The Root of the Problem

Posted on 15 Mar 2015 @ 9:49pm by Ensign Arandon Khnailmnae Ph.D.

2,797 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo, Arboretum
Timeline: MD -03 1300 Hours

[ON]

The Arboretum was beginning to become Arandon's sanctuary. It was free and open and he felt very calm and at peace, in contrast to how he felt elsewhere on the ship. Sitting, looking out the window, drinking Icoberry juice it was the closest thing this ship had to Risa. Well other than the holodeck simulation but that was... something else entirely. Here it was natural and his mind was clear, even though he felt a very familiar feeling on his back. It was exposure, it was the slightest bit of unnerving feeling that put him just off center, but he was able to ignore it quite well. Yes, just sitting down by the windows was a nice feeling, pleasant.

For a moment, Wintrow closed his eyes as he entered the arboretum, then proceeded to take off his boots and socks. This was the only way to get in touch with nature, he felt. Just like walking on a beach, or dangling your feet in water over the edge of your boat. He felt the grass tickle between his toes as he stepped onto the grass, careful to avoid the flowers growing there. He liked the outdoors, even though he wasn't much of a gardner. For a long moment, the young pilot just stood there, boots in one hand, socks in the other, face upturned towards the artificial sun.

Eyes still closed, he took a single step forward and stubbed his toes hard against something. Tears springing to his eyes, the boy cried out as he fell into the grass and held his foot.

The sudden outburst of powerful emotion, aided by other volatility the nature of which Arandon could not readily discern, jolted him physically when he felt it telepathically, causing him to lurch forward as he was drinking his juice. Recovering from the very sudden and rude interruption of his pastoral thoughts in this idyllic environment, Arandon turned around to see a young man, not much older than himself, heaving on the ground. Rising with grace but with urgency Arandon glided across the green of the arboretum before kneeling down next to the wincing and heavily breathing man in red. "Are you all right?" Arandon said, his head eclipsing the artificial sun above them.

He took stock of the man's uniform color and insignia. He was a Cadet, 2nd year, command division. Most likely on his field training. Arandon also took note of his 'wound', his bare foot that had small amounts of blood but was swelling quite severely over some trauma. All the while Arandon was trying to ignore the very powerful ambiance coming from the man's mind, even actively blocking out the music that his thoughts created.

Wintrow turned his head to look at the man and nodded briefly. "Yes," he breathed, his breath coming out in a hiss. "Sort of...what on earth did I walk into? I didn't see anything there, but I sure felt it." He held down on his foot, applying pressure without really knowing how or where, just knowing that whatever he hit it really hurt.

Arandon was a qualified medic and it didn't appear serious, broken toes were hardly substantial injuries and would heal on their own rather quickly even if left alone. "A rock," Arandon said, looking just in front of the Cadet's incapacitated body. It was certainly odd to see someone nearly as tall as Arandon brought down by something so mundane as a rock. "Probably just a broken toe, it's not a compound fracture though." Arandon said in a very professional tone of voice, taking stock of the boy's injuries. He moved a very deft and long fingered hand over the boy's toes, carefully running his hands over them to turn the boy's feet to make certain his diagnosis.

The boy flinched visibly upon the touch and pulled away his foot in reflex. He hadn't expected the touch, even though he sensed no malice in the man's ministrations. "Sorry," he apologized, putting his foot back to rest in the grass. "Habit...I don't like to be touched. Not without warning. "

Arandon's eyes remained trained on the boy for a moment, narrowing before he gave a nod. "All right," He said, getting up. "I can perform the osteo-regeneration, I'll be back presently." He said, waiting till he was finished with his explanation before going over to the doors to the Arboretum and grabbing a med kit.

Staring after him, Wintrow watched him go, grateful that the man hadn't persisted on touching him. He held his breath as his toes throbbed, gritting his teeth.

Arandon returned a few moments later, once again kneeling beside the Cadet. He sat the med kit down beside him and started looking through it. Picking up an osteo-regenerator, Arandon turned it on and peered over at the Cadet's face, his head held high and his eyes looking down. "I'm going to touch you, is that okay?" He asked.

Knowing it's necessity, Wintrow nodded once. "Yes," he answered as he expelled his breath, his dark blue eyes never once leaving the man's face. "Yes, it's okay, it's necessary," he answered. "I don't think we've met before," he babbled on, "my name's Wintrow..."

"Arandon," He said, glancing back at Wintrow as he moved to set and repair the bones. Using his thin and delicate fingers, Arandon separated each individual toe and held them straight, sometimes pulling them to get the bone into place, causing some minor discomfort no doubt. He ran the osteo-regenerator over each toe slowly, letting the bone knit an recalcify. After doing that he picked up the medkit's tricorder, going over Wintrow's foot and making sure he had successfully healed him. "It's done." Arandon said, looking up at the boy's face.

"Thank you," the boy said, examining his foot and wiggling his toes. "No discomfort," he reported, as a little colour returned to his cheeks. "Are you a doctor?"

"Not a medical one," Arandon said, packing up the medical kit. "I am a Doctor of Botany." He said with his body turned away.

"What does that mean?" Crossing his legs under him, Wintrow sat up to study him. "And how did you know I was in pain, or where I was? I didn't see you when i walked in."

"It means I received a Philosophy Doctorate, in Botany," Arandon said, not vexed at the question and perhaps a bit amused as his tone suggested. "I merely looked behind me, you made quite a sound." It wasn't exactly the whole truth but it served as it well enough.

"You're lying," Wintrow said, without accusation in his voice. "I can sense that you're not telling me the truth of it. He picked a small flower from the grass and studied it. "This place...to you it is home, isn't it? A sanctuary?"

Arandon narrowed his eyes at the insinuation. Even among telepaths he was not used to his thoughts being read or discerned, even in ambiance. "Oh I don't know," He said, barely changing his face but moving his head around the room to look at it. "It certainly is pleasant though." He said, navigating around the land mines of insinuation and innuendo.

"What part is your favourite?" the teenager asked without pause. "I like to walk through the grass, or the sand...the latter makes me feel as if I'm walking a beach. I like to walk barefoot in the creeks too if I can...sort of..get in touch with nature?"

"Oh I like flowers," Arandon said, avoiding eye contact but relaxing his posture. His tone was neutral and innocuous, like an adult talking to a persistent child and coming up with answers that did not satisfy their curiosity. It was an odd situation though, Wintrow was about Arandon's age physically, if not slightly older, and yet he was a bit more mature. "So you're a cadet? On field training I presume?" Arandon added, diverting the conversation from himself.

"Not quite sir," Wintrow replied, lowering his gaze. "I've never physically attended the academy. I'm... I started training on a starship, following classes while on assignment. It was....safer, for me. I had to get away from Earth and to be truthful...I don't really want to go back there."

Arandon completely ignored the weightier, more personal parts of Wintrow's explanation. "I've never heard of such an arrangement, curious." That wasn't precisely the best way to get around the more emotional parts.

"I'm not sure it's conventional either but here we are, and I'm enjoying this assignment even though I miss my friends back on my last ship. Their counsellor is kind of my...guardian."

"Well I hope you enjoy your time here," Arandon once again skimmed over just about everything. "So you're command division? Pilot? Strategic Operations? Something like that?" He was trying to play it very, very safe.

"Support craft pilot, but I'm assigned as the conn officer for the wargames, here on Galileo." He said it with a touch of pride but also with a hint of fear. He'd never flown a starship before and he was very afraid he might botch the opportunity. "I wouldn't mind learning what plants are useful to calm one's spirits...."

"Doesn't work like that unless you want to learn about narcotics production." Arandon said point blank. "Beauty and happiness are where you find it, they are inventions of your own mind." He said in an equally neutral and blunt tone of voice.

"I don't mean narcotics," the youth replied defensively, "just that my nerves are easily frayed and something...herbal... might help. I don't need anything addictive, just...something."

Arandon didn't move for a moment, and only looked off into the distance, his eyes and face unmoving and concentrating not on something physical, but some mental image. As much as he wanted to bury it, he sensed the pain the boy was in, it heightened every song his thoughts produced, saddened and soured ever note. Giving a short sigh, Arandon looked around the Arboretum before narrowing his eyes on a plant in the corner. Getting up, Arandon walked towards the white and pale blue colored plant with vibrant, tropical flowers that were the size of fruits.

Startled by the sudden sound and move, Wintrow looked up to watch him go, then bowed his head to stare at his foot again. He shook his head, wondering what he'd done now.

Arandon came back over and stood over the Cadet for a moment, hesitating before offering one of the stems. "Gileisna appatropica," he said in a very clear tone of voice, shifting his eyes to the plant. "It clears your head, acting as a sort of mental anti-inflammatory. It's been debated if its psychotropic in nature, or even addictive. The effects are subtle, but appreciable." He explained in a clear, but musing tone of voice.

Accepting the stem, Wintrow looked up again, question in his eyes. "What am I to do with it?" he asked softly, "chew it, boil and drink it...." He licked his lips as he studied the plant, looking confused.

"Listen to me very, very carefully." Arandon said, getting level with Wintrow and getting very close to his face. "You brew the leafs in a tea, you do not ingest them, you do not grind them and take them through the nose, just brewed in a tea." Arandon explained in an exacting and crisp tone of voice.

"Tea," the boy acknowledged, shuffling back just enough to get the half Romulan out of his personal space. "I understand, just a tea. Not too strong, I assume?"

"Use one leaf, however you brew or take your tea is fine." Arandon explained with a slightly softer tone.

"Any restrictions to the amount per day?" Wintrow asked carefully, while cherishing the flower as if it were something precious.

"Twice, three if you feel you need it, pace it though." Arandon explained in a dry and low tone of voice.

"I'll try to only use it in the evening," Wintrow promised, "for sleeping purposes only."

"If that's what you require it for." Arandon said with a nod, he was feeling much better about the whole thing if he was just giving the ability to rest to a weary soul. He didn't know what the Cadet had been through, nor did he want to know, not because he didn't care but because he preferred to avoid such things.

Wintrow nodded. "For now," he elaborated, "I'm not sleeping very well and I don't want any chemicals to correct some kind of imbalance or anything. I'm just having nightmares that's all." He didn't elaborate on the sort of nightmares, unwilling to talk about the whole event despite really needing to. "Thank you."

Arandon peformed his go to action and nodded. "You are welcome Wintrow just," He said with a bit of hesitation, or was it concern, in his voice. "don't get new stems yourself, come to me first, all right?" He said softly, trying to cover all of his bases in his mind.

"I will sir, honestly, I hope not to need this for long." He tilted his head, studying him. "You are Romulan?" he queried carefully, "or Vulcan?" He did sense something but he couldn't quite figure it out.

"Is that relevant to this conversation?" Arandon said in a straight-laced, almost prickly tone.

"No sir," Wintrow replied, picking up on the almost prickly tone. He looked away, suddenly feeling a lot smaller. "Just curious sir."

Arandon just stared ahead for a moment, turning away from Wintrow. "Curiosity is a virtue but one often best exercised with caution Cadet." Arandon didn't like discussing his heritage merely for the sake of the curiosity of strangers, well half of his heritage anyway.

"I'm sorry," Wintrow murmured, feeling berated, "it's just...i get the feeling you're a telepath...but you don't look Vulcan and you don't have the distinctive dark eyes of a Betazoid." He looked up, indicating his own very dark blue eyes. "I'm half Betazoid."

Arandon was far more willing to discuss his telepathic status, though he treaded lightly, knowing Wintrow was tying it to race and heritage. "I am a telepath yes." Arandon said simply, though his tone was not cold or dismissive.

"I can tell," Wintrow repeated, relaxing slightly, "but I'm no telepath..I'm an empath though I've not really received any training. I've always been aware of things - especially danger, all my life, but this knowing how people feel, that's something that kinda developed over the last two years. I'm not really sure how to deal with that."

"It comes with puberty in most cases, I guess your mixed genes might have caused it to surface later." Arandon wasn't speaking with the weight of his own experiences, but they were there none the less. Once he had been a young telepath a few years younger than Wintrow, the lack of other telepaths around most of the time meant he had to find his own way to control his abilities. Untrained psionics mixed with powerful hormonal urges meant for a very interesting and sometimes debaucherous adolescence. Of course those were words that would be tacked on by other cultures, to Risians it was pretty normal.

"I don't know," the younger man confessed, "as I said, I never had any formal training in this, and I actually don't know who to turn to." He looked up, a pleading look to his face again. "I'm not asking you personally to help in this sir, but if you could make a few suggestions on who toturn to?"

Arandon shook his head. "No I'm afraid not." He spoke sincerely and honestly. "The Doctors onboard seem at least familiar with telepathic abilities, perhaps you should speak to them." It was honestly the best advice he could give. Arandon was not a pedagogal teacher for everything in relation to himself, and least of all telepathy.

"I might do that." A ghost of a smile touched his features. "I should get back to my quarters," he continued. "Thank you again for the plant sir, I'll try not to overuse it."

Arandon nodded, there was little else to say and what there was he certainly was not going to bring up. "Your welcome, good day Cadet." Arandon said, rising from the grass and walking back over to his previous position by the windows, leaving Wintrow to show himself out.

Carrying the plant, as if it's something precious, Wintrow didn't leave right away however. Instead, he continued on his originally intended path and finally eased himself down in the grass, staring up at the artificial sun in the hope of getting a mild tan.

[OFF]

Cadet SO Wintrow Paragon
Support Craft Pilot
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

&

Ensign Arandon Khnailmnae
Botanist
USS Galileo

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