Mind Games
Posted on 07 Oct 2015 @ 9:03pm by Chief Warrant Officer 2 S'rivas
1,877 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Episode 09 - Empires
Location: USS Galileo, Deck 6, Operations Office
Timeline: MD06, 0700 Hours
Not having had time to seek out fellow Vulcans before now, Naois thought it was time to seek them out. There was a crisis on hand, and he knew that even the toughest of Vulcans could crack eventually. Of course, he wasn't a full-blood Vulcan himself so his own weakness was in fact in his blood. But how would a full-blood hold his own in times like this?
Looking down at his PADD, Naois noticed that this Vulcan was at least twice his age and for a moment that actually made him feel a little nervous. Compared to this one, Naois might even be considered a child! Young, at the very least, because he was still only 39. Approaching the office, he pressed his hand against the chime, wondering why a door to an OPS office was closed.
"Come," was the immediate reply. Within the Operations Office were a number of small desks where the team organised and reported on everything that went on onboard the ship. Starfleet Operations had one of the highest demands out of any department, though it was here, behind the scenes, where such work took place on all the ships, stations, and installations throughout the fleet. The staff was busy at work, quiet, and efficient.
Much of that likely had to do with the presence of Warrant Officer S'rivas in the office that shift. When he was around, quiet and efficient were the orders of they day. Though his eyes were focused on the screen in front of him, and didn't even glance up when the newcomer entered, his awareness of what was going on around him made the young Operations personnel feel an itch between their shoulders. Oddly enough, there was a bowl of brightly wrapped candies upon his desk.
"What can we do for you, Doctor?" S'rivas said flatly as he routed additional personnel and supplies to be available for repair work on the next shift, still not looking up. His was the only voice above a murmur in the room, just loud enough to be heard clearly, and all business.
"Not 'we', Warrant S'rivas," Naois replied, a small smile touching the corners of his mouth as he waved the remaining personnel off. "Just you. I need to have a word, with just you so you may excuse your staff to a much needed break."
"Certainly not, sir," S'rivas said, moving a block of data now, storing some of the latest sensor feeds where they could be examined by the science team later. He didn't seem at all concerned he might be walking the fine edge between following an order an order and rejecting a suggestion, though no Vulcan would display concern in the first place. "They have scheduled breaks - far too many for an eight hour shift - and much work to complete. However, if you need to speak privately, I can allot fifteen-point-three minutes at the most before my own duties require me to return."
S'rivas stood, and as his eyes swept the room it seemed as if each of the people working there cringed or jumped when he looked at them. He nodded once, then turned and lead the way into one of the smaller, private offices used by the higher officers who were not on duty. "Now, how may I be of assistance, Doctor?" he said once they were alone.
"We are in a crisis," Naois stated, obviously, "and I wish to know how you are maintaining your composure. Especially, when you are surrounded by people who cringe at a mere look from you. Do you enjoy being a tyrant, Warrant Officer?"
A single eyebrow was raised, but the reply came as deadpan as ever, "Though that is a personal question, I will answer. My composure, sir, is fine whether in a crisis or not. The looks people give me, or not, do not change that." Now his hard eyes made contact with the other man's. They were not just hard, but had the weight of decades of wisdom with decades more to come. "A tyrant is defined as a ruler who is cruel and oppressive. As I am neither of these traits, nor am I a ruler, I fail to see your analogy, Doctor."
"Those poor people cringe at a mere look from you warrant," Naois pointed out, then shrugged, "logically, they believe you to be exactly what I just reasoned you to be. Whether you are or not, does not matter to them. My question remains, how do you remain composed. How do you keep yourself from cracking at the seams."
"I do not care how they see me, Doctor, and nor should they. Their minds should be focused on their duties and not concerned over comparing me to various dictators throughout history. What I demand of them is only exactly was Starfleet demands, according to regulation. If they cannot meet those requirements perhaps they should find a job in a more relaxed environment such as Counseling. That is the place where they could be concerned about their feelings." Though his face, tone, and body language hadn't changed a whit, with those words and somehow his presence, S'rivas made it clear he had made an insult. Not one that could be proven, but one that must be known.
"As for my stoicism, I follow the teachings of my people," he continued on. Then, so bluntly, "Given the weaknesses of your human blood, perhaps it is you seeking how to keep from...'cracking at the seams'?"
Naois almost smiled. Almost, as his eyes narrowed just a fraction, indicating he was far from amused. "Not everyone is suitable to become a counsellor," he pointed out, his voice flat and devoid of inflection. "Nor is everyone suitable for operations, I know that I am not. You say you follow the teachings, but I reason you do so a little too rigidly."
"That is your opinion, Doctor," S'rivas droned. "But according to Starfleet regulations, it is up to me what personal philosophies and practises I may follow from my culture. How I handle my mental discipline and control is a deeply personal thing to question. Was there any other business you wished to discuss?" S'rivas was attempting to steer the conversation away from his personal life, obviously not going for the counselor's attempts.
"I am a counsellor, it is my duty to question someone's mental discipline," Naois retorted stubbornly, "and I desire to know how you maintain yours. And it is my duty to ascertain whether you remain fit for duty, even after hours on shift without taking any time away from your station. Even a Vulcan needs to unwind."
"Unwind? Perhaps you are not as familiar with your Vulcan heritage as you might think. We do not relax our control, even for a moment. To do so invites disorder, chaos, and illogic. How I maintain my control, the specific rituals and meditations I follow, are for me alone. You do not have the authority to interfere with them. As I am obviously of sound mind and body, Doctor, any attempt to do so would be a violation of ethics. Shall I quote the specific regulation?" S'rivas had gone from vaguely insulting to offended himself. This half-breed was treading upon dangerous ground indeed, with the one person on the ship whose specific duty was the regulations and had a mind capable of knowing them all. His eyes glittered as he stared.
"My...I do believe someone's control is slipping," the counsellor returned, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared back. "Do I detect anger?"
"I believe the only thing you may be detecting at the moment, Doctor, is impatience," S'rivas said. There was the slightest note of boredom now. He expertly controlled exactly just which 'feelings' he projected. Whether they were actually what he felt beneath the surface of Vulcan control, or only acting for the benefit of emotional races, was impossible to tell without the equivalent of a mind meld.
"I see no point in this conversation. You have proven your ignorance as to the psyche of a true Vulcan, and wasted now seven and a half minutes of time that could have been spent in more productive pursuits. For example, work assigned to me by my superior officer. With your permission, sir, I will return to my tasks...?"
"I never claimed to be a true Vulcan," the counsellor shrugged, "I embrace both my heritages as I see fit because they made me who I am. And you, Warrant S'rivas as a very impatient man. Very well, return to your duties, but I expect you to take sufficient breaks like any other. Even a Vulcan mind needs rest, periodically, or that fine control of yours will crack."
"Indeed," S'rivas said with a raised eyebrow. It could have been meant for the comment about embracing both the species that Mercy had been born from, with disapproval for not following the logical course. Perhaps he was agreeing with being impatient, pulled away from his duties to a discussion that had no purpose. Maybe S'rivas was just agreeing with the order for taking breaks, which he would interpret as always: his Vulcan stamina allowed him to work for days and he would rest, as always, when he needed to.
As he passed back through the doors into the main office, he asked, "Was there anything further that we might assist you with, Doctor? We do have various supplies left over from the war games that are currently in storage that we might provide your department with." Just like that, back to mundane business as usual. S'rivas' eyes scanned the room, and once again the people cringed, picked up the pace of their work.
"Such as?" the younger man prompted without pause, "mind games perhaps?"
"I will have to check records to confirm they are still available," S'rivas said, reaching for his candy, taking the question literally. He idly handed one over to the counselor, then sat down. "I believe we did have a small number of Rubik's cubes."
"No thank you, I do not like sweets," Naois said, declining the offer of sweets. "Rubik's? Interesting...it has been a while since I have seen one of those. Do you also have Rubik's Magic? Or snake?"
"We do not have those, but we have two cubes left." S'rivas went on, "One Andorian ice trick, several Bolian boggles, a multispectral music box that should nearly impossible for an unfocused mind to control, a Ktarian brain game-" S'rivas paused for a moment, an eyebrow going back up. "I will make sure that is confiscated immediately."
"One cube, and the music box." He smirked at the older Vulcan, an open and daring smirk. "I do so like a challenge," he drawled.
"Oh?" S'rivas looked up from the inventories and into the counselor's eyes. Out of all the emotions that S'rivas was able to project without a visual tell, amusement was one of the rarest but it was out in force now. "One wonders why then you gave up so easily just a moment ago..."
CWO2 S'rivas
Boatswain
USS Galileo
[PNPC Xanth]
Lt. j.g. Naois Mercy
Counsellor
USS Galileo
[PNPC Tyrion]
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