A bird in the hand is worth a bird in a cage

Posted on 25 Oct 2017 @ 8:17am by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant & Petty Officer 3rd Class Constantin Vansen

2,948 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - San Francisco, Starfleet Medical
Timeline: MD 80 - 1000 hours

[ON]

This time, when the doors to the passageway whispered open, a Romulan in a lab coat came striding into Constantin's room. Using the PADD he was clutching in one hand, the Romulan snatched the biofunction monitor data from the hospital biobed before made an attempt at pleasantries. His dark eyes danced over the petals of vital information blossoming across the small display. The Romulan's behaviour wasn't too alarming or out of character, given the Starfleet medical uniform he wore beneath his pale blue lab coat.

"Good morning Petty Officer Vansen," the Romulan said. Looking up from his PADD to meet Constantine's eyes, he asked in an upward lilt, "I do hope you're comfortable?"

Constantin looked up from the bed he was sitting on, back against the wall and a PADD in his lap. He watched the Romulan with a small smile, used to people coming in and out. After all, it was a hospital as much as anything else. And he was here to be supervised, tested, prodded and otherwise questioned to make sure he wouldn't die of anything they could have stopped. He studied him easily, quick blue eyes taking him in. Average height. Dark eyes, dark hair. Handsome. He noted that his built wasn't like the few Romulans he had seen now and then...mostly on holodeck programmes, even with his own background he rarely came across anyone interesting before he joined Starfleet. "Good morning. I'm comfortable enough. Breakfast was a bit boring, I would have hoped for something a bit...different seeing as we are on a planet that can grow stuff," he said lightly before smiling to show he didn't mean it, a soft chuckle escaping as he made a point of turning his PADD off and putting it to the side. "Would you like to sit down? I'd offer you something to drink but..." there was no replicator in his room that he could access. He knew that the personnel here could though.

Before anything else, the Romulan took notice of a certain type of twinkle in Constantin's eyes. Noticing the rest of him too, the Romulan felt immediately drawn in. His first inclination was to engage in some wordplay regarding getting a drink, or a good meal, but he wasn't here for pleasure. He would feel it inappropriate to proceed without declaring himself first.

"You can call me Lieutenant ir-Llantrisant," the Romulan said. He stood still at the end of the bed and clutched his wrist behind his back. "I am well hydrated, thank you," Lake said in his professional timbre. "I'm a counselor assigned to assess the impact your long stay with us here may, or may not, be having on your psyche." Now that Lake had run out of shore leave time --and his posting remained under quarantine and inaccessible to him-- Starfleet Medical had called on him for overflow duties.

"Well, Lieutenant ir-Llantrisant..." Constantin said before he smiled weakly. "I suppose it will have some impact. I've never really liked being planet side and being between assignments is making me...cranky." And truth was, if it hadn't been for him meeting Verity and seeing him regular for social chat, he would be clawing at the walls. Like last time. So he got the counsellor being here. "Any tests you want me to take?" It was the way it was for him here. Tests. Loads of tests. Still. He tilted his head to watch the Romulan, studying him closely. It could be a lot worse and he was a social person. Talking, even about his mind or body, was better than complete silence.

Stepping back from the biobed, Lake tapped the PADD against his thigh for four beats to a song only he could hear in his head. "I would say... it's too soon for any standardized tests," Lake replied. Although, even as he said it, his eyes were fixated on the overhead while he thought it through -- to be absolutely certain, after all. "We haven't yet established if there's even a problem or discomfort. Everyone reacts differently to..." --he threw the word out there experimentally-- "...Captivity?"

"No animal likes being caged and humans aren't any different than any other animal," Constantin said softly before he blinked as he clearly thought his words more through. He looked down at his hands, folded in front of him. He rubbed the knuckles of his left hand, slowly, his blue eyes going back to the Romulan. "Put me on a shuttle and tell me I am there until someone comes for me and I will be fine. Even alone. But the second I am down on a planet I am just...I don't even know." He considered it for awhile in silence before he finally said the words. "My instincts scream at me. Whenever I set my foot outside my instincts tell me I am without a suit. I will die. Now, my brain tells me it's fine, I mean my parents were born here. I got all I need to...function on a planet. But my heart still races. Did you know that if you're spaced you don't die instantly? Sorry...I know you know that. You're a Counsellor, so you know stuff like that too. But...I know it in my bones. And I know there's a chance that it would take me a bit longer than your average human because of the way I was brought up. When I was a kid, I...would wonder how it felt. And what I'd think of..." he stopped before he chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry. That wasn't what you meant, was it? I don't know where that all went..."

Stumbling slightly, Lake crossed the room to abandon his PADD on a supplies sideboard. He didn't say anything at first, for fear of interrupting Constantin's train of thought, or polluting Constantin's self-awareness with his own perspective. When the silence in the room nearly flooded to the level of the ceiling, Lake affirmed, "That is what I meant. That's exactly what I meant." As he spoke, Lake moved closer to the side of the bed. He dragged over a stool and he positioned it by Constantin's side. Perching himself on the edge of the stool, Lake lowered his voice to ask, "What did you imagine it would feel like? Stepping out into the vacuum of space?"

Constantin looked at him with surprise at the words, at just being asked about it. He considered it for a moment before he bit his lip, his front teeth worrying his bottom lip. But it was clear it was just him thinking, not self harming. "Cold. Not that hard vacuum is cold, it is just deprived of heat. I suspect I'd have maybe 30 seconds of consciousness before the hypoxia set in. Most people would go unconscious after 14 seconds, but I had a Starfleet doctor once tell me that the way my blood is oxygenated is slightly different as it was all artificial when I was a kid. I am not sure of it, but hey...I am not a doctor, so I will take his word. Anyway. 30 seconds and no way back? I'd...see the beauty of it. Being out there without a suit, without that distraction?" he met his eyes, holding them for a long moment. "With all your senses narrowed down to those 30 seconds stretching out due to the rise of adrenaline? I think...it would be beautiful to see. Of course, between you and me, I'd rather not go gasping for breath. But that could just as easily happen if life support fails. So if that was the way I was going, I think I'd rather go outside."

Nodding at his perception of Constantin's words, Lake remarked, "There would be a certain beauty at experiencing that kind of eternity in a span of thirty seconds linear time." He nodded again and he asked, "I heard you say the beauty would come from being in space without a suit, without distraction. What does that kind of distraction mean to you?"

"Well, in a suit, you got the helmet..." he said with a small smile before he moved his hand in front of his face. "And any details coming up, your pressure, oxygen and all that. You also have restricted view. There's the helmet which limits your vision a bit. Throw in a voice in your ear and all that..." he shrugged with his hands, holding them to the side and moving them up slightly. His shoulders however remained still. Subconsciously, it was because if you shrugged in a spacesuit, no one could see it. So he used his hands instead, which would be visible.

"And as distractions go," Lake asked, having nodded his understanding of the point Constantin was making, "how does this room compare to an environmental suit?"

Constantin smiled suddenly, leaning closer. "Interesting way to look at it. I suppose that you could argue that in it I am safe. This room, I mean. It's contained, the window is covered...you could almost pretend you were on a ship," he stood suddenly, stretching his body slowly. "I don't know if I can compare it to a suit. Not to me anyway. This room...it's less about protection for me. It's a place I stare at the wall. I..." he hesitated before he frowned. "It's isolating. I had enough of isolation growing up. It was just me and my parents. No siblings. No outside contact for me. I was too fragile to get off the ship, a starbase or someone's ship where artificial gravity actually worked would leave me crippled. So when my parents went to barter with Ferengi, Cardassians, Bajorans...whoever they were smuggling for at the time...I was alone on the ship. Computer was so basic it barely did voice commands. So...I don't like being alone. Isolated. I like feeling people around me, knowing there's someone else there."

His expression becoming pinched in thought, Lake said, "I can see the parallels you're drawing between your separation from people in this room and the separation you felt on the ship where you grew up. It's certainly natural to crave a more than superficial connection to, not only your family, but a community." --Lake tilted his head to one side-- "I'm curious about what comfort you can find in knowing you're in the heart of a massive medical complex, on one of the most densely-populated planets in the Federation?"

"Honestly, doc?" Constantin smiled weakly before he reached out, slowly. His hand touched the Romulan's and he kept his eyes as the palm slid over the back of his hand. In a move of surprising quickness for a man with his condition he was up, his face close to Lake's. "This. I can feel your skin against mine. I can heart your breathing," he let go of him and held his hands up, taking a step back. "Same with voices. Voices help. Touch helps. The sounds a living person makes. Breathing. Snores." He lowered his hands and stood there, arms at his side, just watching him.

"You may have been born into the wrong culture," Lake remarked with a wry smile. He rose to his full height, but only so he could drag his stool closer to the side of the bed. Once he settled himself on the seat again, Lake rest his palm on Constantin's shoulder. "By my observations, the peoples of the Federations aren't such pack animals at large. The value of physical contact doesn't appear to be universal," he said, acknowledging that this was only his own perspective.

To illustrate his point, Lake lowered his voice and spoke in less formal a timbre. "My assignment to Starfleet Medical is a temporary one while my home starbase is being contained by quarantine protocols. I thought it best to explore the environs and its people while I have this rare opportunity," Lake said. "Unlike you, many of the people I've met have craved isolation. I found myself in a tug-of-war over rhubarb with a woman at a market, and she supposed my craving for that struggle was an indication of deep unhappiness on my part. I met another individual at the site of my marriage," --as an aside, he frowned at Constantin to clarify-- "(My failed marriage) and despite my best efforts to include her in my reverie, all she wanted to talk about was the spray from the bay. The more I tried to connect, the more distantly she withdrew."

Constantin frowned slightly, watching him closely before he smiled to him. "I know I am messed up," he said and stroked over Lake's hand. "I know there are...gaps. In my social skills. A pack can be small. Mine was. Me, my parents...just the three of us. My father's dead. My mother is...I don't know. Maybe dead, maybe out there. I was left. But I had people around me. Even when it was on its hardest, when I thought the pain of breathing would kill me...I had people around me. A doctor's hand, a nurse's voice. And it became what I held on for. People. I...like having people around. You. The nurses, the doctors, Verity. People I can talk to. People who I can reach out and..." he touched Lake's cheek, because he could. Because it was possible. "And touch. I don't crave isolation. I have enough of it around. What I...lack in here is a goal. A purpose. I don't know how long I will be here. But I need people around."

"It sounds like you know yourself well enough to know what form your self-care should take," Lake said. He nodded, but it was a subtle movement. He made an effort not to recoil from Constantin's touch. "I have to admit, I haven't reviewed your entire service jacket," Lake said, "What do you do for Starfleet?"

"Oh..." he laughed warmly, shaking his head as he lowered his hand. "I am in Operations. Repairing the ship..." he raised an eyebrow, smiling quickly. "I am good at it. Keeping a ship working, doing what needs to be done. I am not afraid to improvise if needs be. Which...never really happens except once..."

Nodding much more deeply Lake replied back, "Now we know you like to fix things, and we know you're being treated in Starfleet Medical Headquarters, which is literally one of the most preeminent hospitals in the Federation. One of the largest; one of the most complex." --Lake shrugged-- "What do you supposed needs fixing in a place like this?"

Constantin watched him with surprise before he frowned. After a moment he closed his eyes, visualising the layout in his head. "Apart from people? This facility has a lot of people. The air filters will get clogged up with dust, dirt, skin particles. The equipment as well, replicators and transporters will need constant maintenance. You don't have to worry about stuff like a warp core or hull breeches, but there's still the environmental controls for the temperature. Oxygen storage too, I suspect this place could get a shield up in case of an outside attack? Not sure without reading the manuals..." he opened his eyes and watched him. "You asking me to fix things to fix myself?"

Shaking his head, Lake said, "Not quite," but there was an impish look in his eyes. He was splitting hairs and they both knew it. Softly clapping Constantin on the shoulder, Lake explained, "I'm asking you if you think that might help you to help yourself. ...You know you better than I do at this point."

Constantin smiled to himself, watching him for a long moment with playful eyes. "Oh dear...now self examination has never been my strong suit. I suppose...I need to stay busy. I have been here for...a long time. Months. Maybe I should go and offer my services to repair things. Or..." his eyes narrowed as he considered it for a moment. "I could build something. Keep myself occupied...because that is what is getting to me. Sitting and waiting for the next appointment, the next time they detox me and...and I have to feel all the stuff..." he frowned, eyes downcast. "I hate that bit."

As much as Lake recognized he should explore Constantin's aversion to the detox treatment, he didn't want to lose their momentum. It wasn't time to wallow. At least not on this day. Simmering with restrained excitement, Lake asked, "What have you always wanted to build?"

Constantin watched him for a long moment before he grinned, eyes shining as he leant closer. "A ship," he said softly. "An actual ship. But...I will be happy with making a working miniature with all the features we can downscale."

Mirroring Constantin's body language, Lake leaned in even closer. He could practically feel Constantin's breath on his face. Speaking equally softly, Lake asked, "What class of starship would you build? ...Or do you mean an aircraft carrier, or a steam ship?"

Embarrassed, Constantin didn't say that he had no idea what aircraft carrier or steam ship was. Why would you want a starship running on steam? The amount of water you'd need would be...too much. The ship would have to be the size of Earth's moon. Instead he smiled easily. "Just a rustbucket, all bits and pieces...maybe the frame of Norway class? Not sure. Anyway...you have given me a project. I look forward to having a play around."


[OFF]

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo

and

Petty Officer 3rd Class Constantin Vansen
Operations
Starbase Medical patient

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