Overfamiliar? Oh, now it's over.

Posted on 21 May 2018 @ 5:53pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant

1,422 words; about a 7 minute read

Circa Episode 15, “Emanation”, MD 110

Previously on Star Trek: Galileo...

Clearing his throat, Callin tried to focus on his answer, though Lake wasn't making it easy on him, "Yes. Well...maybe. Yes." It took him another moment to focus his mind, withdraw within himself, shutting out the wonderful background sensations of the minds around him, and a couple of long, steady breaths. At least Lake seemed interested in the science, and that Callin was always glad to share, "You see, a star like this emits an incredible amount of radiation, and that can be dangerous to inhabited planets in nearby systems. We're going to find that this system is full of bare, irradiated rocks for planets if even that much. If we can figure out how and why the change occurs, perhaps we'll be able to predict it."

Excitedly, Lake said, "Okay. There. There. That makes sense." He didn't raise his voice, exactly, but there was a clear intonation somewhere between eureka and victory. Lowering his voice even more, Lake said, "You always know how to make mysteries meaningful to me," and as he did he nuzzled his nose into Callin's shoulder. Almost as soon as he'd done it, Lake questioned the level of affection he was showing this young ensign he'd just met. Drastically, Lake took two sudden steps back from the other man.

"Whoa." It was a word he'd picked up on Earth that Callin rather liked. A stupid thing to pop into his head to say, but for a second he didn't know any other word to use. That move, those words, they had been unexpected, but in his surprise he was out there with his mind and senses once more. Running blind into that was...Callin suddenly realized his heart was racing, his face red, and his chest hurt. Ah, breathing. That started and he began to recover. "That's probably the nicest thank you I've gotten." Ever. Callin watched Lake intently, not moving from his chair, half a smile on his lips and all cautious. "Pleased to meet you too." More pleased than he'd say, but very confused.

Lake ir-Llantrisant's Personal Log, Supplemental,

What did I do? What was I thinking? What is even wrong with me?

I smelled him. I leaned in close and I nuzzled against that Betazoid Ensign's neck and I drank in the scent of him. Helpless. I'm always hopeless and helpless. I was drawn into him as helplessly as a shuttlepod falling into a black hole. Not even light can escape from the event-horizon of a black hole. Did my measly self-control even have a chance of asserting itself? Was there any chance I wasn't going to lean into him? Was there any alternate universe where I didn't make that choice?

And of course I know why I did it. Because he looks just like Kellin. That Betazoid Ensign looks just like Kellin, before Kellin died. Really, he's younger than that. He looks like Kellin from before we were married, before I even met Kellin.

I can't say the resemblance is uncanny. I don't have to suspect this Betazoid is an alternate universe duplicate of Kellin. I mean, the resemblance wouldn't have fooled Kellin's mother, but the resemblance is there. It sure fooled me. It sure fooled my body...

And now the conclusion..?

[ON]

Deep in the bowels of USS Schofield, somewhere in the vicinity of deck three, there was a solitary bench out of place. At first glance, the bench may have appeared perfectly ordinary. It was a bit of pre-fabricated Starfleet decor that had every right to live aboard an Oberth-class starship. It even had the same funny colour-scheme. What was out-of-the-ordinary about the bench was that, apparently, an engineer had bolted it against a bulkhead in a jefferies tube junction. The entire purpose of jefferies tubes was to offer easy access to parts of the ship that were otherwise inaccessible. While that would have been true for every other jefferies tube on the entire starship, this jefferies tube was different. This jefferies tube was obstructed by the bench. This jefferies tube, in particular, was located inordinately closely to the tertiary life support equipment facilities on this side of the primary hull. This jefferies tube's proximity to the atmospheric processing units, and the visible plenum network tubes lining the bulkheads, managed to warm the air in this junction until it was hot. It was so hot, most engineers avoided this junction. So hot, there was visible steam curling from every surface in the compartment. So hot, it even met Tuula Voutilainen's exacting standards for how a soothing sauna should feel. Was it designed that way or was it a happy accident? Maybe it was fate?

Whatever the cause, Lake ir-Llantrisant had heard about this junction the other day during his shift in Sickbay. Possibly, Lake had overheard a conversation that he wasn't even a part of. Likely, someone had told him about this place given how frequently Lake complained about how there was nothing do to aboard a starship. (Frankly, this was even truer aboard an Oberth-class museum than it had been aboard the Hathaway.) Likely, someone had told him about this junction to shut him up. That was why the bench wasn't the only thing out of place in this jeffries tube junction.

The naked Romulan, too, hardly looked like he belonged, half-reclined on that bench in realm of engineers, with only a small towel draped over his lap. Given his compact frame, the towel looked particularly strong given his thick thighs. He stretched his legs out ahead of him and then he recoiled slightly when he heard a noise. Opening his eyes, Lake's vision was obscured by the steam, but he was certain he saw a retreating body exiting the junction through an access hatch. He was less certain about who that body belonged to, but he had his suspicions. That messy dark hair, that razor-thin nose beneath heavy eyebrows... he'd seen that aesthetic before. Lake would have needed to see those dark Betazoid eyes to be certain, but the rest of his sense told him it had been Callin Mastrel, come and gone.

Lake ir-Llantrisant's Personal Log, Supplemental entry.

Computer, please increase the encryption level of this personal log. If I get killed on our investigation of this cepheid variable star, I don't want any random away team member from the rescue starship listening to this particular personal log as evidence to solve the mystery of my death.

...It's just not that interesting.

...Oh, unless Callin Mastrel murders me.

Computer, if Callin Mastrel murders me, you have permission to release the encryption on all of my personal logs.

Although, he'd have to be in the same compartment as me to murder me. (Probably? Unless he murders me with science?)

I haven't managed to land myself in the same compartment as Callin Mastrel since the day we met. That strikes me as... unlikely, and more than a little worrisome. Is he avoiding me? Why is he avoiding me? Was my behaviour truly that arousing, for good or ill?

An Oberth-class starship doesn't even have a crew of eighty, cramped into eight decks. Little more than half of those decks are truly livable, especially for science and medical personnel. One would suppose I would cross paths with Callin more often, at least twice a day, and yet I haven't seen him in days. How is that even possible? He must be-- he must be avoiding me. I created an awkward first impression and I haven't had an opportunity to correct it. He's never been in the mess hall at the same time as me, he doesn't work in that science lab any more...

I need to-- I just need to see him again, but alone, alone with no one around. I need to see him, so I can talk to him. I need to explain what happened, what was happening with me. I wasn't making sexual advances on him, I mean, not that I wouldn't want to, but that wasn't what was happening in that moment. I was making sexual advances on my dead husband.

Hm...

Hm...

I'm not sure? If that's any better?

Or is it?

...Maybe it would be least complicated if he just murdered me after all.

Computer, end log.

[OFF]

OOC: Au revoir, Callin Mastrel!

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