This Year VI

Posted on 20 Jun 2013 @ 7:25am by Lieutenant JG Kestra Orexil

1,429 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Mess Hall
Timeline: MD7 0800 Hours

ON:

Liyar's hands stilled as he watched the forms shape in her mind, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he attempted to decipher the winding, twisting paths. They separated and then slowed down, one laid over the other, elegant. He watched it repeat for many moments before picking up his own and shrugging as if to say here goes. The Chalice. Nurturing potential. Life. He had always been taught his source of power was internal. And he believed that still, had to. A'Tha, Arivne. Touching katras and the Consciousness, the Voices of one and the many. The connectedness of them all, the desert fire. Power and life was that split point bursting forward in a cell, in hearts, fists, blood. He watched her create the Chalice again and again, and tried to awkwardly follow.

Tell me about them, she met his eyes over the rope between them, her fingertips lightly touching his wrists as he tried to make it fit the shape she'd made. He needed to relax, give into the ply of the rope the same way giving into himself would allow him to see his abilities more clearly. A'Tha and Arivne.

A'Tha is Immanence. It is the direct experience that every Vulcan has with the guiding forces of the Universe. Each Vulcan contributes to A'Tha by way of Arivne. It is the Core of one's Self, reaching up into points in the mindscape. Before there was thought and reason and society, there was A'Tha. When Vulcan is gone and civilization means nothing, there will be A'Tha, a Reminder of all that we were, and all the effects that we put forth into our dimensional space, Liyar tried to explain it as best he could. It is the source of momentum, existence. Our Power is derived from our Core and it is in connection with the All, every other Vulcan who has reached and will reach. Each individual point is a whole world of experience, sentience, perception. He tied a small knot point in the rope, demonstrating. Then another, further up. The rope is A'Tha. You and I, we are points. Our knots are our power, derived from the shape of our experiences, our Intent. Meres, Shion, in our language.

Familiar and unfamiliar. Fascinating how so many cultures across the galaxy had come to such similar states of faith, even if they didn't call it that. Try thinking of the Chalice as a physical representation of Arivne. That Core that rests inside, waiting to be filled with knowledge and experience. And, once it has, overflowing with that experience to help create new life and new thought.

Familiar indeed. Throughout his brief stay on Galileo and away from Vulcan, Liyar had heard the story of A'Tha in many different ways, in many different forms. It was silly, to think in the grand scheme of things that his stresses were truly significant. He knew, that as a point in the constellation map, he was. Everyone was. Every life had meaning and purpose. Every action mattered, and formed the silken spiderweb of their existence. Yet, when faced with the simple reality that events would happen and continue to happen in spite of everything, that they happened despite the only thing. He slouched a little in his chair as calm came in gradual waves. It was shifting, changing, reflecting so many points it was nearly impossible to pin down. Physics, numbers, equations, formulas. The force of the universe. The Consciousness. Himself, alone, among many. Hurtling through the darkness to their interdimensional destinations, fates leading together. The rope wound easier through his fingers.

There, she thought, encouraging. Then, To think it took me weeks to perfect these knots and you seem to be getting them all so swiftly.

Liyar looked down at the rope, eyes widening in surprise. I do not understand, he breathed mentally. I cannot comprehend, and yet I do it regardless. It does not make sense.

Perhaps you understand more than you know.

I fear I understand very little, these days, Liyar replied. He thought of the scepter, the next knot. How was it done?

She showed him again, tracing the patterns and movements of the rope in her mind. Power and control. Direction. For these things, you mustn't give in to your fears. Your will is the guiding force. Your will can change how the rope moves just as purely as you can give into the play of the rope's tension.

Instantly, Liyar's fingers moved, sourced but without purpose. His motions were quick and severe, yet meaningless. Momentum without direction. He thought back to the caves unconsciously. When he had focused and concentrated, his shield bursts had been minimal. Yet, when truly threatened, he had generated a powerful enough barrier to protect all of them from an assailant, however briefly. He couldn't do it consciously, and it frustrated him. He looked down to his palms where the rope seared into his skin. The knot was now unrecognizable. He shook his head and tried to dismantle it.

Follow the patterns, learn how to manage the fibers of the rope, and you will find your center and the means by which to control your abilities. So it has been. So it shall be.

What use is power if it cannot be harnessed? he grouched irately. The knots were unwound and he tried again. Weaving, twisting, turning. His Center. What was that? It was ragged, mangled, useless. He sighed. It is morning, he suddenly thought, perking up. Here he was, working rope into shapeless forms, and hadn't thought of it. Have you eaten first-meal yet?

Not as yet. She watched him cautiously. Not useless, not mangled. Pushing herself down the biobed, she leaned to situate the hoverchair alongside it, then positioned herself to lower down into it. Settled, she tapped the controls and turned the chair towards the door. If you think of yourself that way, you'll become it. Everything begins with will, and Will comes from Thought.

He cast the rope aside and stood, peering down at her. Where are you going?

To feed you. She nodded towards the door. Keep the rope. Perhaps it will help.

Liyar blinked and followed Kestra out of the sickbay. I had meant you, you know. Despite his promise to Sekhet, the last meal he remembered taking was two days ago in his quarters with Maenad. Maybe a raktajino wouldn't hurt. Or two, images of his upcoming SET mission floated up to remind him. He looked weary in the harsh, bright lighting outside. He shuffled into the turbolift after Kestra and the doors shut behind them.

Or some food. More of this Maenad. She seemed to come up every few minutes. Interesting. It's not like you to break your promises.

It is not intentional, Liyar thought as they exited the lift on Deck 2. He normally just forgot, or found it a waste of time, or had little appetite. He walked alongside her, hands folded silently in front of him. The doors opened automatically, revealing a room with only a few officers milling about given that shift had started fifteen minutes prior. He led them over to the buffet counter where a replicator was embedded into the wall beside it. He made a beeline for it and cradled a blue mug of raktajino once it materialized.

You are aware of it and haven't taken pains to rectify the situation, Kestra laughed silently and procured a tray, dishing up bowls of sweet-smelling yogurt and a wide selection of fruits. Then she ordered Fousina - a honey soaked, protein-rich gelatin made from the roots of an ousha tree. He needed protein, sustenance... and there was more to the ritual of taking a meal than basic nutrition. Though with the way he'd been skipping meals, only his Vulcan metabolism was preventing him from turning to skin and bones.

OFF:

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

Lieutenant (JG) Kestra Orexil
Former Chief Tactical/Security Officer, SFS
USS Galileo

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