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Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn - New and Old Perspectives

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@Bryce Tagren-Quinn is back with some evocative descriptions and some lovely El-Aurian perspective. 


((Flashback – A Few Months Ago, Kentucky, Earth))

Sania stood on her porch, steaming mug of tea in her hands, light brown hair tied back in a long braid. An oversized coat drowned her tall, lean frame and her gaze lingered on her farm.

She blew into the mug before testing a sip, allowing her mind to wander as laughter broke in the distance. 

Leaves falling. 

Worlds falling. 


It was around 2265 when the Borg swept in and destroyed the cities of her homeworld, assimilating some and killing millions. The small number of souls that managed to survive escaped into the galaxy, splintering off in different directions, desperate to hold onto their lives, their families. 

Whatever they had left. 

What did they have? Besides each other and loved ones… stories, and a deep and rich history (including that cold war with the Q), that would become less and less clear as new generations were born. 

Before the Borg’s invasion, the El-Aurians traveled the galaxy (and beyond, some might say), full of black velvet and flecks of gold, leisurely visiting worlds. 

Why visit without announcing themselves? Wasn’t it obvious? Why travel at all, if they weren’t going to wage a war, pillage and conquer, strip resources like the Borg? 

What was in it for them? What drove them?

Some would say it was because of their perceptiveness, and their sensitivity to the universe; they not only wanted to know more about the moments of beauty, but the times of chaos, how it all balanced and existed. A part of that was understanding the life out there, the planets and their peoples, taking in their stories, as it all contributed to the cosmic web. 

One item to fall, so would another. One item to rise, so would another. One item to fall, another would rise. One item to rise, another would fall. 

With anything, some would say they all weren’t saints, though. Some probably traveled for personal agendas, too. 

Sania remembered a time from before, exploring that starry sea, reaching worlds... Separated from her homeworld, separated from other El-Aurian groups. Almost isolated. A time when she was called Sanuul.

That was a lifetime ago. 

Many lifetimes ago. 

In the present day, she was the proud parent of a young rambunctious boy who was in the middle of diving after his uncle, disrupting a pile of leaves on the farm. Leaves that, as a pedologist, she would not necessarily manage—leaving it to go back to the world, as intended. 

Bryce: Rory!

The man rose, his messy head of dark hair catching some of the organic litter, and reached over to his shrieking nephew who tried desperately to get away, clutching onto what appeared to be stuffed krelo bear—with the biggest grin on his face. 

It was moments like these that she relayed back to the woman who would always hold a place in her heart—Elyia, her ex-wife. A spitfire who fiercely loved her twin. 

The twin, who stayed a few weekends when he wasn’t busy with work. He hadn’t seen Rory in a bit, and the boy wanted to see his uncle again.

And the uncle?

He was laughing again—like, really laughing, Sania would relay to an eager Elyia, who was still away from Earth.

Singing again, that was revealed on another day. Sania had found him humming along one normal, uneventful morning as he made grits and scrambled eggs with hot sauce, and placed a plate in front of Rory at the table.  

The tidbits had eased the worry that seemed to have been embedded within his sister’s eyes. 

A breath. 

Little by little, each day… 

Perhaps it had something to do with the Academy. Perhaps… 

Maybe… if offered a new perspective?

Add it to the list of things. A list of things he was thankful for. A list that he kept, but told no one of.

As Sania watched her son interact with his uncle—both laughing, happy, carefree—she was reminded of the voyages from long ago. About the loss of things, the gaining of others. 

The constant that was change.

The beauty of the now.

And the hope that was tomorrow.

Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn, MD
Medical Officer
USS Gorkon (NCC-82293)


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