Shenanigans

Posted on 15 Jan 2013 @ 4:03pm by Chief Warrant Officer 4 Cyrus Kiwosk

3,769 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Mess Hall
Timeline: MD -1 0700 Hours

ON:

Liyar knew that Crewman Athlen was still busy getting Ensign Nicholas integrated into the small sociology department on board, and so he approached his usual table minus the regular company and sat down. Over the last fifteen or so days he'd come to expect the regular presence of Cyrus Kiwosk, and the few people in their seats as if they were assigned, waved good morning. It was a different environment than what he had integrated into. The V'Shar was more military. People did not socialize to any standard, even Vulcan.

This vessel had a more familiar feeling. Crewman Athlen had asserted it was due to the lack of empathy, and telepathy, which resulted in a more interpersonal, dynamic sense of empathy, relation to one another, social expectations, feelings. While he knew he was and would always be on the outside of that, they even incorporated him, eventually, into their day-to-day lives. First, they would scowl, then, they would refer to him as rude, then, they would say he was simply Being Vulcan, then, they would accept him and move on with it. It was a curious dynamic. Cyrus, he had noted, had simply jumped directly to the last stage. He found he could tolerate the people who did this much better.

He was reflecting to himself the very bizarre turn of events over the past few days. Crewman Athlen's arrest. His evaluations, which resulted in the platinum matching cuffs around his wrists, which were visible under the sleeves of his uniform with varying movements. Psi-clamps. They were not doing him much good, he thought. He could still feel the crew. Sekhet said, that they didn't inhibit ability, that they were more of a stabilizer, but he'd always taken that as a euphemism. He did notice there were no stray thoughts, no accidents of perception any more. This made people noticeably less afraid of being near him.

Then, there was the Tarinol, which he did not at all want to get into. It made him restless. Akathisia, the doctors called it. But it is completely safe, and you should take it, so you do not blow up a building or hold your classmates hostage or Challenge every person you meet! Even if your katra is trying to crawl out of your body, do not be so illogical! he mimicked them unkindly in his mind, shoveling more food into his mouth. He hated eating. Inside, he extended his shields over the unpleasant feelings roiling underneath him and expanded it outwards, drawing himself in calm, looking perfectly blank as ever by the time Cyrus actually did show up as predicted.

Cyrus was starving, even more so than usual. He had woken up earlier to a large shot of pain through his still damaged hand. It was healing slowly, but the pain wasn't getting much better. He was sure that before he would need to any more shooting he would be back in peak form and more than willing. As he entered the Mess, his stomach rumbled, noting Liyar over in the corner. "Lieutenant!" He jogged over. "The other seat taken buddy?"

Liyar looked over to the chair on his right and shook his head, blinking. "Negative, Mr. Kiwosk," he answered, evidence in his tone of some confusion over Cyrus's terminology. He noticed that Cyrus was still injured, though that fact was hardly surprising, considering he had shattered bone when he'd punched a tree. Highly illogical.

He noticed Liyar looking at his hand. "Heard about that eh?" He sighed and shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. " He gestured to the slight bulges on his friend's wrists. "I heard you've had a bit of a rough go, friend. Have they been any help? Telepathic reducers or something like that aren't they?" He replicated a large breakfast as usual, waffles and bacon piled high with several fruits on the side. A large cup of coffee to drink.

"A great many ideas seem good at the time," Liyar offered dryly. He forced himself to take a drink of the tea in front of him and listened to the remainder of Cyrus's words with increasing agitation, though that did not show. "Yes. They are psi-clamps. I am uncertain as to their effectiveness," he answered. "How is it that you are aware of this information?" Liyar asked, unimpressed, though not necessarily with Cyrus. Who had been telling people about his rough go? How much did they know? This was his private business. He would not have it circulating around the ship like some kind of gossip. The Tarinol was, at least, doing its job even if he hated the side effects, and he found it easier to apply meditative tools to avoid any outward expression at all.

"I can tell it upsets you. I'm sorry Liyar, I didn't mean to intrude." He felt sad for his Vulcan friend whose control seemed to slipping more every time he saw him. "It's a small ship and you know how rumours spread in small spaces. Like my reinstatement and my clearance being revoked. " He asked honestly, not liking to see Liyar as he was.

"I assure you, I am not upset." Liyar blinked down at the man emptily, and promptly changed the subject. "I was unaware that you had been reinstated. Commander Holliday ruled in favor of your appeal," he deduced with a small nod.

"Yeah, in all reality, I got lucky." Cyrus held no illusions that he was reinstated because of various rumours and lies. It was a miscalculation from Stone, that caused him to rethink his position. "It's been an interesting week, that's for sure." He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "It's good that it's all finally over. If this is the Galileo's version of Shore Leave, I'm hesitant to see an actual mission. " He chuckled.

"The Galileo is expected to be a low-risk post," Liyar said, making himself finish more of his food. If he ate five more pieces of fruit, then he would consider himself done. Back to the mental games, he supposed. Amidst another drink of tea, "However, my impression of you indicates that you would be satisfied on a less sedentary vessel. Your choice to serve here is puzzling," he questioned with a tilt of his head.

"Really?" He chuckled. "I guess given my record, I suppose that seems true..." He looked down. "Some things happened on my last mission before I transferred, it's not exactly the most pleasant of conversational pieces. " He looked back at Liyar and forced a smile. "Suffice to say, I needed a change of scenery, a large change. After I had been hospitalized, Starfleet requested that I be placed back on active duty within a month of my accident, I knew I wouldn't be fully capable as a marine for some time, but that as a Security Officer, I would have a little more 'breathing room'. I've been dealing as well as anyone would be. You, Quinn and Pola have been a real help in my adjustment." He grinned. "Seems you have been making some friends since we first met..." He chuckled. "It's good to see you've been adjusting so well yourself."

Liyar nodded. "Perhaps so," he agreed, thinking back to the previous day at the medical center, with Maenad. While he was not sure anyone on board would really call him friend, he knew that the previous day had confirmed otherwise. It occurred to him that he simply did not know how other species regarded friendship, or how to go about that. He also knew that Maenad was not exactly a usual example of a Terran. He knew that he irritated many people, but he also knew that by now, people had grown used to his presence. "Once that you feel you are ready," he quoted blandly, "You will return to the marine detachment." As always, the question was phrased as a statement, a deduction.

Cyrus had still not touched his food, but continued sipping his coffee. "That's been something I've given a lot of thought about. Maybe, one day." He shrugged. "As of right now, I'm not entirely worried about rejoining the Marine Corps in the near future. Security feels more like what I wanted to do. " Chuckling, he continued. "That doesn't really answer your question though..." He thought some more. "I plan on rejoining the Marine Corps, should they be required, if another war broke out, or the SFMC were obligatory on all ships as they once were, I would rejoin, but until then...I think I'll be happy with my position in Security." He leaned back. "I've always been the kind of person that wanted to 'fight the good fight', you know? Do what I thought was best for everyone, not just myself, and not just for Starfleet. That was part of the reason as to why I transferred. I wanted to make a difference, not just be sent on combat missions all over the known universe."

Liyar thought he could understand, just a little, but the V'Shar did not work that way. They did not fight the good fight, they did their duties. They performed admirably. They defended their homeland. Still, there was something relatable there, which he knew was something Terrans held in good esteem, exo-empathy. "When you are posted to excessive combat situations, it feels less like you are approaching an ideal," he decided, "And more that you are fighting for fighting's sake."

"What about you? What made you decide to be a diplomat, I have to say, you and politics seem to meld relatively well from what I've seen. "

"I did not decide," Liyar said, wondering what would have made Cyrus believe he was good at it. As far as he knew, most people thought the exact opposite. "I was posted to the Vulcan embassy by my clan elder. As the Galileo was departing for Rojar without a diplomatic officer, I was contacted and informed that I would be filling the post. I was an an economist and mathematician," he explained. He knew that he did fill some of the qualifications, specifically the technical side, especially as his entire life's work revolved around politics and governments, but it was the social side of it he knew he fell short on.

"Economist?" He scrunched up his face in confusion. "I thought everything was done in universal credits now a days. Well, for someone that didn't have formal training on diplomacy, you've been learning really quickly. Don't let the others tell you any different." He smiled. "A lot of people think that your species are emotionless or so wrapped up in logic that they can't see anything different." Kiwosk shook his head. "I thought that once, but I've worked along side plenty of Vulcans, and I've learned that, while I don't know what you always thinking or feeling, you have the same feelings, the same concerns, the same trains of thought as anyone else in Starfleet. So don't sell yourself short Liyar, you are learning and adapting as well as any one person who would have been dealt the situation you were given. " He chuckled. "I don't think you're any different or any more special than anyone else on this crew. That's why I don't mind it when you state your mind, or state illogical trains of thought, it's part of you, just grinning and laughing is as much a part of me."

Liyar nodded. "It appears that your perception is not the prevailing one," he agreed. He thought back to Cyrus's first question. He had tried to explain this to Maenad, but it hadn't gone over so well the first time. He knew now that he was having problems with Federation Standard, so keeping that in mind, he attempted to keep it simple. "While the Federation is self-sustaining," he agreed, "the Federation deals in resources just as any other race. We require things, we have limits to what we can achieve. On top of this, we deal with many races on a daily basis who do not operate the same way. For example, Vega IX, due to its own interplanetary currency, has caused some concern for us. My role in Galileo's repairs was therefore relegated to attaining resources necessary to us. Economics is not the study of money," he corrected that common misconception right off the bat. "It is the study of motivation, and resource. If you wanted this tea," he held it up, "An economic question on my part would be, why should I give it to you?" He rose the tea to take a drink. Well, it was there. "People make economic decisions every day, whether or not they directly deal with money."

He shrugged. "Makes sense to me, I'm not going to dispute it. You know more about it than I would." He smiled. " So...that's how you beat me in golf...you 'mathed' your way through it..." He cursed silently. "I should have known..."

"You are correct," Liyar said mildly, clearly not bothered at all by this. Well, he was a Vulcan. Vulcans played to win.

Cyrus burst out laughing, shaking his head all the while. "Here I thought I had the advantage..." He chuckled some more. "You know why I always seem to pester you Li?" He grinned.

"Liyar," the Vulcan corrected by-now automatically.

"Because in your own way, you give back the exact same humour, just in your own way." he took a piece of bacon off the pile. "In my eyes, you are adjusting very well to human culture. You're pretty funny when you want to be...it's just that people have to see past the voice and face. You raise your eyebrow when you're interested in something, your eyes snap when you're pissed off. " He smiled. "To the person that sees your cues, you are actually quite sarcastic and funny..." He winked. "For a Vulcan."

Liyar tilted his head, not exactly denying it. "I have been attempting to 'experiment' with Standard. I have noted that many Vulcans do not seem interested in doing so. This does not strike me as logical," he agreed with a nod. "However, you are the first person to have confirmed a modicum of success, on my part." That was to say, most people found him as boring as an old shoe. "What is pissed off?" he quoted the terminology deadpan.

Cyrus chuckled. "Well not everyone reads people like I do. Not like a telepath or an empath like yourself, but I was trained to look for subtle hints that could be signs of aggression in other races, like tensing of hands or raising of eyebrows. " He sipped his coffee. "Being able to put the emotion to the sign is the hard part. " He thought hard as Liyar asked his question... "Pissed off is like being beyond angry. You're furious and annoyed at the same time. " He attempted to explain. "Like when Lieutenant Stone revoked my clearance, I was pissed off. It makes you do irrational things, I suppose."

"Indeed," Liyar mused pensively. This was the second person in a week who had told him he seemed angry, although he was not sure why Cyrus would detect hints of fury from him, considering he had not actually been angry much in Cyrus's presence. Nevertheless, he merely offered the typical Vulcan commentary. "As a Vulcan, I am not prone to becoming pissed off."

"It was just an example, I didn't say that you were pissed off. I was saying your eyes show when you are displeased, I used it in the wrong context. That was my fault buddy. " He smiled and finally started his meal, instead of simply picking at it.

An entire waffle ceased to exist.

Liyar glanced pointedly down at Cyrus's plate. "Have you ever been informed that you consume food at a rate far above average to the median Terran example?" He arched an eyebrow.

Cyrus began to speak, only to realize that the waffle was still in digestion in his mouth. Swallowing the half chewed waffle, an audible gulp was heard coming from his throat. Grinning he shrugged. "Well, I tend to have more...mass, than most Terrans." He chuckled. "I exercise a lot to keep my body in peak condition, that means I need to eat more... At least...that's what I tell myself." He cracked a hard boiled egg and popped it in his mouth. "Do you know that you eat less than the median Terran example?" he teased.

The Vulcan did not need to be reminded. He glanced at his plate unenthusiastically. Almost all of the fruit was still there, and so was the second piece of toast. He glanced at Cyrus and wondered if it was possible the man weighed more than he did. He thought that spoke to just exactly how little he really was eating. He was at least eighty pounds underweight, he realized a little shiftily. He decided to no longer think about that. Sekhet would have a logical conniption fit. "You appear to be correct," he said blandly, picking up a pla-sava fruit with his chopstick and chewing it mechanically. He swallowed and stared at his plate as though it were the beginning of Mount Everest and he had a long way to the top.

Cyrus chuckled at Liyar's reaction. "Oh come on Li, you're telling me that you're not hungry, it's breakfast!"

"Liya--" the Vulcan once again started, but he was interrupted by Kiwosk, who glanced at the fruit and toast on his plate and smiled.

"Have you ever thought of trying something else?"

"Food is consumed only for biological sustenance," Liyar said unconvincingly. "Therefore, this is satisfactory for completing the objective of nutritional intake. I added an extra piece of toast," he muttered reluctantly. Unhappily, he picked it up with the chopstick, staring at it as it loomed over his plate, soggy and entirely unappetizing.

Cyrus made a face at the mushy bread. "I think it's time for you to experience something a little less..." He tried to think of a word, "Nutritional." He grinned and glanced at the replicator.

"Two Belgian waffles with sliced strawberries and blackberries..." He paused. "With Canadian Maple syrup from Quebec, and whipped cream." After the plate materialized he pushed it toward the plate forward. "Try it. " He gestured. "You're allowed to treat yourself once and a while, this is my breakfast of choice when I'm not feeling my best or I need a little 'pick me up'."

With nothing else to do but blink at the strange fluffy contraption on his plate, Liyar stared down at it, as if it could possibly jump up at him and shout boo! He internally went through the logical ramifications of eating something so obviously devoid of any benefit whatsoever. On the pros list was the fact that it was logical to cultivate positive eating experiences with foods that tasted good, because it engendered the brain to associate pleasure with the operant behavior of eating, a stimuli he sorely lacked when it came to food in general lately. This was logical because the more motivation one had to eat, the more one... ate. On the cons list was the fact that it looked a little demonic. He sighed internally. Excuse me, Mr. Kiwosk, my food looks as though it is about to destroy my soul, did not sound very logical, either. Liyar tentatively poked his new fork into it and scooped up a decent sized bite with one of each of the components. He outright frowned at it before simply shoving the thing in his mouth and getting it over with. He blinked again. Interesting. He swallowed and unconsciously used his knife to cut off another piece. "What ... is it?" he finally asked.

"It's Terran food. We call them 'waffles'. They are ground flour, eggs and sugar and they are baked in a little thing we call a waffle iron, the get big and fluffy like that, and you can make them in different flavors, add different fruits on top. " He watched Liyar begin eating and smiled. "Different flours and berries lead to different textures and consistancies, but the best part is the topping. That liquid is maple syrup. It's a staple where I'm from. It is sap from a specific tree that grows in my country Canada, it's heated, sweeted with sugar and has been used as a dietary staple for centuries. " He chuckled. "I'm glad you like it."

"As I am Vulcan, I do not subscribe," Liyar started, in the middle of eating yet another piece of waffle, "To conceptualizations of like nor dislike," he added... while continuing to eat... "As that would be highly," he popped the next bit into his mouth and swallowed, blinking up, "Illogical." Seemingly pleased with that little tidbit of analysis, Liyar obliviously decided to snatch another blackberry.

"Of course, how foolish of me," Cyrus replied grinning ear to ear. "I'm glad you are interested. " He let his friend eat in silence as he began his own meal. "Next I'll have to have you try ice cream." He chuckled as the image of a Vulcan with a sweet tooth came to mind.

"Hmm," Liyar replied mid-bite. He thought to himself that he would have to be careful that Cyrus only gave him things from the replicator, as there were not any animal products in any of the provided material, but maybe this would be beneficial? He could honestly tell Sekhet that he was eating. Simply... eating waffles. There was no necessity for details. Right? Right, he decided for himself.

Cyrus suppressed yet another chuckle and continued eating his own waffles. They disappeared one by one, between large swallows of black coffee. "Well it seems you're eating again. Whenever you're not feeling as well as you should, just order that. You'll be feeling better before you know it." He smiled.

OFF:

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

Chief Warrant Officer Cyrus Kiwosk
Security/Tactical Officer, SFS
USS Galileo

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