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LtJG Traenor, "Fly On The Wall"


Renos
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((Personal Quarters, Deck 6 - USS Darwin-A))
Attendant: =/\= This may sound heartless, Mister Traenor, but we should reconsider the value of your conversations with your father. =/\=
::The matronly woman on the personal viewer had a kindly expression, but her words were firm. It was the second time in as many hours that he had been subjected to a painful truth in such a manner. This time was much worse, though, and he was left thoroughly heartbroken.::
Traenor: =/\= But... but I can't just cut off contact! =/\=
::In the background of the scene on his viewer, there was a hearty commotion. Three orderlies were holding down a frail old man, who just happened to scrap like a tiger and swear like a sailor. They had finally subdued him enough to apply a hypospray, and the captive elder finally slumped in submission.::
Attendant: =/\= The symptoms of his Irumodic Syndrome worsen by the day, Mister Traenor. He deals well enough with visits in person by your sister, but these comm interactions are too disorienting and overwhelming for him. ::softly:: You can see for yourself how he reacts, Mister Traenor. Each time you call, it is worse. =/\=
::It was true, though it didn't make the truth any harder to swallow. His sister Kirsten already liked laying subtle and not-so-subtle guilt trips on him for choosing to accept a deep-space mission, and this type of experience with his father just added insult to injury. He didn't regret taking a commission and traveling the stars as an officer on a ship, but in times like this he wished that circumstances could be kinder to him.::
Traenor: =/\= ::morosely:: I do understand, but you're asking me to give up ties with my father. That's just not fair. =/\=
Attendant: =/\= There are other options. We can follow him around with a portable terminal, and you can watch him go about his normal routines without the stresses on him of interaction. =/\=
Traenor: oO Oh yeah. Great option. I can be a fly on the wall instead of talking to the man I love. I might as well create a holographic representation of him, for all the value of that. Oo
Attendant: =/\= We can also track his highlights, and submit a daily log for you to keep abreast of your father's status. =/\=
Traenor: =/\= Gods, that's so impersonal! I'm his son, dammit, not his clinician! =/\=
::The poor woman was taken aback by the outburst, and Maxwell felt immediately shamed by his actions. The attendant was only trying to help, and had his father's best interests at heart. To her credit, she kept her professional demeanor. If Maxwell's father was any indication, she had learned long ago to not take emotional outbursts seriously.::
Attendant: =/\= At the end of the day, Mister Traenor, your father's health and well being is all that matters. It will be easier for all of us if you agree to these terms, but be assured that your father's comm privileges will be suspended regardless of your wishes. =/\=
Traenor: =/\= ::defeated:: Very well. I understand. Let's try the daily log option, and we'll evaluate it as time goes on. =/\=
Attendant: =/\= ::kindly smile:: Thank you. I'm so sorry it has come to this, but we only hope to provide a safe and supporting environment for your father. Have a good day, Mister Traenor. =/\=
::The vidlink terminated, reverting back to the list of messages that Traenor still had waiting for him. He stared unblinking and unseeing at it for a long minute, trying to regain his composure. Though he had grown to dread the invariably incoherent and often disruptive conversations with his father, the loss of them was even worse. He wished he could share his hurt and pain with Kirsten right now, even though her support would be double-edged, but with her and his niece on Jupiter Station with Kirsten's husband, she was out of touch at the moment. He would have to shoulder this burden alone for the time being.::
Traenor: ::speaking to the empty room:: How could a day that started so promising turn so wretched?
::Maxwell let the sorrow and self-pity stew for a little while, before recalling the conversation he had held earlier with Kael Thomas. Though their discussion had touched on his professional demeanor, the wise words imparted on him could also apply to his personal outlook on life as well. At the end of the day, Traenor chided himself, if this setback provided a stable and safe situation for his father, then it was a small sacrifice. Feeling slightly mollified, he turned back to his messages.::
Traenor: oO Oh, what's this? A message from John? Oo
::Opening the file, it contained a link detailing a call for participants in a shuttle race being organized on Deep Space 6. Valdivia, his scientific colleague, had some experience in an engineering technology that could favorably be used in the design of a racing shuttle, and wanted to know if Traenor was interested in collaborating. With a faint smile, Traenor sent back a quick note indicating his interest, and that they should meet soon and discuss it.::
Traenor: oO As long as he isn't counting on me for any flying expertise. I couldn't pilot my way out of a wet paper bag. Oo
::With that injection of self-deprecating humor in his outlook, Traenor was feeling a fair bit better again. He arose and tidied his quarters, placing the tchotchkes he had just purchased in various places around the room. The place still looked barren without his baby grand, but he would rectify that soon enough. After this, he freshened up with a cold splash of water and a futile attempt to tame his mop of salt-and-pepper hair. Traenor was just toweling off when his commbadge beeped.::
Renos: =/\= Captain Renos to LtCmdrs Jorey and Thomas, LtJG Traenor and Ensign Manius. Meet me in the briefing room in one hour. =/\=
Traenor: ::tapping his badge in acknowledgement:: =/\= Aye, sir.=/\=
::Maxwell was curious about the summons, as he wouldn't normally expect such a request during shore leave, but was still happy to comply. The time constraint still left him enough time to work through the messages he had temporarily abandoned, so he returned to that task with diligent fervor.::
Traenor: ::allowing one last indulgent thought:: oO I love you, Dad. Just because we can't talk anymore, I hope you don't forget that. Oo
TBC
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LtJG Maxwell Traenor - Chief Science Officer
USS Darwin NCC-99312-A
Graphic Contest Taskforce Member
Contact: Email/Hangouts - otterhooligan@gmail.com
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