Randal Shayne

(( Flashback - Casperia Prime, Nantahala Valley, Semara Family Home )) Hereditary factors in relative telepathic capability had been perceived far before Betazoids even conceived of genomics. For evidence, one needed look no further than the early formation of class and family structures very early in Betazoid societal development along the lines of telepathic prowess. While certainly not entirely determined by lineage, the likelihood of having strong empathic senses was high when born to two parents with acute capabilities. Amelia was hardly an exception. Even though no one in at least three generations knew exactly how the Semara matriarchal line connected to the great houses of Betazed (consulting the family tree was considered too time consuming, and privately thought too potentially disappointing), she displayed an early aptitude that was considered proof enough she descended from a long line that had once claimed to be touched by one of the goddesses themselves. Even more than any land or titles, that was her inheritance. As any Betazoid parent knew, while empathic abilities didn't manifest right at birth (something that allowed infants to form a sense of identity), it could begin to form as soon as a child began learning to speak, even if full telepathy typically waited for adolescence. This was not without problems. It was not long after Amelia learned her first words when her pale green eyes began to be stained a few shades darker by the first production of the various neurochemicals that allowed perception of the psychic world around her. The tiny, precious knee-high blonde quickly discovered she could totter around her family home and babble and butcher the very silliest words she knew at the nearest adult and she'd win the happy roller-coaster rush of feeling that accompanied the music of laughter. The complication came when she said the wrong thing to the wrong adult. It happened when some unremembered Human dignitary had come to stay and experience the snowy, ring-framed mountain majesty of Casperia in the company of her family. She was far too young to understand what exactly was happening or why between her family and the man, but she could perceive the rank stomach acid of tension wafting in the air easily enough. And she knew enough to not like it. So she decided to take matters into her own little pudgy hands, and she knew exactly how to do it. One evening, when the tension was particularly chunky, she tugged on the pant-leg of the guest, gave her biggest smile, and started babbling. She didn't know precisely what she was saying but it hadn't mattered before. If she could just get the man to laugh it would all be okay, she thought. But the sound and feeling never came. So she persisted - until a whip-crack of needle-sharp fire poured out with a shout from the man. Amelia reeled back, uneven legs failing under her in the intensity of novel, painful feeling. She started bawling an instant later. It took her mama quite a bit of hugging and no small number of tissues to dry the crying that ensued. Even hours later into the bright ring-lit night, after numerous attempts to explain to Amelia what had happened and why, peace and sleep still eluded the tiny Betazoid who was only beginning to grasp how to communicate. Eventually, her daddy took the night shift watching after her as the third moon was skimming the arc of the rings overhead. Little Amelia had nestled herself against his comforting, solid frame which had brought quiet so many times before, but still sleep stayed far-off. Then his chest began to vibrate as his voice seemed to softly lift her up. She couldn't quite grasp the meaning of the words when he started singing, but she felt the shape of the melody inside her unwinding the events of the day. It was a song of water: remembering the cold rains it rose from and the hot springs it joined. As she washed downstream, she passed rock and mud and dallied in pools and fens. Even as she tumbled and gathered into a great slow river, she never forgot where she came from, but still she pressed onward, ever toward the sea. As the song of the sea rocked ancient sailors to sleep, Amelia finally nodded off. (( Present Day - USS Khitomer, Deck 1, Bridge )) Semara: Any of y'all ever seen two barn cats play rough? :: silence :: Eridani hasn't actually done much damage to Khitomer. Hasn't even hit much. And we haven't fired back. Maybe we are communicating already. Perhaps we're meant to fire back with equally bad aim? For that matter, there's plenty of species with rather aggressive mating practices. Klingons, for instance. If you thought you were a starship, sending over an away party could be viewed as an attempt to procreate. No matter the intent, I do believe the phrase "actions speak louder than words" applies here. Captain Shayne seemed to take a moment to process the latest theory, his creased brown eyes expressing a quiet desire to un-hear what had just been said. It was odd - for a fleeting moment just before, Amelia could have sworn she had sensed an emotional smell of a sweaty men's locker room coming from the Captain... Where had she felt that before? A non-sequitur memory of going skinny-dipping with mixed company in college flashed in her mind's eye. It didn't make sense. No one was even slightly undressed on the bridge. A torpedo floated by, interrupting the temptation to focus on the minute psychic flickerings on the bridge. Jacin: That’s a big gamble to take with the lives of the away team. We’ve no idea if that theory is correct and if we take offensive action logically it will retaliate. Amelia shrugged in acceptance. It was entirely true she couldn't prove the theory. Then again, in the study of biology it was exceptionally hard to prove anything. She had to admit her recent yearlong study had colored her perspective, and that she'd need to adjust her thinking in moments of urgency like these. There simply wouldn't be time and opportunity to perform rigorous trials with several independent variables and tens of trials and re-trials to find out what actually worked. Amelia didn't believe her theory had been improperly offered, but she noted the different perspective anyway for future use. MacKenna: Response Jacin: If we take offensive action it is going to be difficult to come back from that without a fight. All I’m saying is that perhaps we should try talking to it before we open fire. The away team is in danger. Let’s not make them more so. The Captain vibrated, "no" in form and feeling. Shayne: Lieutenant, you’ve got a good point. But it’s not allowing us to talk to it. Jamming communications is an act of aggression, no matter the motivation. It’s got our people, and it’s an active danger to them. I’m not saying we have to blow her to smithereens, but a firm, gentle flick on the hindquarters is in order. Amelia felt herself waiver. The Captain was very close to coming around to the way of thinking that she'd just proposed, but she felt something inside the Lieutenant that was even more persuasive than the words she was using. The Captain turned to the intelligence officer. Shayne: Unless the prefix codes are still a possibility. MacKenna: Response That didn't sound promising for the here and now. Jacin: Virtually all of what we are dealing here is based on conjecture. We don’t actually know for sure what has happened and why. Michaels: There is somewhat more than simple conjecture. But there is no shortage to assumptions within our thinking. ::beat:: Another big mental red X from the Captain. Amelia could feel the rising tide of overload tightening around everyone. Perhaps it was time to focus on the basics. Semara: How 'bout we keep it simple, then? What's the most obvious thing we can dowithout escalating if talkin' proper ain't an option? MacKenna: Response Shayne: We lower the shields, we get our people back. Then we can deal with the Eridani from the upper hand. Jacin: Right but that’s a risk. Shouldn’t our immediate concern be to stop the Eridani’s erratic behaviour? This Lieutenant Jacin was certainly nothing if not persistent. Amelia reinforced her first impression of the Bajoran-looking woman: there was a hearthfire of hot passion and belief inside of her. Experiencing the interplay in point-and-counterpoint was fascinating, but Amelia wasn't positive everyone on the bridge was enjoying the educational experience as much as she was. Shayne: If we had the means to, certainly. But we don’t yet. Something far more involved is going on over there- I’m becoming more and more convinced that we are dealing with something of a skinwalker. For the moment, stopping it means either killing it, or incapacitating it and we just don’t know how yet. MacKenna:Response Jacin: Something terrible happened not only on that ship but to it. If it is sentient, then we should treat it like we we treat any frightened and antagonistic life form. Amelia had a knack to trust her instincts about a problem, but she knew positively when to trust someone else's instead. In this case, there was a lurking, toothy sea creature of fresh experience sending ripples across the Lieutenant's interpretation of events. It was as if Jacin had identified something of herself in the Starship's behavior on a primal level that went beyond instrumentation and observation. The power of her assertion was irrefutable. She made up her mind. The counselor was most likely right. Semara: I agree. But ya can't exactly talk down a screamin' toddler. Michaels: Communication is a near zero risk approach that should not be ignored. The question then, as the Captain said, is how do we get through to something that is, as Lt Jacin put it, afraid of us, views biological lifeforms as a lethal threat, and is jamming our communications. Amelia put her focus back on Shayne, determined to glean any insight she could from how the rather remarkable CO came to a decision. The struggle inside him was a rather muscular wrestling match, and equally smelly to her empathic senses. Michaels: Jamming may make Eridani deaf but it does not make her blind. We use a beam of light so weak it can not be mistaken for a weapon. We send a short message to Eridani in Morsex code and we put it on a repeating loop. Eridani will eventually recognize it was communications. It will eventually find Morsex decryption in her databanks and decrypt our message. Our message could be something like "We mean no harm. Respond if you understand.." Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that? Plenty of creatures communicated via light rather than sound or thought. Shayne: Ensigns Semara and Michaels- configure our running lights to transmit the first ten numbers in the Fibonacci Sequence. Amelia beamed, proud her captain had already thought of the point she was going to raise. Morse was rhythmic - which was good - but there was no guarantee the receiver would understand the letter-encoding, let alone the meaning of words they turned into. Whoever or whatever controlled Eridani hadn't read enough of the databanks to figure out how to shoot straight, so it seemed too much to hope it would figure out how to talk in the coming seconds. She set to work, a rush of excitement and anticipation energizing her panel-pushing. Semara: Aye, sir. Michaels: Response Jacin/MacKenna: Response Shayne: Pulling alongside her. To the Captain's credit, he skillfully piloted the Khitomer alongside in a motion that was smooth but assertive. Clearly a master at work. In the side-on view of Eridani, the running lights low in view had started to flick on and off in the steepening staircase pattern of the Fibonacci Sequence. Jacin/MacKenna: Response Shayne: Old Earth aircraft would intercept suspicious and non-communicative planes like this. Pull up alongside, give them a wiggle with the wings. If the plane wiggled back, they’d be escorted to a landing strip nearby. oO Weird what non-empaths come up with to know what the other wants... Oo The thought came unbidden, but it reached a place in her when her empathic senses hadn't yet fully formed. She supposed a species had to come up with something. Hers had, but it was traditionally reserved for children. Several tense moments passed while the tangential thought played out in the back of her mind. The wait to see what happened had a similar feeling to sitting ravenously hungry in front of a feast after an all-day hike but being unable to eat until everyone else sat down. Nothing happened.... No, nothing happened! Semara: Sir! Eridani stopped shooting! :: Turning to Michaels, beaming. :: Any change in power levels? Well, it stopped shooting for now. Who knew when it would start again? Either way, the Ensign's idea had been good enough to get somewhere. Michaels: Response Amelia cast her dark eyes back at the viewscreen. For some reason, a distant memory combined with the rocking motion of the Khitomer and the Vulcan Ensign's idea about using running lights to recall an old childhood memory she hadn't remembered in a long time. But she still remembered the song sung to her many times. An idea came together in a flash of inspiration, but she'd need help. Semara: ::Speaking excitedly to her peer. :: Do we have any specs on Constellation-class sensors? Michaels/MacKenna: Response That was exactly what she needed to know. Semara: Captain, Lieutenant - What if we tried a lullaby? That's nice and relaxing. Starships are real sensitive to light wavelengths. Have to be for lookin' at the composition of stars and planetary atmospheres and everything in between. A song ain't nothin' but a bunch of timed wave patterns and harmonics. If we encoded the waves as light frequencies Eridanican see - infrared through UV - we could make Khitomer sing. Could even rock - sorry, wiggle, sir - to the beat. Jacin/Shayne/Michaels/MacKenna: Response Semara: Sure it's a shot in the dark, but we got a simple response to a simple tactic. Might try something a bit fancier. Even if Eridani's just plain confused, it gives us time. And I know just the tune to hum... Amelia was already calling up the music from the database, adjusting it to the version she remembered, and sequencing a series of commands for the exterior lights. If it wasn't ordered, she could delete the program, but she'd rather be ready. She genuinely hoped there was still some wisdom left to Old Woman Water, and that whatever being on Eridani found the ancient lullaby as soothing as she once had. Tag/TBC... Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara Science Officer USS Khitomer - NCC-62400 A239710MA0

This is a great snippet- inventive dialogue and delightful characterization. Awesome stuff, Stephen!

Funny, biting and horrifying all at once- nicely done @Nolen Hobart.

Aw.

And here I thought everyone was looking for Statler Jr.

You just had to remind me of that, didn't you, XO.

Y'all remember that scene in Firefly where Mal and Jayne are talking to Badger, and he makes skirting mention to getting his hands on a couple of... invites? Yeah, Jayne's face was my face when I read this, Just great.

I want to see Statler Jr. with cucumbers over his eyes and a mango smoothie clutched in one leathery wing.

Lacy's got a lot of awesome lines, but this is among the finest. So good.

If Tuvok can show up to the bridge naked, Shayne can do it in a towel. Prepare to suffer.

((Sickbay, Deck 6, USS Khitomer)) Some engineers were scatterbrained, always picking up a project, carrying it for a while, and then setting it aside for another day, only to immediately repeat the cycle with another long-dormant matter. Such was the life of a perpetual tinkerer, and Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart knew it well. But his concern now was on the other kind of Engineer. The Dewitts and Lacy’s of the world. Give them a task, and they'll do it, straight away and without a fuss. Starfleet was full of engineers like that, which is why the Khitomer’s repairs were coming along swimmingly. Too swimmingly. Nolen was on the hunt for something to break. Besides hearts. He was elbow deep in a wall panel in a back corner of the medical compartment when he heard a familiar throat clear itself. For several moments, Talia Ohnari didn't quiet understand the scene in front if her. It wasn't the first time she had walked in on Nolen Hobart elbows deep in some engineering project in Sickbay, But this? This looked very much like he was breaking it. Her feelings for the engineer turned First Officer were…complicated at best. Her heart had been crushed. And yet? He hadn't been cruel….persay. He just….wasn't interested in pursuing a personal relationship with her. And, while that stung, he didn’t owe her anything. And he wasn’t a vindictive man… which meant he was doing what he was for a reason. Stashing her spiky-uncomfy feelings in the proverbial back of the emotional closet, she straightened and cleared her throat politely. Ohnari: Um…Commander Hobart? Is..uh…there a reason you're um…trashing my Sickbay…? The professionalism hurt in a way that was hard to describe. Things had once been incredibly informal and intimate between the two of them, and he'd fouled that up pretty solidly. He owed her an apology. He owed her a lot of things. But he couldn't afford to make good on them, just yet. Hobart: I'm sabotaging the ship. Alright. Neither of them were Vulcan, but even she couldn't sus out why in the world he would do such a thing. Ohnari: Not to put too fine a point on it and all…but I feel the Alliance attacks did a very thorough job…and considering I still need a functioning Sickbay….I am going to have to insist you stop….Sir. He turned to look back into the guts of the wall. Hobart: Nothing vital, just need to… how badly do you need atmospheric bioscanners? Talia took a deep breath through her nose in attempt to stay calm. It was as if he didn't even listen to her. A pattern, it seemed. Ohnari: ::crossing her arms:: Why. Tell me the real reason you are doing this, and then I shall answer. Hers was a perfectly reasonable question, and all at once the explanation in his head got jumbled. He didn't look back at her because he was pretty sure her face would just jumble it all up even more. Hobart: Ayemet is missing, so I need to break the ship. Ayemet is missing. The simple statement rattled around in her brain, trying to find purchase. The bottom of her stomach bottomed out and she had to clutch the door frame. Ayemet is missing. She had just spent her down time working on the sketches for her bridal attire. The woman asked her to be maid of honor…and to help her plan. She was going to track her down after the medical needs died down to start taking measurements. Ohnari: Missing…how? She must have misheard. Ayemet was missing….her Barjon earring and thought she lost it in Sickbay. Behind a panel. And Nolen volunteered. Hobart: “Missing.” Whereabouts unknown. No longer accounted for. She was with me on the station but we got separated, and she hasn't turned up, dead or alive. Just gone. He pulled on something in the wall and heard a satisfying Ka-THUNK, followed by a descending whir. It wasn't a simple missing Holy trinket. Slowly; she lowered herself to the floor and held out a large, destructive looking tool towards Nolen. oO Oh Gods. Connor. He must be out of his mind with worry. Oo Ohnari: Use this. Break what you have to in this room. Then my office, destroy the whole thing if you have to. ::wincing slightly:: just, spare Armand's display shelf and Statler Jr.’s corner. Hobart: ::looking around:: What is the minimum number of biobeds you need to keep functioning? He gestured for her to follow him, as he approached the first of the set. He began to pry open panels at its base, confident that Talia would stop him before he took too many of commission. The awkward, uncomfortable tension, that had previously been filled with heat and promise, floated between the two like some inflated emotional mascot, daring the other to say something and banish it. Suddenly, none of what transpired between the two seemed to really be all that important right now. Her heart felt heavy and sore. This war had taken a lot from everyone. A few gave everything. And now, someone she cared for deeply was being forced to give another piece of himself. And; her friend; whom she had become closer to in these last peaceful moments before the battle….where could she be? Was she alright? Had something….unspeakable happened? Reaching out, she squeezed Nolen's shoulder in comfort. For whom she wasn't entirely sure. As he gripped an important-looking hose that could away into the darkness of the medical bed’s mechanical and electronic guts, he felt a rush of blue enter his mind. Ohnari: Please inform me if there is anything I can do to assist. ::shoulder squeeze momentarily tightening, and she mumbled mostly to herself:: We have to find her…. Hobart: ::muttered, working:: We have to do nothing of the sort… All Talia could think of was Connor's drunken expression of pride as he beamed while Talia and Ras had devoured his pasta, declaring it the best thing they had ever tasted. They may have said the same thing about the leftover pasta water the next moment so….highly inebriated taste buds weren't picky. It was then Talia realized her travels through drunken memory fog had taken her out of the moment, of which she was still holding Nolen's shoulder. She released him quickly, as if he had become a Tholian. Standing; she gave an awkward head nod. Ohnari: Excuse me Commander, I will leave you to your task. The blue vanished from his thoughts as soon as her hand left him. As she stood, so did he, instinctively. Maybe it was the thought of a missing friend. Maybe it was the thought of keeping his best friend’s mind on literally anything else. Maybe it was his own conflicted feelings. Whatever the cause, he didn't want her to go. Hobart: Wait wait, don't go! It was taking a lot to keep herself and her emotions placid. She reminded herself this was about Connor, not her. So she stood. Admittedly a little awkward. Ohnari: Did you need something else, Commander? He looked around, as if he might find an explanation in the room. But the swirl of reasons was no more clear to him. Maybe it was none of those reasons, or maybe it was all of them. He couldn't say. Hobart: I just… it's— this compartment is magic to me. Wizardry. I can tell you how the machines work, but I don't know what they do. I need your help, or else I'm gonna lose Connor, too. In addition to Ayemet, is what he meant. Right. Ayemet. Definitely Lieutenant Jacin that he “lost,” and not anyone else. Certainly not anyone within arm's reach. He was acting strange. Although truth be told she wasn't a beacon of normalcy herself at the moment…his comment left her more confused. Ohnari: ::brows scrunched in confusion:: You're not going to lose Connor… Hobart: I know him, Talia. He's playing the good soldier right now, but it's gonna eat at him. And sooner or later he's going to take off and look for her and get himself killed. I need my friend. I need my chief engineer. And I need your help, whether I deserve it or not. Talia let out the breath she had been holding; and nodded in agreement. He wasn't wrong. Nolen had known Connor for a lot longer. But she could sense the sincerity and worry in Nolen's tone. She decided to just gloss over the last comment about deserving help. Ohnari: ::nodding slowly:: Alright. Tell me what to do. A little weird to ask him to tell her what to do in her Sickbay, but that was just the way it would be. Subordinate to supervisor. Did he have to look so damn relieved about it though? He smiled, softly. It was more than he had any right to ask of her, and he knew she wouldn't deny it to him. His ask felt manipulative in a way that disquieted Nolen, mostly because it harkened back to his pre-Starfleet habits. But, he hoped, he made up for it now with his sincerity. He turned and crouched by the base of the biobed again. He started unplugging wires, with the intent of plugging them back in again, wrong. And as he got back to a shape of work he'd long missed since his promotion, his mind focused on what was in front of him, such that he was paying less attention to his own mouth. Hobart: I'm frankly astonished he's still here. I mean, honestly if it was you I would— ::forced cough, throat clearing:: The medical display, what's it reading now? A loud buzz went off in Talia’s brain. Ohnari: What did you just say…? “If it was you…” he said if it was you. Why? Carefully, she peeled back the layers of her own shielding and felt….a lot. A whole lot. It began swirling with her own conflicting, and deeply confused feelings. Nolen suppressed a wince. It wasn't the first time he'd been accidentally more honest than he intended to, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. And, Commander Morgan's above notwithstanding, there was only so much he was ready to say. As he doubled down and reached deeper inside the bio-bed, he realized that he was going to have to choose between keeping Dewitt's hands full and removing his foot from his mouth. So, obviously, there was only one path to take. He took a deep breath. He withdrew his hands from the machinery. He stood, and turned to face her. He looked her straight in the eyes. And then he played dumb. Hobart: …I said something? Maybe a little too dumb. She was completely over this. She was getting whiplash between what he said, and frankly, what he felt. Towards her. By now, she was onto the avoidance game that was one Nolen Hobart. Both hands, with the speed of a viper, landed on his shoulders, preventing escape. Ohnari: ::her eyes cautious:: Why are you feeling that way at me?! Trapped, Nolen considered the question. “At her?” His feelings for her had often overwhelmed him, and inconvenienced him, but he never imagined they'd ever attacked her. His eyes darted as he considered the implications. Was he an imposition on her, despite his efforts to keep his distance? Hobart: Look, forget I said anything. I'll go back to breaking your workspace, if you let me know what the readout— Ohnari: Forget the damn display readings and answer me. ::her hands gripped his shoulders, and her eyes narrowed their stormy gaze:: Please, Nolen. Answer the question. Under the weight of her hands, his shoulders slumped. He sighed. Might as well get it over with. His lips puffed up in one final futile display of defiance against speaking the truth. He swallowed, and braced himself for the reaction she would feel to his words, which he would feel through his senses. Hobart: Alright, look. I never stopped, okay? From the moment I met you, through to today, I never stopped. I don't think I ever will. Completely frozen. That's what happened. The loud buzzing in her brain nearly split her in two. Now; her heart was fully present; however her brain still had several questions. Ohnari: ::sputtering:: Y-you…but t-that day in, in your office…You said… She trailed off. What had he actually said? In crashing, clarifying detail that conversation slammed back into her so hard that her chest curled slightly at the mental impact. By contrast, he had no idea exactly what he had said, and he didn’t bother to try and recall. His eyebrows furrowed, because he remembered precisely what he felt back then, even if the words had been lost to time, and that was good enough. Hobart: I said I couldn’t be with you, not that I didn’t want to be. I can’t… turn it off! That’s not how it works, the most I can do is just not act on it. Her nails inadvertently curled into his shoulders, like a bird of prey finally getting her catch. However…unlike a bird of prey….she released him with a near shove. His palms comparing as he pressed them against the end of the biobed. Ohnari: So…what? You were just going to….never do anything about it?? An almost kiss and then…::she pointed her finger and his chest with a solid jab:: I've been playing this over and over and ::near growl:: over how I got this so wrong…and the whole time you've been… He wanted to be angry with her. Her feelings, bitter betrayal and cold grief, were as plain to him as the anger on her face. She was an empath, but not as sensitive as him. In that moment, he realized she probably hadn't read him there in his ready room, and he felt his heart drop into his gut. As her tone increased in intensity, his fell. Hobart: Stuck on you? Yeah. Ohnari: ::near shouting:: What was your plan Commander, ::the word dripped venom:: have us just…dance around each other feeling all awkward and miserable until what? You get your own ship and can finally be free of me? ::then the shoving came. She would certainly regret this later.:: Or one of us goes missing or dies?! Another time, Hobart would have shot back with venom, caught up in the intense emotions Dr. Ohnari poured into the room, let alone the repeated shoving against the biobed. It felt thick with righteousness and he thought back to his coffee with Adriana. He owed her an explanation. More than that, he owed her a conversation. And so, he waited a moment before responding. It felt the Commanderly thing to do. Hobart: It's not a plan. I don't plan. ::beat:: But yes. ::sigh:: I'd be a command officer, and you'd be… ::grasping:: The one that got away. I thought, you know, you'd find an accountant somewhere, settle down, adopt fifty-four-and-half war orphans… It was as if he had struck her. She just stared for a moment. All the anger and fury just…sank into a swirl of sadness. And not just for her. Ohnari: ::quietly:: How little you think of me… He meant it as a positive ending for her. But he couldn't have hurt her more. That wasn't her path. That was her parents' path. Hers was yet to be written. And she had hoped, he would be a major character in her story. But now? It was that moment she realized how little they actually knew about each other. Hobart: I know. I hurt you and I'm sorry. Ohnari: ::wiping a traitorous tear angrily away:: Don't try and spare my feelings now… His voice was but a whisper at this point. Hobart: Talia, you know how many people died on Khitomer, and I've seen the reports. And that's how it's going to be for the foreseeable future. We're at war, and I don't know that I can be… whatever we are, and your superior officer. If it's either saving the ship or losing you, how can I make that choice? It's hard enough when we’re friends. She took a step back from him. And here was the crux of their problem. And if she was entirely honest; despite the heartbreak; she could see where he was afraid. Ohnari: ::flatly:: I am fully aware of how many people died. Hobart: We should have had this conversation back then, and I'm sorry we didn't. It’s not a unilateral kind of decision, and I tried to make it one. Ohnari: ::crossing her arms; she hugged herself protectively.:: Did you know I don't sleep? Not really. When I close my eyes I see OR rooms and morgues. That's it. If he closed his eyes, the Khitomer XO could have seen any number of nightmares. He no longer needed to borrow his mother’s haunted memories, he had fresh scars all his own. He didn't need to close his eyes to see the charred and partially melted corpse of Private Jones, throat torn open by the horrifically effective weapons borne by a Lattice Alliance boarding party. By ordering him on point, Nolen had effectively ordered him to his death. But he slept fine. He was used to nightmares. Hobart: You don't sleep? His voice carried concern, of a superior, of a friend, and of anything else they were to each other. His mind churned, and his heart pulled, processing it. A sleep deprived Chief Medical Officer was a problem for ship readiness, such was his cognitive concern. And Talia was suffering, a fact his heart could not stand. If he could have found a way to silence his own dreams, he would have shared it with her, even if it meant suffering his all the more. Talia began to pace slowly; rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. This was not what she had expected to say. She had planned to call him a coward and storm off. Except that's not what happened. So; she was just rolling with it. Ohnari: I don't. Not unless I'm blackout drunk or taking a sleep aid. But I stopped the sleep aid when I couldn't wake up from the dreams. ::her voice cracked:: I could have come to you. You could have held me, and made me feel safe so I knew I could sleep. ::casually wiping her eyes with her sleeve:: but I told myself you weren't interested in me. So, I had to let you and my feelings go. I have been trying. ::a soft, humorless laugh:: and yet…this whole time… Her voice trailed off. For a moment, she just looked at him. Really looked. Her own feelings had clouded a lot. And he was terrified. Terrified and she had been yelling and shoving. Still, she wasn't ready to let it go. Not yet. Ohnari: You have made all the choices for us. So I'll leave you with this final one. You go ask Connor, ask him if he regrets loving Ayemet. Now that she's missing. Ask him if he wishes she was nothing more than an unrequited option he chose not to take. At the mention of his best friend, he looked away, if only briefly. He could not ask Connor. He could not drive a knife into that open wound. But he could ask someone else, perhaps the only other person on the ship who could understand, and who had made the same choice. Cowardice, perhaps, or pride had kept him from raising the issue before. It would not stop him now. He was determined, and his dark eyes reflected it as he looked back at her in the medical bay. Hobart: You know that's not fair… Her lower lip was starting to tremble. She was running out of time before she lost her nerve. She marched across the room and took Nolen's face in her hands. Her eyes searched his, her storm gray to his obsidian. Overwhelmed by emotion, and very worried this was the last chance she would ever have, she kissed him passionately. Pouring into the kiss her feelings, her hopes, and her hurt. When she broke the kiss, she nipped his lower lip with her teeth with a smidge more force than normal. His hands gripped her waist tentatively, as if trying to hold onto a moment he wasn’t sure he was allowed to keep. His mind felt completely submerged in a blue sea, as her emotions enveloped him, and as she pulled away he felt it pour out of him, drawn out through his lips like a puncture in the ship’s hull, her very essence pulled into the vacuum beyond him leaving no trace of itself but the memory of her. It was one who wouldn’t soon give up willingly. Ohnari: ::softly, but sternly:: Get your shit together, Nolen Hobart. In or out. You think about it, and come find me with your answer. Hobart: I will. End ——— Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart Executive Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) A240001NH3 & Lieutenant Commander Talia Ohnari, MD Chief Medical Officer USS Khitomer C239205ME0

((OOC The events that Zenno is concerned about were told in the sims: “A Foe Whispers…” and “PPE 2: Electric Boogaloo” and others in which he had visions speaking to him.)) ((Zenno’s Place, Temporary Berthing, DS9)) The tides pulled him in every direction. He was under the water now and there was no way out. He wanted to talk to his sister, but she was away. He was worried about the girl they had rescued from DS33, but he had not heard back yet. He had had a most peculiar set of… Communications? Hallucinations? Visions? These were when he was in the middle of combat on Deep Space 33. But most of all he wanted to talk to Saava. As infuriating as she was, she always made things better. But her ship was also gone for now. So there was only one route open to him. He hadn’t told anyone on the ship about the visions… hallucinations, or whatever they were. But they were deeply concerning. He had thought about seeing his ship’s counselor, but they seemed to have been called away too. After pondering it for a good while, he had contacted his Blood and Water Uncle… his Mother’s Brother. Uncle Vidd always seemed to have the proper perspective on things. While he didn’t expect a resolution, he was sure Vidd would have some good advice on where to go next. In preparation, Zenno had sent along a rather lengthy set of excerpts from his personal logs to explain the situation. Zenno looked at the chrono and waited for the correct time for the call to connect. Computer: ::Blorp:: Incoming call. Zenno: Accept. The screen illuminated with the image of his Uncle Vidd. Vidd: Boy, what are you doing? Are you dead? Zenno: No Uncle. I am not dead. It would upset Mother. Vidd: That’s fine then. I said you shouldn’t join Starfleet. It’s no place for our kind. And it upsets my sister. And her husband, But I don’t care one way or the other about him. Zenno tried not to smile. The battles between his Uncle and his Father had been the stuff of legend. Vidd, very much on the side of tradition and culture had battled Father who was a complete rationalist on every issue for as long as Zenno could remember. For his part, Zenno always stayed neutral, just trying to appreciate them both, difficult as it was. But in this case, Zenno knew he had to talk to his Uncle. Those visions had had such personality and vitality. It didn’t seem like a fleeting mental imagining. It felt more… real. But it was not real all at the same time. To resolve this apparent conflict, Vidd seemed like the right choice. Zenno: I understand. ::beat:: The tides brought me to seek your advice. The whole experience has shaken me. It wasn’t the combat. It wasn’t the fighting, the bits of the dead all over the deck. I was trained for that. I expected it. I was not prepared for spectral apparitions. Vidd: I read everything you sent. The fighting sounded awful. Zenno: It was. But I thought I might be going insane. Vidd: Now you say you had both the living and dead? At the same time? Zenno: Yes, my Uncle of Blood and Water. But they were speaking to each other about me. It was most disconcerting. Vidd: Xott I know. Who was the other one, the woman? Zenno hesitated, unsure of what words to use. Zenno: A… an academy classmate. A friend. Vidd: My Nephew of Blood and Water, you are a terrible liar. It’s good you didn’t join the Diplomatic Service. Zenno: I don’t know what you mean, Uncle. Vidd: Just promise me I can be there when you tell your Father. I want to see his head burst open when you tell him. Zenno: I have no idea what you mean. Vidd: ::Harrumphs:: And an old teacher too? He also appeared? Zenno: Yes, Nardello. A very strict and demanding Officer. Vidd: He spoke to you? Zenno: Yes, he… he taunted me. An opponent also spoke to me, even though he was deceased. Vidd: This next question is the most important. You must not prevaricate. You already did once on this call. I won’t tolerate it again if you want my help. Zenno: I swear upon ocean and river. The older Bolian nodded. Vidd: Did you see anyone who wasn’t an actual person? Like a made-up imaginary person? Zenno was taken aback by this question. He hadn’t considered that, or what it might mean. Zenno: No Uncle. They were all real. Much about Xott was exaggerated, but he is historical. Everyone I saw, they all exist or existed. Vidd sat back in chair and put his finger to his temple. Vidd: I know what this is. I know what happened to you. Zenno leaned forward. At most, he had hoped for a sympathetic ear. He wasn’t expecting that his Uncle would know what it was. Vidd: Where to begin? ::pauses, he closes his eyes and swirls his finger against the temple of his head:: We are not a telepathic or empathic people. You know this. Everyone does. But the world is much bigger than that. Some of our people carry.. uggh… the words aren’t sufficient to describe it… cultural memories. But not of events or places. But of people. The word is Zuwah Itzay. Someone close to Xott had it, and thousands of years ago he or she imprinted Xott and passed it down to you. It’s not a spirit or a ghost. It’s the sense of the man and how he was. And now we know that you can imprint others and will pass them down in your time. There were a million questions and they tumbled out of him in no semblance of order… Zenno: Who gets imprinted? Can I choose who? Is it biological? How do I know for sure? Is it debilitating? Can I call up other people? How many are there? Vidd: ::waving his hands in the Bolian way for “no”:: No, no. Stop. You misunderstand. This is not a talent. It’s not something you can use or develop. It’s something to be endured. There is a reason there is no science on this. It can’t be controlled or evoked in a lab. Zenno squinted, trying to make sense what his Uncle was saying. Vidd: The imprinting happens and you’ll not know if you did it or who you did it to. You don’t choose it. There’s no way to test it or call it up. The visitations, that’s the correct word, will only happen when you are under extreme stress. And you’ll have no say over if you’ll find the experience helpful, debilitating, or irrelevant. Now if you happened to be hooked up to a brain imager in the most life and death situation you can imagine, then they might see something on there if a visitation occurs. But even then, a visitation may not happen. It’s out of your control. It is not an advantage or a useful skill. In a more primitive time they would have called it a curse. Zenno: But I thought I spoke with a deceased opponent. Vidd: He may have been dying when you came across him. It doesn’t matter. You still imprinted him. But you weren’t speaking with him. You were speaking with your interpretation of what he was like. It’s not exact when you are dealing with other species. Xott, that one was probably much closer to how he actually was, since whoever imprinted him was probably someone of long acquaintance with the man. ::pauses, exhales:: But I am rapidly exhausting my knowledge here. Zenno: What should I do? Vidd: My Nephew of Blood and Water, I have no good advice. This is not good news. What I can do is this. I can connect you with an informal group that has the Zuwah Itzay. It’s just a support group really. And I suspect some of them are pretenders. But there’s no way to tell. But they would know the most of anyone, and there is precious little to be known. Zenno: This is a great deal of information. I don’t know how to feel about it. Vidd: It’s somewhere between rare and uncommon. But even some Bolians who have it, it may never manifest. Life in the Federation is easy. If the lore is to be believed, the kind of stresses that have a chance to evoke a visitation are extreme. Many could have it and not even know. That’s why it’s so rare. Most people haven’t even heard of it. Zenno: Uncle… I regret that I know this. I regret having this. I… don’t want it. Vidd: I am sure you aren’t alone in that. But you are strong and you get that from your Mother’s side. You shall endure it with grace. Zenno: Thank you for your wisdom, Uncle of Blood and Water. Vidd: Be well, nephew. Also, don’t speak to your Father of this at all is my advice. He won’t understand. Zenno nodded, turned off the communications panel, and sat back in his chair with his hands over his eyes. He had a lot to consider. NT/END LT Zenno Security Chief USS Khitomer A240006Z13

((Suite J-32, Junior Officer Temporary Quarters, Habitat Ring, Deep Space 9)) Mirkl, quite used to feeling and looking embarrassed himself, easily spotted the blushing cheeks of his fellow ensign. He didn’t see any reason to be embarrassed about any holodeck escapades. He could probably benefit from taking a break from reality every now and then. Zanti: I haven’t played much on the holodeck. What program were you running? Bad choice of words. “Play” sounded more childish than he had intended. He could see the color drain from her face. He had definitely said the wrong thing. God, why couldn’t he form sentences to correctly match the ideas and sentiments in his head. What was wrong with him? After what felt like an eternity, she responded, somewhat sheepishly. Lacy: Star Conflict, Episode One. Like I said, I heard some others talking about it and I— Zanti: It looks fun. He had almost blurted out his thought. From filtering and garbling too much, to too blunt. The engineer looked back up at the Trill with a hard-to-read expression on her face. Had he made things better? Or worse? Lacy: It was. I can send you the library index code for it, if you like. Mirkl nodded enthusiastically–maybe too enthusiastically–and added what he intended to be a reciprocal offer. Zanti: I come from a part of Trill that has what humans might call onsen. I have a program that replicates a famous one that I grew up near, if you’re ever interested. After having made some kind of headway in the awkward conversation, Ensign Lacy’s brow suddenly furrowed. Her eyes narrowed. Her spine stiffened. Lacy: You're… inviting me to a public bath? Mirkl blushed even harder. That’s not what he had meant. Zanti: No! Well, I mean. Uhh… I can share– Like you said– If you want– Why wouldn’t his words form coherent sentences? This was torture. How could he dig his way out of this one? And fast? Yet… Lacy: I'm sor— ::giggling:: I'm sorry! You— ::cackle:: Mirkl was unsure as to what was happening. Why was she laughing? Shouldn’t she be horribly offended? Zanti: Umm… I’m sorry? Lacy: It's not funny! ::laughing:: No, it's— ::throat clearing:: Mm. No. Not funny. ::hint of a giggle, forcefully stopped:: Right. Mirkl began to smile. Thankfully she seemed to realize his true intentions, despite his mouth’s best efforts to betray him. Zanti: ::chuckling weakly:: Huh, I’m glad you– you found it so funny. She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. Lacy: I hear they're very relaxing. The baths. Maybe she had experienced something as embarrassing in the past from the other side, because she sure seemed to know how to smooth things over. Zanti: ::too quickly and loudly:: They are! Very. Not the Hoobishan Baths, but not as overrated, either. Lacy: I'll take you up on it. I'd like to visit. ::beat, smirk:: Alone. Zanti: ::nodding:: Of course. Of course. We’ll do an exchange of programs! It’ll be great. Lacy: Response Mirkl asked a question that had been nagging the back of his mind since the beginning of the conversation. Zanti: Um, you mentioned yourself and your roommate, who’s gone to Vulcan. Do you know who my roommate is? Have you met him? ::beat:: It is a “him,” right? Lacy: Response Zanti: Ah, I see. Lacy: Response Zanti: So… what else do you do for fun? Does the Khitomer have any unique traditions I should be aware of? He was changing topics too quickly and abruptly. He knew it. He needed to get away and to his bedroom as quickly as possible. He was so in his own head, he could barely focus on his suitemate's responses. Zanti: oO Breathe, just breathe. Oo Lacy: Response TAG! TBC… Ensign Mirkl Zanti Science Officer USS Khitomer T238407S10

((Suite J-32, Junior Officer Temporary Quarters, Habitat Ring, Deep Space Nine)) It took eight straight days of volunteering every one of her waking hours for repair duty, until 's one faceless counselor got avoid of her records and rejected Ensign Lacy's request, with a stern note that vaguely hinted at an order to relax for at least five minutes. She had a good run. It might have been cut short much sooner, if she hadn't been careful to alternate shifts between the Khitomer and the Ronin. But all good things must come to an end, and Ginny found herself awake with nothing constructive to do. And so, she decided to try something new. She'd overheard a few crewmen on the Ronin discussing a new holoseries. “Space Conflict Episode I,” which despite its title was oddly the fourth to be released. To Ginny’s ears, the fantasy series about space wizards and knights with laser swords sounded silly, but the longer the thought lingered in her mind, the more her curiosity grew. So she tried it, falling into the role of a lasersword-wielding wizard-knight. It was difficult, at first, but she found refuge in the fictional monastic order's rigid ideology that discouraged attachments and elevated duty above all else. It was from this simulation that Ginny returned to her assigned temporary quarters, still clad in the costume befit for the holonovel. She was concealed beneath flowing robes of off-whites and warm browns. And when she stepped into the suite's common area, she was startled to find an unfamiliar face. A long pause followed as Ginny decided how best to address her attire, but the young man seemed unfazed. Zanti: Greetings, I’m Zanti. ::beat:: Err, Ensign Mirkl Zanti, that is. She drew back her costume’s wide hood to reveal her dark brown hair wrapped in a tight bun. The light of the room hinted at faint reddish hues as her green eyes considered the Trill. Lacy: ::slowly:: Ensign Imogen Lacy. ::beat:: Most call me Ginny. Zanti: Are you also assigned to these quarters? oO Obviously… Oo Her forehead furrowed at the question. Why else would she be there? One eyebrow tugged up towards her hairline as she pondered whether to give the young man a hard time about it. Owing to her mild embarrassment at the precise manner in which she was out of uniform, Ginny decided to play it safe. Lacy: I'm assigned to that room over there. ::pointing:: With Ensign Michaels, but she mentioned she'd be going to Vulcan. I'm not sure if she's back yet. The suite was co-ed, but at least in this particular unit the bedrooms were not. And Ginny wasn't sure why she was divulging so much information about her temporary roommate unprompted. Zanti: How long have you been stationed here? Are you also from Khitomer? Lacy: I'm in Engineering, under Commander Dewitt. ::thoughtfully:: Michaels is, too. Again with the Michaels thing! By this point Ginny had entered the common area, and was, well, disrobing. Underneath, she wore loose tan pants tucked into cloth boots, and a flowing white tunic held together by a sash tied at her waist. She wasn't sure why space wizard-knights needed so many layers, but as with all things she endeavored to authenticity. Zanti: I see… Do you know how many others live here? She folded the robe around her forearms, and leaned against the top of an armchair-back. Lacy: You're the fourth. ::awkward pause:: So… three. Her eyebrows emphasized the answer, as it felt like the logistical questions were beginning to wear thin. She was certainly not anyone's choice for Khitomer’s Chief Conversationalist, but even she could see that this train was running out of track. Zanti: Response Another lull. Ginny cleared her throat. Lacy: Which department? ::beat:: Yours, I mean. Which department… are you in…? Zanti: Response Lacy: Ah. Then I'm sure we will be working together, sooner or later. ::beat:: The science department is always breaking things, which we go fix. That's what the, um, Engineers are for. Which I am. An Engineer. So… Conversation! Words! Saying things! Ginny prayed it would be over soon and she could retreat to her bedroom, curl into the fetal position, and stay that way until the sweet release of the universe’s heat death. Why did people-things have to be so difficult? It was much easier when everyone hated and ignored her. She'd have to find a way back to that. Zanti: Response And there it was. Things had gone so very well when neither one of them acknowledged that she was dressed like a space vagrant. And by “so very well,” it was meant “embarrassingly,” but she estimated that the longer the conversation ran on, the nearer “utter disaster” reached certainty. Lacy: Oh! This! The robes. I, well… I don't usually go in for holonovels. But I wanted to try this one I heard of, and they say it's better to, um, wear your own… it's silly. Her cheeks flushed red. Who was she? Where did Imogen Lacy, full of confidence and spite, go off to, and why had little Ginny in the ugly yellow flower dress taken her place? Nobody asked for you, Ginny! She vowed then and there to never wear anything but a duty uniform, in every circumstance, in every occasion. That was her armor, and she didn't like the feeling of being without it. Zanti: Response Tags/TBC ——— Ensign Imogen “Ginny” Lacy Engineering Officer as simmed by Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart Executive Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) A240001NH3