Shadowlands III

Posted on 30 Apr 2013 @ 3:28pm by Naskisem

5,956 words; about a 30 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: LTjg Maenad Panne's Office, CIV Naskisem's Quarters
Timeline: MD6 1600 Hours

ON:

In her office, Maenad was sitting on her couch beneath the wall of windows with her legs up, outstretched, and ankles crossed. She was sitting against the couch's arm, but her nyloned legs were long enough to reach the other side. Her shoes were on the floor and her knee-length skirt had risen inappropriately high against the cushions. Her head was tilted and resting on her two prominent fingers against her temple, supported by her elbow, and a concentrated frown glared into a hardbound book she held in her lap. Her hair was down, not tied at all as it usually was, and because her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, one could see she was wearing the elastic on her wrist. The chime barely interrupted her concentration. "Come in," she said monotonously, not looking up to see it who was.

"Lieutenant," Liyar's familiar voice greeted her. He ducked in and allowed the door to close behind them. "This is Dr. Naskisem. She states that she is here to speak with you regarding your written work." Anyone who knew him well would recognize the reserved annoyance in his posture. "I will leave the details of that discussion to you both."

Maenad, not expecting Liyar, turned her head before her eyes, tugging them away from the page. She had only half-heard him and missed the introduction to the woman accompanying him. "Hmm?" she started to ask, finally meeting his eyes. She then realised how revealed she was and quickly shoved her hands beneath herself to fix the skirt. Her legs swung off the couch so that her feet were flat on the floor and her knees glued together. She closed the book with a snap and clutched it in her lap. "Hello," she said, then pressed her lips. She didn't blush, but she could have. He was irritated and there was something wrong him, Maenad recalled from the sound of Liyar's voice. She gave him a curious frown and tilt of the head, but said nothing.

Naskisem at first failed to recognise the qom'i because of how different her hair was from the pictures. She was expecting the woman to be more academic, more of a scholar. She could see right up the side of her thigh, but such lasciviousness was to be expected from such a primal species. The woman sounded far more intelligent than she appeared, thought Naskisem. She stepped out from behind Liyar and joined him at his side. "Greetings," she said with a slight bow of the head.

Maenad stood and walked around the coffee table by the couch, setting the book down as she lurched to her feet. She looked at Liyar again, but then gave the woman, the Vulcan woman, a warm smile. "I'm sorry," she blinked. "What did you say your name was?"

Naskisem stiffened her neck. "I did not say my name was anything," she said mechanistically. She thought that she would have rathered to have met Lilou Peers than this lanky ape. "Liyar introduced me as Naskisem. I am Asenik Let'thieri Naskisem ko'Val ko'Savan maat'Eshan." She saw the blank expression on the qomi's face. Her smile had vanished. She was not very good at concealing her emotions, she thought. A smile indicated pleasure. It had gone, meaning she had been offended. Tedious. "You may call me Naskisem."

"Charmed," Maenad grinned a little uneasily. She rose her hand in the ta'al, which only incurred a nod in return. "A guest of yours?" she looked to Liyar.

Liyar wanted to leave and escape, but he didn't want Maenad to have to deal with Naskisem by herself. Especially if Naskisem's thoughts were any indication of how she would conduct herself. Things were still a little awkward between them since yesterday, but even so, he was infinitesimally more at ease after entering her quarters. He turned to look at Maenad when she addressed him. Liyar had assumed that Maenad knew Naskisem, knew she was coming. He saw now that wasn't the case. "She is a guest aboard Galileo," he responded, giving such a vague answer that it was obvious he wished to be spared that responsibility.

"Oh?" she said, looking back to Naskisem.

"I have come to discuss your theories on Vulcan history. I am a philosopher and lecturer at the Vulcan Science Academy," said Naskisem. She noted the alleged scientist's shared glances with Liyar. Maenad was uncomfortable in her presence, she could tell. She looked to Liyar to ease her mind. He gave her comfort. She liked him. Naskisem studied her eyes carefully while maintaining her appearance of indisposition. She had to test her. "I am also here to assist Liyar in ways that only a Vulcan can."

Maenad opened her mouth a little, not quite understanding. She understood quite well, however, that there was tension in the air that hadn't been there before. She also felt suddenly defensive. Her eyebrows visibly narrowed and she looked at Liyar, who she could tell was disturbed. Something wasn't right, and Maenad started to feel that it was her. Her posture straightened and her muscles tensed. She didn't know what to say and, at a loss for words, in her characteristically anxious way, she touched the bone behind her ear.

Liyar stood ramrod straight. It was one thing to have his privacy violated when they were alone. It was quite another for this woman to broadcast her patronizing delusions to others. Especially to Maenad. It was humiliating. "Dr. Naskisem is mistaken," he said lowly. "This discussion is terminated." He hit the panel on Maenad's door behind him. The door opened. "Dr. Naskisem, you will follow me. Now."

Maenad blinked. Except for the purple rings beneath her eyes and the red on her lips, her face went completely white. She had never seen Liyar so angry. He was Vulcan, and he showed very little, but she could read him like the books on her shelves.

"Very well," said Naskisem. She gave Maenad a sideways nod and followed Liyar out of the office with her hands clasped behind her back. The science chief was left standing by herself and terribly confused. She would speak to Maenad another time, she was sure. They had much to discuss, after all.

Liyar was silent until they reached the turbolift. They entered and he moved quickly, pressing the button on the lift to halt it. His face was frighteningly empty as he spoke. "You claim I lack decorum, but you can barely restrain yourself from announcing to every stranger you meet what you think of me. I will only say this once. Your agenda is yours alone. You will not discuss it. You will not allude to it. You will not inquire about me, nor discuss me in any way with anyone other than me. You have come aboard this vessel to speak with Dr. Panne about her work. You will do so and then you will leave. If you cannot control yourself, then you will leave now. Is this understood."

Naskisem gave as much of a sigh as any Vulcan could by merely slumping her shoulders. She had not told anyone about Liyar, nor had she asked anyone about him. He was delusional. Since she had come aboard, Naskisem had only been with him. "I am not property," she eventually replied. She would not allow herself to be intimidated by him, and stopping the lift was, to her, as aggressive as physical contact. "You need to meditate. Your emotions consume you. Allow me to assist you," she practically begged.

"I can see you do not understand. This is not a philosophical debate," Liyar bit out. "You will comply, or you will leave. This is not the Science Academy. It is a paramilitary vessel and you are a guest. You will not discuss me with others. Nor will you tell them about your intentions. Nor will you test them in any way," he repeated her thoughts before she spoke to Maenad, to jog her memory. "My emotions are mine to handle. You transgress, Doctor. You have no right. You have not been forthright with me since the moment you have come aboard. You mock my intelligence by this deception. You patronize me." He stepped closer to her, but reached for the start-lift button. "The next time you violate my privacy in front of another you will be escorted to the transporter room." He pressed the button and the doors opened.

When Liyar approached the control panel, Naskisem took a step back. She thought he was going to threaten her again as he had earlier in her quarters. "I have been nothing but honest with you," she said. "I do not mock your intelligence, nor do I patronise you. I have not informed your crewmates of anything. You have been at my side since my arrival; you know what I say to be true." She reclaimed the step she had withdrawn. "I do not appreciate your abrasiveness with me, Liyar," she admitted to him finally. "I do not think highly of your brutish intimidation. If you cannot speak to me in an enlightened manner, then you should refrain from speaking to me at all. The next time you threaten me with your size, I will inform your superiors. I am a guest, as you say, and you are, allegedly, the diplomatic officer." Naskisem raised her eyebrows. "Any healthy Vulcan would not resort to physical intimidation to prove a point. Especially to one who is legitimately concerned for his well-being, as I am for yours." She calmed, her eyes looking more relieved. "Paranoia of your calibre is unbecoming of a Vulcan. It is unbecoming of anyone. It is illogical. Calm yourself." She paused. "Allow me to share with you my calm." She smiled in the way that Vulcans did, making her eyes seem larger, her cheeks barely rising, and she lifted one hand from no higher than her breast as an offer.

Liyar turned around and stared at her. He stepped back into the lift and let the doors close. "Your entire disposition since coming aboard has been nothing but focused upon me. You want my crewmates to appreciate you. You want me to show interest in you and join minds with you." Ironic, he thought, since he could feel the threads of fear from her again. "I am not going to harm you, hayal," he muttered impatiently. "We are having a discussion. You did not come here to speak with Maenad Panne. The Galileo is lightyears away from anything approaching familiar space. Do you know what types of people get access to vessels that far away from Federation territory? To speak with the chief science officer about her books while she is in the middle of an extensive exploratory survey mission? You came here to speak with me. My family helped you to get aboard. You deny it. A lie by omission is a lie. If you are concerned for my wellbeing, then you will stop lying to me and harassing me about my private medical records. You believe you will save me. You are a fool if you think I do not comprehend what that statement means." He ignored her hand.

She watched him. She felt pity, anger boiling into rage, paranoia, confusion. Liyar had been away far too long. Sadness, she thought it was, gripped her chest. She lowered her hand to her side. She did not replace it behind her back as she meant. Naskisem wondered idly whether she was not as pure as she had been told, as she had always thought of herself. The thought evolved from idle to concentrated. She thought that was an excellent choice of friend for any Vulcan. It had never been so difficult with anyone else on the homeworld. She was a failure, and she had only been here for an hour. Almost two weeks of travelling. For this. "I was on the USS Venture," she mumbled without explaining further. She had been there for a few weeks before requesting to speak with Maenad Panne, which tied in nicely with Liyar's family's request and her personal desire to assist. Her voyage was what she had said it was. Although she was not thinking about it right now, it was true that she had been approached by his family. But for her, as she had told him, he was a matter of personal interest. His family had asked her to help him, had suggested that she try to become someone with whom he could bond, but for her it was more a matter of a Vulcan helping a Vulcan. "I wish to return to my quarters," she said quietly, looking at the floor.

He wasn't wrong. Or paranoid. He knew he wasn't. That she blamed him for being paranoid only incensed him further. It made him feel manipulated and controlled. All his life, people had used that against him. His opinions were wrong because he was ill. His perceptions were wrong because he was crazy. A lifetime of constantly scraping himself up over the edge and being kicked back down it had dug those deep lines into his face. Not being ill. But there, was the rub. How could he really know if it wasn't Veren, if he wasn't insane? A lifetime of second-guessing himself, of validating himself against them. It was this that prevented him from feeling sympathy for her. For that sadness crusting over his ribs. He could not let his guard down. He knew. The situation was suspicious and convenient for any person, for anyone. Maenad had suggested the same thing about Jaeih for less. He wasn't paranoid. She said she was here to save him. To help him as only a Vulcan could help another. Those were not idle words. They had very specific meanings and intent. "Deck two."

The two of them stood in silence. Naskisem didn't look up from the floor for the whole of the ten seconds it took to rise two decks. When the doors opened, she raised her chin and walked quickly out. She didn't pay attention to whether Liyar followed, and it wasn't a long walk down the corridor to her quarters, especially at her pace. She wanted to be alone. She felt strange. There were emotions within her that needed to be dealt with, and she was already late for her meditation. She pressed a finger against the control to open the door and was about to step inside when she sensed that Liyar was there with her. She paused before stepping inside and turned to look at him.

Liyar sighed audibly through his nose. He couldn't let his guard down. But still, he was a Vulcan. That didn't disappear. Deception was unbecoming of a Vulcan, but so was rage. We will know pain and death. And where fear walks, anger is its companion. Never touched by the light, hatred grows, fed by the darkness of anger's shadow - He could not control her behavior. He felt her fear of earlier was genuine, and that distressed him. He didn't care if she told Coleman; he didn't want to be perceived that way. "You will not be harmed here. I will not harm you." As though it took great effort on his part, he inhaled deeply and said, "I did not intend to alarm you."

"You have," she said. "You have insulted me. I am offended." Naskisem stared at him for several long seconds. "I forgive you only because it is not your fault. Consider my offer to assist you. I am sorry if I was too assertive. I only wish to help." She looked somewhat relieved now. "I am not used to people who are... as free as you are."

He shook his head. Feeling a little as though he were channeling the patience and goodwill of Surak himself, he made himself continue. "I am not as adept at forgiveness," he said. "It is my own flaw." He rose his hand in the ta'al and then bowed his head as though to leave.

She returned the ta'al. Her inner peace had been disturbed, and she could tell that she was succumbing to emotions. Naskisem, despite all the fury that torrented inside her, she felt a sense of loss at seeing him about to leave. "I am about to meditate. Do you wish to join me?"

"If you wish," he relented with a small nod. He could feel the rage itching in her skin, like he could scratch his own and relieve it. He stepped into her quarters behind her and watched while she began to assemble her supplies. Meditation was a rather personal thing, but dual meditation was generally far less involved. To bring peace, and calm to those who struggled in their interactions, to make bridges, to gain understanding. He felt at a distinct disadvantage. She was intentionally keeping something from him, which would affect the session, but he decided to let it go for the time being in uncharacteristic logic. She was. Kaiidth. It did not justify rage. He wasn't lost. "You could find it uncomfortable to meditate with me," he warned her. "My mental shielding may lower once I enter the first stage. If that occurs I will be able to perceive you, and the reverse will also be true."

Naskisem was glad to hear that, and she led the way into her quarters. "I will be fine," she assured him. Immediately she felt the temperature difference, which by itself did a great deal to calm her. The warmth was less alien to her. The ship was cold and unwelcome. Her quarters, though, were nice and warm. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself at home on Vulcan. She went into the bedroom and brought the suitcase with her meditative belongings back out into the living room. Liyar was standing there. "This is my meditative kit," she said simply. She set the case down beside her and in a single motion, as though she had done it a million times before, she removed her massive cloak of a robe. She folded it over her arm and carefully set it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She looked much smaller and many times more gauntly without the robes. She had on a form-fitting black turtleneck and matching pants and looked incredibly bland. There was nothing physically alluring about Naskisem except for possibly the long hair that went down to the small of her back. Right now, though, it was all up and tied into an elaborate braid along the side of her head. For all that she was, her hair was the most exciting.

She got down on her knees and opened the case. There was a folded blanket that she removed and set on the floor. She closed the suitcase and pushed it aside, out of the way, and then unfolded the blanket very carefully. In it, she had wrapped her asenoi and a few other artefacts; two pillar candles and four small polished black stones. There was a box of matches too, and another box containing sticks of incense. She laid the blanket out in front of her and sat cross-legged, then placed one stone in each corner. "The designs," she was referring to the rune-like drawings embroidered into the fabric, "represent my family history. It is not original, of course. It is a reproduction. This blanket is three hundred years old. But, they tell a story that dates back nearly four thousand years." She ran her fingers over the inscriptions and pictures. "My father taught me our story when I was young, just a child," she told Liyar. A small part of her hoped that he was interested. He might appreciate a Vulcan telling him these things, she knew that she would had their positions been reversed. By her knees she set the two candles, struck a match from the box and lit them. Then she lit the asenoi. She put the incense and tray beside it, lighting it too, and then shook the match to extinguish it. A pleasant smell similar to lavender, but smokier, began to fill the air. She deposited the stick back in the matchbox for the time being. "Computer, turn off the lights."

Liyar watched impassively as she prepared and then lowered to the ground. He said nothing, sitting lotus-style in front of the asenoi now burning brightly in between them. He noted her hair, following the entwined braids stitched into the elaborate arrangement with his eyes. He made no comment on it. He wasn't one to complain; his own hair was the closest a Vulcan could come to having bedhead. The waves were twisted and thick, making it appear curly. He looked the same as he always did, but somehow the light of the flame and the stillness in his muscles made him less impenetrable, less harsh. A living, breathing person sitting across from her instead of a monster. He listened in respectful silence as she described her blanket and spoke only when she was done. "You must appreciate having it with you." He was not permitted to take his from the Fortress. His own supplies on Galileo had about as much worth as the cushions on Naskisem's replicated couch. His only sentimental object was a very old, ragged ceremonial tricheq holster, which had been gifted to him after his kahs-wan.

"I do appreciate it, yes," agreed Naskisem. "Do you need anything?" she asked. "I will wait for you."

Liyar inhaled the incense and closed his eyes, slowly running through the first stages of meditative awareness. He began with the muscles in his fingertips. They softened against the bone of his knees. Only in these moments did he ever begin to catalog the toll the past few months had taken on him. Stiffness, soreness. Knots, cords. Tied into long, intricate, painful puzzles throughout his whole body. He followed them into his arms, shoulders, spine and all the way down to his feet. "This is sufficient," he responded quietly. It had been some time since his last meditation session. It showed. His mind was a sea uncontained, breaking apart without gravity. He began guiding it back, shaping the shields and barriers that kept his normally volatile emotions under check. As he relaxed, his psionic presence grew, breathing warmer than air. A sense of otherness, existing alongside and within her, the room and everywhere. In return, it was opening a channel, setting small boats on their journey through the lakes between their minds. He perceived her, furious and agitated, uncertain, upset. Intimidated, afraid. Vastly inexperienced, fish out of water. Sadness, anxiety. He felt them and allowed them through. His own emotions were there for her to see in return. Among everything he was, insanity and death were absent. Instead there was a raw, stone-like sense of reality, that he constantly kept his hand on, feeling the rocks, jagged and true beneath his fingertips. Her feelings passed by. It became a sieve, a transparent force to give and take understanding. Fish in water. Le-matya in the desert. Birds in the sky. "My mind is naturally accustomed to perceiving others," he said, eyes still closed. It wasn't touch-telepathy at all. "I cannot meditate correctly if I control it. It is not harmful."

Her eyes were closed too and she smiled, though neither of them could see it. For all the resistance he had given her, Liyar was doing what he had to do. Perhaps it was minor, but it was a step in the right direction. It pleased her. She could not show it too overtly out of concern that he might back out. His emotions were strong. They were powerful. Hers paled by comparison. He lived much excitement, she could see. He was bonded. Twice. She did not know that. His first mate had died, the second divorced two weeks later. A child too. Very young. T'Yron. Raek. The chaos, fury. He blamed himself. He held himself responsible for their deaths. He loved her. Sadness. Unimaginable sadness. She was nothing. She felt a chill in her spine, shoulder blades, her neck, despite the warmth of the room. Maenad Panne. Lirha Saalm. Jeremy Stone. Anera. Some kind of four-legged animal, vicious. Friendship. Concern. Hatred. Opposites. Companionship. Naskisem did not know how to interpret these. But, she saw, neither did he. Therein lied danger. They were all the source of passionate feelings that were tangled into each other like a ball of multicoloured yarn. She had never encountered these feelings, not like this, not with his intensity. "It is alright," she said back to him. "I welcome you. My shields are down. You may go wherever you like." It would be a challenge, she knew, but it was one she wanted to face with him. She was Vulcan. She was pure. She could give him stability and balance. She knew she could. He needed her.

He quickly shut down the mutated fibrils that led to his family, to T'Yron, gripping them in his hands and yanking them back through to his inner shields where she couldn't touch them. They beat at the window and clawed, but stayed put in their cage. He couldn't go there. He was tired of having total strangers waltzing into his life, tearing apart the arrases in his head. But he did allow her mind to filter through, signs of life, sentience, consciousness. Shutting down the memories had been abrupt, but not out of cruelty. Her mind swam up against his, tapped on his fishbowl. Through the swirling cinders he saw a brother, and sister. Laid out in crinkled paper, moving images. She was the youngest. Emotionlessness, control, order, reason. It was sterile. Sheets pulled tight, empty structures. Structure is the foundation of function. Pictures in cloth. Deliberateness, pouring tea, fixing first-meal in the morning light.

It was a child's existence, he saw that, marked by isolation and whim. Taking stability from her would be no different than taking Tarinol for the rest of his life. There was no purpose, no enlightenment. She was a wildly flagellating cell, chasing its own microscopic tail. And she thought he was separated from reality. The outside world saw gas. Visible, but hollow; vaporous. Perhaps Shi'kahri didn't need to see anything at all. Mantras, calm and collected. Was this how Shi'kahri saw Surak? A reverential figure, someone to build statues out of and worship to the detriment of individuality? He frowned. Energy through reason. Underneath the still lake, he saw shadows moving beneath. Echo's muse, voices trapped in the Beyond. He skimmed his hand along the water. There she was. He pulled a spider out of the lake, a delicate web on its feet, and let it dance on his hand. Why was it hidden down there? Fear, of the unknown. The alien. Extrinsic risk. Emotions, the spider danced - Where Seine and Danube, Thames and Tiber run / And where great armies glitter in the sun / And great Kings rule, and man is boasted free! / What wonder if yon torn and naked throng / And having mourned at noontide, "Lord, how long?" / Only poetry isn't shit. Poetry lived; simplistic, crude statements. It wove itself in webs from his thoughts to hers and laid flat against the water. He saw her. She stood with wide-eyes, hands at the window, fingers over the ledge, rising on tiptoes. One day / I'll knock down these doors / keeps saying I owe you, says / Your shoes are filling with your own damn blood, / you must want something, just tell me, and it's yours / You saved my life / I owe you everything. / You don't, you don't owe me squat, let's just get going, let's just get gone.

Even his own family, he noted, didn't take their precepts to the level he saw in her mind. Experience. That was what she lacked, and what she craved. He saw her idea of him, a representation of the things she felt disconnected and walled off from. Years of teaching, thinking, wondering. Molded in clay, her family's pride. No mate, no children, learning through books instead of forging her own way. He thought she had a lot of philosophical sense and very little common sense. Purity was an illusion. People were just people. He let the color copies of thoughts and memories wade through. His own followed along, reserved, distanced. Memories he chose, that he could handle being dissected or judged. Ka'veya, Eikhan, Tabakau Kai'tan Kebitra, P'Jem. His own time at the Academy, with rows of students paying rapt attention, abandoning books and computer terminals. Lectures tapping the blocks of nature, life, existence. Math in growing, blooming things, on walls, in the air. The science of movement, of people. The Dominion. Romulus. An entire life of listening to the same words she had uttered only moments before. They fortified him, kinetic energy shields in his mind, but they wouldn't diminish him. He couldn't rely on anyone for peace. Peace came from within. He had always, and would always, need to find his own way. He spoke aloud after a while, as their breathing slowed simultaneously to enter the second stage. "I share these things with you to show you why I cannot rely upon you to give me stability."

She followed everywhere she was taken. She saw pictures, animations, poetry, prose. She saw herself from the outside, from the perspective of someone else, of an alien - but not a human. By Liyar. Liyar saw her differently from anyone else. She was decadent, weak, frail, insubstantial. In body or mind? Both. She was a picture of an idea, rather than an idea by itself. Her family misguided, herself a piece in their game. Her parents' game. Her father's. She saw a damn about to burst. The water was emotion, reality, decades of suppression. She opened her mouth, she kept her eyes closed.

"No," she said firmly. An undertone of shrillness was in her voice. Unbecoming of a Vulcan, she repeated to herself. But it had happened. "You are in incorrect," she said. Her mind felt as though she were pulling a cart of bricks on her own, in the rain, somewhere cold and uphill. In mud that was very deep, up her to her knees. Maybe her thighs. He was stronger than her; but she was no fool. She showed him that she was not naive, she was just different. She was how a Vulcan should be. She was how her people were. He was not. She knew it to be true. Naskisem would not let him sway her from her purpose, from the core he said she lacked. She showed him her life. Her childhood. She was not alone because she was inept, she was alone because she needed a suitable mate and she had never found one. She was not a child. She showed him her mother and father, their praise for her. Her position in classes. Because she had not left Vulcan like others or chose a less-concentrated, a less difficult existence did not make weaken her. It gave her strength. She was not ashamed. She had no regret. The dam trembled, but she ignored it. To be great took sacrifice. To be Vulcan, she had to champion logic over desire. She was curious about the galaxy, but for her function it was not necessary to wander. She was curious about males. They inhibited her function. A male demanded her life. She would be enslaved. She was unwilling. She had siblings. A brother. Two sisters. They would carry on the family line. Water spilled over the top of the dam, a clap of thunder. She knew she was right. The dam was not denial, it was logic barring the chaos of emotion. She reinforced it, built it higher. She showed it to him. Toured the interior, the floodgates, the reservoir. The desire to overflow, to push through, to burst, to flood uncontrollably down stream was immense. Unimaginable pressures. "It is necessary," she sang. "You have to master it," she told him. "As I have."

He didn't care about weakness. Not about who she was, or how her life had been. Not duty, feeling, logic. None of it mattered in his decision. It was not about the dam, the flowing river, the challenge or the tea, her life, her experiences, her katra. It was not about her. "I cannot," Liyar shook his head once. "For me. I am not like you. My emotions do not work the same way. My experiences, my mind. I must handle it. It is my life. My choice. To share such a burden with you would be dishonorable, Naskisem. Surely you can see that. Mates share those things. Not us. My mate is dead." He opened his eyes, turned over his hand to see it twitch.

She opened her eyes, knowing he was presenting his hand. It trembled. After a sigh, Naskisem hesitated a moment, then blew out the asenoi. She blew out the candles too, moved them off the blanket and onto the floor. She collected the four stones and brought them to the centre of the blanket. She climbed off, folded it up without uttering a single word or acknowledging his presence, and replaced it in the suitcase followed by the asenoi. She would let the wax harden on the candles before repacking them. For now, she put them on the coffee table. Rising to her feet, she clasped her hands in front of her lap. "We have finished," she announced, looking down at him.

Liyar stretched his fingers, examining them, and then rose in a single fluid movement. He had attempted to reason with her. She could not be reasoned with. Out of the two of them, he thought his own logic was ironically superior. But she was young, if not in age, then in life. Even in the modern era, letting go was a lesson. His posture was easier than it had been yet. Acceptance. She could think what she wanted. He could only control his own actions. He bowed his head toward her. "Then I shall leave you, Doctor."

Naskisem didn't bother correcting him. She had told him to call her by name. She raised her hand in the ta'al. "Live long and prosper," she said, implying that it would be some time before they met again. It was what he wanted, and what she had resisted since coming aboard. This was inevitable, and it would be foolish to torment him and hurt herself further. If he wanted to be left alone, then that's what he would get.

He returned the gesture, and then grasped his hands in one another behind him. Without another word, he exited her quarters. He could only hope that she meant what she thought.

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer, SSC
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, VDF/SDD
USS Galileo

Naskisem
Alien Archaeologist/Anthropologist, CIV
USS Galileo

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