PNPC Ensign Ferentis: A Night's Labor.

[Jarred Thoran]

@Randal Shayne I do love a Ferentis sim! Especially one as well crafted as this!

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((Corridor on Deck 6, USS Blackwell))

::The shimmering colors played against his eyes. Robust bronze, golden ochre, electric blues and every shade in between rebounded within the cramped confines of his working area. His eyesight was not quite up to par with most of the other members of the ship, but in such a feast for the cones as this, his visual inadequacy was hardly relevant. It was merely the reflective nature of the metals and their interaction with the light emitted by the transparent plasma conduit above him, but the rustic beauty it provided was undeniable. The tight EPS access, already a squeeze for most humanoids, proved positively stifling to his considerable bulk. Yet he toiled away regardless.::

::He loved Gamma Shift.::

::Ferentis knew how the majority of his fellow Gamma Shifters saw their assignment; as punishment. To any sane, social creature, what else could being relegated to the graveyard shift represent? For many, there was a certain, restrained resentment. Ferentis did not join them in this respect.::

::Where his comrades complained of their isolation, he reveled in it. Being able to move without running aground on some poor ensign’s face was a tremendous relief. Even he, a Pahkwa’thanh- a race famed for their stringent and ubiquitous codes of etiquette- had begun to grow tired of the word “sorry”. You would too if you had to repeat it forty times a day for crashing into people. He fancied himself as graceful, and blamed these collisions on his natural physical bulk. Maybe he needed to consider the option that he was a genuine clutz.::

::But not now. Now, he would bask in the lack of interaction, and fix things. In this case, an EPS manifold cut-off.::

::As his massive talons nimbly provided the dexterity required for such a fragile job, his eyes drifted to a particularly vibrant blue hue out of the corner of his eye. Flecks of green appeared as he focused on it, and his mind immediately took him to the one place he was denied.::

::Home.:: 

::Flashes of forested swaths of contenant passed before his eyes. Great azure oceans and standing swamps pooling around tree trunks the size of warp nacelles. He missed the hot sun spilling against his thick hide, missed the hunt, longed for the stench of decaying plant life and fresh soil. He shut his eyes. Not only was that paradise hundreds of lightyears away, but inaccessible to him as a person. It had been months since the word had come in. Somehow, his family- for it could only have been his family- had maneuvered the Ministry to declare him persona non grata. His name, whatever title he may have inadvertently earned, any chance of returning...gone in single claw print.::

::And why? Ferentis knew his family loathed him. They were a tiny minority on Pahkwa’thanh had always maintained an isolated viewpoint, and when he had first left their planet to explore, and to learn, he knew he was about as good as dead to virtually all of his immediate family, and probably beyond as well. He hadn’t always expected the relationship to be so...finalized. And now, the perpetual misfit- not welcome at home, not built for a starship, not young enough to start again- wondered what to look forward to.::

::Even for him, a reserved, dignified individual, found that particular question too painful to dwell on. And so he dived back into his work. But after a few minutes of his brain refusing to clear itself of the loneliness, he realized he would need some additional help.::

Ferentis: Computer, recognize voice print. ::the computer bleeped its acknowledgement.:: Give me something good.

::The codeword was accepted, and he was instantly rewarded. A hard piano entry, accompanied by a bass and a resounding brass chorus gently echoed in his ears. Without meaning to, he began to hum along to the words.::

Computer: =/\= Father wears his Sunday best
Mother’s tired, she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister’s sighing in her sleep
Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around… =/\=

::It was a harmless little program he’d designed to feed his ever-growing addiction to Earth music. His planet had little interest, and even less invention, when it came to music. Ferentis, ever an outsider, couldn’t imagine life without his tunes close at hand. At his command, the computer would lock onto his combadge and have the nearest ceiling speaker play something random from Earth’s past. Any sort of other communication, such as a ship wide message, would overrule the program- he wasn’t there to create problems. But, as the humans said, if he had it, flaunt it. He had the tech know-how to create what he wanted without massive ramifications. What was stopping him?::

::The unusual nature of his hearing also helped him, allowing him to receive the full musical experience without cranking up the volume. Should anyone human stride up to him as he labored away at his little impromptu worksite, they’d find a dinosaur with his torso in a hole in the wall, jamming to a whisper.::

::Suddenly he stopped as thoughts pooled into his mind, unbidden. His body froze, leathery skin and taught scales motionless. Images of the last shore leave, and his raktajino-fueled explosion of bad dancing assaulted him. In the moment he’d enjoyed it. In hindsight, the fact that an entire restaurant had seen him flailing about to music made him seriously consider the airlock. Though he was somewhat confident that no Starfleet personnel besides Anath G’Renn had seen him, even that was enough to make him blush hard. His control had been disrupted- a violation that would be difficult to forget.:: 

::Now was not the best time for distractions, as was proven by the startling pain in his claw a moment later. A careless movement had left his now tender hand exposed to a breaker of some sort. He gave a quick, brutal roar, and sucked on the stinging, smoking digit hard.::

Crewman: =/\= Harper to Ensign Ferentis. =/\=

::Ferentis rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself under the most rigid control.:: 

Ferentis: =/\= Ferentis here. =/\=

Crewman: =/\=Sir, I have a message here for you, marked personal. =/\=

::That stopped him. Slowly, he extracted his claw from his mouth. Who would send him a personal message? Certainly no one on Pahkwa’thanh. Nor was it likely to originate from someone he knew during his days on the rim. So who could possibly…::

::Suddenly he realized the crewman was waiting on him.::

Ferentis: =/\= Thank you, Mr. Harper. Please send it to the terminal in my quarters. Ferentis out. =/\=

::The channel closed, and he found himself more preoccupied than ever. As the whirling thoughts and possibilities fought for ground inside his mind, he forced them down. The message could wait, as much as he craved to see who it was. Too often lately he had let his emotions guide him. He was disciplined individual. He would not yield to the cravings of curiosity when there was work to be done.::

::And speaking of work, it looked like his little accident had disrupted power on Deck 7. He sighed, the music now a parody of his former decent mood. It would take some time to repair the faults.::

((Some time later, another junction on Deck 7.))

::His face was placid, but his mood was quickly dissolving. No one would ever know it, though. Years of control came in handy occasionally. He’d been working for hours, and finally, everything was beginning to approach tip-top shape. He flexed his thick neck, trying to relieve the kink that had found its way there as a result of odd angle he’d been holding it in. Once again, he was reminded of why so few of his people ever left their homeworld.::

Thoran: response.

::The voice startled him slightly, but even that minimal movement caused him to smash his head on the edge of the opening he now worked inside. A low groan escaped his lips before he moved to extricate himself.::

Ferentis: Yes, sir. I apologize for the difficulties- I’ve been working to correct them. I hope there have been no other problems?

::He was afraid that something like this would happen. His error was far from deadly- a minor blunder, at best. But he knew of this individual’s reputation for scrutiny, and excellence in his duties. He should have figured the security chief would have noticed.::

Thoran: response

::He caught the sight of his reflection in a shiny piece of bulkhead. His eyes were a little more red than usual. How long had he been going at this?::

Tag/TBC…

PNPC Ensign Ferentis 
Engineer
USS Blackwell
NCC 58999

=======as simmed by=======

Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne 
Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer

USS Blackwell
NCC 58999
G239202RS0