Killing Time

Posted on 22 Jan 2013 @ 9:01pm by Crewman Aurangzeb Ameen

3,761 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo - Mess Hall
Timeline: Just Before 'Departure'

[ON]

"Energize," Liyar tapped his combadge, disappearing in a flurry of blue lights from the outside of Vega IX's medical compound. Azure had told him to take a few hours, and while he'd spent a good portion of that roaming around the hospital, he truthfully just had to admit he hated hospitals. After a not-so-long moment of deliberation, he knew he would much rather eat in the mess hall on the Galileo.

He materialized on the transporter pad and made his way to the turbolift and down. He knew he must look odd wearing the hospital scrubs they'd had him change into for the initial stages of his test, something he hadn't done with Kiri as she'd already had her recent physical evaluation in the ship's databanks, but he ignored the stares and stalked through the doors, making a beeline for the buffet counter and pilfering some fruit and juice.

After a few seconds of contemplation, he begrudgingly added some pieces of toast. Insipid counselors. Obnoxious dietary monitoring. He realized he must look quite odd, giving his dinner a scathing look in the middle of an empty mess hall, but did he care? No. Vulcans did not have feelings, after all. He sat down at the nearest table and began eating, pretending like the food did not taste like lead.

Seated at the table to the right of where the curiously dressed Vulcan had assumed occupancy, Aurangzeb couldn't help but stare; it was, by no means a look of perplexed indignation, but an expression of curious intrigue. Although the Vulcan adorned a look of neutral passivity, Aurangzeb found it remarkably easy to recognize the subtle hints of aggravation that seemingly vexed the man. He couldn't help but stare, unable to avert his eyes even when the Vulcan's brown-colored eyes suddenly shifted in such a way that they held his own hazel-colored. Caught, Aurangzeb squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, cheeks deepening to radiate a deep color of red that seemed to compliment the darker tone of his skin.

It didn't take very long for the Vulcan to realize he was being stared at, before he flicked his own eyes up impassively and blinked slowly in the unidentified crewman's direction. "Is there something that you require?" he asked-stated, the sonorous quality of his voice eating through the distance between them with little difficulty, and no small hint of skepticism buried beneath it. He shoveled another forkful of toast down, arching an eyebrow in the man's direction.

"Oh! Um..." Aurangzeb replied, startled by the coarse abruptness of the Vulcan's reaction. "It's just that, w-well, you don't seem to be enjoying that," he gestured to the man's meal, "very much." He offered a meek smile, hoping that it might help to cushion against his earlier behavior, which, in hindsight, could be interpreted as a bit rude. It was that he'd not witnessed a Vulcan react in such a way to their food as this man had. Well, in truth, Aurangzeb hadn't really had many interactions with Vulcans, so it was relatively difficult to gauge the appropriateness of the man's reaction; however, those that he had been in the presence of had not reacted so viscerally to such a meal. A bit of fruit and some toast didn't really seem to be such a dreadful meal; yet, to be fair, Aurangzeb was a far cry from a Vulcan.

Liyar tilted his head a little at the strange, stuttering crewman. An engineer. Someone he didn't recognize, or to be perfectly honest, wanted to socialize with at all. "As I am Vulcan, enjoyment of anything is not a priority." He thought to himself that if this turned into yet another argument about how Vulcans were unhealthy because they did not operate as Terrans did, he was honestly going to get up and leave. He'd rather be in the medical center. He briefly looked down at whatever the dark-skinned man was eating, not recognizing it. "I am unfamiliar with 'oh, um.'" He repeated the words, which he'd heard before, and still couldn't understand their purpose. Fillers. Filler for what? Why speak when one had nothing to say? Why insert superfluous words? "Elaborate," he spoke, though it sounded a little more like a demand.

Brow furrowed, he thought for a moment, taking seriously the Vulcan's demand to elaborate. There was a brief silence that fell between either man until finally Aurangzeb responded. "They don't have any purpose, really." He said with a shrug, "The way you responded caught me off guard, so they were used in an emotional connotation rather than a grammatical or structural purpose." He replied honestly, eyes remaining intent on the man. Normally, Aurangzeb would have shied away at the Vulcan's confrontational approach, yet there was something that he appreciated about the man's abrupt and straightforward manner that seemingly put him more and more at ease. He didn't understand the psychological implications of this, nor did he have any desire to explore them. Not yet at least.

"I see," Liyar nodded, forcing himself to eat a little more. The answer to his question was more than he had expected. It actually explained something, which he'd learned not to count on much. That contradicted his usual understanding of emotions, which led him to believe that most Terrans shied away from being blunt about them, considering that rude. He gave up on eating and focused on his orange juice. "I do not comprehend off guard. I am not attacking you," he finally offered again, speaking into his cup, but still maintaining eye contact.

Aurangzeb considered, then slowly nodded his head in understanding. "No, you aren't." He thought for another moment, "Looking back, I suppose we use a bit of unnecessary fillers to fluff out our dialogue." He noted before adding, "But I'm under the impression that's undoubtedly due to the emotional connotations implied should we not." He turned slightly in the chair, positioning himself so that he was facing the Vulcan more.

"Explain the purpose for fluffing out your dialogue," Liyar prompted, repeating the term flatly and tipping back the cup until it was nearly empty. Which was a bad maneuver, as it still left him with his uneaten food. He shook his head to himself and folded his hands over the table, resting his chin on his fingertips while he waited for his answer. The Tarinol was definitely going to make eating more difficult, he realized.

"Well," he started, "I would think that its purpose is to, in some way, 'cushion' against any sort of interpretation that there may be an alternative meaning to what's being said; that there's a hidden message?" He questioned this rather than speaking out of some ill conceived authority on the matter, an expert he was not... far from it. "To be honest... I usually flounder in social situations, I'm not terribly well-spoken and, as you've no doubt already experienced, a bit awkward." He shrugged his shoulders again, as if accepting defeat in the understanding of this and the realization that, when it came to social interactions, he couldn't truly appreciate their complexities; and it was perhaps that very notion that caused him to be so very awkward social situations.

"That does not concern me," Liyar dismissed his awkwardness with customary bluntness, and continued curiously deconstructing the man's sentences. "Were you to cushion your meaning from your listener, wouldn't that itself be indicative of an ambiguous, ulterior message?" Liyar pointed out reasonably, apparently completely unaware of the crewman's lack of social ability, though to be fair he hadn't a very large sample base to compare against, and his own social skills left much to be desired themselves.

"Yes, if that was one's intent... sure." Aurangzeb nodded, "As a child, I remember my parents entertaining a dignitary one night. He was far from a pleasant individual and I didn't care for him from the moment we first met." He sipped from a glass of rose water and then continued. "All throughout the evening, he was exceptionally rude and spoke down to me as if I were ignorant and insignificant. At the end of the evening, as he was leaving, I remember saying that 'It was a pleasure to meet you', when in reality my life would have been much improved had our paths never crossed. However, I understood that, should I have been completely honest with him, the negative implications would have been too severe... especially for my parents." He shook his head, "I feel like that in some way this is an example of what we're talking about. I tried to avoid the ramifications of being completely honest by fluffing out how I genuinely felt." He grimaced, "I don't think I'm making much sense, am I?"

Liyar shook his head. "No," he answered, with equally little issue removing any fluff from his own sentences. "However, I am given to understand this is a cultural difference. Vulcans are disinclined toward lying. We do not require to cater to others' emotions, we are free to speak our minds. One does not worry of hurting another's feelings. Terrans are preoccupied with this, as they are constantly feeling." He tried to summarize what he had learned so far, both from the tests Coleman and Athlen had given him, and from Athlen's insistence on learning how to be social. "What type of Terran are you?" he asked again, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone of this crewman's race. Maybe Warrant Darius, but no, he was different. It was only then that his eyebrows drew together again and he decided to eat more of his fruit instead of pursue that line of questioning. He recalled that Athlen told him it was rude to ask that of Terrans, though he could not fathom why.

Aurangzeb chewed the inside of his cheek. Unlike him, the Vulcan spoke eloquently, even if blunt. He didn't interpret this as rude, merely honest, which Aurangzeb appreciated tremendously as it ensured he didn't become lost in a frivolous social interaction that did little to hold his attention and ignite his imagination. "I was born on Earth, a country called India located in the Middle East." He replied, "My name is Aurangzeb Ameen... most either call me 'Mouse' or Auran." He introduced himself, electing to forego the customary handshake knowing that Vulcans were not tremendously fond of physical contact; that much he knew.

Liyar removed a hand from under his chin long enough to offer him the ta'al in return. "Liyar," he introduced monosyllabically. The hand tucked itself back where it belonged. He fell into a lull of silence, his ability of making smalltalk was very subpar. He knew he would have to finish his meal, and he stared down at the plate, as if strategically mapping some sort of tactical pattern. "Why do others call you by the species Mus musculus?"

Aurangzeb's hazel-colored eyes became fixed on what little bit of body artwork that became exposed when Liyar greeted him; he couldn't make out the design, but knowing it was there intrigued him enough to make him curious in wanting to see more. "I, um, I don't actually know what that means." He replied somewhat distractedly until his eyes returned to Liyar's.

"You stated that various individuals refer to you as mouse. I do not understand why this is so," the Vulcan elaborated, tilting his head a little. "You are distracted," he noted obliviously. "Is this an offensive term?" he wondered if maybe he'd stumbled into something he wasn't supposed to, but, no, Aurangzeb was still staring at him.

Aurangzeb's eyes shifted from side to side, his face taking on a slightly more serious expression as his cheeks became bathed in red once more. "Under normal circumstances, no... How could a mouse be offensive? But, yes, I suppose they do mean it offensively. They don't like me very much." He managed. "There are a few, Chief Peers and Asa... But I think most just sort of tolerate me." He forced a smile, eyes avoiding Liyar's as if her ashamed in some way. There was a silence that followed until Aurangzeb swallowed hard and then followed with, "I noticed that you have some body art... I'm curious."

"I see," Liyar said curtly, indicating that he really didn't at all see what point there was in calling someone names. There were a great many things he did not understand about Terrans, and he had the impression that this was among the items he wasn't thrilled to learn about. He realized belatedly what Aurangzeb referred to, and blinked down at his arm where the edges of the sleeve poked out around his wrist. He exhaled calmly. "The Inscription," he explained. "It is tradition in my family." Though neither his father or brother had gone through it, Liyar had felt more of a connection with the old rites than they had. "It is a representation of my clan. Our story, our history."

"May I see it?" He asked, curiosity inflected in each word.

Pressing his lips together slightly, Liyar nodded a little uncertainly. The hospital johnny-shirt was much easier to maneuver than the uniform and he rolled the sleeve partway up to reveal the calligraphy winding from his wrist and still disappearing under his shirt, with various pictograms, hieroglyphs and tribal markings in alternating scripts. Despite it being a tattoo, it was very clearly aesthetically Vulcan. "It is begun at age seven. When one first completes the kahs-wan, one ten-day in the Forge. It starts here." He pointed at a small cluster of concentric circles near his wristbone that flowed into the rest easily. "As the child grows older, and gains more experience, they are deemed worthy to carry the Stories onward. I have not completed my journey yet."

He stood from his table to join Liyar at his, the distance between them shortened significantly. His eyes remained intent on the intricate, complicated design of the piece. "So there's more to be added." He noted, reaching out a hand to touch the ink-pressed skin, yet catching himself just before the tips of his fingers made contact. He glanced up through long, thick lashes as if to ask for permission.

"I would not advise it," Liyar said simply to Aurangzeb's unspoken question. "As a touch telepath, I will be capable of reading the majority of your thoughts and emotions at this time." He didn't mention the fact that he had technically done this unconsciously without any contact at all, but since the crewman was curious, Liyar shrugged an eyebrow upward vaguely. He could understand curiosity. He wasn't sure why the sudden fascination, but, he turned his arm over for inspection. "There is more, yes," he confirmed.

Aurangzeb withdrew his hand, placing it in his lap as his eyes continued to survey the artwork. From a young age, he'd become fascinated with body art and how it played against sociocultural and anthropological norms amongst so many different species. Although he didn't have any permanent artwork applied to his body, he'd grown up in a traditional Indian family; days that marked special occasions or festivals or celebrations often found his own body adorned with the elaborate designs of henna, which held his intrigue just as much. "I don't think you'd want to go in there." He joked, gesturing to his head. "It's quite beautiful, thank you for sharing it with me." He said sincerely.

Pulling down the sleeve, Liyar found that was a reasonable excuse to completely ignore his meal this time around and simply place his hands on the table when he was done. He could sense the strange images floating about the crewman's mind, but he didn't know what they all meant. "It is, unfortunately, not something I can control." Unlike normal Vulcans. Who did not require Tarinol, he grouched to himself, stabbing his fork a little more viciously than usual into his toast. "You are interested in... body art?" he parsed the terminology in Aurangzeb's mind, failing to realize he'd picked the term up mentally instead of physically.

He nodded enthusiastically, "Quite. Yours is exceptionally ornate, each line holding a very specific meaning culminating in an important life event. It's an artwork of a tremendously personal nature. I wonder if you'll share a story or two with me sometime." He wondered, sitting back in the chair. When Liyar stabbed at the piece of toast, the action caused Aurangzeb to smile broadly, lips pulled upwards to reveal perfectly straight teeth whose whiteness contrasted nicely to his dark skin. "You're not particularly fond of toast." He said this more as a statement rather than a question.

Liyar looked up very suddenly, fork paused over the plate, caught red-handed in the middle of murdering the poor piece of bread beyond any recognizable status. He lowered it consciously, but he didn't look any more enthusiastic. "I suppose not," he admitted at long last. "As for the t'kahr vesht-var, they are important, yes. The old clans still practice this, but the more common Shi'kahri, T'Paal, Shannei'kahr, they do not. My clan is particularly traditional." He tapped his thumb against the plate a little, bouncing his foot under the table almost imperceptibly.

Aurangzeb shook his head, unfamiliar with the terms Liyar was using. "Shee'kayri... Tea'Pale?" He spoke carefully, yet deliberately in an honest attempt to repeat the Vulcan's pronunciation of both terms, yet finding it quite difficult. "Is this some kind of title or clan name?" He asked, genuinely interested to learn more about the 'tribes' of Vulcan, specifically Liyar's, a culture of the species he thought was completely nonexistent.

Liyar shook his head. "Shi'kahr, T'Paal," he corrected. "They are the names of cities. Most Vulcans in Starfleet come from these areas. The clans that comprise them are among the most common on Vulcan, but there are many," Liyar explained, poking his fork at his plate with less murderous vengeance than earlier, but no more great love.

"I was unaware that clans still existed on Vulcan, although my knowledge on Vulcans isn't expansive by any means," Aurangzeb confessed. He did have a great deal of questions that he wished to ask Liyar, but they were of a more personal nature that perhaps weren't the most appropriate to ask in the here and now. "What is it that makes your clan so traditional and when you say clan, do you mean family?" He wondered, thinking back to his own family's strict adherence to tradition.

"That is one translation," Liyar agreed. "The term clan is more expansive, however. For example, many Vulcans belong to more popular clans, which include many different families. Versus clans such as mine, which do expand, but which remain solely hereditary. Vulcan differs from Terra in that its land to water ratio is much greater," he explained. "Thus, Vulcan is still divided among clan lines, as we can afford to be. With the advent of the Time of Awakening and the Federation, we have entered a more democratic system," he granted, "Nevertheless, our government is comprised of a council of members from specific provinces, these councilmembers are only semi-elected," the Vulcan elaborated. "My province is Miran, and we are Vulcan's only remaining psi-native province. As such, our custom dictates further back than many, our culture is distinct. My clan presides over Miran, and holds a spot on the high council in the form of our clan matriarch. It is my understanding that Terrans do not practice this form of governance any longer."

"Psi-native?" Again, it was a term that Aurangzeb was unfamiliar with; he had a theory as to its meaning, but would wait for Liyar to provide a more concrete definition. "No, Earth's government is presided over by the world president and their respective cabinet of elected officials." He explained further, "My mother is actually on the cabinet itself; she represents my home country of India." He paused for a moment before continuing. "In truth, I find politics to be adversely convoluted and overly complicated... So, I don't tend to pay much attention; however, I do know that what my mother does in her work is exceptionally important to the vitality and sustainability of Earth as well as India." He shook his head, "I can't even begin to understand the finite details of how she helps to make this possible; like I said earlier... Politics." He finished, leaning back in the chair.

"Indeed," Liyar said with an arched eyebrow. "We have a similar cabinet of elected officials," he said simply. "These are the appointed officials from each provincial council. While I represent Miran, my mother - the clan elder - is on the High Council, the interplanetary government, not myself. It is the hereditary aspect of this I assume that differs between our planets. As for psi-native, that means that my province is the only area on Vulcan that still utilizes the old languages of our ancestors, and the old practices. Vulcans are touch-telepaths, but we are not limited by this in our way of Being, A'Tha." Liyar didn't think to explain the term, the way a Terran wouldn't think to explain an article of a sentence or a smile. It was natural, to Vulcans. "Psionic-permissive languages are all but dead on Vulcan, replaced with Modern Golic and Standard which are more precise verbal counterparts. Our tradition and ritual is also steeped in psionic comprehensiveness. It is difficult to explain fully to a psi-null individual." Liyar abandoned any pretense of eating, though he did poke his utensils into his food idly and pushed it about his plate now and then.

The two of them continued to talk for a while on the differences between their cultures, before Liyar looked at his chronometer and realized that he was due back at the hospital. The Galileo would be departing soon, and he had to find out the results of his test. Results that he was reasonably sure would not be good for him. He stood, bidding Aurangzeb goodbye before heading to the reclamator and then down to the transporter pad.

[OFF]

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

&

Crewman Aurangzeb Ameen
Damage Control Specialist, USS Galileo

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