of disease, mine is higher. This probability will increase with age. The Vulcan was direct, no secrets, no half-measures. Rekika: So you are like a ticking bomb scheduled to explode. We just don't know when or if you'll do it. Sirok: This is quite accurate. She chuckled openly, a clear, musical laugh from one who had never had to suppress it in her life. She laughed not at him, though, nor at the response to her remarks, but merely because of the brutal sincerity and endless candour of her groom. It was, somehow, refreshing. Rekika: I can live with it, or with the lie underneath it. Sirok: I recommend that you accept it for what it is. It is simply the truth. He did not know what Rekika thought about Surak's teachings, but Sirok thought that following them was the best thing to do, more so for his situation. Rekika: Perhaps, but my version is more fun. The smile widened dangerously on her lips. Sirok: But it is a long-term danger. The lack of telepathic ability disrupts certain biological functions of my species. For example in the ceremony, when we have joined together and our fingers touched, a certain bond should have been created. I only felt your skin and you felt mine. He maintained his monotone. But he had used all his concentration to suppress the fear he felt in that situation. One of the moments he dreaded most in his life. Rekika: That's what happened for you? She left the question lingering in the air, as if her experience had been different, but her face retained the same derisive expression that had accompanied her for much of the conversation. Still, her mind buzzed with ideas: she had trained herself to engage a vulcan, to have a spy inside her own mind. She had woven lies within her lies, hidden behind shadows of half-truths. But her new husband? He was something else. Something quite different. Oh, and convenient. She allowed herself to lean forward, amidst a ruffle of the fabric of her betrothal gown. Rekika: As for the contract your mother reached with my family, what are you going to do about it? Sirok remained still in his seat, like a talking piece of furniture. And imperceptibly he was relaxing with the situation, accepting it little by little. Sirok:I do not know all the details, I just asked to be allowed to continue my work in Starfleet. I think I can learn and do a lot as an officer. Rekika: As for the contract your mother reached with my family, what are you going to do about it? Sirok remained still in his seat, like a talking piece of furniture. And imperceptibly he was relaxing with the situation, accepting it little by little. Sirok:I do not know all the details, I just asked to be allowed to continue my work in Starfleet. I think I can learn and do a lot as an officer. She leaned back and raised an elegant hand in front of her. Rekika: My family and the people associated with it will continue to have the rights to occupy a portion of your family lands to formalize a Romulan settlement. You will be provided with assistance in carrying out this endeavour without interference. Alongside this, my family's trading enterprise will be sustained, by helping to smooth out any friction that may arise with the Vulcan government. She fell back for a moment and watched him carefully before resuming her speech. Rekika: The other details are less important, but that is the heart of the matter. Your role, naturally, will be as caretaker of it if your family decides to break the agreement. Sirok:My family has always supported Unification, even before the Hobus disaster. So as long as there are no criminal acts we will continue to do our best to keep Unification moving forward. Another musical laugh echoed through the stark Vulcan chamber. Rekika:::In a playful tone:: No promises, my dear The Vulcan raised an eyebrow slightly. Sirok: I expect that it is a joke that I do not understand. The smile stretched across the Romulan's face once more. Rekika: Don't worry my dear, you'll figure it out... over time. Whether she meant the joke or the allegation of the illegality of her family's deeds was left unsaid. Sirok remained silent for a moment. Sirok: I understand then that there is no problem for me to return to the Thor to do my job. Rekika: And meanwhile I'll wait here, as a faithful bride longing for her gallant officer, while i help in the family business. Sirok: Everything has been so sudden that I have not been able to know what is your business. She then made a faint smacking sound with her lips and leaned back in feigned annoyance. Rekika: There's nothing to drink here? So much chatter makes me thirsty The young engineer got up in the direction of the kitchen. Sirok: It has been years since I have been in this house, but there was a good selection of juices. At the wedding alcoholic beverages were served in courtesy to our guests, but it is not something we consume. He spent a moment searching without success. So he fired up the replicator and replicated a pair of vulcan mocha. The replicator had not been checked for some time and did not work as the young man would have liked, he would check it when he had time. When he brought the cup towards her she took it in turn and managed to ensure that their fingers touched. Her hands remained there for a time and, as she did so, she glanced up at his face in search of a reaction, or lack thereof. What she saw on Sirok's countenance brought a mirthful gleam to her eye. Sirok: I expect you like it. Thereupon, she settled back against the back of the couch and drank the cup almost dry in a single gulp. Next, she slipped her right hand onto the armrest, the nearly drained cup held loosely between her fingers. Rekika: Excellent and adequate. As expected. Sirok nodded. Despite Rekika's positive response, he would check the replicator. The young man returned to his seat with his own cup in his hands. Sirok: You were going to tell me what you do for a living. Rekika: Oh well, we're mere traders. My people need commodities that can't be obtained on the planet, and we provide. Sirok: I know that the population increase is being a problem for a reasonable use of Vulcan's resources. She looked into his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. Rekika: :slowly: I think that given our shared situation it’s better to start calling it Ni'Var. The Vulcan took a long sip of the mocha. He hadn't realized his mouth was dry until he had felt the liquid. Sirok: A designation to exemplify the unification. It is appropriate. Rekika: You'll learn soon enough that I don't speak in vain, sweetheart. Sirok: as it should be. Without further ado she laid the cup indifferently on the arm of the couch and rose to her feet, with an almost feline elegance. In a vaguely coquettish manner, she arranged the slight misalignments in her attire before she resumed speaking. Rekika: Well, enough of the chitchat, we should get back to the party. She held out a hand waiting for him to take it, as was expected of a married couple. Sirok stood up, leaving the cup on a nearby table. Placing his hands with her in the traditional way, feeling her skin again. Rekika: ::Casually::. By the way, will you please be sure to inform your captain that I'll be joining you on that Starfleet vessel of yours? The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, not expecting such a proposition. Sirok: I think I can reason with Captain Kells. But I do not think my mother will allow both of us to be off planet given my brother's situation. Rekika: Don't worry about that, I'll make T'Lil see the logic in my decision to join you. A musical laugh followed them as they crossed the lintel of the secondary house and flickered in the air for a moment before the Romulan whispered her follow-up remark. Rekika: And in case I fail... my father will persuade her… She was certain that he would see as much merit as she herself did in her returning to cross the stars aboard a starship. Even more so in one so different from the Birds of Prey in which she had served a decade ago… ========================= As simmed by Rekika of Romulus Former Romulan Star Navy Lieutenant Romulan Colony of Ni’Var E239702A10 & Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10

I really enjoyed this collaboration between @Sirok and @Geoffrey Teller. I especially enjoyed seeing more of Sirok, one of our resident and most emotional Vulcan. ((Vulcan - Kir province - Sobok family mainhouse)) Sobok and Sirok materialized in front of a . It was of straight lines and its glass exteriors, orderly, designed for a simple use of the interior space. A classic Vulcan construction of the 23rd century. It was built on a small promontory surrounded by several trees with reddish leaves that gave warmth to both the exterior and interior of the house. Sobok knew the coordinates well and was able to give them accurately enough to save him having to climb the small hill that led up to the house. He had also arranged for his and Sirok's luggage to wait for them in their respective rooms, not wanting to leave the young man to carry both . Feeling the increased Vulcan gravity indicated to the chief engineer that the transporter cycle had ended and Sirok looked around for a moment. It was the first time he had been back since being admitted to Starfleet Academy and he looked for any changes the house might have undergone. As he expected there were none. The trees were so carefully trimmed that they seemed frozen in time.There was no noticeable stain or scuff on the glass surface of the house. The grass around the house grew to the desired height, never beyond. The distant sound of the drones that controlled the plantations indicated like a calendar what time of the year it was and what was the state of the crops. He had left his uniform and rank on the ship and like his grandfather wore a simple light colored robe. That robe was one of the few belongings he had taken with him when he left and was part of the few belongings he brought back. They approached the front door and it opened, revealing the figure of a slender Vulcan woman. Her bearing was elegant, regal. She kept her hands behind her back and looked inquisitively at the two newcomers. Sobok: Good morning, T'Lil. Sobok stopped, leaning on his cane and staring at T'Lil. Sirok stood behind him. Sirok: Mother. :: It was his brief greeting. :: T’Lil considered the sight before her the way some would review a shipping manifest. Her son, home for the first time in many years, was here in the company of his grandfather. She noticed the tiny imperfections age had left upon her sons features, along with his disagreeably emotional greeting. She noticed everything, but made no comment beyond a simple reply. T’Lil: Son. Sirok: What is the status of Sopeg? T’Lil: Unchanged. His biological functions are being sustained efficiently. His injuries have been evaluated by the Vulcan Medial Institutes Dean of Neurosurgery. What can be done has been done. Your arrival here is another matter entirely. T’Lil arched an eyebrow, her gaze landing on her son with the weight of Mount Seleya, a sliver of genuine concern flashing through her mind. Her son had been among emotional species for far too long. Sobok: I know there is a lot to catch up on. But my physical condition is not adequate to do it at the entrance, standing up... Can we enter? A long moment passed before T’Lil replied. Even the wind was still and silent. T’Lil: You may enter. Sobok: Where is S’Vec? Where is my son? T’Lil: S’Vec is where he is expected to be, running the organization this family has maintained for generations. Her emphasis on the word generations was subtle but the jab was sharp. Sobok’s irresponsibility had disrupted the work of centuries and led to her son's needless dalliance with Starfleet. As T'Lil spoke Sobok slowly walked to a wide couch, where he slowly sat down. And he did not respond until he had made that slow heavy movement. Sirok kept an eye on his grandfather in case he needed help, since he had arrived at the Thor he had clearly noticed how he was finding it more difficult to walk. Sobok: And he has done a great job. Despite making risky bets. :: Sobok glanced at Sirok for a moment before turning his gaze back to T'Lil, remarking on the situation they were now in. :: Sirok raised an eyebrow slightly, not quite understanding what bet Sobok was referring to. The young engineer had long since removed himself from any discussion of family and its activities. He had focused all his efforts on his Starfleet career. T’Lil: His time is in exceedingly short supply, as is mine. I will inform him of your presence…::she took a long look at Sirok, and then at Sobok:: You may wait. Sobok kept his gaze on T'Lil. And remained silent for a moment, letting the sound of some bird and the distant drones fill the room. Sobok: Well, we will wait, when you reach a certain age it becomes an habit. But at other ages time is exceedingly short, so let's take advantage of it. For example I can tell you that your second son achieved the rank of Lieutenant and Chief Engineer of one of the most modern ships in the Fleet in a single year of service. A much faster promotion than I had at the time. Sirok fell thinking that he would not be given importance he saw no point in informing his parents of his progress in Starfleet, or even what ship he was serving on. But Sobok did not make that comment gratuitously, the defective son now held a position of importance in a respected organization.He was not just the son of S'Vec anymore. Sirok: It has been a matter of circumstances, although rebuilding a ship almost from scratch has been an experience from which I have been able to learn significantly. Sirok did not try to be modest, it was what he thought of his rapid rise as he believed he still had a lot to learn. If T’Lil was proud, or impressed, or even the smallest bit respectful of her son's achievements, none of it showed on her face. If anything registered, it was a slight deepening of her scowl at the thought of her son risking himself needlessly, and in a pursuit as foolish as Starfleet. T’Lil: I am gratified to learn the son of S’Vec is now a skilled mechanic. It is certain to reflect highly on our esteemed family. Her tone implied the opposite. Sirok: Is the Romulan refugee colony progressing properly? His entire family had always been strong supporters of the Unification between Romulus and Vulcan. When Hobus went supernova and Romulus was destroyed, they offered several of their lands to create settlements for refugees. Not just to take in temporary refugees, but to make them permanent residents on Vulcan. Sirok held his family's efforts in that direction in high respect and believed that this was the future for his planet and his people. A minute sigh escaped T’Lil’s lips. T’Lil: It is progressing. I believe it is premature to determine if it is doing so properly. Reintegration after millennia of distrust is a complex endeavor. One in which you could assist, son. Sirok raised an eyebrow slightly. As Sobok kept his eyes on T'Lil he foresaw what he was going to say. Sirok: I have participated in some first contacts, but my diplomatic skills are not very good, at least with beings who are driven by their emotions. :: To logical beings, the young engineer performed as expected even by his family. :: T’Lil: I have made what arrangements seemed logical to me so that our family can achieve its goals, efficiently. I do not see why either of you would object. Sirok: I will try to help if possible, mother. Sobok looked at his grandson. As a good follower of Surak he felt no pride in his relative, but his grandson though naive, seemed praiseworthy to him. Sobok: I have never meddled in your handling of these matters. But if you saw it necessary I would consider interfering. T’Lil: Sopeg’s injury leaves our family in a challenging position, one to which we must adapt. So we shall. Your wedding is scheduled two days hence. ::T’Lil glanced at the Starfleet uniform in dissatisfaction.:: You will dress in something more befitting our people. Sirok watched his mother for a moment. Sirok: the Starfleet uniform is perfectly suitable for such a ceremony, as it is in a multitude of other options. Although that is a trivial detail. So far you have not sought out a wife for me, and the difference in doing so now as opposed to when it was due is that I have a duty to perform. Sobok said nothing, on the one hand his grandson was right. But biologically speaking he needed a mate. Due to Vulcan physiology his life would be in danger when the time came if he didn't have someone to share it with. T’Lil: Your logic is flawed, son. I have sought out a wife for you and all the arrangements have been made. There is only the ceremony remaining, and that requires your presence. Sirok: May I know with whom you intend to marry me? T’Lil: Her name is Rekika, and she has completed all the necessary arrangements to my satisfaction. Sobok raised an eyebrow slightly, it was not the response he expected. Sirok in appearance remained unchanged. Though his family, who knew him well knew that he struggled to keep his feelings contained and in control, with relative success. So it was Sobok who kept asking questions, trying to make the young man maintain as much dignity as possible. Sobok: Do they know Sirok's condition? It is a very difficult situation for the chosen one. :: Part of the reason why such an agreement had not really been sought until now. :: T’Lil: In this instance, his deficiency will not be a detriment to the union. Your intended is one of our long separated Romulan cousins and her expectations are already quite low. Sobok: Be that as it may, the agreement should not affect Sirok's Starfleet career. T’Lil’s expression hardened and a room normally exposed to desert breezes became suddenly colder. T’Lil: I do not recall seeking your council or input on the matter, Sobok. T’Lil glanced back to her son, the lowly starfleet engineer. A small part of a small system, one of questionable value and enormous personal risk. T’Lil could see the logic in the pursuit for others, but not for her family, and certainly not her son. Sobok: It is one thing to adapt to the situation and another to ruin his career, which is being successful. Besides, you are already used to having an absent family member. Another one is not going to change the situation. :: Sobok had known T'Lil for many years and at all times avoided reacting to any comment. Although it was well known that the old Vulcan was more protective of Sirok than any other member of his family. :: T’Lil: Sirok has an obligation to fulfill for this family, and the needs of the many should always outweigh the needs of the one. He will come to appreciate this in time. Sirok kept quiet. Until that moment, observing the not-so-veiled dialectical conflict between his elders. Sirok: I will do as I am asked, if she accepts me. :: He barely managed not to say "and my condition". :: But as Sobok has expressed, I will maintain my Starfleet career for the time being. Consider it my training for the position you want me to take if Sopeg does not recover. T’Lil’s lips, which had never been especially emotive, pressed into a line so thin they seemed to disappear entirely. She disapproved and would work to make the arrangement ultimately untenable, but for the present her goal had been achieved. Her son would wed, and their bond with the emerging Romulan families would grow stronger, and their own family would grow in influence and respect. T’Lil stood and prepared to leave. T’Lil: It is gratifying to discover you have not entirely lost your discipline, son. Your responsibilities to the family are paramount. So long as those are dispensed properly, you other conduct is your business and ::T’Lil glared daggers at Sobok:: no one else's. I will take my leave of you now. T’Lil offered her hand in the ta’al, but turned and exited before either man had even gotten out of their chair. Sobok watched as T'Lil left and then looked at his grandson. Sobok: Are you sure of your decision? Sirok: I am the emotional one of this family. It is normal for me to make an illogical decision. Yet I cannot find a better one. Sobok: Neither do I, for the moment. The old Vulcan looked out the window. The landscape he saw was different from the one he remembered from his childhood. Now it was a sumptuous place, even the trees looked strong and lush. The irrigation system and the care of the land were being used with meticulous precision. When he was a child the crops, although sufficient, seemed rickety compared to what he saw now. The house they had was being expanded and renovated from the ruin his grandfather had. A person who practically lived in hiding because he belonged to the Syrranite movement. That house was demolished by his son to build the current one. It was much more modern and served as a control center for all his operations. Sobok stood up with great effort, leaning heavily on the cane. Sobok: Sirok, help me get to my room. It has been a long trip, I need to rest. Then I will let you free, I am sure you have a lot to do. He doubted that the family chosen by his son and daughter-in-law had the disaffection for politics that Sirok had. Sirok: Yes grandfather. :: he said showing her his arm for support. :: At a very slow pace and with short steps they both headed for the room they had prepared for the old vulcan on the first floor. =============================== T’Lil of Vulcan Matron of House Sobok V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10