Family Concern

Posted on 06 May 2013 @ 2:50pm by Naskisem

2,710 words; about a 14 minute read

MD8 1000 Hours

ON:

Jorel blinked himself awake and began the slow process of getting up. Today, like the day before it and the day before that, was going to be a simple and peaceful day. Bright rays of light streamed over his bed from the holographic program he had running on his wall, giving him the impression that it really was morning. Of course, his body knew that he wasn't on Vulcan.

Each limb had to be stretched and popped, each muscle tensed and contracted, and finally he sat up and swiveled his feet. One had to relax the body and become aware of it. He looked at his warm, toasty covers and stood, bending to make the bed and pushing himself that last extra mile into cognizance.

Clothes were assembled - Starfleet did not employ crewman translation specialists on the week end - arranged, and tugged on. A long-sleeved grey shirt and matching pants. Then socks, then shoes. He looked at his feet and toed the shoes off after a second thought. They were returned to their neat homes by his bedroom door. He padded out into the small kitchenette and bowed his head to his roommate. She had come to expect Jorel's lackadaisical morning routine and already a pot of coffee was brewing and toast was toasting. Terran food was bizarre, but tolerable.

Jorel grabbed the plate. "My gratitude," he said to Alyssa, who shook her head at his overformality and waved goodbye on her way out the door. Starfleet did, unfortunately for her, employ crewman scientists on their week ends.

He inhaled several pieces of toast, drank two cups of coffee and tore through Ben Hamper's Rivethead: Tales from the Assembly Line on his small PADD; a recommendation from one of his Terran colleagues. He flipped the next page over with his finger. While Hamper's musings on the Greaseball Mecca were inordinately fascinating, Jorel couldn't help but think about how strange Terrans were. This lead to thoughts of how his sister was getting along now that she was on board the Venture.

Jorel cast the book aside and stood, heading to the shared comm line near the back of the miniscule living area. There was only one way to find out. He hit the call button and typed in the comm frequency for Naskisem he had been given during her stay aboard the Venture. It went to an empty screen and offered a reroute button to the Galileo. Interesting. She had arrived already. He wondered how she was faring with Liyar, the man she'd been sent to save. He pressed in the next set of frequencies and the Federation seal popped up, telling him it was forwarding his call. At long last Naskisem's face appeared on his screen.

Jorel sat back, his features smooth and clear as an unblemished lake. "Greetings, Naskisem."

"Good morning, Jorel," replied the pointed woman on the other side, his sister. Her hair was pointed at the corners of her jaw and almost flat across her forehead. She was wearing the white underrobe that hugged her body and her gray eyes looked pleased to see him again. Only her personality would tell that she was almost twice his age. Naskisem tilted her head just barely. "Are you well?" she asked her favourite little brother.

He sat up, eyes bright. Yet, when he spoke, it was modulated and careful, as though he had purposefully restrained himself from his natural response. "Indeed," he nodded slowly. "I have been assigned a roommate here aboard starbase 484. She is a Terran." Jorel looked to the side for a moment before letting out an odd, abrupt and loud noise. He rose his hand to his nose and blinked behind his fingers. He started again, but this time, the pressure went away before he could sneeze. He gently picked up the small grey and white kitten that circled his foot and set it on his knee. It emitted a loud purr. "This is Poe. He is a feline, or more commonly a housecat. It is my roommate's animal. I am allergic to it." He sneezed again and wrinkled his nose, but the kitten stayed put on his knee where he scratched its head. "Terran felines are very fascinating creatures," he told Naskisem. "In some ways they are even similar to the le-matya. Terran scientists claim that felines are able to use magnetized cells in their brains to act as directional compasses."

"Then it must go," Naskisem told him. "If you are allergic, either you must find new quarters or the creature must be removed." She didn't like humans or their animals. The purpose of having a bacteria-laden creature wandering one's living area eluded her. Regardless of what Terran scientists claimed about magnetised cells inside that thing's tiny skull, Naskisem found the use of real technology infinitely more impressive; tricorders, sensors, navigation - it was all vastly superior. Jorel had to know that.

Poe quirked his head up, almost as if he could understand Naskisem's disapproval. He let out a muffled meow and jumped off of Jorel's knee, darting away under the sofa across the room. "It is rather unfortunate," Jorel agreed, watching until the kitten disappeared. He turned his attention back to Naskisem. "The quartermaster aboard the station controls the assignment of rooms. I am meant to consider myself lucky that I do not have to utilize a piece of furniture known as a bunk bed." As the Terrans said, he could have done worse. "Are you well?" he returned the question to his older sister.

"No," replied Naskisem. "I am finding adjustment difficult." She sighed, looking off to the side for a moment, and added, "I do not think that I am welcome here."

Jorel studied her carefully as she spoke. He recognized an emotionalism to his sister that he hadn't ever seen before, not in all of his twenty-four years. The two of them were close, their bond familial and comfortable. He could usually tell Naskisem's thoughts merely by deduction, compare and contrast, observation over time. Never so blatant. "What has happened to cause this belief?" he asked her.

"Liyar told me. The chief engineer did not enjoy my company. She laughed at me in an unflattering way." Naskisem paused for a moment. "Being among q'omi has proved more difficult than I thought." She knew that her brother looked up to her, as the rest of the family did. Their parents had invested a lot of time and meticulous training into her training, more than any of her siblings. She had been sent to bond with Liyar and to help him find the peace he'd lost, but in the process she found herself slipping. She was experiencing levels of emotion that she never had before, which forced her to question how solid her logical base was - something she never had reason to on Vulcan. "I will adapt."

"Q'omi are peculiar," Jorel said. "The Terrans can be unforgiving of cultural differences. In fact, most find it amusing. Liyar is the man that you volunteered to assist. He's ungrateful?"

"Extremely," was her simple reply. "He does not want me here. He has no desire to share my company. I believe, at this point, that he will reject me; although, his brother Neo has expressed that all is not lost." And that he would reject her for a Terran female made the wound sting with salt. She was not prepared to admit that even to Jorel. Not yet.

Placidly, Jorel replied, "It is not logical to refuse assistance when it's required. Perhaps he is more damaged than you were led to believe. If he cannot determine reality from emotion, then he will succumb to chaos." He pressed his fingertips together.

"I agree," she shifted in her chair. "I do not understand why mother and father would have deliberately misled me. I have many questions." Their parents had always been there for her, had always challenged her to be more than she was. She had always succeeded, but she was beginning to wonder if repairing Liyar and then bonding with him was the ultimate test. Why? she wondered. Surely, they knew that a rejection from Liyar would burden her with a stigma for decades, perhaps her entire life. Were they so confident in her that they expected her to stabilise him? Or was there something else?

"Perhaps they did not know the degree of damage," Jorel postulated. "I did some research into Liyar's public files. He was at P'Jem. Perhaps he was one of the victims. That would explain why he is unable to draw the obvious logical conclusion. His mind has been too badly mangled. You should contact our parents and tell them that Liyar is unsuited to bonding," Jorel advised. "If it is discovered that he is simply incapable of that connection, then you cannot be held accountable."

"He is capable," Naskisem corrected. "He has been bonded twice. His bondmate and only child were killed only a few months ago. I shared a meditation session with him and caught a glimpse of how deep their bond was. Neo believes that he wishes to bond with a human female." She hesitated to continue, uncertain how to qualify such an outrage adequately. "And you know our laws, Jorel," she reminded. "If Liyar rejects me because of his mangled mind, it could never be revealed. I would have bear the shame."

Jorel could not fathom being bonded at all, let alone losing such a deep, integral connection. He blinked lazily as he put his thoughts into order. "If he is put into a meditation cell, then you will have helped him. That cannot be shameful."

Naskisem blinked. "That would not happen. Liyar would not be placed in a meditation cell." She looked at Jorel with a hint of sympathy; if only he understood. He was too young. "I wish to help him. I think that I can, if only he listens. I am a desirable bondmate; he must realise this. If Neo is successful, then he will."

"Then you believe that he will acknowledge your value?" Jorel asked. That was the only part of this situation that held any relevance to him. Jorel was skeptical, highly skeptical. He thought, surely their parents would prevent Naskisem from suffering at his hands.

"I hope that he does," she said. "For both his sake and mine."

"What of yourself?" Jorel asked after a moment more in silence. "Other than Liyar. Your work?"

"I have not been doing any work, Jorel," Naskisem breathed. "I am on sabbatical; I do, however, intend to speak with Maenad Panne about her theories on ancient Vulcan. I believe them to be wrong, but fascinating." She did not add that Maenad Panne was the object of Liyar's affection.

"I am unfamiliar with Maenad Panne. She's a historian?" Jorel asked.

"In a sense, yes. She is a classical historian and archaeologist. She is known for her work in paleogenetics, origin of life, and ancient Vulcan civilisation," Nasksem explained. "She believes that Surak was not as pervasive as we are taught, and that Vulcans without his teachings can lead successful lives." She blinked once, looked at the desktop, then back up to the screen. "She may be a threat to Liyar's stability."

"You do not believe he is tu-Surak?" Jorel asked, blinking a few times. His family like many Vulcan families in Shi'kahr were primarily tu-Surak - making Liyar - if he were not - an unusual choice of mate. Although Jorel had once known a fellow classmate who was tu-Jarok. He hadn't exhibited many signs of instability, only, Danek frightened his classmates with his easy acceptance of Vulcan emotional life. Jorel, unlike his family, was apathetic about the process. He believed in Surak's teachings and strove to be a logical, peaceful, intelligent being. It was enough for him.

"I believe that he tries. That he wants to be, that perhaps he was closer in the past. He needs proper guidance." She raised her eyebrows in admission, "It is unfortunate."

"If he is without logic, indeed. He may even be violent. You must tread carefully." Jorel did not know much about the V'tosh ka'tur, only that they lived deep in the uninhabited desert regions of their planet, and committed crimes with little to no provocation. "But you will assist him," Jorel said confidently.

"Thank you, Jorel," said Naskisem. "How are you settling into your new assignment?" she asked. "I admit that a Starfleet uniform is unbecoming on a person of your veneer."

"How do you know what my Starfleet uniform looks like?" Jorel asked mildly, leaning back in his chair. "The assignment is fulfilling," he answered her question sincerely. "We have discovered that a planet below the station has inhabitants. This means that they will potentially employ me outside a laboratory setting in my primary field of expertise."

She ignored his question; she knew what their uniforms looked like, and she knew what her brother looked like. She did not like the combination. "They will benefit from your presence. How long do you expect to be assigned to the station?"

"It is possible," said Jorel. "I did not anticipate being immediately useful, but we only have one other linguist serving. I do not know how long my assignment will last. Typical tours are approximately fifteen point two months each. As a crewman, I may be stationed here longer in order to receive additional on-site training. How is your Standard?" he asked her with a subtle glint in his eye. "Check your terminal. I have sent you a transmission of some datapackets which you may find more useful than the FASL exercises available publically. You want to pay attention in particular to the sections regarding idiomatic phrasing."

"My Standard is poor," and it truly was. The files arrived almost instantly. "Thank you," she said. "I will try these." Naskisem thought that learning the language was pointless; the universal translator did everything she needed. But, she had a lot of free time and she had no real reason not to at least try.

"Naskisem," Jorel started. "If Liyar harms you in some manner," he said, "Then you must leave. Shame is an emotional plight. Avoiding it is not worth your safety."

"I am not in danger," she told him. "Liyar assisted me with translations yesterday. I sensed calm in him. He felt threatened by me, but I no longer think he does. I am safe, be assured."

"Calm can be deceptive. You know this. Violence runs deep within our species. We use logic to quell the fury. If he is unable to think and rationalize, then he risks succumbing to it." Jorel did not feel assured. He did not think he would feel assured if Liyar and Naskisem did bond and Liyar's clan and theirs merged. He wanted Naskisem to find someone for herself. Not someone insane handed to her by their parents. They meant well, they always did. They couldn't have known. "Just be cautious," he said, and dropped the subject.

Naskisem knew her brother well. There was nothing she could do to convince him; although he was young, in many ways he tried to be her big brother. "If I tell you I am safe," she said, "then I am. But, of course, I will be cautious; if I am unsuccessful, I will leave. Perhaps I will visit you."

"I would welcome a visit," Jorel said, sitting forward on his small desk chair. "I am certain you would find the station interesting."

Maybe. Maybe not. Starbase 484 had thousands of humans. "Possibly," she said. "Thank you for calling me, Jorel. It is good to hear that you are well."

"Likewise." Jorel tilted his head and held his hand up in the ta'al. "Peace, Naskisem."

OFF:

Naskisem
Archaeologist, VSA
USS Galileo
(PNPC M. Panne)

Crewman Jorel
Translation Specialist, SDD
Starbase 484
(Played by Liyar)

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