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Ensign Ksivi-Sava - Outdoor Indulgence

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Loving this scene from @Ksivi-Sava and @Corey Wethern. So much fun!


((Maintenance Airlock 17 - Starbase 118))

A tinge of nervousness crept in on Ksivi-Sava as the EVA suit sealed itself with an audible hiss. Not that he had reason to assume anything might be wrong with his suit—or Corey’s, for that matter. Those were likely meticulously maintained and perfectly safe. There wasn’t anything terribly unsettling about the idea of stepping out into the near-perfect vacuum of interstellar space, either. In fact, Ksivi-Sava appreciated any opportunity to experience free fall—if only in scientific terms, as the magnetic boots would reliably prevent anything remotely resembling a layperson’s conception of a “fall”. The everyday experiences of a Starfleet officer, pilot or not, were virtually sanitized by artificial gravity and inertial dampeners. Opportunities to bodily experience classical physics in all their beauty were rare, and usually limited the EVA training.

But this was no EVA training, and therein lay the gist of Ksivi-Sava’s flurry. It was the sheer audacity of their project that worried him. Sure, the slim chance of getting caught doing something moderately unwise (and having lied about it) was unsettling enough. Yet, that wasn’t the worst thing. What Ksivi-Sava found himself most seriously brooding over was the notion that he might be losing his focus on the essential. Losing himself in frivolous petty indulgences with no regard for their net utility… and possibly enjoying it.

Wethern: Ksivi-Sava can you hear me? comm check.

Ksivi-Sava: Reading you loud and clear. I suppose this would be our last chance to reconsider.

Corey dismissed the concern with a vivid wave of his hand before he picked up their case of decidedly non-regulation equipment.

Wethern: Relax this is a rite of passage and if anyone asks I've logged this as part of our EVA hours competency.

While no serious reconsideration had been expected, Ksivi-Sava still raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. It wasn’t readily apparent to him why viewing this as a juvenile rite of passage would be preferable to viewing it as a juvenile petty indulgence. Then again, his contact with human cultural sensibilities had been as high-intensity as it had been brief, so there were still plenty of blind spots left to uncover. Well, as far as Ksivi-Sava was concerned, leaving it at a petty indulgence and the mildest suggestion of a shrug was perfectly fine for now.

When Corey opened the outer bulkheads, the view certainly reimbursed Ksivi-Sava for suffering through that minor intercultural headache. Barely noticeably did the hull of Starbase 118 curve away from them in the distance, reflecting the pitch-blackness of interstellar space as if physically soaked in it. Rhythmic flashes of navigation lights broke up the darkness over a timidly gleaming artificial horizon. Out here, light years from the nearest sun, it took a keen eye to reveal the faint hulls of all the different craft and starships between their blinking beacons, glowing engines and sprinklings of windows.

Ksivi-Sava’s steps along the metallic ground were weightless and inert. A lack of external forces, not contaminated by the flurry of sensory stimuli that humanoid bodies had evolved to suffer through and make sense of. Very much an artificial environment, and yet so close to the being the most natural of them all; a visceral experience of raw nature that not even the sound of their breaths and the clanking of their boots could truly spoil.

Wethern: Here we are this is the right point we can get to work.

Ksivi-Sava: ::faintly smiling at the horizon:: This is very much the right point to be, indeed.

But alas, they weren’t here to enjoy the experience. In a way, it was with rather admirable efficiency that Corey turned his attention to the matter at hand and revealed the 10 bowling pins out of the equipment case.

Wethern: Aren't they beautiful?

Ksivi-Sava: Not to be a… how might one say… “party pooper”, if you pardon my Terran, there, but this environment feels almost inappropriate for something as trivially indulgent as this.

Wethern: Relax they all have short range transported chips, at the push of a button they lock onto the suit wearer and beam back.

Well, as a medic, Corey had never made any secret of his hands-on approach to problem-solving, so he very much seemed his proper self as he walked out to set up the bowling pins right away.

Wethern: I think you should be the one to kick start our Ensigns Bingo. First to 30 points?

Ksivi-Sava accepted the bowling ball presented to him in a rather significant-looking gesture. It also didn’t escape his attention how eagerly Corey seemed to cross an item off the list he had brought.

Ksivi-Sava: It shall be my pleasure.

Judging by the hull plates, Ksivi-Sava positioned himself at an appropriate distance before he wound up ever so slightly and took aim at the arrow formation of pins in the distance. He kept taking aim for a while longer, before inquiring:

Ksivi-Sava: Does it say anything about having to actually hit any of the pins? It still qualifies as a successful Bingo activity either way, correct?

Wethern: Response

Ksivi-Sava: Well, that goes without saying.

Once again, Ksivi-Sava focussed his attention on the pins, wound up to feel the inertia of the projectile, then focussed his attention back on the pins.

Wethern: Response

Ksivi-Sava: I am. I very much am.

Finally, Ksivi-Sava swung his arm forward in slow motion, releasing the ball at what he felt would be an appropriate moment for launch. Inertia carried it onward on a trajectory subject to such little gravity from the Starbase below their feet, it was indistinguishable from a straight line.

Beyond that, it was also very slow.

Ksivi-Sava: ::shifting his position and squinting at the slowly drifting ball:: I predict it will hit at least some of the pins.

Wethern: Response

Ksivi-Sava: Nonsense, we are looking at no more than a few seconds, now. With no inertia or gravity to worry about, precision should certainly be prioritized over velocity. See, there it is, closing in on the targets. Any moment now… Aaany moment.

A few moments later, the ball grazed and dislodged two pins just insistently enough to knock a third one off its miniscule magnetic link with the hull. Once clear from the target area, both the projectile and its triplet of targets were beamed back into the their case, leaving a total of seven pins unscathed.

Ksivi-Sava: ::arms crossed, rather pleased:: See? So, one pin is equivalent to… how many points, again?


Ensign Ksivi-Sava
Helm Officer
Starbase 118 Ops

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